On August 15th, 1869, a little more than four years after her debut, Miss Adams was married to Mr. James H. Kiskadden. Between the time of her debut and her marriage, Asenith (she was always called "Senith" in those days) was not only a favorite with the public, but she had a number of ardent admirers among the "opposite sex." There was quite a rivalry for her affections between several members of the company, but the most ardent of them were already married, and although they did not consider that a bar to their hopes, in Annie's case they were not eligible; so the chief rivalry existed on the outside of the theatre. Mr. Kiskadden, or "Jim," as he was universally called by his acquaintances, was cashier in his brother William's bank (the location is the identical room where Walker Brothers' Bank is today). Jim was a dashing sort of fellow, big and manly, with a determined kind of air, that seemed to say, "Things must go my way." He drew a good salary, dressed well, and always wore immaculate linen, his shirt front always illuminated with a large diamond. He was inclined to "sporting," and was recognized as the champion billiard player of the town in those days. How much apprehension "Jim" endured regarding "Senith's" married suitors in the theatre we have no means of knowing, but it is probable she set his doubts at rest on that score by assuring him that she would never marry an already married man. She had seen enough of that to make her dread it. However this might be, "Jim" had a rival and a dangerous one in the person of Mr. Jack O'Neil. Jack was beyond question the handsomer fellow of the two; indeed, he was handsome as a prince, always dressed superbly and was one of the most attractive looking men in Salt Lake. Jack was very much infatuated with the rising young actress and missed no opportunity to make known to her his appreciation of her talents and his admiration and adoration of herself. The rivalry between Jack and Jim was at white heat for a spell, and it would not have been very much of a surprise to their intimates if there had been a challenge sent and accepted, and a duel fought over the young Mormon actress. Unfortunately for Jack and his aspirations for the lady's affections, he was a professional sport, and that was against him. He had no other profession, and handsome and cavalierly as he could be, he was classed as a gambler; while Jim could flip the pasteboards just as skillfully, and lay them all out at billiards, he did not follow it for a "stiddy liven," but held the cashier's box in his brother's bank, for a steady job, and only sported on the side, and so it came to pass that in the course of time Jim distanced his handsome rival and bore off the prize. Many of "Senith's" friends regretted this, as Jim did not belong to the household of faith, but was a rank, out-spoken Gentile, utterly opposed to Mormon ways, and not afraid to say so. Whereas all of "Senith's" folks were staunch adherents of the Mormon faith and were striving to live their religion in all its phases. So they did not rejoice over "Senith's" marriage to a Gentile (as all non-Mormons were called—Jews included). They regarded it as equivalent to apostasy from the faith in which she had been reared, periling her soul's salvation. She was not appalled, however, by the gloomy and hopeless pictures some of her friends were kind enough to paint for her, and bravely married the man she had set her heart upon and stuck by him through thick and thin, sunshine and storm, prosperity and adversity. On November 11th, 1872, Maude Kiskadden was born, within a stone's throw of the Salt Lake Theatre, and before she was a year old made her debut on the stage where her mother was a debutante some eight years before. It looks now as if it were fate, as if she was predestined for a great stage career. There was an emergency and Maude, not yet a year old, was there to fill it. It happened in the following manner. In those palmy days of the profession, the old stock days as they are now called, it was customary to supplement the play with a farce—no matter how long the play—even if a five-act tragedy, the evening's performance was not considered complete without a farce to conclude with. On this particular occasion, the farce was the "Lost Child," a favorite with our comedian, Mr. Phil Margetts. He played Jones, a fond and loving parent, who goes distracted over his lost child. Instead of providing a real baby, as the property man had been instructed to do, he had a grotesque-looking rag baby, not at all to the comedian's taste in the matter. Millard, the property man, declared he had been unable to procure a live baby, nobody was willing to lend a baby for the part—older children he could get, but he could not get a baby, and the rag baby was the best that he could do under the circumstances, and on such short notice. Margetts was in distress. "What, in Utah!" he exclaimed. "The idea!" Where babies are our best crop, to be unable to procure one for his favorite farce. It was simply preposterous, absurd, incredible; he objected to play with nothing but a miserable makeshift of a rag baby. In agony he appealed to the stage manager, Mr. Caine, to know if the farce was to be ruined or made a double farce by the introduction into it of a grotesque doll like that! It would be worse than a Punch and Judy show. Sudden as a bolt from a clouded sky, while the altercation was still at its height, Mrs. Kiskadden appeared in the centre of the stage with her baby in her arms, and in a good-natured tone that ended all the trouble, exclaimed, "Here's Maude, use her!" Maude was indeed a good substitute for the inartistic-looking "prop" the property man had provided. Phil was happy and played the distracted parent with a realism and a pathos he never could have summoned for the rag baby. When the cue came, Maude was ushered into the mimic scene, making her first entrance on a large tray carried by a waiter. Then she was taken from the tray into somebody's arms and tossed from one nurse to another throughout the farce, until finally, as it ends, she is lodged safely in the arms of Mr. Jones, her distracted father. To her credit, be it recorded, she never whimpered or made any outcry or showed any signs of alarm, but played her first part bravely, though perhaps unconsciously; winning the admiration and love of the entire company. It was a lucky accident that Maude was in the theatre that evening, for her mother was not in the habit of bringing her to the theatre when she had any one at home to take care of her, but this evening was the "nurse's evening out," and "Maudie" had to be toted to the theatre and carefully put to sleep before mamma could "make up" and go through her part. Here she was safely stowed away in a safe and quiet corner of the green room, where she had been blissfully reposing all through the first play, and was now rather rudely awakened to fill the distressing emergency.
It will be readily seen from this narration that Maude Adams was virtually "born to the stage," her mother studying assiduously and playing parts both before and after Maude's birth, often taking Maudie with her, both to rehearsals and performances, so that she became a familiar little object in the theatre before she could walk or talk, and long before she could ever essay a speaking part she was the pet of the Green Room.
We had a Green Room in the Salt Lake Theatre in those days, and a very capacious and comfortable one, too. Such a commodious and luxurious adjunct is scarcely known in the theatres today. Here the actors could retire between the acts or during the scenes they were not engaged in, and study over their lines, or if already easy in their parts, pass the time in reading or social chat. It was the prompter's business to send the "call boy" to the Green Room and all dressing rooms to "call the act," a few minutes before he was ready to "ring up." The act being called, each actor was required to be at his entrance on time; if he should be late and make a "stage wait," the stage manager might reprimand him, and impose a fine. Fines were also imposed for being tardy at rehearsals. There was seldom any occasion for the enforcement of this penalty, except in the case of "Jim" Hardie. "Jim" was a notorious laggard, and often kept the company waiting for him. On one occasion the company had been waiting his arrival for fifteen or twenty minutes, when he strode in very hurriedly and taking the centre of the stage, took off his hat and wiping the perspiration from his brow, began an apology to the stage manager for being late. He had only just begun to talk when a general laugh broke the gravity of the occasion. Jim had just come from the barber's where he had his head shaved, and his entire scalp down to the hat line was as smooth as a billiard ball. His monkish appearance created much merriment, in which the stage manager and Jim himself joined. Jim at a very early age showed a tendency to baldness, and he had been told that shaving the head was not only a check to it, but would stimulate the growth of the hair, so he had to get his head shaved, even though he kept the rehearsal waiting. I think the fine was omitted on this occasion, owing to the fun the company had over it.
In the fall of 1874, after a connection of nine years with the Salt Lake Theatre, Mrs. Kiskadden and her husband, no longer a cashier, the bank having been long a thing of the past, removed to Virginia City, where Miss Adams was engaged with a number of others from the Salt Lake Theatre Company, including the writer, to form a stock company for Mr. John Piper, the Virginia City manager. "Maudie," now nearly two years old, formed one of the party. After playing a season with Mr. Piper, Miss Adams went to San Francisco, where her husband had preceded her some months previous, and secured a good position as bookkeeper for the firm of Park & Lacy. Here they made their home for about eight years, Annie playing at the San Francisco theatres whenever she could get an engagement, and making occasional excursions with dramatic companies into the neighboring cities.
In September, 1877, before she was five years old, "Maudie" played her first speaking part with Joe Emmett in "Fritz" at the Bush Street Theatre. When the question of Maudie playing in Joe Emmett's piece was under consideration by Mrs. Kiskadden and she informed Mr. Kiskadden she had an offer from Mr. Emmett for Maudie to play the child's part, Mr. Kiskadden did not encourage the idea; he had a plenty of the theatre as it was, so he rather bluffly remarked: "No, indeed, we don't want Maude to make a fool of herself; one actress in the family is quite enough." Maude looked up with a touch of his own determination in her voice: "Papa, I won't make a fool of myself." She was irresistible—her papa had to consent. Her second part was Crystal in Herne and Belasco's "Hearts of Oak," then played under the name of "Chums." She afterwards played a part with Oliver Doud Byron—and in 1878, when six years old, played little "Adriene" in "A Celebrated Case" at the Baldwin Theatre. In this character she made a decided hit. After the run of the play at the Baldwin, it was taken to Portland, Oregon, and produced under John Maguire's management at the New Market Theatre, with Annie Adams and little Maude specially featured in the cast, the writer playing "Jean Renan" in this production. "Ten Nights in a Bar Room" was then put on, little Maude being made a feature as Mary Morgan, the writer playing "Joe." After the close of the season at the New Market Theatre, the company went out under the writer's management and played the Puget Sound circuit in those two plays, little Maude being made a special feature.
During this trip Maude had her first "Benefit" at Walla Walla, Washington. She was "put up" for a "benefit," extensively advertised, and helped out the company's treasury—after netting something liberal for her. In this tour Maude played in all the Puget Sound towns from Portland to Victoria and all the principal towns of Washington. At its conclusion, she and her mother returned to San Francisco, and she was not seen again in public for some years. Mr. Kiskadden died in San Francisco in '83, and Mrs. Kiskadden took his remains to Salt Lake for burial. There she settled down for a time and sent Maudie to school. Here in the city of her birth she attended school for the next four or five years, but always had a yearning to get back to the stage; and eventually her mother secured an engagement for herself and Maude in "My Geraldine" and the "Paymaster" under the manager of Duncan B. Harrison. From that she got into Frohman's "Lost Paradise," and from that on her history is known to the theatre world.
CHAPTER IX.
SEASON OF '66-'67.
An Interesting Prayer Meeting.
Julia Dean Hayne's final appearance closed the fourth season of the
Salt Lake Theatre, counting the opening one which only lasted from
March 8th, '62, to the end of April, about eight weeks, the Irwin
season of '63 and '64, the Pauncefort season of '64 and '65, and the
Julia Dean Hayne season of '65 and '66.