CHAPTER EIGHT
ON THE ROAD WITH DICK KOHLER, MR. VIVIAN, WALTER CAMPBELL, MR. WAND AND CHARLES ATKINS
N 1876, I signed a six weeks' agreement with the Vivian Kohler Troupe to tour Oregon, Victoria and the cities on Puget Sound. We sailed from San Francisco on February 24 on the steamer City of Panama. Our party was made up of six people: Mr. Dick Kohler, the only Vivian, Walter C. Campbell, Margaret B. Alverson, Mr. Wand, pianist, Mr. Charles Atkins, advance agent. We were a goodly company indeed, all up in our parts and anticipating success in our venture. We arrived in Victoria, February 28. As we landed, rockets were sent up and cannons gave forth a deafening roar to inform the people the steamer had arrived, but it was too late for us to disembark, and reluctantly we repaired to our bunks to pass another night on board. Morning came at last and I opened my eyes upon a quiet little bay surrounded by high, rocky mountains, covered with foliage, including tall pines, and in the distance the snow-capped mountains, lighting up the background of the beautiful scene before me. By seven o'clock we were taken ashore in small skiffs to the opposite shore where we were met by our agent, Mr. Atkins, who had arranged for our conveyance to Victoria. After a smart ride of an hour we stopped at the Fayhard Hotel, too early for these slow Englishmen. After a decided rattling at a heavy dark oaken door of an ancient-looking mansion, a dull, grim old Chinese made his appearance, wondering who was disturbing his slumbers at such an early hour. The landlord, a polite little Frenchman, greeted us with many bows and much palaver and popped behind the bar, which motion was not lost on the chilled travelers who called for their favorite and drank with a satisfied smack. I felt like the dog who had gotten into bad company, the saloon being the only room with a fire. After a half hour of waiting we heard the welcome call for breakfast to which we needed no second bidding. I am a victim of sea-sickness and had eaten nothing during the entire voyage except a little gruel, and I leave you to imagine what I did to the delicious breakfast placed before me, served only as Frenchmen can serve. It consisted of fish, chops, steak, rolls, coffee, potatoes and an omelette.
After breakfast I was shown to my room where I had a good view of the town and I found we had been largely billed to appear on Thursday night. We had a day of rest before our first performance. We moved in the meantime to the Colonial Hotel or Driard House, and were shown to a comfortable room with a fireplace, quaint and small, in which a bright fire was burning. The room was cheerful and attractive with many windows. The floors were painted and covered with rugs, bright and warm, and the white French curtains hung as in the days of Napoleon. Mahogany furniture of old fashioned shape added to the strange furnishing which was very attractive, and I felt at home at once. About ten o'clock that morning, Walter Campbell came and escorted me to the cupola of the hotel where we could see the city for miles, a good-sized place, with several prominent buildings and churches and a fine sight of Mount Baker in the distance, covered with snow. After a quarter of an hour we decided to have breakfast and joined the rest of the company and a stranger who was presented to us as Commodore Maury, a pleasant and distinguished-looking man who was a welcome addition to our company and extended us many a courtesy while we were in the city. After breakfast the company separated. I retired to my room and practiced an hour before going to try the voices in the Theater Royal. While in the midst of my practice a queer accident occurred in front of the hotel. A man in a watering cart, in backing up to the sidewalk, turned too abruptly and the traces gave way, the cart turned turtle and the poor horse hung in mid-air. Relief was soon at hand, a dozen or more of the brawny Englishmen righted the position of the animal and all was over and no harm done. After a good laugh everyone went his way. At ten o'clock we strolled to the theater to look it over. The people of Victoria think it is fine. They ought to come to California and pattern after some of our playhouses. It was small, the acoustics bad and the mixtures of colors was as a crazy-quilt to me. The boxes were ludicrous in their attempt at ornamentation. The seats were long benches, upholstered with solferino-colored damask and the scenes were the merest daubs. We did not rehearse in the theater. We returned to the hotel and rehearsed in the parlors for an hour, then each one retired for the night.
At last the first night is over and we have taken the people by storm. The theater is crowded and every number is encored. We have set the town talking and I expect the theater will not hold the people for tonight. House packed. Vivian is the funniest man I ever saw or heard. I nearly choke with laughter. In singing my song in costume tonight, a very pretty and touching incident occurred. Lord Mayor Drummond and family occupied one of the boxes. With them was their grandchild, about three or four years old. When I came out dressed as an old Scotch woman and leading Mr. Kohler, who represented John Anderson my Joe, her clear voice rang out, "Oh, grandpa, can I give my posie to the dear old lady?" By the time I had placed John in the large arm chair they had quieted her and the song proceeded. When the song was finished a silence of death was the only evidence we received, until we were nearly off the stage and the people awoke to the realization that the song was done and the singers gone. Then applause broke like a whirlwind and we were obliged to return three or four times to acknowledge our appreciation. At the close of the performance the Lord Mayor came with his family on the stage with his grandchild to see the dear old lady. I had retired to the dressing room and removed my costume and was ready to go to the hotel. When I came back Mr. Kohler introduced me and pointed me out to the child. She drew back with her posies and said, "Not this lady, the old lady." No persuasion could induce her to give me the bouquet. At last I told her to come with me and I'd show her the old lady. I returned to the dressing room and showed her the cap and other articles of the costume and told her I wore them and I was only playing I was old. She looked at me and drew a long breath, smiled and handed me the posies. I took the flowers from the child and we joined the party who were watching our performance with much pleasure. They asked her if she found the old lady and she replied, "Yes, she only played she was old like grandma." Mayor Drummond complimented me on my song and reminded me that it was his favorite Scotch song. Our first night won for us great recognition. About two o'clock we were serenaded at the hotel by the Victoria band. The company acknowledged the compliment but I remained in my room.
The next day we were taken all over the city and shown the principal features by the Lord Mayor and his family. At two o'clock we returned to his mansion where we had luncheon. After passing several hours pleasantly with his lordship we were brought home in time to rest for the second night's performance, Friday. The house was again packed, enthusiasm ran high and everything on the program was encored. The boxes were filled with beautiful women and their escorts. The morning papers were loud with praises of our selections and how they had been rendered.