Nat Goodwin's Book

How miserable are they who live in the past, who imagine when the sun sinks behind their horizon it will never rise again! To be sure, it is not pleasant to realize one is retrograding, yet it is better to forget the errors of the past, realize the advantages of mistakes and benefit by them "than, by opposing, end them."

During a short tour in vaudeville I had many opportunities for serious thought, particularly when I visited the various cities where I previously had been a conspicuous factor in my profession. As I contemplated my name upon the illuminated signs in front of the vaudeville theatres I also strolled through the streets and gazed at the names emblazoned in front of the various legitimate theatres. Many had played in support of me. Now they had usurped my place in the standard playhouses. I was "in vaudeville!"

I reflected upon my companion players – the trained seals, the amusing monkey, the docile elephant! As I wended my way through the sawdust path that led to my dressing-room I wondered what my mission on earth really was. Then philosophy took possession of me and convinced me that we were all performing our respective duties in different environments. It was just a case of "all hands 'round and change your partners!"

In vaudeville I was never happy. I was rather self-conscious, for when salary day came around I felt as if I were cheating to take the magnificent sum I was receiving for my twenty-seven minutes' work twice a day. Then again I wondered if dear old Richard Hooley, in whose theatre in Chicago I had played successfully for twenty years, knew of the evolution that had placed his boy, as he always called me, among the pot pourri of vaudeville. What would my good friend, Bob Miles of Cincinnati, and John Norton of St. Louis, have said had they seen my name as a head-liner in those cities where I had packed their respective houses?

As I strolled by the theatres managed by those dear, departed friends my truant thoughts, much as I antagonized them, would fly back to the past. Once again I would go to the Theatre of Variety in quest of "Five Shillings" and visions of a new and successful play for the next year or the one after would come with the rising sun! When the clouds came to obscure the sky of hope I would darken my chamber, bury the past and wait for the morrow and accompanying sunshine to light my future down the path of middle age.

In this precarious profession of ours we must accept defeat with courage. It should stir us to higher aims, braver deeds, stronger motives, inclinations and honesty of purpose. Never give up the fight so long as you have the capacity to hit out.

Even a dying mule always has a kick up his leg.

If he has his health and mentality any actor under seventy has one punch left.

I simply underwent a course of training in vaudeville, conditioning myself for a fight to a finish. I am ready at any time during the next ten years to produce a play that will appeal to the public. If I fail to secure one – back to the ranch and simple life!

Which will it be?

I wonder!

Chapter XL

JOHN DREW

I have always had a profound respect and liking for John Drew's art and I have witnessed his performances of many variegated rôles. True, the man's personality always transcends the characterization, but isn't that true of all great actors? Those who talk about Drew being always the same in every part are unconsciously paying him great homage.

For the benefit of the younger members of my profession I want to state that the most difficult rôles to play are those that fall to the light comedian. He must be naturally human and true, for he is portraying the character one meets in every-day life and, to quote from one of Boucicault's plays, "The apparatus can't lie!"

Drew has been amusing the American public for about thirty-five years, playing himself, I will admit. But the man's personality has made him a conspicuous and an agreeable player. He has also been the means of introducing not a few actresses to the world who have become famous.

Drew is a gentleman, on or off the stage, and while many of the play-folk do not consider him a great actor, they must admit that John is clean and that his father and mother were geniuses, which is something of which to be proud.

Chapter XLI

"THE RIVALS" REVIVAL

Ambition, like an early friend, throws back the curtain with an eager hand, o'erjoyed to tell me what I dreamt is true."

It was with happy anticipation that I signed a contract with Joseph Brooks to appear as one of the supporting cast with Joseph Jefferson in an all-star revival of "The Rivals." The tour was suggested by a performance in which I had appeared for a benefit given to that sterling old player, William Couldock, by Mr. Jefferson and a number of other well known players, including Henry Miller, William H. Crane, Viola Allen and De Wolf Hopper. This performance met with so much approval and gave such unqualified satisfaction that the charity bestowed upon Couldock suggested a commercial enterprise and the business instincts of Charley Jefferson and Joseph Brooks suggested a tour that took place the following spring.

We visited all the principal cities, never playing over two nights in one place. Business was enormous, the management clearing many thousands of dollars during the four weeks' tour. We were the recipients of many attentions, our time being spent driving, dining, and visiting various public institutions and colleges. We held impromptu receptions nightly behind the scenes. A large table was always spread on the stage laden with viands and many distinguished people partook of our hospitalities. Our happiest times were spent in the private car where we would congregate after the play and spend a few hours in anecdote and song. My contribution was an imitation of dear old Sol Smith Russell – a great favorite of Mr. Jefferson's.

My friend, Fred Stanley, now passed away, always proved a delightful companion. He accompanied us on the entire trip. I really don't know when Freddie slept on that trip. When I inquired how many hours of sleep he averaged out of the twenty-four he replied, "I don't want to go to bed. When you all retire that nigger porter and I swap stories and he is funnier than the whole troupe! He has decided to remain awake the entire tour and I promised to keep him company." And I really believe he did.

Every man on the trip became very fond of Fred. He was a source of great amusement. Poor Fred "went the pace" and finally the end came in 1903. We were pals for many years. I am the only one of the original quartette left – Tony Hart, Dick Golden, Fred Stanley. They are all gone and there is none to take their place. Only a memory remains, a sweet one and yet how sad! Be patient, dear friends, and wait for me! God bless you all!

What a bright and effervescent man was Fred Stanley! Among the congratulatory messages that I received while playing in Australia, upon the announcement of my engagement to Miss Maxine Elliott, was one from Fred. It read: —

"Congratulations, old man. Pick one out for me."

A variety man, with whom I had performed years ago, casually remarked to Fred, "Goodwin! Where does he come in? I started with him!"

"Indeed," replied Fred, "somebody must have tied you!"

We closed "The Rivals" tour in one of the New England towns, coming direct to New York to attend an informal banquet given to me at the Lambs Club by some of my friends previous to my departure for Australia where I had determined to go for reasons which will be explained later.

My star of destiny was leading me to the other end of the world. I sat down to the banquet filled with forebodings. It was not the terror of the journey. It was a premonition that it was the wrong thing to do, but Fate peeped in and said, "Go on!"

After a night spent in song, readings, speeches, etc., the familiar drab dawn suggested that the time for parting had arrived. The boys followed me to the door and as I started down the steps they sang "Auld Lang Syne" and I drove off into the day.

Chapter XLII

WILTON LACKAYE

Of all the players now members of the Lambs Will Lackaye is the most pronounced.

I am very fond of him and I think he likes me although he has never expressed himself particularly in my favor. We were never pals, as the word is now applied, but in all our friendly contests of badinage we have always endeavored to play fair with one another.

Lackaye has a splendid brain, but he does not always use it kindly. In this he has no hidden motive, but it acts quickly and his tongue responds not always pleasantly. His wit savors more of the cynic than the humorist. He always assails a citadel, however, never a snow fort, and while his quick sallies many times provoke pain, as a rule they are given with a knowledge that they were well deserved, at least from his point of view. What I most admire about Lackaye is his honesty of purpose and his unflinching courage. In debate he shows no mercy and expects no quarter. He has all the instincts of the old school. He believes in upholding the dignity of the player and will not pander to the ephemeral parasites who have lately attached themselves to the fringe of the drama, the managers "who present."

If there were more Lackayes and fewer Cranes the actor would soon be in a position to assert his rights and maintain them.

I love some of Lackaye's remarks, particularly when he is annoyed. The last one I heard appealed to me. It seems he approached a very conspicuous actor who is now at his zenith with a request to join the Lambs in their forthcoming gambol on tour. Lackaye suggested that it would be quite a novelty for this player to revert to one of his old-time specialties and present a short monologue as a Baxter Street Jew, which once had made this particular actor famous. The actor who was packing a New York theatre in a serious rôle replied: —

"My dear Will, your request is preposterous! I could not possibly consider such an act! It would be suicide for me after struggling all these years to make my public weep to return to a vulgar monologue and make people laugh! Absurd, my boy, absurd! It would be fatal!"

Lackaye contemplated him for a minute, and remarked: —

"My dear – , an onion will make anybody cry, but I have yet failed to discover a vegetable that will make people laugh."

Oh! how true this is! And yet people will come out of a theatre with swollen lids, expressing their delight at being privileged to cry! If they only knew how easy is the one and how difficult the other, they would pay more attention to the God-gifted one, appreciating the comic player who kisses away the tear that flows.

My opinion of Lackaye's acting is only equaled by his of mine. Lackaye has published his through the press. I have kept mine to myself. Neither of us is particularly complimentary. We agree on art with reference to ourselves.

Neither of us can act!

Chapter XLIII

"YOUNG" MANSFIELD

I once had a very dear friend, a young man of splendid dramatic ability with a likable but erratic nature. He is constantly falling in love. As a rule his heart petals fall to those of the opposite sex far beneath him intellectually. This young man has a most impressive and artistic temperament and has absorbed not a little knowledge of his art from the masters.

He has blazoned this superficial knowledge to such an extent that he has grown to believe that he is a most important and necessary adjunct to his profession. If he were possessed of the knowledge he imagines he has he would be a genius!

As it is he is a nuisance!

He has succeeded in making many enemies by his aggressive and argumentative manner in which only a genius can indulge. He has never annoyed me for I love his spontaneity and his youth. He has emulated the acts of several stars and, like the aspiring pugilist who is ever ready to assume the name of a champion older in experience, such as "Young" Corbett or "Young" Fitzsimmons, he delights in being known as "Young" Mansfield. He has some charm and is most convincing to those who are not conversant with his methods.