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About The Sunday Oregonian. (Portland, Ore.) 1881-current | View Entire Issue (July 28, 1912)
3 THE SUNDAY OREGONIAX, PORTLAND, JULY 23, 1912. sit Is Picturesque efuge Home, for Thespians. ' '' BT BYRON A. NEWTON. WE were out for a little spin on Staten Island. Our automobile was humming- along- a quiet country road near West Brighton when a singularly stately old mansion, a short distance from the main thorough fare, caught the attention of our little party. It was unlike any other coun try place along the road. Somebody who wanted seclusion and a place for undisturbed dreaming had picked out this spot, and then somebody, with much thought, had designed the house and tucked it In there with consum mate taste and an air of naturalness that made It look as If it had grown up with the hills and trees that sur rounded it. An old gentleman who somehow looked as if he belonged to the place was strolling along the road, and we asked htm whose house it was. "The Actors' Home," he said. "And are callers welcome?" we asked. He assured us that we were most wel come, and showed us where to drive In. It was not yet noon when we drew up under the shadow of the great ma ples, but the stars were out before we departed, and even then we came away with a feeling- of genuine reluc'-ance. Truly, it Is the dream sp, of Stage land. I doubt if anywhere on this broad continent there dwells another group of men and women who have so much of the world's real romance In their lite stories as ' nave these eld kings and queens of the stage. For them the curtain has gone down forever, but their minds and memories are as keen as ever, and the Home is a little greenroom where Intrusions never come, and where, day after day, and evening after evening, they may live over again the scenes of their lives, waiting contentedly for the time to come when they shall forget It all and go to sleep In the burying ground over the hill. Saw Days as Favorite. Most of them were leading men and women in the days when our grand fathers and grandmothers were young. They were popular favorites In the New York theaters before we were born, and many of them have seen small hamlets grow into great cities since they began playing. And now at 70 and 80 years they are yet apparently as young and cheerful, as If life and all Its pleasures were just beginning instead of drawing to a close. That is one of the interesting things about these old people the se cret of their remarkable preservation through all the hardships their profes sion has placed upon them. Back over the years their memories run, telling you of the things that hap pened in the '40s and '50s and '60s, tell ing of the triumphs and failures of those days, and recalling each name and incident as If all had happened but last week. Nor have they closed their eyes on the things of today, by any means. They are Just as much interested in the players of the present as in their old friends of half a centruy ago, but It is a sort of grandfatherly and grandmoth erly Interest they have In the actor folk of our time, and this feeling Is Indulged to an extent that can be understood only by those who know how deep and genuine is the feeling of fraternallsm among me:nbers of the tb satrlcal pro fession. Scarcely a. day passes lu the Summer season when from five to fifty well known actors and actresses do not jour ney over from New York to see some of the old folk. Men and women who are most conspicuous on the stage to day were "mothered" by these old ladles now at the Home, and the sentiment of the younger generation for the old folk Is like that of children for their own parents. Mrs. Nellie Tannehlll is one of the younger members of the Home group. She is only a few years past three score and ten. "I used to hold Ethel Barry more In my lap when she was a baby," said she. "And you can imagine that I am very fond of her. I can hardly realize that so many of these children have grown up and are now taking our places. Ethel comes out often to see us, and I like to tell her about the things that happened when she was a baby." Favorite of Ante-Bcllum Days, Long before the Civil War began Nellie Tannehlll was a favorite In the leading playhouses of America. In the old days she played with McCullough, Nellson,' Modjeska and others of their class. Probably there Is no woman now liv ing so well known to the stage celeb rities of half a century ago as Nellie Tannehlll, yet as you talk with her now you somehow have the feeling that she is still young, and it Is In deed very hard to realize that her stage work is finished. "But it Is finished," she said, with a sigh that had just the tinge of regret. "I was before the footlights continu ously for more than fifty years, and now I am very contented to rest here awhile and dream about the dear old days." Everything about the place suggests "dreaming about the dear old days." The walls are adorned with faces that recall the old days, and at night when the embers glow in the big fireplace the old people cluster about it and re count the happy times in the years that are gone forever. Down in the basement Is -".he "prop erty room, and there again we found many pathetic reminders of the "dear old days." In one end of the room a hundred trunks, battered and worn by their years of journeying, are stored away, never again to be moved. Looking over the lettering upon them Is like reading the history of the American stage. '"There are names of famous old stock companies and popu lar stage people that have not been heard of in a generation. Some of the trunks are so old as to make them look like relics of another age. Under their dusty lids are hidden costumes, records nd letters that would tell a, thousand interesting stories . of the forgotten years. In one corner we saw a sprightly old couple looking over the contents of one of the trunks. They were read ing some old letters apparently, and their manner was that of two young lovers. So they are, and so they have been for more than 60 years. Away back In 1850 Samuel K. Ches ter was a callboy In the old Baltimore Museum. A pretty little girl .was play ing there as a fairy. They were lovers then, and they were still lovers that day as we saw them bending over the old trunk trying to unearth a package of sweetheart letters which neither of them had seen for more than 50 years. Memories of the Past. All these years they have traveled together, playing leading parts with the greatest actors of their generation, and in all that time they have been separated but one season. In the early, days Chester played all leading -parts in the Shakespearean plays with Edwin Booth and Edwin Forrest, and he tells you of those old celebrities with a viv idness that seems to bring them actu ally "before your eyes. "Yes," he said, "those were dear old days, when we were beginning, back there in Baltimore, 60 years ago. It hardly seems as long as that. Joe Jefferson was stage manager of the old Museum at that time, and the girl who later became his wife was a sou brette. Only a few of the old boys and girls of that day are now living. We are going to celebrate our golden wedding in a few days, and I'm afraid it won't be much of a task to write the invitations for those who knew us when we were married." Then the old couple told us many Interesting stories of the early lives of some of the great actors, most of whom have been dead or off the boards for many years. One of these stories re lated how Stuart Bobson, as a young ster, used to annoy the actors in Phila delphia until he was finally driven away from the theaters altogether. "Maggie Mitchell is still one of us young folk," said Chester, "and we frequently go" up to New York and have dinner with her. We have known her for more than 80 years." In the palmy days of Wallack's old theater, at Broadway and Thirteenth street, Effie German was the popular favorite. For nearly 20 years she was the relffnlng queen of high comedy, and as well known, almost, as the old theater Itself. Today she is one of the old women at the Home, dreaming of the old days, with the others. "Oh. those dear old Saturday matl nees," she said with an air of melan choly reflection as she looked away over the fields of the island. "Some how I cannot make it seem that they are gone forever. I used to wish they would never end, but they did. Every thing that I had to live for has been taken away from me. First I lost all my property in Wall street, then my boy died, and here I am with nothing but the dreams of the past." One of the liveliest among the "old girls" at the Home is Marlon P. Clif ton, now In her 80th year. She was born in Bingwood, England, in 1832, and began her stage career in the Pavilion Theater in Whltechapel road, London. -That was in 1853. .She came to this country in 1864 and played continuously from that time until her last appearance In Chicago In 1904. She Is as bright and active as a woman of 40, takes care of her own room, reads all of the current literature with out glasses, has few gray hairs In her head, and scarcely knows the meaning of Illness. For 20 years she played most of the time with Maggie Mitchell and Kate Claxton, and they often visit her now at the old home. She delights in talk ing of her early experiences In Lon don 60 years ago, and of the interest ing episodes of her lire In tnis coun try. "The first time I was ever In a the ater," she said, "I became an actress. At 18 I was a widow. One of our I neighbors was an acress who played in the old Pavilion Theater, and one night she asked me to go with her. I had never been in a playhouse before, and had my first glimpse of It from the stage. It so happened that an extra girl was needed to All In that night, and before I knew it my friend had put a white dress on me and I was shoved on the stage with a group of other girls. "Something about the place fascin ated me completely, and from that hour the stage was my home. It all seemed to como very naturally, and I well remember that when I got so that I could faint and do a back fall I was the happiest woman in England. Yes, it has been a hard life, I suppose, but I have enjoyed it all and I am very happy here. I can remember the old times." All through the afternoon our little party visited among the old people, listening to their Interesting stories, but somehow we could not make our selves realize that they were really old. Nothing about them, except their anecdotes of ancient days, indicated their age. One of the most entertaining men at the home Is Charles A. Morris, who has passed his 78th year, but does not look a day over 60. He was one of the ear liest and most successful among the negro minstrels of half a century ago and began his career as a "balladist" in 1844. End of Bright Career. Harry D. Cliffton, a well-known Shakespearian actor of the past gen eration, began his Btage work at Wal lack's Theater in 1859 and last ap peared In "Hamlet" in 1904. At one time, he told us, he played with Edwin Forrest 300 nights, never appearing twice in the same county. Today, with the exception of a slight defect in his sight, one would imagine that he could take a part as well as ever. Antonio Roigf, the well-known "Tony Roche" of 40 years ago, was born in Spain In 1834, and after B0 years of active life as an actor and manager is still able to play tennis like a college boy. - John Leon Vincent, horn in Lon don in, 1836, hegan his American, ca reer at Nlblo's Garden. New Ydrk, In 185S, and after more than 50 years is one of the most active of the home's e-uests. Georea Morton la another of the same type. His stage work began at the old National Theater in Washing ton in 1856 and was finished at Nashua, N. H., in 1907, and he still has the ap nMrfLRCB of a young man. Frank A. Du Bols began in New York in 1866 and until 1907 was either on the stage or acting as manager for the Frohmans. lie etui seems HKe a vouns: man. ' Roslna Newville began, playing in 1852 and made her last appearance with Percy G. Williams in 1909. No one who meets her at the home would dream of placing her la the old woman class. And so.lt goes through the entire list of the' 35 guests at the home. Their records tell that they are in reality old people, some of them very old, but there are few outward evidences of age, physically or mentally. The ma jority of them have been topliners dur ing the greater part of their careers, and most of them have at one time or another possessed Independent for tunes. But the money slipped away from them, as it usually does from actor folk, and finally the time came when they awakened to the fact that they were tired and a little out of date, and being without funds or friends there was no other permanent refuge ex cept the comfortable home on Staten Islandt which the Actors' Fund of America maintains in such praise worthy manner. Made to Feel at Home In all material respects the place Is unlike any other charitable Institution of Its kind. In fact, everything that suggests the charitable Institution is studiously eliminated, and the old peo ple, so far as possible, are made to feel that they are really in. their own home with the full enjoyment of Indi vidual liberties and without any of those Institutional rules and restrlc-1 Vs. - p'kMr 'ft tlons that make such places little bet ter than prisons for persons who have been accustomed to the ways of pros perity and personal freedom. The old people are never spoken of as Inmates. They are guests," Just as if they were sojourning at a big hotel, and their dally lives are about what they would be at a quiet family hotel. The few rules laid down are those that are necessary for the maintenance of ordinary protection and discipline. In the first place, no person can go there so long as he or she has any other source of support. But once en tered as a guest there is no further concern about food, Bhelter or cloth ing. Provision is even made for the last resting place in the little burying grouad not far from the Home. Any guest is at liberty to go away for a reasonable time, but notice must be given in advance of the intended ab sence, and when away reports must be made regularly to the Home. Another inflexible rule is that once having entered the home a guest cannot there after appear on the stage or take part In any professional work for com pensation. It often occurs that after a guest has become thoroughly recuperated through a few months' rest at the Home he becomes eager to get back In the harness again, but that he can not do, except he sever his connection with the Home. erse Tales From Humorous Pens WHY OEORGE3 WAS FAMOUS. The incumbent of an old church in Wales asked a party of Americans to visit his parochial school. After a recitation he invited them to question the pupils, and one of the party ac cepted the invitation. "Little boy." he said to a rosy-faced lad, "can you tell me who George Wash ington was?" "Iss. sir," was the smiling- reply. 'E was a "Merlcan General." "Quite right. And can you tell me what George Washington was remark able for?" "Iss, sir. 'E was remarkable 'cos 'e was a 'Merlcan an' told the truth." Youth's Companion. SEEDED AX INTERPRETER. The best way to learn to speak a for eign language with a pure accent is to learn to speak it in one's childhood. Hence. In Europe and the custom is also being adopted here infants have French nurses. German nurses, Italian nurses, and so forth. Thus, uncon sciously and without effort, they be come superb linguists. Miss Eleanor Sears, apropos of this wise custom, told a story at a luncheon in Philadelphia. "One afternoon," said Miss Sears, "1 dropped in at a young Boston matron's. - -Oh. she said, 'I'm so glad you've come. Jack's so ill. and I can't make out what alls him.' " I've got a ear outside,' I said. 'Shall I run for a doctor? "No, said the poor young mother, 'Run for an interpreter. Jack's Italian purse is on this afternoon and sons of us can understand what he saysl" Washington Star. tDmt,pcfmnwoC(ltnaueovor(vwflucal n READY TO LISTEN. "Can I talk to you a few minutes," asked the life insurance agent. ."Yes," replied the superintendent of the factory, " if you don't mind walk ing about the building with me. I haven't really the time to sit down." "That's all right," said the agent. "I'd rather move around a little, any how." The superintendent led the way out of the pattern-room, thence into the woodworkers' department, stopping every moment or so to converse with some operative, and took his caller at last into the room where the huge hammers were filling the air with their unearthly din. "Now," he said, yelling into the ear of the life insurance man. "I am ready to listen to you. Go ahead." Tit-Bits. TOO MUCH TRAFFIOL P. V. Daniel. "Virginia Gentleman," was one of the general officers of the old Richmond, Fredericksburg at Po tomao Railroad. Even in those days, before the Civil War, the road was prosperous and at a meeting of the board of directors some progressive introduced a resolu tion to reduce the rate for passengers from 17 to 11 cents a mile. Instantly Daniel, who was chairman, declared the morion "out of order." "Why?" protested its patron. "Why!" thundered Daniel. "If you do that you will save every rag-tag- and bobtail in the State of Virginia riding on our road. That's why!" Every body's. , WISHING FOR WEALTH. "I don't care if I never become rich enough to own a motorcar." "So?" "No; and what's more, I'm not dead anxious to be able to afford a trip to Europe now and then. ' "Contented, sir?" "Not exactly. Only I'm not losing any sleep because I haven'f money enough to build eight or nine two-family flats." "What is the matter with you, then?" "As I was saying, I haven't any am bition to corner the money market. All I want is enough to live on, and " "Enough for a rainy day?" "No. I'd Just like to be rich enough to afford an ice box with attachments so that I wouldn't have to empty the pan underneath it every night and morning." Detroit Free Press. Quips and Flings NEXT! The widower had just taken his fourth wife and was showing her around the village, says the National Monthly. Among the places visited was the churchyard, and the bride paused before a very elaborate tombstone that had been erected by the bridegroom. Being a little near-sighted, Bhe asked him to read the inscriptions, and in reverent tones he read: "Here lies Susan, beloved wife of John Smith, and Jane, beloved wife of John Smith, and Mary, beloved wife of John Smith." He paused abruptly and the bride, leaning forward to see the bottom line, read to her horror: "Bo Ye Also Ready.' , . Sorrowing Sarah (endeavoring to break the news gently) Peter, father has left us. Practical Peter How muchT Phila delphia Record. "Oh, Ma'am, Ma'am, I've swallowed a safety pin. "So, that's where my safety pins' go. Is it?" Punch. "Your son certainly sticks to his Job." "Yes, he's like a postage stamp, he always sticks when he ia licked first!" Houston Post. ' "Ran into town yesterday to do some shopping." "Buy much?" "No; ran out of money." Boston Transcript. - Dawson, '11 Nell, how much longer must I Nell Courtwright (Interrupting) Charley, can't you wait till Monday? Chicago Tribune. "I say, isn't that hat rather curious In shape?" "Of course, it la Any hat that wasn't curious in shape would look silly!" P. L P. Young Mistress Do you think my Ernest really loves me. Emmy? Maid Of course, he's such a nice young man; he likes alj the girls Fliegende Blaetter. "I see. that Holder Isn't one of your bank's most reliable and entirely trust ed employes." "Why so?" "He's been at his desk 80 years. I notice that it's always the trusted and reliable that go away to Canada." Browning s Magazine. Patience Don't you think he is a very unusual man? Patrice Yes, I do. "Whv?" "Because I saw him open a oar win dow the first time he tried yesteraay. Yonkers Statesman. ' .L "I married a suffragette," said Mr. Cholmondely Rlppingate, of Hyde Park, "and for five years have found unspeak able happiness." "I'm glad to hear it." said the suffra gette leader. "Yes," said Rlppingate, "Mrs. Rlppin gate has been in Jail four years and three months altogether." Harper's Weekly. - Wife My husband is not well. I'm afraid he'll give out. Wife's Mother Well, he may give out. He certainly never gives In. Town Topics. "What's the matter, Younghubby," said Oldboy. "You look pale around the gills. "I guess it is lack of nourishment," replied Younghubby. "My wife knows 100 ways to use a chafing dish, but she can't boll an egg." Cincinnati En quirer. m m m He Did you enjoy yourself at the ball the other night? She Yes; everybody told me that I was the most beautiful girl there. Philadelphia. Telegraph, Among the Poets of the Daily Press FASHION. Oh, Fashion's a whimsical lady. She changes her mind every day. One day she brings out a new hobby. And the next day she puts it away. She's always in search of the novel. And she doesn't care what It may cost. And the queerest of all things about It Is the whole world submits to be bossed. Oh, Fashion's a terrible tyrant. She Issues hor changeful decrees. And, although we protest we don't like it. Still we all of us drop on our knees. We worship her while we're protesting. And her whimsical rules we obey, Till the question all others transcend ing Is: What's the most stylish todayT Somervllle Journal. And had a storm anoard. For speed she was a thriller. And each among the orew Desired to grab the tiller 'Neath skies serene and blue. There's naught that e'er could tip her. Save such contention great. Now who shall be the skipper And who shall be the mate? Washington Star. THE! SHIP OF STATES. The men who stoutly framed her Were slants in their day. They launched her and they named her The "Glorious U. 8. A." And every tribe and nation Beheld her flag unfurled. The hope of all creation. The pride of all the world. Her course was swift and easy. With skill she was controlled. She sailed o'er waters breezy That sunshine turned to gold. And since the wind and weather No tumult would afford The .whole crew got together MIDSUMMER. Bright falls the sunshine on the living land; It is the high tide of the happy year; The long, sweet days change into nights so clear That heaven seems leaning" to our lifted hand. Each sentient creature in his measure knows The high tide of the utmost joy of life; No longer with the elements at strife. All revel in the bliss each hour bestows. The soft, deep grasses ripple like the sea. The south wind dreams among the fair, glad flowers; Thick plumes of verdure crown each stately tree. Birds come and go among the leafy bowers; And evermore we wonder, "Can it be That heaven is fairer than this world of ours?" Ninette M, Lowater.