Memo.—David produced a new play called “The Very Minute” last Monday night [April 9, 1917], at his N. Y. theatre, with Mr. Arnold Daly in the principal part. All about bad effects of drinking too much liquor, &c. Novelty—striking! Good old Towse calls it “a shallow pretence of a serious play” and says it is a “nightmare.” Commends D. B.’s “meticulous attention to the material and manner of production.” Also commends A. D. for “moments of powerful acting.” Well—he was there and I was not; but how A. D. must have changed! I never saw any more “power” in him than there is in a pennywhistle. Used to have a sort of sonsy quality that was pleasing. Competent in a commonplace way: unusual assurance—great conceit. Knows his business—generally definite, which is a merit. Disagreeable personality. Head turned with vanity. And nothing really IN him—that ever I could see.
This play written by John Meehan. Young man, said to be related to me by marriage. I never met him and do not know. Suppose I must see his play and write about it. Don’t want to! “What, will the line stretch out to the crack of doom?” Where do they [plays] all come from, I wonder? Hope David has got another success, but surmise it’s an awful frost,—as ’twere “the very last minute of the hour,” I fear. Wish he would stop producing plays altogether until after I get through writing this “Life”!
[“The Very Minute” was first acted at The Playhouse, Wilmington, Delaware, April 5, 1917: it was “an awful frost,” as my father surmised, and it was withdrawn on May 7—the Belasco Theatre being then closed.—J. W.] This was the cast:
| Horace Cramner | Forrest Robinson. |
| Mrs. Cramner | Marie Wainwright. |
| Francis Cramner | Arnold Daly. |
| Kathleen | Cathleen Nesbitt. |
| Philip Cramner | William Morris. |
| Mr. Husner | John W. Cope. |
| Dr. Monticou | Lester Lonergan. |
| Robert | Robert Vivian. |
| Bennett | Leon E. Brown. |
SUMMARY.
[The various passages in the following “Summary” of the character and career of Belasco were written disjointedly. They are here gathered and arranged in what appears to be their natural sequence,—as nearly as I can judge in the order in which Mr. Winter would have placed them. In two or three instances an unfinished sentence has been completed and here and there an essential word or two has been inserted or added. Otherwise the matter stands unrevised: I have not attempted to write connecting passages.—J. W.]
“Not fearing death nor shrinking for distress,
But always resolute in most extremes.”
—Shakespeare.
The estimate that observation forms of a person still living cannot always be deemed conclusive: the person can invalidate it, in an instant, by some sudden action, some unexpected development, some surprising decadence; and, as a general rule, it should be remembered that no person is ever completely