Sarah Bernhardt's Bath

1901

The youthfulness and vivacity of the famous French actress, Sarah Bernhardt, have been the wonder and admiration of the public for many years. There is probably no woman before the American public today who takes greater care of herself than Mme. Bernhardt.

Writing in The Ledger Monthly, Stella Stuart says that a sponge bath which affords exquisite refreshment to tired muscles and jaded spirits and is an excellent preparation for the evening toilet is used regularly by the talented French actress and is said to be a potent auxiliary in preserving her apparently perennial charm.

It consists of ½ pint of alcohol, 2 ounces spirits of camphor, 2 ounces spirits of ammonia, 2 ounces sea salt, and boiling water to make one quart. The directions called for agitating this mixture thoroughly and rubbing it into the skin with the bare hands. It was considered excellent for one to bathe the neck and shoulders before donning an evening dress.

A Nervy Museum Manager

1901

Sarah Bernhardt said that one night during a visit to America when she was playing "Jeanne d'Arc," she hurt her knee with a rusty nail. "The wound gave me considerable pain and trouble," she said, "and it was thought that a slight operation might possibly be required. This fact appeared in the daily papers, and a day or two afterward I received a telegram from the manager of a museum in Chicago saying that if it was necessary to amputate my leg might he please have it. He added he would drape it if desired."

Took a Mean Advantage

1901

A supernumerary in Richard Mansfield's company who had been, to use a Scotch phrase, continuously and continually "heckled" by the manager at rehearsals and between the acts for alleged displays of stupidity on the stage, was informed that a near relative of his had departed this life and had left him a competence, so he decided to leave the dramatic profession and, to quote him, become respectable. Before leaving he determined to take his revenge on Mansfield for the attacks on his amour propre that gentleman had made.

The play was "Richard III," and the super was one of the soldiers who led away the Duke of Buckingham when the king orders his demise.

In due time Richard remarked, "Off with his head!" and this was the super's opportunity. Advancing, he touched his helmet in the style of a footman and replied loudly and genially:

"That'll be attended to, old chap. We'll take care of old Buck. It'll be all right!" and retired gracefully. When the infuriated Mansfield came off to commit murder, he found the super had fled. — Chicago Chronicle.

The Combustible Clive

1910

As long ago as the middle of the eighteenth century, a famous Georgian actress, Mrs. Kitty Clive, felt the call of the nerves commonly associated with modern women. The whole green room, according to the author of "Garrick and his Circle," feared her tantrums.

Her character stood high, but her clean, wholesome nature and honest heart scarcely offset her temper. She was the one player Garrick feared, and he did everything he could to disperse her nerve storms, or, if they broke, assuage them. It is among the legends of the English stage that he said to her:

"I have heard of tartar and brimstone, but you are the cream of one and the flower of the other!" — Youth's Companion.

Glasses for Players

1910

A recent instance of American ingenuity is afforded by the device of an optician for the relief of stage folk afflicted with defective eyesight.

Glasses fitted with tiny lenses are now made for the use of the actor so afflicted, who, in deference to the character he is enacting, may not wear the regulation eyeglasses or spectacles.

These special glasses fit close to the eyeball, and are hardly discernible from the front of the house, except when the footlights are at their highest point of illumination. The nosepiece, or bridge connecting the lenses is covered with flesh colored material which aide the illusion.

Playhouses of the Past

1905

An interesting picture of the stage of our forefathers was drawn by Sir Henry Irving during an address delivered in Bath, England, at the unveiling of a memorial tablet to James Quin. After his retirement in 1751, Quin lived in Bath for fifteen years. He had been an actor for more than thirty-five years. For more than half that period he had held his own against all competitors until the advent of David Garrick, who reformed the stilted style of declamation then in vogue.

"Theatrical audiences in those days," said Mr. Irving, "must have been rather 'fearful wildfowl,' and often exacting more when they were pleased than when they were angry. There was always a danger that they would tear up the benches, or that some of them would rush upon the stage and deliver a general assault and battery. On one occasion, when Rich was attacked by a drunken nobleman, Quin saved his life by some vigorous swordplay.

"The actor's vocation then was full of stirring variety. Quin was a man of the readiest wit, and he is said to have employed it successfully in telling stories to an audience to keep them from rioting when the play was waiting for some royal personage, who had forgotten the time. Horace Walpole tells us that Quin, when pressed to play the part of the Ghost in 'Hamlet' — a part he considered beneath him — would make no answer but, 'I won't catch cold behind.' 'The Ghost,' says Walpole, 'is always ridiculously dressed, with a morsel of armor before and only a "block" waistcoat and breech behind.'

"The story how Quin befriended James Thomson, whom he found in prison for a debt of £70, is a worthy illustration of the actor's character. He ordered supper and claret — a good deal of claret — and when the bottle was going round he said with grim humor, 'It is time we should balance accounts.'

"The unfortunate poet, who was already alarmed at this burly visitor, took him for another creditor.

"'Mr. Thomson,' said Quin, 'the pleasure — I have had — in reading your — works — I cannot estimate — at less than £100 — and I insist on now — acquitting the debt.' And then he put down the money and walked out without another word."

Tango Dances Drive 'Em Mad

1914

New York, Jan. 1. — The extent of the present dancing madness is shown in no manner more vividly than the way in which many society women now madly vie with each other for the questionable honor of tangoing with former chorus men and other cheap actors whom a few short months ago they would not have deigned to accept an introduction.

Now they wait their turn like outcasts in the bread line for the exhilarating experience of stepping the latest measures with individuals who, before the prevalence of this twentieth century lunacy, were content to be seen, unheard and untouched, in the rear of a musical comedy ensemble.

A new dance, the "Paul Jones," is the latest and most amazing manifestation of the craze.

In this exhibition, at a blast from a whistle, all present, dance with those next to them whether acquainted with them or not. No introductions are necessary.

Although some of these affairs are high priced and are conducted in high toned neighborhoods under "society" auspices, the crowds are exceedingly mixed and there can be no telling what may be the character of the man with whom some woman from exclusive circles may grab for a partner.

Many men of no standing and little repute are patronizing these "swell" affairs regularly under the assurance that they may tango or trot madly with women who heretofore have been supposed to hold themselves dearly.

Theda Bara Says She is Going To Quit Vamping

1920

Famous Movie Vampire Says Everybody is Some Sort of a Vamp But She is Tired of the Business

New York — Theda Bara, she of celluloid fame, who has had the unique experience of vamping herself into fame, vamping herself out of fame, and now intends to outvamp herself — as it were — expects greater success on the stage than she ever found on the screen.

Seated in a little dressing room off the stage suite of Al H. Woods, her new producer, she told me of her new ambitions. She confided that when she appears in "The Blue Flame," under the direction of Woods, America will see not the old Theda Bara, not the new Theda Bara, but "The old Theda Bara and the new Theda Bara and the real Theda Bara."

The interview was not a minute old before I discovered that Theda Bara has a voice extremely well suited to the stage.

"I have given myself up to this new thing to a greater extent than I ever did before," she said. "Practically every minute of every day since my rehearsals have started has been devoted to work, and, with the exception of the theater, I have almost given up amusement, for the time being. My new play — my first on the stage — is everything I could desire, for it gives me a chance to show a woman of modern times as many of them are, entirely conscienceless and hardened at times and yet as lovable at others, changeful brilliant, and yet just a woman."

"Then, said I, "you believe every woman is more or less of a vampire, and that this is particularly true in these days of fur coats, automobiles, and $1,000 evening gowns?"

"Surely," said she. "And by saying that, I don't mean there is anything wrong in being a vampire — at least, not in the way I mean. Doesn't every wife do the vampirish tricks to please her husband? Doesn't every girl strive to appear at her best? And shouldn't they? Surely. The parts I portray only show that trait in an exaggerated, or rather extreme form."

—Appleton Post Crescent, Appleton, WI, Feb. 9, 1920, p. 8.

Instant Messaging Helps Actor Name His Price

1903

The coolness and self-control which have always been two of John Drew's most marked qualities, both off and on the stage, stood him in good stead once in the early part of his career, says Frank Leslie's Monthly.

It happened that Drew for some reason or other learned how to take and send messages on the telegraph ticker. Harry Vernon, a friend of his, and a skilled telegraph operator himself, was working that time in the office of a certain manager who was negotiating with Drew. When the talk between the actor and manager worked around to the question of terms Drew hesitated to stand out for what he wanted. Finally the manager made an offer. The actor was on the point of acceptance when the ticker began to sound. Vernon was the operator.

"Drew, Drew, Drew," it ticked. "Listen, listen. Hold off terms a minute. Ask for ten more. He said he'd give it before you came in."

With a calm and impassive expression of deliberate consideration, Drew looked thoughtfully at the manager while he rapped with a pencil on the desk the dots and dashes which were good Morse for "Vernon, are you sure?"

"Sure," came the clicks.

Then Drew spoke and got his price.

—Davenport Daily Republican, Davenport, Iowa, March 4, 1903, page 5.

Comment: So Vernon was in the same office as Drew at the time but sent the message over the ticker, yet, being present, was able to respond to Drew's taps on the desk.

Gambling Raid, Arrests at Majestic Cigar Store

Des Moines, Iowa, 1909--

3 ARRESTED IN GAMBLING RAID

Police Descend On Pretty Game In Basement

In a raid last night in the basement of the Majestic cigar store and the arrest of three men, two of whom are well known gamblers, the police have broken what has been an eye sore to their department for many months.

The men arrested gave their names as Ira Stitzel, Joe DeRose and Max Frankle.

The police have known for some time that gambling was going on in the basement of the store but were unable to catch the men "with the goods."

The police claim that the place is being conducted for the purpose of getting actors' "rolls."

Joe DeRose was found in charge last night. He was required to put up $50 for his appearance in police court Monday morning. Stitzel and Frankle put up $15.

--The Des Moines News, Des Moines, Iowa, February 21, 1909, page 1.

Actor Sues Movie Concern

1920--

Capt. Robert Warwick Demands $525,644 for Breach of Contract

NEW YORK, N.Y., May 20. -- Capt. Robert Warwick, motion picture star and former member of the A. E. F., filed suit in the Federal District court against the Famous Players-Lasky Corporation for $525,644, which he alleges the company owes him on a three year contract.

Warwick claims that on Jan. 30, 1919, he signed a contract by which he was to receive $133,000 for the first year, $148,500 the second year, and $180,000 the third. In addition, he alleges, the company agreed to pay him for certain accident and other insurance premiums.

He states he went to work for the company April 1, 1919, and that on April 7, 1920, he was discharged without cause in violation of his contract and to the detriment of his professional standing as an actor.

--The Saturday Blade, Chicago, May 22, 1920, page 4.