Evening Republican, Volume 17, Number 223, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 18 September 1913 — Acting Under Difficulties [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

Acting Under Difficulties

——n N the third act of a play produced some time ago | £ before a critical New York audience a fussy old ■I. bachelor decided.to dash out into the cold night air tv a noble act. As he rushes off the stage he cries: “Where is my shawl? Where is my shawl? I can’t go out without a shawl. Ah!” The “Ah!” indicates his satisfaction at finding the desired article. Then he leaves the stage. At one performance of the play the property man neglected to put the shawl in its proper place, and when the bachelor uttered the word “Ah!" he was embarrassed to find that there was no ghawl in sight. He cast a hasty glance about him, hoping that it might be found, but after what must have been to him a long and painful wait he turned up his coat collar, and so went out to brave the storm. Now this hitch in the performance, apparent as it was, remained undetected by all but two or three in the large audience. The other spectators showed no sign of suspecting v that something had gone wrong, even when the bachelor returned later with the / shawl around his shoulders. Such hitches occur often enough in the best managed plays, yet perhaps only one person in 500 ever detects them. It would be a mistake to conclude from this that audiences, however critical they may be, are unobservant It is a case not of lack of power of observation but of an overabundance of faith. The fact is that they have become so accustomed to absolute perfection in the production of plays that it seems almost inconceivable To them that an actor should be found wanting or that the smoothness of a performance should be hindered by human fallibility. This faith in the absolute perfection of the machinery of the theater has resulted in a delicate but powerful form of tyranny which has, unknown to the audiences that exercise it, caused pain and terror and grief innumerable performers. Slaves of this relentless tyranny, they , have been compelled to appear as usual in spite of tragedies and ailments unsuspected by the public. Sometimes the circumstances have been tragic and at times they have been rather comical. Last summer Jack Norworth, the husband of Nora Bayes, was taken seriously ill and the doctors sent him off to Europe in haste. While her husband was racing with death across the seas Nora Bayes was obliged to go on with her performance at the New Brighton theater, where the pair had been appearing. When seen by the writer a few minutes before her act she was almost in a state of collapse from -anxiety and grief. Her hair was dishevelled, her eyes were red with crying, and she seemed a w reck. A few minutes later she appeared before the audience, gayly bedecked and smiling as though she were the happiest woman in the world. It happened that many in the audi-

ence knew about her husband’s condition and sympathized with her, being aware of how attached to each other they were. Yet she was permitted to go on with her act. In the absence of her husband, the original act had to be abandoned, and Miss Bayes called upon the audience to name any song they might like her to sing. Some one called for a popular melody. Miss Bayes hesitated. The tears gathered in her eyes. “I can’t sing that without my darling!” she exclaimed as she bit her lip. Another song was called for. Again the eyes of Miss Bayes filled with tears, and they came so freely this time that she had to turn her back on the audience. "I can’t sing that without my darling, either,” she stammered. It was evident that she was in no condition to go on with her performance. Yet she continued to the end. It seemed cruel to allow her to go on, but the audience had to be served. Miss Bayes would no doubt have preferred to cancel her engagement and remain by the side of her sick husband, but the tyranny of the audience was not a thing to be trifled with. They had come from all parts of the city to see Miss Bayes and they must not be disappointed. It is one of the unpleasant duties of managers to enforce this rule. The point of this episode is somewhat weakened by later events, including the separation of Nora Bayes and her husband, but the fact remains that the incident is a good illustration of what actors and actresses have to go through to serve the 'tyrant known as the public. Laurette Taylor, who has scored a success in “Peg o’ My Heart,” was the victim of an odd experience when she was appearing at the Maxine Elliott theater in “The Bird of Paradise.” One evening, a little while before the rise of the curtain, she received a nate warning her that she had only five weeks to live. It was signed with a skull and crossbones. Miss Taylor was alarmed by the tone of

the note and became hysterical. However, she received her cue and bracing herself she made her way to the stage. z in the first act of this play Miss Tayior had a little speech in which she said: “Why should I be a princess? I want to live, to swim, to run, to play; 1 want tojive, live, live!" Miss Taylor remembered the note she had received ths eatening her lite. She became terrified again and her speech emphasizing her wish to live became so hysterical that it was necessary lor her to rush off the stage. The manager came out promptly, and, not knowing what explanation to give, said that Miss Taylor had been seized with an attack of ptomaine poisoning. After some delay the performance was continued, in the last act Nliss Taylor was to climb up a mountain and jump into a burning pit. When she reached the top of the incline on this occasion she was once more overcome by the terror of impending death, and ran back in full view of the audience. For more than a fortnight Miss Taylor was in a nervous condition. One evening during the play a man arose to take off his overcoat. Miss Taylor, thinking it might be the writer of the mysterious note, screamed. On another occasion a small ball rolling onto the stage from behind the wings set her in a panic. Mme. Frances Alda was attacked with appendicitis several seasons ago during, a performance of “Othello.” She was seized in the first act, but went through the entire performance bravely. When the curtain went down on the last act she was rushed to the hospital and an operation was performed without delay. VVhatever terrors such Contingencies have for most actors and actresses they seem to Margaret Illington only trifles compared with a greater problem which public performers have to face. She underrates the inconvenience of physical ■ disability and emphasizes the danger of temporary spiritual or mental unfitness. There is a great source o! danger to the artist and to dramatic art, she thinks, in the common practice of allowing stars to play a single role eight times a week and for as many performances as the public will patronize, without considering whether the actor or actress is in the mood or condition to offer the public the best that is in her. This practice “of working a single play and a single actor to death” is one of the dangers threatening the life of the American theater, she insists. This condition can be improved only by training spoiled American audiences to the point whei-e they will be prepared to see a star role interrupted by any good artist, whether named on the program or not.