| Mr. Trainer | A. Byron Beasley. |
| James Poor | Charles Dalton. |
| Richard Gordon | Milton Sills. |
| “Red” Mike | A. E. Anson. |
| “Big” Frank | Edward H. Robins. |
| “Pop” Olds | John Cope. |
| Josh Hayes | John Miltern. |
| Larry | Joseph Byron Totten. |
| “Whispering” Riley | Lawrence Wood. |
| Cafferty | Erroll Dunbar. |
| Clusky | Jerome Kennedy. |
| Wang Lee | J. J. Chaille. |
| Chong Fong | H. H. McCollum. |
| “The Major” | Herbert Jones. |
| Murphy | Karl Ritter. |
| Raleigh | Charles B. Givan. |
| “Frisco” George | Joseph Barker. |
| “Monk” Verdi | J. A. Esposito. |
| Annie | Helen Freeman. |
| Maggie | Clare Weldon. |
| Lizzie | Gertrude Davis. |
BELASCO IN CHINATOWN.
While Belasco was preparing “The Man Inside” for the stage he made several expeditions into the “Chinatown” of New York, accompanied by members of his staff and his theatrical company, in order that some of the ways and denizens of that place—the very prose of the earth—might be pictured with literal exactitude. On those occasions he and his companions, including Mr. Gros, the scenic artist, were convoyed and protected by an eccentric being once well known in the purlieus of vice and crime, whose disreputable acquaintance he had made by chance and to whom he had commended himself by kindness. Describing the last of those insalubrious visits Belasco wrote the following characteristic letter to the young woman who afterward played the principal female part in his adaptation of the Molineux play:
(Belasco to Miss Helen Freeman.)
“My dear Miss Helen:—
“We went on the postponed, and probably the last, trip into the ‘underworld’ last night. It might have been useful to have had you see it once more; but, on the whole, I think you have seen enough for the purpose and am glad you weren’t along. Familiar as I am with the sights of such places (and far worse, such as I used to visit in old San Francisco) I found some of it last night rather shocking. But as I promised to give you an account of this trip I will write a little description of our adventures—which, perhaps, you may find suggestive.
“At half-past nine my boys [meaning some members of the technical staff of the Belasco Theatre and two actors] and I met at the stagedoor and left for Chinatown, where, by appointment, we met a very ardent admirer of yours—Mr. ‘Chuck’ Conners, no less! Perhaps one of the reasons why I like the man is because, in his unpicturesque, rough, human fashion, he felt and expressed your sweetness—the quality which will help you so much in this play, and in all parts. I shall tell you more particularly what he said about you presently, and if you will translate his primitive speech into the finer shaded meanings of a cultivated man, I am sure it will touch your heart as it did mine. But I must get to my story....
“First we sat in the Chatham Club, and had a few ‘rounds,’—which I had a hard time to avoid drinking. I don’t know what the others did with theirs—I was too busy with my own troubles to watch! While human beings put such stuff inside themselves I can’t wonder at anything they do. While there, the girls came and did some ‘ragtime’ for us. ‘Chuck,’ I must tell you, was dressed for the occasion,—‘to kill,’—with a white ’kerchief about his neck and one shoe polished! The other was a characteristic contrast. We listened to the same old stories and ‘our hero’ sang the same old songs. Also, as aforetime, to punctuate his remarks he found it necessary to punch me in the ribs, and so to-day I find myself more or less black and blue. The old pianola was set to the wildest airs, and they had a new one, for our especial benefit, called ‘In the Harem,’—which is so good that I am going to introduce it in our play. Do you remember the big, tall girl, with the flat nose and her poor teeth out? She was still sitting in her corner, more forlorn than ever, and with her sad ‘lamps’ looking into my very heart. I gave her another five dollars and told her that if I came again I should expect to see her wearing a new pair of shoes,—for her poor toes were peeping out of frayed stockings, through the impossible boots, and it was all very sad.
“Well, from there we went to the same old opium bungalows and the same old ‘Chink’ ‘hit the pipe’ for us,—afterward, however, taking us into a female ‘joint,’ where we saw several regular denizens of the place. It is all part of the show; but I am glad Conners did not take us to it when you and the other ladies were along.... One of the women there had been a belle of Philadelphia: another, a runaway wife. Gradually, they have slipped down the ladder of shame and remorse, until their poor, wavering little hands could hold the rungs no longer, and so they fell into that ‘Slough of Despond,’ with the ‘pipe’ for their favorite companion. I was glad to get away from it, for it made my heart ache. With infinite understanding there would be infinite tolerance; and if we knew the springs of action, the circumstances and environment, of these poor, stray souls, perhaps we shouldn’t judge them very harshly.
“But to return to my story: ‘Chuck’ was in his element. Never did I know that such unmentionable slang, such mere depravity of phrase, could come from human lips, although my experience has been a varied one! The night you ladies were with us the ‘choicest gems’ of his vernacular were bottled up: last night the cork was drawn—with a vengeance! And yet, after all (though I’m glad you did not hear him), it was only words. At heart, the man is kind and generous, and he lives up to his code closer than many another who has had every advantage.