From Time to Time (32 page)

"My partner, Jules, poor old Jules! He was sick and he was getting bald-headed. He wanted to give up, but one day I landed a job for three dax~s for twelve dollars for the team, and our supper Sunday night. It was a German joint, and Jules was German, so we put it over. And on Sunday I ate like I eat now'.

"The next week we played a joint on the far north side, got our money, paid a few debts, ate a couple of times, and were broke again. Couldn't even get our laundry. Got a job then, supposed to pay us twenty dollars a week, and we had to walk to it; no carfare, nearly five miles. When we stepped into the place the bartender said, Harding sends me two men? I don't want men, I won't play men, I want women, nm audience wants women!' Well, I don't want to say I'm so stuck on show business that tears came to nw eyes, but they did-for another reason! I begged this big dub to please play us, as I was sick and Jules was sick, and I showed him Jules's hair. I did everything until finally he did play us. We flopped and the two old soubrettes he had on the bill with us were a knockout. So I knew the fellow was right, and I hurried out to a place on North Halsted Street and I actually' begged for a job. He gave in, and I rushed back to get Jules.

"Well, we went to work for eighteen dollars for the team, and supper on Sunday night again. Booked direct, no commission. The place had a small German stock company. Our double-up magic act was a riot, but my own single was a fliv. I felt pretty blue because the manager wanted to keep Jules, and join up with the stock company. But I almost knew Jules would stick with me, and he did. But the next week was the finish: we both got canned. It was the first time since we were together. I'd often gone it alone, and when I saw the stage manager talking to my partner with some money in his hand, I knew it was finished with the two of us as a team. I stepped outside, on that cold rainy April night, and it just seemed I never could make good, and my good suit and cuff buttons and everything were in soak. I was desperate, and went back into the front of the house where Mr. Murphy one of the owners, was sitting with two ladies. I pleaded with him to please keep both of us boy's, and I showed him mx' clothes. He could easily see I didn't have on all a human being should have. So he let me finish the week out alone, at twelve dollars.

"I did it, and did it hard. I drew fifty cents every night, and Jules would meet me after his turn, and we'd eat, and just go to sleep back at the boarding house. The next day I'd walk back to save carfare. Well, the next week Jules and I split up; he thought he could do better with a soubrette. So I was flat in Chicago once more. Jules went with a turkey' burlesque. He took my muffler and a shirt, and all I had left was a summer suit of old clothes, and my trunk.

"Well, Williams of Williams and Healv put me next to a wagon- show job, and another friend bought mv ticket. I jumped to Boswell, Indiana, to Adam Fetzer's one-ring wagon show, and believe me, it was some bum circus. The room where we slept was upstairs, and the big top, or the big tent, was laid out on the floor, and it was full of ropes. Well, you can see what a chance you had to sleep lying on a lot of ropes, so I decided to move out. Now, Fetzer's had a lion in a big cage with two partitions in it, and only one lion. So I slept in the empty partition. I got some horse blankets and all was fine. The other fellows thought I was swellheaded because I was sleeping outside with a lion instead of them.

"Fetzer was afraid I was a lemon, though, and I thought I was, too. So he made me do extra work like shining harness, painting wagons, and doing everything he could think of. And he was a good thinker. So I did as he thought best, because I was up against it. Nine dollars was the limit with that show, and all I got was seven. But I did my best. I fed the lion, and he wasn't like a regular lion that got up early. He was old and nearly ready to die. Still, he was the best thing in the circus, so you can see what kind of circus it was. I used to have to wake him up to eat, and grind his meat, too, and when we gave a special show in the sideshow, I used to have to poke him with a hot iron to make him growl a little. A couple of times we nearly got run out of town for doing that. I felt sorry for poor old Jake, but I was in no position to pity a lion.

"I got to feeling pretty' blue at times, hut you can't let yourself stay blue around a circus for very long. Those circus fellows are made of iron. There was one who had been with Fetzer for years, and to hold his job he did a dozen acts. One was a revolving ladder act, and he got me into it. I had to hang on because it would revolve and bring me clear to the top, and then he wanted me to clown up there to make him a bigger hit, but believe me, all I did was hold on, and I held on tight. Every time I saw that ladder, I thought I saw my finish.

"Now, come April the roads dried, and April twenty-fifth our first show on the road opened. Well, I'd practiced on mx' own in the winter, and now I pulled aside the canvas and waited; the band played, and I ran out into the ring and did a comedy juggling act, and as true as I'm alive, I was one big hit. I also did a magic act that was not so good but good enough.

"Well, that night I slept in a regular hotel room, and Adam, the manager, was all salve. I was called Frankie, and all that soft stuff. The next day they used me in the sideshow', too, and honest, folks, I was needed bad. It consisted of a dwarfed bearded woman and her giant husband, a couple of old alligators, two cages of monkeys, the lion, and myself. I lectured on them, and did the best I could to make the thing look like a real sideshow, but the more I see of Broadway today, the wiser I think those rubes are. Old P. T. Barnum might have fooled them, but I couldn't. The best thing in our show was always our move to the next town.

"I got canned before my notice was up-I won't go into that- and with ten dollars in my pocket I jumped to Dayton. No job there, so I went to work in a restaurant. Finally landed a job with Gus Sun, and I jumped to Elkins, West Virginia; had to sit up all night. And when I got there, all in, was told I wasn't booked. Oh boy. But they couldn't lick me, and I borrowed enough from the manager to get to my next booking in Fairmont, West Virginia, where I opened. Well, the manager was a real fellow. I was on that circuit for eighteen weeks-eleven weeks in theaters, and seven weeks in hotels and restaurants. I hate to admit that, but what's the difference: I was as good as 5ome of the theaters I played in. If I'd been a full-grown man instead of just a kid, some of those managers wouldn't have done me the way they did. But it's all over now, and I did mv cry'ing in mx' room in those day's. I used to wonder if I was really' bad, but it's all in the game; only' I sure held a bad hand pretty often.

"Got thrown off the Sun Circuit, and joined a rep show The manager kept me on because he knew I had the nerve to do anything. And I did; did everything with that show, and I stuck with it till spring. It was the longest job I ever had, and to this day I write the manager letters; he was a regular fellow.

"The season closed, and I jumped back to Chicago, and all that summer I did eight shows a day on State Street. All day long from nine-thirty' am. till eleven p.m. I couldn't stand it, so I jumped to Des Moines, and when I got there was told business was bad, so I didn't go to work, but landed a job in Oskaloosa at twenty-five dollars. From there I jumped to Manhattan, Kansas, and a couple of other small towns.

"Then my true friend, Frank Doyle, saved my' life by giving me some time in Chicago, where I staved all winter. Finally, the next summer on July fifth, came my chance. I opened at the Majestic- and to tell how I got that would be another whole story. Any'how, I was a hit. Still, I'd sit in my dressing room and wonder if I was going to stay all week or get canned again. But I staved all week, and up to now' I have played in every first-class vaudeville theater in America and Canada, and I can only say it's a hard game. Even to this day' the thing I can't bear is the manager w'ho cans acts. That and the poor weak-minded simpleton who steals another man's act when maybe the poor fellow' he stole it from battled even a harder battle than the one I have just related.

"Well, let's cheer up. I'm twenty-three years old in February, and I was horn in Sioux City, on the Orpheum Circuit. And it's great to have a room like I've got this week, and a dinner like I had tonight. And fine dressing rooms, big stages, and to sleep in sleepers and belong to clubs where you meet George M. Cohan and Andrew Mack and all those fellows, even have them ask you to join their show. Oh, it's no use talking, this thing is great when you get it right. If it's a dream, don't ever wake me up. And if it's true, oh, please don't let the Commercial Trust Company fail, because that's where I have all my money. So I say, good luck to all, and success comes if you deserve it. Do your own act, and let your brother live. Good night, folks, nuff said now.

They replied, "Night, Daffy. Come again, and John dug out a watch, snapped open its case, looked and groaned. Everyone was standing, stretching a little, and I stood up to shake hands, thanking these fine people for having me here. I think mv voice told them that I truly liked being here this evening, because when they invited me back, smiling, I could see and hear that they meant it.

The others going on inside, I stood a moment or so longer with Maude Boothe. She asked me where I was staying, brows rising in mock awe when I told her. And said she'd phone if she heard anything about Tessie and Ted.

I walked clear back to the Plaza, a long way and it was late, late, late. But this evening had been exciting for me, and I walked for time to think about it. And think about just being here in this strange New York, everything almost but never quite entirely familiar. Walking here along the Lower Broadway I knew so well, passing buildings Julia and I had walked by, I heard-strange on Broadway-no sound but the scuff of my own shoe leather, not a headlight or car ahead or-I turned to look-behind me as far as I could see. From blank dark store and office fronts, only the occasional dimness of a light far back inside.

Then a change, momentarily puzzling till I recognized that a fragrance had come sifting through the air, only a hint then gone. Then back, stronger and now persistent. And a pleasure. What? New-baked bread, the air filling with it, and I inhaled, pulling it in. And saw up ahead an almost dreamlike sight: a silent, motionless crowd. There they stood as I walked closer: hardly moving, a crowd of silent men standing out here in the night. Suspended over the street corner-this was Broadway and Eleventh-a painted wooden sign reading, Fleischmann's Bakery. Walking by, I looked over at this line of forlorn and silent men in pocket-sprung suitcoats, safety-pinned overcoats, some only in shirtsleeves.

A cop stood at the curb watching them-tall helmet of heavy tan felt, belted blue coat to just above the knees. He glanced at me, approaching, saw I was a gent, I suppose, and said, "Good evening, sir.

"Good evening, officer. I stopped. "What's going on?

"Fleischmann's gives away day-old bread at midnight. We both glanced away to the north at a pair of headlights, huge, round, dim, moving toward us, jouncing a little. Then stood watching the car slow and stop here at the curb; a limousine, long, polished, expensive. "Officer! called a woman as she climbed out under a streetlamp-young, good-looking, long pale dress, big big hat. An older woman getting out of the car now, wearing the vague kind of dress that wasn't a uniform but was. She had a satchel in her hand.

"We are giving a party! the young one cried gaily to the cop, her tone inviting him to join the fun. "You see, she said, confident of his interest, "I had thought at first of giving a dinner party to my friends. Then I thought how much better to give a dinner party to the poor. She turned her head to smile beautifully at the line of watching men, sweeping out an arm to include them all. "I want to feed every man here! So, you see, she explained kindly to the cop, "I want your help. For I am afraid some of the more anxious men will not be willing to wait their turn.

I recognized this lady; I'd seen her before in a Sunday comic section along with "Bringing Up Father, "Petey Dink, "Doe Yak, and "Der Captain und Der Kids. This was a genuine "Lady Bountiful, an actual type of this time, I felt sure. Lady Bountifuls really and truly existed here, superbly certain of themselves and their goodness, and the cop knew it. "Yes, ma am,~~ he answered her quickly. "If you will stand here beside the curb, I'll call them out two at a time. And very kind of you, ma'am; what is your name?

"I had rather not give it; names won't count at this party! Send over the first two. The cop gestured, and two dirty-faced young men at the head of the line came over, pulling their caps off. "My friends, said Lady Bountiful, her tone compassionate, "I want you to have dinner with me! She reached into the satchel held open by the older woman, brought out two half-dollars, and gave one to each of them, who took them, ducking their heads, muttering their thanks. "This is a birthday party! cried Lady B, "and I wish you well.

At the cop's signal, the waiting men came over tw'o at a time for their half-dollars; actually a fairly' large gift, I had to remind myself. When the satchel was empty, the older lady brought out another full one.

Standing there watching. I made a rough count: there were maybe four hundred men waiting here in the night at Fleischmann's, and each got his half-dollar. And each thanked Lady' Bountiful politely, a lot of them in a foreign language. She turned graciously to the cop then. "It's been quite a birthday party, she said, "and I thank you very much for assisting us. I don't know' what we would have done without you! The cop touched his cap, and she glanced at me; for a moment I thought I was going to get a half-dollar. Then both women got back into the car, and as it pulled away I saw that a uniformed chauffeur was driving.

Fleischmann's had opened up a door at the head of the line, light edging out onto the walk, and the line began inching forward. "What do they get? I asked the cop, and he said, "Coffee and bread. I said good night then, and walked on to the Plaza thinking of what I'd just seen. And of the vaudeville people out on their front stoops in their own tight, cozy, dangerous world.