Nat Goodwin's Book

I once complimented him upon some medals which he wore. They bore inscriptions for bravery displayed in an Indian war. He said he was never entitled to receive them. "Why not?" I asked.

"Well," he answered, "I was leading some troops down a ravine when we were suddenly surrounded by the Indians, lying in ambush. I was frightened stiff and tried to give the order to retreat. For the life of me I couldn't say it. All I could get out of my throat was 'Charge! charge! charge!' and the more terrified I became the louder became the commands! The result was we turned defeat into a victory and I became a hero!"

When I was firmly convinced that I had put the pathos of "A Gilded Fool" over I at once looked about to secure a play where the comedy was subordinate to the pathos, as I was determined to launch an ultra-serious play – not that the latter is more difficult; on the contrary, I consider that it is harder to make people laugh than to cry (when the humor is applied legitimately) – but the old precept of Cazauran was forever singing in my ears: – "Remember, no one remembers a laugh." I was determined to obliterate if possible the memories of my preceding laughter epoch.

I imparted my views to Augustus Thomas who had just successfully produced "Alabama" and he fell in with my ideas. We at once arranged the terms for an original play.

The following June I met Maurice Barrymore who told me that he had just come from the reading of my new play by Thomas. I had no idea that the play was finished nor what it was about. Thomas had not even sent me a scenario for which I was most grateful (I hate scenarios; they are always so misleading.) I asked Barry what he thought about the play.

"Well, I like it immensely," he said, "but I don't know how it will strike you, my boy. It is out of the common and most original. All the parts are exceptionally well placed."

"What kind of a part is mine?" I asked.

"You play a Missouri Sheriff," he replied.

"Great Scott!" I thought, as visions of a low-browed, black mustached, heavily armed gentleman appeared before me. I could see myself coming on and saving the heroine, frustrating the plans of the villain and arresting everybody at the end of the play.

Barrymore was most reticent concerning the play and non-committal as to what he thought it would yield, or how he thought the character would suit me. He simply said, "Go and hear Gus read it."

That evening, a sultry night in June, I called on the author, who was just preparing to leave for a holiday in the country. The room was in disorder; in fact, there was nothing for me to do but sit on a huge Taylor trunk. I settled back as best I could as Gus quietly unfolded the script.

I listened intently through the first act and was spell-bound. At the end of every act I simply said, "Go on," and at the finish, "When do we produce that play?" I wished it were the next day. "I am ready whenever you are," he answered. We got together in a few days and selected one of the best casts with which it has ever been my good fortune to be associated, including Jeane Claire Walters, Minnie Dupree, Mabel Amber, Burr McIntosh, Frank Carlisle, Neil O'Brien, Louis Payne (now the husband of Mrs. Leslie Carter), Arthur Hoops, Louis Barrett and Robert Wilson.

We produced it at Hooley's Theatre, Chicago, in September, 1893, and I added one more success to my list and pegged another pin in my crib board of pathos as "In Mizzoura" was born.

The simple little sheriff Jim Radburn I adored. He was so true, so lovable, so honest! I never have grown weary of Little Jim. I have seen two or three actors play him, but – whisper – I really like my performance the best!

The rehearsals of "In Mizzoura" were replete with incident. It was the first time that I had placed myself in absolute charge of a stage manager and it proved a most delightful experience for one who had always borne the weight of a production to become an automaton, moved here and there under the guidance of Thomas who proved an excellent stage director. My! How we all put our shoulders to the wheel after Thomas had made clear the many hidden meanings that were not apparent at the reading! The play as read did not appeal to many of the company. Some even condoled with me. But I knew we were right and we went ahead. We called the company together on a Thursday, the opening being set a week from the following Monday. We rehearsed the entire play Friday, called the first act perfect Saturday, two acts perfect Monday and the entire play perfect Tuesday, when everyone came dead-letter-perfect, as it is called. Thomas in the meantime had written in two new scenes. After the opening we never called a rehearsal during the entire season.

We played to capacity business for four weeks, then foolishly went to New York, opening at the Fifth Avenue Theatre, where the play failed to draw. It received splendid praise, particularly in the magazines. Even the daily papers praised the play, but condemned my daring to rob them of their little funny man. I am sure, however, that I pleased the few who were courageous enough to come and have a cry with me. The play met with unqualified success throughout the country, with the exception of New York and San Francisco, the latter city condemning both the play and yours truly. The press was most severe, with the single exception of that gifted critic, Ashton Stevens, who had the courage of his convictions and whose praise of both play and star was as sweeping as the others' roasts were severe.

"In Mizzoura" was the only hit of my disastrous Australian tour.

I consider "In Mizzoura" one of the greatest of American plays.

It has inspired many authors, particularly David Belasco, author of "The Girl of the Golden West."

Wilton Lackaye met Sydney Rosenfeld, the author, on the grounds at the Chicago World's Fair. Lackaye said, "Where are you going to-night, Sydney?" Sydney replied, "I'm going to Thomas' opening, at Hooley's." Lackaye said, "Well, I'll see you there as I'm going to Nat's opening."

How clannish we actors and authors are!

During one of the rehearsals of "Mizzoura," Burr McIntosh and I had a scene that sadly bothered poor Burr. He fancied that he must be a trifle more pathetic than I. His speeches should have been given in a simple, matter-of-fact manner, but as I used a low tone Burr would go me one better until we were both down in the sub-cellar of the drama! We went over the scene many times but, try as he might, McIntosh failed to understand the meaning or motive of the scene. Thomas would go over the scene with me and place Burr in front to watch it to endeavor to make him comprehend the author's meaning. Then Burr would try and try, always forcing me to the basement. Finally, after hours of rehearsing this scene, Thomas said, "Burr, stop. The trouble is you're thinking when I wrote this part I had you in my mind. I did – but I wrote it for your feet, not your head."

After "A Gilded Fool" was launched I at once made a contract with Carlton for another play and in a few weeks he submitted a scenario to me which I accepted. This play was to follow "In Mizzoura." During the interim between "A Gilded Fool" and "In Mizzoura" Carlton wholly evolved the plot of "Ambition." In time he submitted two acts. I was more than pleased as the character of Senator Beck appealed to me. It had a fine story and all the parts were unique and full of character. After receiving the two acts I looked about for adequate people for the rôles and was fortunate enough to secure the services of Annie Russell, Henry Bergman and Clarence Montaine and with the other members of my company, I considered it a perfect cast. Later I was fortunate enough to be surrounded by such players as George Fawcett, Louis Payne, John Saville, Estelle Mortimer and Jeane Claire Walters.

I arranged to open my season early in September at Miner's Fifth Avenue Theatre, New York, and called my company for rehearsals of "David Garrick." I was anxious to appear in that rôle in New York, having previously performed it on the road with some degree of success. My idea was to put on "Garrick" for one week and follow with "Ambition." I still had only two acts of the Carlton play. I had been trying for weeks to get possession of the last act, having some anxiety as to how Carlton intended ending the play, but it was impossible to locate him.

He turned up on the first night of "Garrick," promising me my last act of "Ambition" on the following day, assuring me it was finished. I waited until Wednesday, but he failed to keep his word. I knew he was unreliable, but never thought him ungrateful. Through his negligence we were forced to announce "Garrick" for a second week. This was asking the public to accept a pretty tall order, but there was no alternative. One Friday, too late for rehearsal, I took it home with me and read it most carefully and was very much disappointed. It plainly showed the earmarks of hasty composition. However, there was no choice and I produced it as quickly as possible.

On the first night we were all extremely nervous and up to the ending of the second act I thought we had a failure. That ending, however, gave me a splendid moment and I received several curtain calls. The papers were very kind on the following morning, more so, I considered, than we deserved. I played it two weeks to gradually decreasing business, the last week being simply ghastly!

I honestly believe that I could have drawn more money alone, with a desk and a glass of water. I had no faith in the play and after the first performance began rehearsals of another called "A House of Cards" by Sydney Rosenfeld. Previously I had sent it into the discard after three rehearsals. It proved worthy of its title and tumbled down shortly after at the Garden Theatre.

The manager of a Philadelphia theatre, where I was to open after the engagement at the Fifth Avenue, came over and saw our performance of "Ambition" (to a $90 house) and entered a most violent objection to my appearing at his theatre in that play. I informed him that I had nothing which I could substitute and that it would take me at least two weeks to prepare any of the plays in my repertoire with the exception of "David Garrick." There was no alternative; he must accept "Ambition" or close his theatre. He concluded to take a chance and one of those psychological events which shapes the destinies of players took place.

We opened to nearly twelve hundred dollars – and that was the lightest house of the engagement! We played to capacity business there and everywhere all through that season. It proved to be one of my greatest successes.

I never understood Carlton's failure to furnish the play as he had agreed until a few days after I opened in Philadelphia I read the announcement of the production of a new play of his by a manager who had previously refused to give him a hearing. He forgot (!) I had lifted him from the streets of Boston, clothed him, loaned him money, and taken him to my mother's home. He forgot (!) that when he became suddenly ill it was my mother who nursed him back to health as if he were one of her own children!

The last time that I saw this gifted but ungrateful man was a few years ago at Atlantic City. He was a physical wreck, but mentally a giant still. He had invented some new electric appliance and his mind scintillated as I had never known it to scintillate before. I knew he was doomed and felt grieved. I left his chamber with a heavy heart.

Since writing this poor Carlton has joined the majority.

Chapter XXXVIII

GEORGE M. COHAN

What an extraordinary person is sunny George Cohan!

Fancy a young man, in the early thirties, owning his own playhouse, performing there in the leading rôles, the author of his play and lyrics, the composer of the music, associate manager of two New York theatres, of another in Chicago, and with a chain of suburban houses!

This is making history with a vengeance. The position he occupies in the theatrical world has never been duplicated and I doubt if it ever will be. With all his well-deserved success he bears himself with the modesty of a well-bred boy. To be privileged to meet him in private life is a joy and delight. You will find him never obtrusive and always gentle and respectful to his elders. One would never imagine him a being of so much power. He fascinates me every time I meet him and I always feel an inclination to put my hands upon his shoulders and just listen to him talk. His keen sense of humor, combined with his calm demeanor, always appeals to me.

How proud his parents must feel to be the authors of such a fascinating book as Georgie Cohan! (I always call him Georgie. I can't help it. I love the lad for his wonderful versatility.)

How I enjoy the attempts of some of the critics, in their futile efforts to slur this man of success and to destroy the affection the public has for him! Some even accuse him of being "common." Good! Bring on some more commoners! We need them!

But nature is most discerning in bestowing her mantle of genius. She weaves carefully and adroitly and is conservative with her gifts. She wove her finest for clever Georgie and then destroyed the pattern. She has no more to give.

Mr. and Mrs. Cohan, I congratulate you! You have given the world a genius!

Hats off to Georgie Cohan!

It was while I was appearing at Ford's Theatre in Baltimore in 1911 that Georgie sent me a message which read as follows: —

"I am giving a supper in your honor next Wednesday night at Friars Club House. Wire me that you will be there."

Immediately I replied. This is what I wrote: —

"I am there now, my dear Hector, and will eat nothing until I meet you Wednesday at the Friars Club House. Have invited my audience to join me. He seems an awfully nice chap. Wishing you a Merry Christmas, but don't you dare wish me one, believe me always thine,

    Ralph Goodwin."

Georgie insisted on addressing me as Mr. Goodwin for years after he had reached a star's zenith. When I asked him to drop the formality he said he simply could not do it. Thereupon I suggested we get around it. If he couldn't call me Nat maybe he wouldn't stick on Ralph. And I in turn have ever since dubbed him Hector – when we meet!

Chapter XXXIX

THOUGHTS VAUDEVILLE-BORN