The Sunday Oregonian., January 21, 1912, SECTION SIX, Page 5, Image 69

TITE SUNDAY OREGOXIAX, PORTLAND- JANUARY 21, 1912.
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So Says William Faversham Who Avers That
a Liberal Education and Groundwork in the
Classics Are Necessary Assets for Actor Who
Seeks High Place.
BT WIUUH FAVERSHAM.
ONE of the most wholesome signs
In the steady progress op ward and
betterward of the theater aa an In.
rtltutlon la the constantly Increasing
lumber of college men attracted to He
err Ice. Time was In this country and
sot very long- since when the pro es
tlon of acting- waa somewhat looked
town opon by cultivated people as
omethlng apart. Inferior, and scarcely
respectable. Such a notion, of course,
look Its persistency from the deep tinge
if Puritanical narrowness which so long
Shoked back the freest expression of
art In this country and which for de
cade after decade smothered beauty,
and things beautiful, looking askance
upon those persons who consecrated
their lives to the promotion of art.
Immediately after the Civil War. and
on the breast of the marvelous Indus
trial development that speedily made
the United States a world power, these
deadening Influences of a former age
and condition In a great measure van
Ished. and the theater aa an artistic
power could assert Itself without be
numbing- hindrances. The natural re
suit was that a constantly higher grade
of men were prompted to adopt the
profession of acting, and the shackles
of bigotry dropped away until cultl
vated men. men of refinement and
breeding, discovered that they could
choose to become actors with as much
dignity and rrlde aa they would law
vers or physicians. Now as a last ad
vancement In this country, college
graduates have begun to look to the
theater as the scene of their life
bors and with excellent results both
for themselves and for the stage.
For several generatlona acting has
In England been regarded aa a noble
and dignified profession for men with
university training. Men In England
plan and fit themselves for stage ca
reers aa naturally and earnestly as for
any other vocation. Oo to any flret-class
playhouse In London and you will find
recorded In the cast a liberal number
of names upon wtrlch university diplo
mas hate been bestowed by Illustrious
Institutions of learning. Perhaps It Is
this fact more than any other that
accounts for the belief, expressed by
many competent critics, that the stand
ard of acting In England averages dis
tinctly higher than In this country. At
any rate. I want to assert aa vigorously
aa possible that there la a positive, un
mistakable place for college men hun
dreds of them upon our stage men of
talents, cultivation, aspirations and
Ideals. The stage, the progress of the
art of acting needs such men. while
for them tha permanency and worthi
ness of their careers will prove Its own
record.
Especially do I believe that the man
desirous of attaining a firm, high place
upon the stage should possess a liberal
training In the staid-old classics, that I
are the bugaboo of every school lad
Latin and Creek. The mind well
grounded In the beauties and nobilities
of these two languages has an imme
diate asset towards real achievement In
acting. Nor la the value of a thorough
knowledge of Latin and Greek confined
to the actor who happens to find his
menage In classic plays.
For Instance, no man could well do
full Justice to my present role In The
Faun" who was not generally conver
sant with the tongues of the Greeks
and the Romans, yet "The Faun" la
comedy of present-day life In London.
But only the man who haa revelled In
the pages of classic literature can com-
prebend entirely the significance of a
faun In olden tiroes and his status In
the) realms of mythology. This com
prehension Is necessary to Interpret a
faun translated Into the modern world.
This Is only a random Instance of tha
usefulness of a classical education
dozen others might easily b cited.
The advantageous position which the
college-bred man occupies uisbn the
stage la eminently Illustrated In the
matter of speech. Our stage should be
a militant and perpetual exponent of
purely spoken English a conspicuous
model to be emulated by all citizens. To
a great degree the French stage does
fulfill Its mission In this regard. Alas,
on our stage, faulty pronunciation and
sloppy enunciation run rampant. The
Influx of college-bred men will tend to
correct this stigma. While It la not by
any means Imperative to take a college
course In order to speak good English.
It Is an undeniable fact that the col
lege graduate generally speaks bett
English than his brothers who have not
been quite as fortunate In the matter
of academic training. Of course there
are dozens of conspicuous exceptions
to this premise, but speaking by and
large It holds.
Thus the average college graduate
possesses right here a distinct ad van
tage when entering the lists for his
trionic fame. The manager who la keen
for good acting naturally engages the
best prospects he can find. Other qual
ities being equal, the man who speaks
properly stands the better chanoe for
advancement. College men ahould be
although unfortunately they are not al
wayspossessed of this Important es
sential of good speech.
I have been much Interested the last
few years In noting the continually In
creasing number of college men who are
embarking upon stage careers, and the
rising suooess attendant upon their ef
forts. They are young men of bound
less ambitions and earnest capabilities,
and their progress season by season la
ateady and marked.
For Instanoa, take the case of Robert
Deiapster. who first won prominent
public notice In The Road to Tester-
day." His family had planned for him
a career In law. and to that end sent
him to Cornell- There the call of the I
' ' ' '
"W I llli WV F ff fit M'f i I III ' m m M. m If f Slfff siVrV
footlights upset family scheming, and
he forsook law-tomes for grease-paints.
Arthur Shaw, the son of Mary Shaw,
Is another young college man, a Har
vard man, whose efforts on the stage I
have been watching with Interest. His
best performance to date was as the
ticket speculator In "The Country Boy."
There are a number of Harvard men
upon the stage, 'Including Kenry
Woodruff, who popularized "Brown of
Harvard." Otis Skinner furnishes one
of the best Instances of the success of
the college man upon tha stage.
Effingham Pinto made his first
Broadway hit In "The Climax" a couple
of seasons ago, but several years be
fore be had been delighting audiences
in amateur performances at Tale. Wal
lace McCutcheon has been playing ju
venile roles with Elsie Janls and Will
lam Collier since his college days at
Cornell. Lawrence Wheat spent four
years at Washington and Jefferson Col
lege In Pennsylvania; since then he
has spent several seasons depicting
college men upon the stage, notably
In "The College Widow" and "Going
Some." Alfred Kappeler took a degree
at Swarthmore to win applause In "The
Old Homestead" and "The Boys of Com
pany B."
Thus the list might be extended in
definitely, but I merely wish to give
a few Instances of young college grad
uates who are achieving careers of dig
nity, reward and promise upon the
stage. Each year more and more men
turn to the footlights. Much credit for
this is due, I think, to the fine work
being acomplished by the serious dra
matic olubs In the various universities,
such aa "The Harvard Dramatic Club,"
"The Columbia P'ayers." "The Tale
Dramatic Association." "The Triangle
Club" at Princeton, "The Cornell
Masque." "The Mask and Wig Club"
at the University of Pennsylvania. Not
only do these clubs stimulate a healthy
Interest in drama and acting, but they
afford a splendid opportunity for the
discovery of latent and undeveloped
histrionic ability.
Not a few good actors of the present
day owe the kindling of their dramatic
talents to chance appearances in col
lege theatricals. Once discovered, the
spark is then carefully nurtured in
these clubs throughout the college
course, ready to burst into true luster
when acting is finally undertaken as a
lifework.
Not only is the stage today, with
Its ever broadening mission to amuse
the masses, at the same time Inculcat
ing among them principles of morality
and uplift, and to develop true art as
Its handmaiden, being recruited in an
ever increasing amount from the ranks
of college men, but the business side of
the theater Is also enlisting the serv
ices of college men, men of upright.
sane principles, who are desirous of ad
vancing the standard of dramatic art.
For each there Is a great need and a
great opportunity. In times past, the
men who sat supreme over the business
destinies of the theater, thus control-
lng Its artistic development even more
perhaps, than the actor, have not al
ways been men of fine integrity, and
serving unselfishly the best interests of
the theater. Often money greedy, these
men have stultified art for the sake of
gold, and at one time threatened to sap
the very.llfeblood of the theater. Con
ditions are fast changing. Men of cul
tivation, of refinement, of ideals in
cluding many college men are devot
ing themselves to the business side of
the theater, either by actively engag
ing in the production of plays for profit,
or the running of theaters for gain, or
in the humbler but essential capacities
of business managers and acting man
agers for the scores of productions
touring the the country. An example
of the type of men I refer to is Wln
trop Ames, a Harvard graduate, who
directed the activities of the New The
ater, and has now become a play pro
ducer on his own account. Such men
are entering the service of the theater,
perceiving that it offers them advan
tages for splendid business careers al
lied to an art that is fascinating and
worthy. '
The advent of college men, both in
the department of acting and that of
management, cannot fail to produce
vivid and far-reaching effects. Above
all, the standard of acting will be
raised. Men of superior mental train
ing and equipment will inevitably sur
pass the marks set by those not thus
blessed, and from the 'very struggle
itself better acting is certain to result.
Acting will become more and more a
profession of gentlemen born and bred;
a profession more beneficial and more
worth while than it is even today.
With a general Increase In the stand
ards of acting the public will quickly
respond to the cultivation of artistic
aims, and by Its support and enthusi
asm further the cause of progress and
betterment. College men with keenly
sharpened intellects will Infuse In the
business departments of the theater le
gitimate methods, far-seeing policies
and high principles. The benefits of all
this will descend upon the Intelligent,
play-going public. The theater as a
temple for the expression of a noble art
has flourished from the earliest times.
It will always flourish. Today It stands
upon the threshold of a vastly increased
Influence and finer artistic attainment.
In this development the college man
promises to play a conspicuous part.
Some Rea l Dim tut Ives.
English possesses few real diminu
tives. Of the few derived words of
this sort, such as "darling," a little
dear, and "lambkin," a little Iamb, most
are old words.
The Spanish and Portuguese form di
minutives with the greatest ease, and
the difficulty of rendering these In
English will show what power of ex
pression we lack.
For example, nina, a girl; ninita, a
little girl; nlnltica, a very little girl;
ninitiqulta, a very very little girl;
ninltlquitica, a very very very little
girl. Along with this noun may be
taken the adjective chica. small, and it
will accompany the noun step by step,
for we shall have chlqulta. very small;
chlqultica, very very small; chirrlqui
tlca, very very very small.
Now, If we put the noun and the
adjective together, ninltlquitica chlrrl
qultlca, we have quite overdrawn the
resources of English and bankrupted
its credit.
The superior facility which our
Scotch friends enjoy Is made plain In
their tender expression "my wee bit
laddie." In Scotland there Is a series
of diminutives as applied to the canine
race that is quite interesting. There
Is (1) a dog, (2) a doggie, (3) a wee
doggie, (4) a wee bit doggie, and (5) a
wee bit doggikie.
BT EMMET F. RARTE.
a SQUATTY, inoffensive, ruddy-vla-aged.
casual sitter on a park
bench promises little In the way
f story materia let us pass on. I:ut
stay If he were attired In a neat, bujl
ess suit, brown derby and gun-metal
Iboes; and If he wore a purple four-ln-band
skilfully knotted above a clean
and altogether respectable-looking
ihlrt? no matter. Nothing doing;
we'd Just as well hullo! Here comes
somebody!
A tall, freckled, wild Western-looking
person, sporting an enormous high
crowned, wide-brimmed, gray hat. a
neckerchief. salmon-tinted woolen
shirt, leather trousers with an angora
goat pelt on each leg. spurs, gauntlets,
cartridge-belt, and softly! Do not
stare In an annoying fashion a dan-Kerous-looklnr
blue-black revolver In
a holster.
Now. that Isn't so bad, eh? He sits
himself down beside the squatty man
on the bench. They are strangers to
each other, apparently; It Is a quesUon
If both are not strangers to the park
In fact: other habi'ues of the benches
seem to accord them that distinction.
We will tarry a moment, on suspicion.
Too never know what minute somebody
will spring a plot these days, and that's
what editors, readers, secret service
men and playwrights are clamoring;
lor.
He of the bizarre apparel speaks.
His voice has the coppery, bronze,
nickel-steel aluminum no, brassy.
that's It brassy tone of the devil-may-care
fellow. Quite in harmony with
the ivuor of him. It Is a safe bet
the rascal Is a roysterlng blade, may
hap a Rough Rider or a Cattle-Rustler.
Sure, they come to the cities occa
sionally. Blow In and blow out or up.
-Stake me to a match." he says. No.
no explosion Is imminent, keep your
seats! He merely Ignites a harmless,
home-manufactured cigarette. Inhales
Its feathery fumes and displaces the
ash from the tip with the exhalation
you've seen It done. He continues
speaking. There's our opportunity;
sh ah!
"Say!" note the tone. "This is a
tame little old speck on the map. ain't
It? It's got a cemetery choked stiff
for peace and quiet. Is this town all
swathed up In cotton and slipping
around on rubber tires, all the time?
No wonder these here Easterners dry
up and blow away Instead of dying!
They don't have nothing to make their
blood circulate.
A real. live, human kind of person
gets the fan-tods just watching the
procession pass. Everybody's In har
ness. Just a-ploddlng and a-percolatlng
along all serene. Out where I hall
from It's different " The little man I
looks bored. He averts a yawn. How
ever, he murmurs, with a certain po
liteness: "Tes? Where did you say ah you
are r from V
"Oklahoma. Texas. New Mexico, Colo
rado and ao forth. I hall from tha
West; the West of the short grass,
tarantaulas, firewater and forty-fives.
Where the flower of fortune buds,
blooms and blasts In a minute of 59
seconds. Where cattle., rattlesnakes,
buffaloes and NavaJos run wild on the
plains and where you can ride 100
mllea in a atralght line and never see
a house. Where Just the mere care
lessness of not holding his mouth right
haa cost many a man's folks the price
of his burial, and where. If you don't
like the way somebody doea yon don't
have to go to court about It."
The little man Is unquestionably
wearied: no man can wear that air
of dejection and utter fatigue and at
the same time feel the sprightly in
terest expected of hlra by this ardent
narrator. Beyond the foreground of
high-reared buildings, a p.illld pen
nant flutters from the slender staff on
a distant tower; the little man's face
brightens somewhat as he contemplates
It. It Is the weather Indication for the
day.
Beg pardon." he says. "Where'd
you say you were from?"
"Tombstone Medicine Lodge Sliver
City; and hundreds of other places. Out
there the gun Is the settler of all dis
putes and ready medicine for all com
plaints. And the quickest man wins.
Why. sir, I've seen met shot before
they could bat an eye. A flash of
lightning would be Just tinkering along
beside It.
"Furthermore, you go out there any
where, ask the first man you meet
who's the quickest and fanciest gun
artist that ever scorched the breeze
In that whole country and what'll he
say? He'll say 'Electric Ed,' with
thirty odd notches gn his tally. That's
me. Electric Ed."
At last, the small man seems Im
pressed: not every day does a self-con
fessed killer come and alt beside you
on a park-bench to prattle, naively, of
his barbarous trade.
' "Thirty odd notches on your tally.
you say? r.r er Heartened and In
spired. Electric Ed. produces the san
guinary revolver and points to a row
of nicks on the under side of Its for
bidding barer!. Ha la not loth to explain:
'Each and every one of these
notches means a human creature
croaked," he says. "Some few through
their hearts, but mostly plump between
the eyes I never made a botch of
but one; he was my first. I shot him
through the ear and the shoulder and
the elbow; and finally cut his Jugular
with a bullet. He bled to death. That
waa sure a messy Job."
"Careful how you handle that pis
tol!" cautions the little man. "Hadn't
you better put It back where you got
It?" His seeming nervousness la aa
rounda of applauae to Electric Ed.
'You're safer with me here than
home In your bed," la the bad man's re
assuring declaration. "I never had
an accident. When a man drops, at
the crack of this little pop-gun. It's
not an accident. Tou're in no danger
whatever, so don't get scared."
"I wasn't." returns his companion.
-Ahem! Where did"
"Tes," continues Electric Ed., reml-
niscently. "This gun and me have seen
a few sights together. Take the time
I landed In Western Kansas, for In
stance: I waa nothing but a gangling
kid. There was a bad man In that
neighborhood by the name of Coman
che Smith He had a pick at every
body and claimed to be utterly careless
about other people's lives; In. fact he
had shot two or three peaceful cltl
sens; men who never toted a gun.
"One day he smoked up the town;
of course everybody hit for cover; ev
erybody except me. Tie undertook to
make me dance. I popped him center
between his little rat eyes at thirty
yards; he was my second. Five of
his friends In a body made me five
more notches. That happened the
same day.
"It made a fool of me for a month
or so; I went around picking off this
or that one, for little or nothing as
an excuse. A bartender or two, four
or five cow-punchers, a couple or
three gamblers, Mexicans Indians, I
never kept no count on and men I
didn't learn their occupations, maybe
half a dozen. One fellow I plunked be
cause, he chewed too loud, in a res
taurant where I was eating my dinner;
another one because he had on yellow
shoes. I was uncommon careless and
haphazard about It.
"Later on, I got habitual and settled
In my regular dally life and didn't per
forate people unless they got obnox
ious or personal with me. That's the
best plan; then you don't feel like
maybe you might've been a little
hasty. A mao, I argue, ought to have
the right to live as long as he don't
Interfere with nobody else's comfort
and don't array himself out In no out
landish clothes that irrlate the people
having to look at 'em.
"I've got to bo more easy-going In
late years; more restfulllke and un
concerned. Take for Instance that
purple necktie you're wearing; now, I
don't think that necktie is pretty. It
might be all right on a female, but
It's too gaudy and conspicuous for a
man. I used to smoke up at once, m
a case of that kind, but I don t any
more. A purple necktie ain't enough
to kill a man for. Of course you add
green and yellowsocks, a checker
board shirt, red shoes and one of these
little, turn-up, go-to-thunder hats with
a red, white and blue band around It
and It's different. I'd be Justified in "
Certainly, certainly," the little man
agrees, promptly. "But to return to
the West er "
Tes. I've had some mlghtly ticklish
experiences. I couldn't just at this
minute pick out one and say this was
the most terrible' or this was the
most halr-ratslng' of any; there's too
many of 'em. Take the set-to I had
with Bob Gault ' The little man
starts perceptibly. His right hand,
whtoh had lain Inert upon his leg, has
moved to his left armpit swiftly.
Tes," he says, evenly. "I've heard
of that fellow. Read about him In the
newspapers. He's a desperado down
in the Territories, ain't he?"
He was; he Isn't any more. He's
dead. I plunked him, at 10 minutes
past 4, Thursday three weeks ago yes
terday. A powerful bad man Bob Gault
was; dangerous, mean, diabolic; Just as
soon shoot you as to look at you;
maybe a little sooner. He's got a long
bloody record out In that country.
"Train-robber, cattle-rustler, horse
thief, man-killer; all-around bandit and
outlaw. Him and his gang had things
all their own way down In the South
west. Drove off cattle, horses and
stock of one kind or another, robbed
banks, trains, stores, shot up towns,
killed right and left and had that
whole section of the United States
scared stiff for fear the next minute
would bo their last. Thousands of dol
lars reward was offered for Bob Gault,
dead or alive dead preferred. All the
Sheriffs. United States Marshals and
Plnkerton detectives which had been
run in by the banks and railroads were
shaky about, tackling the gang though.
"Tou'd think I'd've Jumped at
chance for some easy money and ex
cltement like that and gone hunting
for Bob Gault myself; but It happened
that I was wanted pretty bad on ac
count of a small difficulty of my own,
In which there'd been three first-class
funerals; besides. Bob Gault and his
outfit hadn't bothered me none.
"It happened that they did bother me
finally though, and then was when
got busy. They stole my horse.
don't object to loaning a man a horse
or. If he's having hard luck and I was
feeling Just right, I might give him
horse If I had one to spare; but when
he cuts the wire fence and purloins a
nag of mine out of his pasture, I get
my dander up, immediately.
"It was a good Horse they got. They
had six hours or so the start: five of
'em as near as I could Judge from tho
trail. I slipped on an extra gun, : e
filled my belt with cartridges and rode
after 'em.
"Towards noon, I got close enough to
the party to see 'em topping a hill
something like a mile away. They
didn't seem to be in any particular
hurry; I was, so I peppered up a little;
I was going to be late for dinner as It
waa. A couple of miles more and I
caught up with them. Bob Gault was
riding my horse; I knew him from his
descriptions, tacked up around on tele
phone poles.
"He had his usual big 45's buckled on
him and the four men with him had
Winchesters and other shooting-irons
a-plenty. I circled out a ways and
loped up to them from one side; I
pulled up, about 60 yards away. 'Guess
I'd better take that horse you stole
back wit-h me, gents,' I says. They
stopped and began to laugh; Gault
laughed the loudest.
" 'You better .ride on back to your
ma, young feller,' he says. 'We don't
want to hurt you. We'll Just call it
square if you'll get a hurry-up move
on you.' About the time he finished
his little talk, one of the gang shot off
his pistol to scare me.
"I didn't bother to answer; I just
dropped a couple of the nearest ones,
out of their saddles, deader than rab
bits. Then the wax broke out as the
saying goes. I got one more of them
before they killed the nag I was riding.
but I couldn t seem to get a shot at
Gault; somebody kept getting in the
way. Him and the one that was left
with him pumped a few shots and hit
the high places. When they got out of
revolver range they stopped to pick me
off with the rifle.
I caught one of the loose horses
while the bullets were zipping around
me, mounted and went after 'em. The
fellow with the rifle was getting pretty
close to me about every third shot or
so; it looked like he might finally hit
me u ne wasn t stopped, so I took a
long, high, pot-shot at him and got
him. That left Gault and me for it.
and he was game; he didn't run.
'He waited, as calm and collected as
one of these here soldier statuaries, sit
ting there with his gun resting on his
saddle horn. I rode straight for him.
He didn't make a move till I got up
close; 30 or 40 yards away, maybe.
Then he tilted back his hat with his
bridle hand.
Tou're Electric Ed,' he says. "Ain't
you?
The same,' I says. -Which shall It
be, dead or alive?'
I could read his thoughts; he
thought ba'd shoot first and answer ,
afterwards; but his gun didn't leave
the saddle. I shot from the crook of
my left elbow and that was the end of
Bob Gault. He was plenty nervy but a
wee mite slow; most of 'em are.
"Of course I couldn't claim any of
the reward money without getting
caught myself, so I had to pass it up;
it's all owing to me yet, out there; sev
eral thousand bones of It. Too bad; I
could use that money right handy "
The listener stirs relaxes as it were
and sighs.
"Er er " he begins. He did not
finish the comment whatever It might
have been, for at that moment a hand
was laid on his shoulder. A plainly
garbed, square-vlsaged stranger stood
Immediately behind the bench. There
loomed the silent menace of a revolver
in his hand and the point of a star
peeped from behind his coat-lap.
"Come along with me," he invited,
meaningly. "I want you."
What happened then happened too
swiftly for even Electric Ed's lightning
comprehension. A stabbing spurt of
flame, a dull report, a curling wisp of
smoke and the acrid smell of burned
powder. The little man ran hurriedly
across the grass plot, dodged behind a
tangle of shrubbery and disappeared.
The man with the star lay where he
had fallen, bleeding from a bullet
wound in his side.
The Inevitable crowd converging
upon the scene, appeared from no
where; two blue-coated policemen held
Electric Ed., one on either side. The
wagon came, clanging and clamorous:
likewise the ambulance, rubber-tired,
silent. At this moment the wounded
man revived and sat up; the bullet had
been deflected by a rib.
"Where is he?" he cries. "Did he get
away?"
"Here," says a policeman. "We've got
him."
"I mean the fellow I was after the
one that shot me. That ain't him. That'B
just a youngster from the P. D. Q.
Ranch Show over here on the avenue.
The man I was after was Bob Gault,
the Territory bank-robber. I've chased
him through a dozen states."
(Copyright by Shortstory Pub. Co.)
Thought Force Experiments.
Professor Bell, inventor of the tele
phone, told me that when driving In
the provinces in extremely cold weath
er, when he was in great danger of
having his feet frozen, he was able to
send an extra supply of blood to them
by concentrating his mind upon them,
and thus saved himself a very painful
experience. He says that by powerful
concentration of thought he can cause
temporary congestion of the blood ves
sels In the extremities, and thus make
the warm blood circulate where he was .
cold before. Nautilus