The Irwins remained as stock stars to the end of the season, which came to a close after the April Conference, 1864. They were well liked by the Utahns, and came back for a short starring engagement the season of '66, after making a tour of Idaho and Montana with a small road company. The Irwin engagement inaugurated the three night performances a week and Saturday matinees. This increased the work of the company to such an extent that they had to neglect to a greater or less degree their regular business, that on which they depended for their living, for it must be understood that there was no compensation attached, beyond the honor of acting in the Salt Lake Theatre. So there began to be some dissatisfaction with this part of the business, and complaints from some that they were neglecting their business for the theatre and ought to be made good, so it was arranged near the end of the season to give two benefit performances one for the gentlemen and the other for the ladies of the company, and then divide the results pro rata among the members of the company. This scheme was carried out and served to conciliate the players and smooth the way to another season's work for the managers.
The writer at this time was probably the youngest member of the company and had attained but little prominence, hence his "divvy" was a very modest one, yet quite acceptable, as it was unexpected. The following autograph letter of Brigham Young's will show the method adopted by the management to carry on the business and make the company contribute liberally to the building of the theatre:
SALT LAKE CITY, April 15th, 1864.
Mr. John S. Lindsay.
DEAR BROTHER:—Inclosed please find Twenty Dollars, being amount assigned you out of the proceeds of the Benefit recently given at the theatre.
Appreciating your faithful services, and the alacrity with which
you have contributed to our amusement during the past season, I
pray God to bless you, and increase your ability to do good.
Your brother in the Gospel,
BRIGHAM YOUNG.
This plan served to keep the company in a contented mood, and was repeated at the close of the following season with like result.
The writer had made some progress in the company, and at the next benefit got seventy-five dollars for his pro rata; this was less than a dollar a performance during the season of seven months, but then we were doing good missionary work, in the way of amusing the people, and this company were engaged in a labor they delighted in; while they were assisting in a great measure to pay for the great Thespian temple in which they were performing, they were enjoying the labor immensely and gave the same enthusiastic efforts to it they would have done to a mission, had they been called to go and preach the gospel. Moreover, they were gaining an experience in art that would have been perhaps impossible for them, had not this splendid theatre been erected in the home of the Saints. Brigham Young's comprehensive mind had grasped the advantage to his people of blending art with religion, and relieving the monotony of arduous pioneer toil with innocent and refreshing amusements.
CHAPTER VI.
SEASON OF '64-'65.
A Metropolitan Theatre in the Wilderness.
The Salt Lake Theatre was a source of wonder and admiration to all strangers visiting it. Considering the time and the place of its erection, the isolated condition of the people, the meagre facilities within reach for so big a project, the quadrupled cost of everything that had to be imported, such as glass, nails, paints, cloth for scenery and everything in the shape of decorations, it was then, and remains today, a monument to the liberality, foresight and enterprise of Brigham Young. Since its erection, forty-three years ago, theatrical architecture has been vastly improved, and in many respects the Salt Lake Theatre is old-fashioned, but few theatres in the country, with all the improvements which have been introduced, surpass it in point of comfort and convenience, especially behind the curtain. When it is considered that not only the architectural designs, the mechanical construction, but all the interior decorations and the scene-painting was done by local talent, it speaks highly for the artistic and mechanical skill that was centered in Salt Lake even at that early period of its history. William H. Folsom was the architect and personally superintended its construction. He was also the architect of the big Tabernacle with its turtle-shaped roof spanning a stretch of 150 feet without a supporting column. The first installment of scenery was painted by W. V. Morris and George M. Ottinger, both clever artists, and with their assistants they gave the theatre stage a very nice investiture in the way of scenery. As the seasons rolled around the stock of scenery was continuously growing, for every new play had to have something done for it in the way of scenery, so that the painters were always working, and as a consequence the Salt Lake Theatre has probably a larger stock of scenery than any theatre in the country. The same may be said in regard to the stage properties. "Charley" Millard was the property man, and Charley could manufacture anything in the shape of a "prop" from a throne chair to a cuspidor, from a papier mache cannon to a firecracker, from a basket horse to a baby; so that in the course of a dozen years the property room became a veritable museum, an "old curiosity shop" well worth an hour of anybody's time to examine.
There was a wardrobe department, which was equal in importance if not superior to the scenic arid property departments. This was presided over by Mr. Claud Clive, an expert tailor, who with his assistants, manufactured all the costumes for the male characters of the plays, while the female costume department was presided over by Mrs. Marion Bowring. Mr. Robert Neslen had general charge of the costume and wig department, and dispensed the necessary apparel and wigs to the company. There was also a tonsorial artist connected with the house, who was always there to curl a wig or put it on in good shape for the actors who needed such assistance. John Squires was the tonsorial artist—he was a busy man in those days. He had his shop in a little adobe house that stood directly opposite the "President's Office" on the lot where the Amelia Palace was afterwards erected. John was the President's barber, and had a large run of custom from the church and tithing offices, besides nearly all the actors patronized him, so that he was a prosperous man in the community. He continued to shave his share of the people up to within a recent date, when he was obliged to retire; "age with his stealing steps had clawed him in his clutch," so this knight of the razor was reluctantly compelled to lay down the implements of tonsorial art, the strong steady hand that once could clean a man's cheek in about three strokes had grown weak and tremulous, and but recently he passed peacefully away to that better land where it is to be hoped there is no shaving or need of hair-dye. His place is amply filled, however, for John has a numerous progeny—and all his sons and grandsons, so far as we know them, are barbers. Here we find a true touch of heredity.
After such a brilliant and successful season as the Irwins had just concluded, it seemed like a daring venture to open up the ensuing season with the stock company unassisted by the strength of a star; but notwithstanding this seeming riskiness, the managers did not wait for the ensuing season, but bravely ushered in a supplemental season on May 14th. Only five weeks after the Irwins had closed their long and brilliant run, the stock were hard at it again, notwithstanding the summer days were come; they kept going till the 18th of June, when the "veteran tragedian" (Lyne, at the time 58 years of age) was engaged to reinforce the stock, and add to the box office receipts. He opened this, his second star engagement, on June 25th and played up to July 16th. He repeated all his former triumphs and achieved some new ones, notably in "Sir Giles Overreach" in "A New Way to Pay Old Debts."
In the meantime a new star had appeared in our dramatic horizon; by the time Lyne had closed his engagement, it was in our ascendant, astrologically speaking, and by the time it had reached our zenith, or midheaven, it had shed another halo over the Salt Lake Theatre and the drama in Utah. This bright particular star was George Pauncefort. "He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one," an actor of rare and varied accomplishments, and proved to be an invaluable instructor and model for the company. Under his leadership a great progress was made. Pauncefort was an English actor, who had acquired considerable celebrity on the London stage. He was a married actor, and his wife and several daughters, at the time of which I am writing, were quite popular on the stage, and their names appeared frequently in the London casts. Pauncefort came to the United States as early as 1858. He was the original "Armand Duval" in "Camille," when Matilda Heron first produced that play in New York. After his New York engagement, Pauncefort drifted West, and in 1864 came to Salt Lake for a brief engagement of a week or two. He had just concluded a stellar engagement with Jack Langrishe at Denver. Denver at that time was not so large as Salt Lake City, nor could it boast anything like so good a theatre. The great overland road had not been projected at this time, and people crossing the country from Denver to Salt Lake or San Francisco were obliged "to stage it," or travel with private conveyances. So George had to stage it, not a difficult thing for an actor to do. He was accompanied by Mrs. Florence Bell who was featured with him as co-star during his first engagement. He opened on July 20th, 1864, just four nights after Lyne closed, in "The Romance of a Poor Young Man," in the character of "Manuel," Mrs. Bell playing "Marguerite." Pauncefort's "Manuel" made a great hit, and stamped him at once as an actor of superior parts. It was a new awakening. His style was so different from anything we had seen, either in Lyne or Irwin. Mrs. Bell, however, fell as far below public expectation as Pauncefort went above it. She was not the equal of our own leading lady, Mrs. Gibson who in consequence of this engagement had to be retired from the leading roles, and bear with what grace she might to see an inferior actress usurping her place. The popular verdict was all in Mrs. Gibson's favor. Mrs. Bell was a pretty woman, but a very mediocre actress. The management would gladly have retired the lady after the first performance, but there was a contract, and she was allowed to play the leads in several plays, during this engagement. Pauncefort played until September 30th, when the season closed.
It no doubt cost the princely George a pang to realize that Mrs. Bell had not made a favorable impression with the public, as he had featured her on the bills. She had found great favor in his eyes, if not so fortunate in gaining the public favor. Their admiration was mutual and so apparent that it was frowned upon by "the powers that be." George was given plainly to understand that although Mormons believed in and practiced polygamy, they drew the line in morals at promiscuity, and he could not continue his present intimate relations with Mrs. Bell and his engagement at the Salt Lake Theatre. George took the hint and severed the "entangling alliance;" all the easier, no doubt, as Mr. Bell had come closely on their heels from Denver. Bell was a good cornet player, and secured an engagement in the Theatre Orchestra, where he played until the end of the Pauncefort season, and then drifted off to Montana, "taking the fair Desdemona along with him."
That the Bell alliance worked to Pauncefort's injury there is no question. President Young took great offense at it, and never attended the theatre during Pauncefort's engagement after the opening performances, when he became apprised of the intimacy existing between George and Florence. On Brigham's first visit to the theatre after the Pauncefort season, the writer met him on the stage near his box and took occasion to express his pleasure at seeing him occupy his accustomed seat after so long an absence, remarking, "It is a long time since you were here, President Young." "Yes," he replied. "I told John T. and Hyrum (the managers of the house) that I would not come into the theatre while that man Pauncefort was here." This showed how strong a prejudice he had conceived against Pauncefort—and notwithstanding the very favorable impression his acting had made, it was quite a long time, nearly four months, before he again appeared.
The Lyne and Pauncefort engagement following each other in such close succession and in an extra season, and that season a mid-summer one, had given the theatre-going public a very gratifying sufficiency of theatricals, and consequently it was not thought advisable to open the theatre again until the ensuing October Conference; so the house was closed up for a period of five weeks and reopened on the 5th of October, just in time to catch the Conference gatherings. Although both Lyne and Pauncefort were in the vicinity, neither of them were engaged until after the Conference dates were passed. The management could rely on full houses during the Conference and could not see the policy of sharing up the profits with a star when the stock company could fill the house to its capacity. The Conference over, the following week T. A. Lyne opened his third engagement and played up to the 10th of December; a very long engagement, lasting eight weeks. Pauncefort should naturally, according to all professional ways of looking at it, have filled this time; and no doubt would have had the preference over Lyne if the managers had not been handicapped by the strong prejudice of the "President" against this actor; for he was the newer and more attractive star. Lyne had already played two long engagements and exhausted his repertoire, besides Pauncefort had introduced us to a more modern and popular school, and from financial considerations alone, any manager would have given him the preference, but he did not get back into the theatre for a second engagement until after Lyne had played everything he knew; still he lingered in the vicinity. He went out through the provinces—played smaller towns, such as Springville and Provo, with their home companies—and dabbled in merchandising, shipping fruit to Montana; it was bringing big prices just then. On the 17th of December, 1864, George Pauncefort began his second engagement in "A Bachelor of Arts" and "Black-Eyed Susan." It was during this engagement that "Hamlet" and "Macbeth" had their initial performances in the Salt Lake Theatre. Both of these plays were marked events in the history of the theatre, more particularly "Macbeth," which called into requisition the Tabernacle choir to play the witches and sing the music of the play, which was ably conducted by Prof. C. J. Thomas.
"Macbeth" was the last play of this engagement and closed the second Pauncefort season on January 7th, 1865—a brief season of three weeks—after waiting around about four months. Why this engagement ended so suddenly in the very height of its brilliancy is somewhat puzzling to understand, as there was no other star to follow, and the stock company played unassisted by any stellar attraction up till May 20th, which closed the season of '64 and '65.
Pauncefort shortly after the closing of his engagement went to San Francisco, where he remained for more than two years playing there at intervals.
CHAPTER VII.
SEASON '65 AND '66.
The next star to appear at the Mormon theatre was Julia Dean Hayne, and a brilliant one she proved to be. She created on her first appearance an impression that was profound and lasting, and each additional character she appeared in only served to strengthen her hold on the admiration and affection of her audiences.
The advent of such a well-known and popular actress into the heart of the Rocky Mountain region at such a time, years before the completion of the overland railroad, had in it a rich tinge of romance and wild managerial venture. Julia Dean came to Salt Lake City under the management and in the dramatic company of the veteran Western manager, John S. Potter. Some time prior to this she had gone to San Francisco from New York by way of the Isthmus, had played a successful engagement there, and being "at liberty" after it was over, Mr. Potter, who was an old acquaintance of Mrs. Hayne, made her a proposition to organize a company and play her through the principal towns of California. This was done, and after the state had been pretty thoroughly toured, the fair Julia appearing in many places that had very "queer" theatres, the tour was extended through the cities of Oregon and then through the sparsely inhabited territories of Montana, Idaho and Utah, finally arriving in Salt Lake July 26th, 1865, on a regular old-time stage coach, a tired and jaded-looking party. There was in this company John S. Potter, manager (then a man of sixty or more), Julia Deane Hayne (the star), George B. Waldron (leading man), Mr. and Mrs. O. F. Leslie (juveniles), Mr. A. K. Mortimer (heavies), Charles Graham (comedian). Mr. Potter himself played the "old man" parts, Miss Belle Douglas playing characters and old woman parts, and "Jimmie" Martin, property man and filling-in parts. The fame of Brigham Young's theatre had reached them in their travels, and they had traveled many miles to get the opportunity of playing in it. A week's engagement was soon effected, and on August 11th, 1865, "The Potter Company" with Julia Dean Hayne as the stellar character, opened up in the play of "Camille." They were received by a packed house, and with every demonstration of welcome and approbation. Mrs. Hayne, who was no longer girlish in face and figure but a mature woman, verging on towards the "fair, fat and forty" period, was nevertheless so exquisitely beautiful and girlish-looking when made up for "Camille" or "Julia" in the "Hunchback," that everybody sang her praises. The entire community seemed to have fallen irresistibly in love with the new star, and henceforward she had fair wind and smooth sailing while her lot lay cast among the Saints. While the Potter Company were playing in the theatre, supporting Mrs. Hayne, the stock company were of course getting a needed rest, but their salaries (?) were going on as usual, and the management could not well afford to have two companies on its hands, so after the first week, the novelty being over, the Potter company were let out, and the regular company reinstalled. The Potter Company, however, had lost its "star;" the theatre managers had effected an engagement with Julia Dean to remain with them for the rest of the season as stock star with George B. Waldron, also to play her leading support, and direct the staging of her plays.
This proved a severe blow to the Potter Company, who now had no place to play in in Salt Lake and could not well take to the road again, having lost their principal attraction. Potter had not expected to have been so soon supplanted. He came to Salt Lake, expecting to find a company of amateurs, and thought no doubt the managers would be glad to supplant them, at least for a good long season, with the Potter Company and its distinguished star. Outside of Mrs. Hayne and Mr. Waldron, however, the Salt Lake Company was much more numerous, talented and capable than the Potter Company. It took but one or two performances for the managers to discover this, and they hastened to make the arrangements with Julia Dean and Mr. Waldron and to reinstate their own company.
Poor Potter and his remaining company were in a sorry strait. Their overland jaunt, through Oregon, Montana and Idaho, had not been very lucrative, and now they were out in the fastnesses of the Rocky Mountains, a thousand miles from any metropolis with a theatre, and no railroad to get away on; nothing but the overland coach. Potter was a resourceful manager, however; he was not easily daunted; with him Richmond's admonition to his army was ever present. "True hope never tires, but mounts on eagle's wings. Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings." He found in "Tom" Lyne an old acquaintance, and a strong ally. Lyne was by this time disgruntled and dissatisfied with the theatrical outlook in Salt Lake; he was not getting any more the plaudits and the "star's" share of the receipts. He wanted some place to play in. So he inspired Potter with the notion of building an opposition theatre to that "monopoly" of Brigham Young's. Potter drank in Lyne's inspiration fervidly. The idea took a frantic possession of him, and plans were at once devised for getting up another house as speedily as possible, for the season was advancing and if the project was not hurried the Potter company would be scattered beyond all recovery. So it was decided to erect a cheap frame building, and push it to completion as rapidly as possible. This decision served to keep the Potter Company in Salt Lake, as they all had faith in the scheme, and faith in themselves that they could win out. They argued that by the time the new play-house was ready to open that Julia Dean and Waldron would be played out at the Salt Lake Theatre, and something new would catch the people. Poor, deluded actors, they did not know the people of Salt Lake; they knew them better after. How much money Mr. Lyne put into this scheme the writer never could learn from him, but I opine it was very little. He, however, secured the building site, by some kind of a deal with "Tommy" Bullock. It was about where Dinwoodey's furniture store now stands. Potter had little or no money with which to start such an enterprise, so Lyne introduced Mr. Potter to such of the merchants and lumbermen as he wanted to do business with. Potter played a bold game, and really accomplished a great feat in the building of this theatre. He got from sixty to ninety days' credit for everything nearly that went into the construction of the building. It was a cheap affair; built of poles, hewn to an even size and placed in the ground like fence posts; then boarded on both sides with rough boards, the space between the inside and outside boarding being filled in with sawdust and refuse tan bark from the tanneries, to make the building warm. The place was about half the size of the Salt Lake Theatre; that is, it had about half the seating capacity and a stage about one-fourth the size of the theatre. The structure, including the lease of ground, cost about $7,000. It was put up in about thirty days, so that Potter had a month's more time in which to pay for the bulk of the material, but the merchants and laborers who did the building were worrying his life out long before he got it going, for their money. He proved to be an expert at "standing off" his creditors, however, so by hook and crook he got the building completed, his company reorganized, and the theatre started. Some very amusing stories were related of him at the time; how he would cajole and stuff with promises the dissatisfied workmen as to what he would do as soon as he got the house open. One man went to him with the sorrowful story that his landlady had refused to credit him any longer, and he must have money to pay his board and lodgings. Potter looked at him pityingly, and expressed his regret that he could do nothing for him till he got the theatre going. "It will soon be finished now; tell your landlady this, and if this will not appease her, change your boarding house." To such like desperate shifts and subterfuges was he obliged to resort to keep the men at work, doling them out a few dollars at a time, when they became unmanageable or threatened to quit. Eventually the house was ready for opening and "Tom" Lyne had to have the first "whack" at the new box office receipts.
With woeful shortsightedness they put up for the opening, "Damon and Pythias," with Lyne starred as "Damon," a character he had already played three or four times at the other theatre. Lyne probably thought, however, with Richard that "the king's name is a tower of strength, which they on the adverse faction want." Such did not prove to be the case, however, as the "adverse faction" having in view the opening of the opposition house, put on a strong new bill with Mrs. Hayne in a new and powerful character, so that there was no apparent diminution of patronage, and the Salt Lake Theatre kept on the even tenor of its way "with not a downy feather ruffled by its fierceness." Potter and Lyne had succeeded in getting "Jim" Hardie away from the other house by offering him the part of Pythias and a larger salary than he was getting at the older house. "Jim" at this time was the youngest actor in the Salt Lake Theatre company, and had not yet made much advancement; he was ambitious, however, and this opportunity to play "Pythias" to Lyne's "Damon" was very alluring to him, so he deserted the ranks of the D. D. A. and allied himself with Lyne-Potter, et al., with what poor judgment the sequel will show.
The new theatre was christened "The Academy of Music," with what reason or consistency no one could ever conceive, unless it was to give it a big sounding name, to allure the unwary, for it was as utterly unlike an Academy of Music as anything could be.
On the opening night, the novelty of the new theatre opening, and curiosity to see the Academy and Mr. Lyne with his new support, sufficed to draw a fairly full house.
Several amusing incidents transpired on that eventful evening. First and most laughable was the following: "Jim" Hardie had a brother-in-law named "Pat" Lynch. Pat had been clerk of the district court for a number of years and was well known for a big-hearted, generous man, his greatest fault being that he would indulge occasionally too freely in the ardent. "Pat" had loaned "Jim" ten dollars to help him get a costume for "Pythias" the Academy had no wardrobe department and "Jim" could not with any grace attempt to borrow one from the Salt Lake Theatre. It would appear he had promised to get an advance as soon as the box office had begun to take in money, and Pat had expected the return of his money that day; at all events, he was present at the play, occupying a front seat in the parquette. He had been indulging freely, and his sight was not so clear as usual; besides, he had the character of Pythias and Dionysius mixed in his imagination. Mr. Potter was playing Dionysius, and as he strode on at the rise of the curtain and began to speak, Pat mistook him for Hardie and bawled out at the top of his voice, "See here, Dionysius, where's that ten dollars you owe me?" Potter was filled with consternation; Pat's friends who were with him succeeded in quieting him and Potter made another start, this time without interruption. Pat had discovered his mistake, that he had dunned the wrong man, and it took but little persuasion to get him to leave the theatre. Hardie, behind the scenes waiting for his entrance, and fearing a second explosion when he should make his appearance, was immensely relieved to see from the side wings Pat's companions lead him up the aisle and out of the theatre. Potter, not aware but what it was one of his numerous creditors dunning him, when he made his first exit, threw up his hands in dismay, and said to Lyne in the wings: "My G—d, they won't give me any peace! Even dunning me from the audience." When Lyne, who had caught the truth of the matter, explained to him, he was greatly relieved.
Another amusing incident, and one which nearly wrecked the scene, was furnished by the little girl they had for Damon's boy. It has never been a difficult task to find in Salt Lake a pretty and clever child to play the child's part in this or any other play. On this occasion, the selection was probably limited to a small circle, owing to the feeling engendered by this opposition to the favorite theatre; at all events, the "Damon's" child of the occasion was an uncultured looking little miss of about six years; she was so dark and tawny-looking that she might have had Indian blood in her veins, and certainly she had a touch of the obduracy and stolidness that characterize that race; Belle Douglass was the "Hermion" of the occasion, and she was obliged to improvise and speak most of the child's lines for her; when "Damon" came on for the farewell interview with his beloved "Hermion" and his darling boy, he strove in vain to get a response from his young hopeful; the child had become thoroughly nervous, and seemed apprehensive of some danger and when "Damon" interrogated her, "What wouldst thou be, my boy?" instead of the cheerful response, "A soldier, father," there came only a frightened look, and the child put its finger in its nostril, and swayed to and fro, as if she would say, but dare not, "I want to go home." Miss Douglass, annoyed, pulled the little hand down testily from the child's nose, and "Damon" repeated the question, "What wouldst thou be, my boy?" No answer, but up went the finger again to the nose. "Hermion" again pulled down the hand, and rather harshly demanded, "Come, say, what wouldst thou be, my boy?" The child by this time was nearly terrified, and only repeated the nose business with more emphasis and began to cry—and "Damon" utterly disgusted with his youthful prodigy, hurried him off to pluck the flower of welcome for him. The child's queer action of sticking its finger up its nose sent the house almost into convulsions of laughter, and came near converting one of the greatest scenes of the play into a burlesque. Lyne played all the other plays in his repertoire in rather rapid succession, as the aim was to keep the Academy open every night (except Sundays) and as each play would bear but one repetition, this repertoire was soon exhausted, and as there was no other "star" in the Utah firmament to fill the place, the Academy went into a rapid decline. As the business had not proved to be what the promoter and manager had calculated on, Potter was daily besieged by creditors, until the poor man was almost driven frantic. The heavy creditors, those who had furnished material on sixty days' time, now began to grow troublesome, and one attachment after another followed, until the house fell into the hands of the sheriff—and Brigham Young, through T. B. H. Stenhouse, as agent, made a deal by which the property came into his hands. He soon put a force of men to work who tore it down, hauled it away and fenced a farm with it.
Such in brief is the history of Potter's Academy of Music. The merchants and lumbermen who had given Potter such liberal credit were now sadder but wiser men.
Potter got away as soon as possible, for matters were very pressing and unpleasant for him. His company drifted off in various directions, except Belle Douglass, who got married to Captain Clipperton and settled down in Salt Lake, and after a while got into the Salt Lake Theatre. Hardie also got back after a time, long enough for him to become repentant and express his regrets for what he had done.
The season, by the time the Academy's brief career had ended, was well advanced into the spring. Julia Dean Hayne had not only not played out, but had steadily grown in the affection of the people. Mr. Waldron continued to to be a favorite also; but Julia Dean was the bright particular star whose effulgence can never be effaced from the memories of those who attended her performances during that memorable engagement. She received many marks of personal favor from President Brigham Young; indeed, it was current gossip that the President was very much enamored of the fair Julia and had offered to make her Mrs. Young number twenty-one. How much, if any, truth there was in this gossip will perhaps never be known; the fact that Brigham did pay her unusual attention and gave several parties in her honor and had a fine sleigh built which he named the Julia Dean was quite enough to set the people talking. The probability is that the President was very much charmed with her, and sought to win her to the Mormon faith; had he succeeded in this, he might then have felt encouraged to go a step further and win her to himself, for in spite of his already numerous matrimonial alliances, he did not consider himself ineligible. The fair Julia was not ineligible, either, for she was divorced from her husband, Dr. Hayne, the son of a "favorite son" of South Carolina. Speculation was rife, and much surprise and wonder was excited in certain quarters that President Young should go out of his way to show more marked attention to an actress than he had ever shown to any of his wives; but he was bent on getting Julia into the fold; once there, he could have played the good shepherd, and have secured her an exaltation. She had another man in her eye. One she had set her heart upon, too. "As hers on him, so his was set on her, but how they met and wooed and made exchange of vows I'll tell thee as we pass."
James G. Cooper was at this particular time secretary of the territory of Utah—an appointee of the United States government. He was a cavalierly man of southern birth and breeding—tall and handsome, and of courtly bearing, a great lover of the theatre. He was never known to miss a performance during Julia Dean's engagement. He was one of the most enthusiastic admirers she had; night after night, all the season through, he sat in front, early always in the same seat, and with eyes aglow and ears alert, he seemed to absorb every tone of her voice and catch, every gleam of her eyes—her every move was to him a thrill of rapture. Out of her thousands of admirers he was the most devoted worshipper at her shrine. Up to a certain time he worshipped in silence as if she were a deity. Chance had made them neighbors: the secretary's office and Mrs. Hayne's apartments were in adjoining houses, and it was not long before an acquaintanceship was formed which rapidly grew into a friendship and friendship soon ripened into love.
These lovers were discreet, however. Many happy hours they passed in each other's company, but they did not parade their love, nor "wear their hearts upon their sleeves for daws to peck at." Little did her audience suspect that often when she cast her most bewitching glances, and brightened their faces with her radiant smiles, that those smiles were mounted especially for him; but he knew—how could he help but know. Cupid had drawn his bow and sped his dart.
"Where on a sudden one hath wounded me, that's by me wounded
Both our remedies within thy help and holy physic lie."
So after the close of the season, much to the surprise of her numerous admirers, "these 'twain were made one flesh." They bade a rather hasty farewell to the land of the Saints, and wended their way to the far East by stagecoach, the terminus of the Pacific road being yet some hundreds of miles from Salt Lake.
Mrs. Hayne's last appearance at the Salt Lake Theatre was an event marked with quite as much if not more of interest than her first appearance. She had become endeared to the Salt Lake public, and they regarded her approaching departure with genuine regret. At her last performance, June 30th, 1866, she appeared as "Camille," the same character in which she opened her engagement, and was the recipient on this occasion of many tokens of kindness and appreciation. Being called enthusiastically to the front of the curtain after the performance, she bade a loving farewell to Salt Lake and its people in one of the most delicately and tastefully worded speeches ever made in front of a theatre drop. During her long engagement, lasting from August 11th, '65, to June 30th, '66, she played all the great classic female roles that were then popular, a number of comedies, and even took a dip into extravaganza or burlesque, appearing during the holiday season in the character of Alladin in "The Wonderful Lamp," which ran for eleven consecutive performances. Her best remembered characters are "Camille," "Lady Macbeth," "Leah," "Parthenia," "Julia" (in the "Hunchback"), "Lucretia Borgia," "Medea," "Marco," "Lady Teazle," "Peg Woffington," and "Pauline" in the "Lady of Lyons." In her ten months' engagement, she played a great many plays besides those mentioned, each play being presented twice or three times, according to its popularity.
Among others, an Indian play, entitled "Osceola," written by E. L. Sloan, then editor of the Salt Lake Herald, in which Mr. George Waldron played the title role and Mrs. Hayne the chief's daughter. The piece had a fair success, but has never been heard of since. Mr. Sloan wrote another play a year or two later, about the time of the completion of the overland railroad, which he called "Stage and Steam." This was a melodrama with a stage coach and railway train in it, intended to illustrate the march of civilization. It had two presentations, and was never acted again that we are aware of. It was during Mrs. Hayne's engagement also that Mr. Edward W. Tullidge made his first essay as a dramatic author—Mrs. Hayne and Mr. Waldron had exhausted the list of available plays and new plays were in demand. Tullidge's play was entitled "Eleanor de Vere," or "The Queen's Secret," an episode of the Elizabethan Court—in which Queen Elizabeth was a secondary character. Tullidge had written his play with various members of the company in his eye, and succeeded in fitting them very well. This play made a very favorable impression and was repeated several times to large and appreciative audiences. Mrs. Hayne's character, "Eleanor de Vere," was one of the Queen's waiting women, in love with "Rochester," and afforded the actress very good scope for her great talent, but the character of Queen Elizabeth, although a secondary part in the play, made such a favorable impression on Mrs. Hayne that she asked Mr. Tullidge if he could write her a play of Elizabeth, making the Queen a star character for her. She believed from what Mr. Tullidge had done in "Eleanor de Vere" that he could write a great play of Elizabeth. Tullidge felt that he had a great subject; it was a favorite theme, however, and one on which he was thoroughly posted, and encouraged by Mrs Hayne's faith in his ability, he at once commenced the task. "The labor we delight in physics pain," and Elizabeth became a labor of love with Edward Tullidge, for he was very enthusiastic in his love of Julia Dean, both as a woman and as an artist; and so familiar with all the heroes of Elizabeth's court, that his task, though Herculean, was a pleasant one, and before Julia Dean was ready to leave Salt Lake, Tullidge had completed a great historical play, "Elizabeth of England." It was with a view of presenting it in New York that Mrs. Hayne (now Cooper) went there soon after her departure. Before she had concluded any arrangement for its production, however, Ristori, the great Italian actress, loomed up on the dramatic horizon in Elizabeth. She had crowned all her former achievements in a great triumph in this same Elizabeth of England. Although the play was written by an Italian author (Giogimetta) and was not as true to history as the Tullidge play, it filled the particular historical niche so far as the stage is concerned. Ristori had a great success with this play, both in Europe and this country. It must have broken Julia Dean's heart professionally. She might have been the first in the field, at least in this country, if she had not dilly-dallied. She was having a delightful honeymoon and was too indifferent in this important affair, and when the advent of the great Italian in Elizabeth awoke her from her reverie, her opportunity had gone and Tullidge's Elizabeth never saw the light. Very keen indeed was the disappointment of the author. Julia Dean was his ideal for Elizabeth, and when he found to his amazement that the Italians (author and actress) had gained the field ahead of them, poor Tullidge went crazy with grief, and for a time had to be confined in the city prison, there being no asylum in Utah at that time. Mr. Lyne, who read the play to a large audience in Salt Lake, pronounced it one of the greatest historical plays he had ever read.
Whether the great disappointment had any effect in hastening Mrs. Cooper's death or not can not be known, but "it is pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful," that she did not live longer to enjoy her new-found happiness, and add a crowning glory to her brilliant career, for she was without doubt the greatest favorite of her day in America, and Americans everywhere would have hailed her with delight in any new achievement. She only lived about a year after her marriage to Mr. Cooper. She died in New York, and was buried in Greenwood Cemetery. The news of her demise was received with profound sorrow by her numerous Salt Lake admirers, and many a silent tear paid tribute to her memory.
"There is a destiny that shapes our ends,
Rough hew them as we will."
Through the courtesy of Mr. C. E. Johnson, our popular photographer, I am enabled to append the following information in relation to Julia Dean's death and burial:
THE UNMARKED GRAVE OF JULIA DEAN.
NEW YORK, August 26, 1897.
To the Editor of the Dramatic Mirror:
SIR:—While recently walking through the beautiful Laurel Grove Cemetery at Port Jervis, New York, the aged caretaker called my attention to a good-sized circular burial plot overlooking a lake in the centre of which, surrounded by mountain laurel shrubs and lilac bushes, is a sunken mound under which the venerable keeper declared rested "as great and fine a looking actress as the country ever had," and further stated that "much of a time was made over her years ago in New York." Also that "when her body was brought on here a big crowd of theatre folks came on to see her buried and they cried over her open grave."
Becoming thoroughly interested, I carefully noted the location of the actress' lot, and immediately visited the little cemetery office on the grounds, and in looking over the admirably kept records, I was astonished to find that it represented the grave of a fair member of the dramatic profession whose tomb had been entirely lost sight of, and dramatic historians and editors have been unable for years to enlighten those of their readers who sought to discover her grave rest. Beneath this mound rests all that is mortal of the once lovely Juliet of the American stage—Julia Dean.
The complete record of the Laurel Grove Cemetery reads:
"Name—Julia Dean-Hayne-Cooper.
"Place and time of nativity—Pleasant Valley, Near Poughkeepsie,
N. Y., July 21, 1830.
"Names of parents—Edwin and Julia Dean.
"Age—Thirty-five years.
"Place and date of death—New York City, May 19, 1866.
"Cause of death—Childbirth.
"Second husband's name—James G. Cooper.
"Buried in Lot No. 3, Section B, owned by her father-in-law,
Mathew H. Cooper.
"Remains of deceased first placed in the Marble Cemetery General
Receiving Vault, Second Street, New York City. Transferred to
Laurel Grove Cemetery, Port Jervis, April 16, 1868."
The lone cemetery official states all of Julia Dean's kindred
passed away years ago, and together they are buried in the old
Clove graveyard at Sussex, N. J.
At the time of their deaths, they were in reduced circumstances, and while still well-to-do, years before Julia Dean's demise they acquired this Port Jervis burial lot that she might await the resurrection in the place where her childhood days were so pleasantly passed.
At the foot of the eminent actress' grave slumbers the unnamed girl infant for whom Julia Dean surrendered her illustrious life.
None of her relatives were ever able to erect a monument over her remains, and it seems a pity that this exquisite actress of another generation should forever sleep in an unrecorded sepulchre.
Having heard and read that the noble Actors' Fund of New York has caused' many a granite tombstone to be erected over the graves of their worthy comrades, and as Julia Dean was so sweet and accomplished an artiste, I thought that by calling attention to this forgotten and out of the way tomb through the columns of the most powerful of America's dramatic journals, The Dramatic Mirror, it might result in placing a modest memorial stone of granite at the head of the mound under which so peacefully reposes Julia Dean, whose splendid genius Dion Boucicault compared to that of another gifted and beautiful daughter of the drama, the ideal Juliet, Adelaide Neilson, who awaits the final call in distant England, beneath an imposing mortuary memorial, thanks to the influence of the loyal William Winter.
LOVER OF THE STAGE.
CHAPTER VIII.
SEASON OF '66-'67.
After the close of this eventful season, Mr. George Waldron, who had played the leading support to Mrs. Hayne and become an established favorite, drifted away from Salt Lake, going into Montana; returning a year or so later in conjunction with Mrs. Waldron. He had found his mate and brought her to Salt Lake to make her acquainted with his many friends there. George tried very earnestly to get a Salt Lake wife. It looked for a while as if Miss Sarah Alexander was destined to fill that place; she certainly filled George's eye. He was very much enamored of the petite and lithesome Sarah, but the expected union did not materialize, and George sought pastures new, and ere long returned, bringing a beautiful wife with him. Meantime, Sarah had drifted off to the East in company with a literary lady named Lisle Lester. They took with them Sarah's little niece, her dead sister's baby, Baby Finlayson, then but two years old. Miss Finlayson, under her aunt's careful guidance and training, developed into a very clever and capable actress, and for many years now has been holding leading positions in prominent companies and theatres. She is known professionally as Lisle Leigh.
The Waldrons played a short engagement and then bade a long farewell to Salt Lake and the West. At this writing George Waldron has been dead for ten years, his wife, a son and a daughter survive him; all follow the stage successfully.
During the season of '65 and '66, there were few changes in the supporting stock company. Mr. Waldron doing the leads, lightened considerably the labors of the "leading man," Mr. D. McKenzie, who was quite content to escape the onerous study the leading parts would have imposed, and play something easier. Before the beginning of this season, Mr. H. B. Clawson had retired altogether from the field as an actor, although still one of the managers of the house, and Mr. Phil Margetts was the acknowledged premier comedian of the company. Mr. John T. Caine, too, Clawson's associate manager, and also stage manager, yielded up his line of parts to John S. Lindsay and devoted himself exclusively to the duties of stage manager, which in the old "stock" days meant far more than that office means today. "Why, in the elder day to be a 'stage manager' was greater than to be a king," in any of the plays. Briefly enumerated, his duties were: First, to read carefully and then cast all the plays. The casting of a play is a most important affair. It must be done with great care and consideration so as to get the best results, and at the same time each actor his "line" of parts as near as practicable; then he must write out the cast, and hang it up in the case in the green room—write out all "calls" for rehearsals, and hang them up in the case. Then he must direct all rehearsals. To do this, he must study out all the "business" of the play in advance of the rehearsals, so he will be able to direct intelligently. When a "star" is rehearsing, he generally directs the rehearsal, thus relieving the stage manager of a great responsibility; but he must be around, and see what is required for the play in the way of scenery and properties and make out complete and detailed plots for scene-men and property-men, and in this particular case where the theatre furnished the actors with all wardrobes (except modern clothes), the stage manager had also to make out a costume plot. The costumer would then distribute the wardrobe for the play according to his best judgment, and the conceit or fancy of the actor, which often made the costumer's duty a perplexing one, for actors are so full of conceits and fancies that they are a hard lot to please.
In the Salt Lake Theatre a first-class copyist was constantly employed in copying out parts—books were not so easily procured in those days. It took from three to four weeks to get a book from New York, so where the manager had but one book all the parts had to be copied, and the stage manager had to have his plays selected well ahead, so as to give the copyist plenty of time to get parts ready for distribution. Besides these duties, the stage manager had to write out all the "copy" for advertisements and posters and house programs, see to the painting of new scenes, and the making of new properties; also, any new costumes that had to be made. His decision was final in all these matters, so that the stage manager of the "old stock" days was no sinecure. Mr. Caine filled the position with rare ability, and his regime in the Salt Lake Theatre was distinguished for its prompt executive alertness, and the utter absence of any trifling or inattention to business.
One important accession there was to the company just before this engagement, that of Miss Annie Asenith Adams. Miss Adams made her debut on the 25th of July, 1865, (the same night that Julia Dean-Hayne and the Potter Company arrived in Salt Lake), in the character of Grace Otis in the "People's Lawyer," W. C. Dunbar being the "Solon Shingle" on the occasion. Her maiden effort proved very successful and satisfactory to the management, and during Julia Dean's long engagement she proved to be a valuable acquisition to the stock company. She made rapid progress in the dramatic art, and before the close of the season had attained a prominent position in the company which she held with credit to herself and satisfaction to the public until 1874, when the stock company was virtually retired to give place to the "combination" system which then came into vogue.
On August 15th, 1869, a little more than four years after her debut, Miss Adams was married to Mr. James H. Kiskadden. Between the time of her debut and her marriage, Asenith (she was always called "Senith" in those days) was not only a favorite with the public, but she had a number of ardent admirers among the "opposite sex." There was quite a rivalry for her affections between several members of the company, but the most ardent of them were already married, and although they did not consider that a bar to their hopes, in Annie's case they were not eligible; so the chief rivalry existed on the outside of the theatre. Mr. Kiskadden, or "Jim," as he was universally called by his acquaintances, was cashier in his brother William's bank (the location is the identical room where Walker Brothers' Bank is today). Jim was a dashing sort of fellow, big and manly, with a determined kind of air, that seemed to say, "Things must go my way." He drew a good salary, dressed well, and always wore immaculate linen, his shirt front always illuminated with a large diamond. He was inclined to "sporting," and was recognized as the champion billiard player of the town in those days. How much apprehension "Jim" endured regarding "Senith's" married suitors in the theatre we have no means of knowing, but it is probable she set his doubts at rest on that score by assuring him that she would never marry an already married man. She had seen enough of that to make her dread it. However this might be, "Jim" had a rival and a dangerous one in the person of Mr. Jack O'Neil. Jack was beyond question the handsomer fellow of the two; indeed, he was handsome as a prince, always dressed superbly and was one of the most attractive looking men in Salt Lake. Jack was very much infatuated with the rising young actress and missed no opportunity to make known to her his appreciation of her talents and his admiration and adoration of herself. The rivalry between Jack and Jim was at white heat for a spell, and it would not have been very much of a surprise to their intimates if there had been a challenge sent and accepted, and a duel fought over the young Mormon actress. Unfortunately for Jack and his aspirations for the lady's affections, he was a professional sport, and that was against him. He had no other profession, and handsome and cavalierly as he could be, he was classed as a gambler; while Jim could flip the pasteboards just as skillfully, and lay them all out at billiards, he did not follow it for a "stiddy liven," but held the cashier's box in his brother's bank, for a steady job, and only sported on the side, and so it came to pass that in the course of time Jim distanced his handsome rival and bore off the prize. Many of "Senith's" friends regretted this, as Jim did not belong to the household of faith, but was a rank, out-spoken Gentile, utterly opposed to Mormon ways, and not afraid to say so. Whereas all of "Senith's" folks were staunch adherents of the Mormon faith and were striving to live their religion in all its phases. So they did not rejoice over "Senith's" marriage to a Gentile (as all non-Mormons were called—Jews included). They regarded it as equivalent to apostasy from the faith in which she had been reared, periling her soul's salvation. She was not appalled, however, by the gloomy and hopeless pictures some of her friends were kind enough to paint for her, and bravely married the man she had set her heart upon and stuck by him through thick and thin, sunshine and storm, prosperity and adversity. On November 11th, 1872, Maude Kiskadden was born, within a stone's throw of the Salt Lake Theatre, and before she was a year old made her debut on the stage where her mother was a debutante some eight years before. It looks now as if it were fate, as if she was predestined for a great stage career. There was an emergency and Maude, not yet a year old, was there to fill it. It happened in the following manner. In those palmy days of the profession, the old stock days as they are now called, it was customary to supplement the play with a farce—no matter how long the play—even if a five-act tragedy, the evening's performance was not considered complete without a farce to conclude with. On this particular occasion, the farce was the "Lost Child," a favorite with our comedian, Mr. Phil Margetts. He played Jones, a fond and loving parent, who goes distracted over his lost child. Instead of providing a real baby, as the property man had been instructed to do, he had a grotesque-looking rag baby, not at all to the comedian's taste in the matter. Millard, the property man, declared he had been unable to procure a live baby, nobody was willing to lend a baby for the part—older children he could get, but he could not get a baby, and the rag baby was the best that he could do under the circumstances, and on such short notice. Margetts was in distress. "What, in Utah!" he exclaimed. "The idea!" Where babies are our best crop, to be unable to procure one for his favorite farce. It was simply preposterous, absurd, incredible; he objected to play with nothing but a miserable makeshift of a rag baby. In agony he appealed to the stage manager, Mr. Caine, to know if the farce was to be ruined or made a double farce by the introduction into it of a grotesque doll like that! It would be worse than a Punch and Judy show. Sudden as a bolt from a clouded sky, while the altercation was still at its height, Mrs. Kiskadden appeared in the centre of the stage with her baby in her arms, and in a good-natured tone that ended all the trouble, exclaimed, "Here's Maude, use her!" Maude was indeed a good substitute for the inartistic-looking "prop" the property man had provided. Phil was happy and played the distracted parent with a realism and a pathos he never could have summoned for the rag baby. When the cue came, Maude was ushered into the mimic scene, making her first entrance on a large tray carried by a waiter. Then she was taken from the tray into somebody's arms and tossed from one nurse to another throughout the farce, until finally, as it ends, she is lodged safely in the arms of Mr. Jones, her distracted father. To her credit, be it recorded, she never whimpered or made any outcry or showed any signs of alarm, but played her first part bravely, though perhaps unconsciously; winning the admiration and love of the entire company. It was a lucky accident that Maude was in the theatre that evening, for her mother was not in the habit of bringing her to the theatre when she had any one at home to take care of her, but this evening was the "nurse's evening out," and "Maudie" had to be toted to the theatre and carefully put to sleep before mamma could "make up" and go through her part. Here she was safely stowed away in a safe and quiet corner of the green room, where she had been blissfully reposing all through the first play, and was now rather rudely awakened to fill the distressing emergency.
It will be readily seen from this narration that Maude Adams was virtually "born to the stage," her mother studying assiduously and playing parts both before and after Maude's birth, often taking Maudie with her, both to rehearsals and performances, so that she became a familiar little object in the theatre before she could walk or talk, and long before she could ever essay a speaking part she was the pet of the Green Room.
We had a Green Room in the Salt Lake Theatre in those days, and a very capacious and comfortable one, too. Such a commodious and luxurious adjunct is scarcely known in the theatres today. Here the actors could retire between the acts or during the scenes they were not engaged in, and study over their lines, or if already easy in their parts, pass the time in reading or social chat. It was the prompter's business to send the "call boy" to the Green Room and all dressing rooms to "call the act," a few minutes before he was ready to "ring up." The act being called, each actor was required to be at his entrance on time; if he should be late and make a "stage wait," the stage manager might reprimand him, and impose a fine. Fines were also imposed for being tardy at rehearsals. There was seldom any occasion for the enforcement of this penalty, except in the case of "Jim" Hardie. "Jim" was a notorious laggard, and often kept the company waiting for him. On one occasion the company had been waiting his arrival for fifteen or twenty minutes, when he strode in very hurriedly and taking the centre of the stage, took off his hat and wiping the perspiration from his brow, began an apology to the stage manager for being late. He had only just begun to talk when a general laugh broke the gravity of the occasion. Jim had just come from the barber's where he had his head shaved, and his entire scalp down to the hat line was as smooth as a billiard ball. His monkish appearance created much merriment, in which the stage manager and Jim himself joined. Jim at a very early age showed a tendency to baldness, and he had been told that shaving the head was not only a check to it, but would stimulate the growth of the hair, so he had to get his head shaved, even though he kept the rehearsal waiting. I think the fine was omitted on this occasion, owing to the fun the company had over it.
In the fall of 1874, after a connection of nine years with the Salt Lake Theatre, Mrs. Kiskadden and her husband, no longer a cashier, the bank having been long a thing of the past, removed to Virginia City, where Miss Adams was engaged with a number of others from the Salt Lake Theatre Company, including the writer, to form a stock company for Mr. John Piper, the Virginia City manager. "Maudie," now nearly two years old, formed one of the party. After playing a season with Mr. Piper, Miss Adams went to San Francisco, where her husband had preceded her some months previous, and secured a good position as bookkeeper for the firm of Park & Lacy. Here they made their home for about eight years, Annie playing at the San Francisco theatres whenever she could get an engagement, and making occasional excursions with dramatic companies into the neighboring cities.
In September, 1877, before she was five years old, "Maudie" played her first speaking part with Joe Emmett in "Fritz" at the Bush Street Theatre. When the question of Maudie playing in Joe Emmett's piece was under consideration by Mrs. Kiskadden and she informed Mr. Kiskadden she had an offer from Mr. Emmett for Maudie to play the child's part, Mr. Kiskadden did not encourage the idea; he had a plenty of the theatre as it was, so he rather bluffly remarked: "No, indeed, we don't want Maude to make a fool of herself; one actress in the family is quite enough." Maude looked up with a touch of his own determination in her voice: "Papa, I won't make a fool of myself." She was irresistible—her papa had to consent. Her second part was Crystal in Herne and Belasco's "Hearts of Oak," then played under the name of "Chums." She afterwards played a part with Oliver Doud Byron—and in 1878, when six years old, played little "Adriene" in "A Celebrated Case" at the Baldwin Theatre. In this character she made a decided hit. After the run of the play at the Baldwin, it was taken to Portland, Oregon, and produced under John Maguire's management at the New Market Theatre, with Annie Adams and little Maude specially featured in the cast, the writer playing "Jean Renan" in this production. "Ten Nights in a Bar Room" was then put on, little Maude being made a feature as Mary Morgan, the writer playing "Joe." After the close of the season at the New Market Theatre, the company went out under the writer's management and played the Puget Sound circuit in those two plays, little Maude being made a special feature.
During this trip Maude had her first "Benefit" at Walla Walla, Washington. She was "put up" for a "benefit," extensively advertised, and helped out the company's treasury—after netting something liberal for her. In this tour Maude played in all the Puget Sound towns from Portland to Victoria and all the principal towns of Washington. At its conclusion, she and her mother returned to San Francisco, and she was not seen again in public for some years. Mr. Kiskadden died in San Francisco in '83, and Mrs. Kiskadden took his remains to Salt Lake for burial. There she settled down for a time and sent Maudie to school. Here in the city of her birth she attended school for the next four or five years, but always had a yearning to get back to the stage; and eventually her mother secured an engagement for herself and Maude in "My Geraldine" and the "Paymaster" under the manager of Duncan B. Harrison. From that she got into Frohman's "Lost Paradise," and from that on her history is known to the theatre world.
CHAPTER IX.
SEASON OF '66-'67.
An Interesting Prayer Meeting.
Julia Dean Hayne's final appearance closed the fourth season of the
Salt Lake Theatre, counting the opening one which only lasted from
March 8th, '62, to the end of April, about eight weeks, the Irwin
season of '63 and '64, the Pauncefort season of '64 and '65, and the
Julia Dean Hayne season of '65 and '66.
Up to this time the only compensation the stock company received was a pro rata dividend of the benefits given at the end of each season—no one had been put on a salary. The stars, of course, got good liberal percentages or salaries, but even the leading people of the stock company realized but a very meager compensation from the two performances that were gotten up as benefits, one for the ladies of the company and the other for the gentlemen—the two nights' receipts were aggregated and divided up among the company according to their respective merits or worth to the management. These two benefit performances alone probably aggregated twenty-five hundred dollars, which, divided up among about thirty performers, actors and musicians, did not prove satisfactory to a number of the company—more especially some of the orchestra. As a consequence, the ensuing season approaching, the salary question came to the front again very strongly, and the "management" found a well-grounded reluctance on the part of the company to enter upon a new season's work without a certain and satisfactory compensation. This feeling was even stronger among the orchestra than among the stage players, a number of them being quite outspoken in their sentiment: "No pay, no play." The principal agitator among the musicians was Mark Croxall, the brilliant young cornetist recently from England. Mark could not see the propriety or consistency of playing to help pay for the theatre. He had not been used to that kind of thing in England, and although he had been playing but a very short time as compared with the majority, both of the orchestra and the dramatic company, he vowed he would play no longer without a stipulated salary. This, of course, aroused all the others to a certain show of opposition. The leader of the orchestra, Prof. Thomas, or "Charlie," as he was affectionately called by his familiars, was probably as dissatisfied with the existing regime as Croxall or David Evans, the second violin, who was another Britisher of recent importation and quite pronounced in his views about the way the theatre should be run. Prof. Thomas was not of the stuff that kickers are made of, and could doubtless have been managed with the majority of his orchestra had it not been for the recalcitrant Croxall, and the equally pugnacious Evans. The dissatisfaction spread rapidly and alarmingly to the management, until the entire dramatic company as well as the orchestra, was in a state of semi-rebellion. All the actors and most of the musicians had other occupations, as I have stated in a former chapter, and now the number of performances and rehearsals had increased their work to such an extent they could not see how they could give satisfaction to their various employers and keep up their work at the theatre too. Some of these declared it had to be one thing or the other, the theatre now demanded the greater part of their time, and the employers had in several instances intimated that they would have to give up the theatre or be replaced in their employ by others. Mr. David McKenzie, the leading man of the company, held a clerkship in President Young's or the Church office; "Joe" Simmons, our juvenile man, and Horace Whitney, the "old man" in the company, also held clerkships in the same office; Mr. W. C. Dunbar, the Irish comedian, was a clerk in the "tithing office," so their time went on whether they were working in the "Church offices" or at the theatre; of course all their night work at the theatre was extra work, but the day time they put in at the theatre they were not docked for at the office; but with the other leading members of the company it was quite different; the hours they spent at the theatre in the day time was a positive loss to them. Phil Margetts was a blacksmith, Lindsay and Hardie were carpenters, Evans and Kelly were printers, and so on. So that several hours each day spent in rehearsal meant a heavy tax when at the end of each week they were docked for time lost, so there was a committee appointed to wait upon the managers, Clawson and Caine, and present the situation. The managers being only employees of Brigham Young and not proprietors or lessees, passed the company's grievance up to their chief. The managers saw plainly that a crisis had come, and a new departure must be made. "The President," accustomed to having things his own way, and with confidence in his influence, thought he could effect a compromise, or adjust the matter without much trouble or cost, so in pursuance of this idea a notice was posted for all the company and orchestra to assemble in the Green Room of the theatre on a certain evening to consider the question of salary. There was no tardiness on that occasion, even "Jim" Hardie, notorious for being tardy, was on time. Every employee of the theatre was there from the managers to the night-watchman. The orchestra was in full force, and the ladies of the company, even to the smallest utility, were there, all inspired with the hope of being put upon the theatre salary list. The Green Room was found to be too small to accommodate all the company, so the meeting was shifted to the stage, which afforded the necessary room. President Young called the meeting to order, and requested the company to join him in prayer. It is customary in the Mormon Church to open all meetings with prayer, even political ones where those present are all of the household of faith. Brigham offered up a fervent prayer, asking the blessing of the Almighty upon that meeting, and each and every one present, that they might all see with an eye single to the glory of God, and the building up of his Kingdom here on the earth. The prayer over, the President arose and in a brief but very adroit speech, told the object he had in view in building the theatre, the recreation and amusement of the people, thanked those who had contributed to that end, whether as actors or musicians, told them that they were missionaries as much as if they were called to go out into the world and preach the gospel, and the Lord would bless their efforts just as much if they performed their parts in the same spirit. He understood there was some dissatisfaction, however, and some of the brethren thought it was too much of a tax upon their time to continue to do this without proper compensation. He called on the brethren to state their feelings in regard to this question that he might judge what was best to do in the matter. It seemed as if the prayer and speech had almost made them forget that they had any cause or grievance to present, or it had blunted the edge of their courage. Every one was expecting to see Mark Croxall, the principal agitator, get up and make a statement in behalf of himself and the orchestra; but Mark's courage, like that of many another agitator, seemed to have sunk into his boots, when the ordeal came; he opened not his mouth. So the second violinist, David Evans, who was a shoemaker by trade and a cripple from birth, pulled himself to a standing position by the aid of his crutches and spoke to the question. He told how hard he had to work, and what a loss of time the rehearsals and plays occasioned him; being up so much at nights, he could not get up very early in the morning—and could not but lose several hours every day. Besides, he said he did not think it right and just, when the theatre was taking in such large sums of money at every performance, that those who furnished the entertainment, whether in the art of music or the drama, should be expected to continue to do it gratuitously. It was a bold, fearless, manly speech and coming from a man who was obliged to sling himself along through life on a pair of crutches, and a recent comer from the old country, it sent a thrill of astonishment through the company and fired some of the others with a spark of courage, too. Mr. Phil Margetts, the leading comedian, arose and made an explanation of his case; then a number of the other fellows followed suit. A sort of "no pay, no play" sentiment pervaded the entire company. President Young saw here an end of the old method; he discovered that a new deal would have to be made with his actors if he wanted to continue in the amusement business, so he tried an expedient. He was evidently a little irritated at Evans, the crippled shoemaker, who had presumed to take the initiative in the affair and express his views so fearlessly, inspiring the others with a little of his own courage, but Brigham did not show the lion's paw but spoke in rather a patronizing way of Brother Evans's crippled condition, and said it was right that he should have some additional pay, owing to his misfortune of being a cripple. He told Evans he could have anything he needed out of his private store; that if he would leave his flour sack there, it should be regularly filled, and whatever else was there he was welcome to what he needed of it. This savored a little too much of charity for Evans, who although badly crippled in his limbs, was by no means a weakling in his brains; and hurt a little by the President's patronizing manner, he arose and said about as follows:
"President Young, I have had my flour sack at your store for more than a month, and every time I have gone in to try and get it filled, the clerk has told me the flour was all out." Evans's unique relation of the flour sack incident injected a spark of humor into the proceedings; a suppressed titter ran through the crowd, and even Brigham, although nettled at this unexpected sally, could not repress a grim smile.
That the reader may better understand the flour sack incident it must be explained here that what little pay the actors and musicians had been receiving for their services through the benefits was not all in cash, but store orders mostly on the tithing store. The cash receipts of the theatre up to this time and indeed as late as 1870 were probably one-third of the gross receipts, the other two-thirds consisting of orders on various stores or tithing pay, which consisted of all kinds of home products—so that when the "benefits" were divided up among the company each member got about one-third of his "divvy" in cash and the other two-thirds in store orders and orders on the tithing office. Evans was the possessor of an order on Brigham Young's private store, and he felt chagrined that he had been so often with that order and failed to draw it. Flour was flour in those days, running as high at one time as twenty dollars per hundred, but the uniform church or tithing office price was six dollars per hundred, which was what the actors had to pay for it, but it was doled out very sparingly to them at times when it was commanding high prices in outside markets. With these orders they drew about all their provisions from the tithing store. Artemus Ward amused the world by telling how the Salt Lake Theatre used to take in exchange for tickets cabbage, potatoes, wheat, carrots, and even sucking pigs through the box office window. It was perhaps nearer the truth than he himself suspected, for these tithing office orders were good for all these things.
After the titter had subsided Brigham arose again, and answered Brother Evans that he was sorry he had been disappointed so, but there really had been a great scarcity of flour during the past month or so, but he would see to it in the future that he would meet no more disappointments. To Brother Phil Margetts he made an offer to come and work in his blacksmith shop (Phil was running one of his own) and then he need not lose any time; his pay would go on whether working in the shop or in the theatre. Brother Lindsay could bring his carpenter tools to the theatre and he could find plenty of work for him to fill up the time between the rehearsals. To others he made similar propositions; but these suggestions were not in harmony with the feelings of the company, who thought they had given their time to Brother Brigham long enough, and now contended with Brother Evans, that as they were furnishing the amusements for the people, it was only right that they should be paid for their services, so the result of the meeting was that the company was put on salary. Salaries ranged from $15.00 to $50.00 per week, one-third cash, the balance in store orders and tithing office pay.