Beadle's Dime Library No. 465: The Actor Detective — page 24: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

4 , goto considerable trouble to keep him from get- / ting the girl.” **T wouldn’t blame yein the laste; shure! it is only natural,” the Irishman asserted. ‘*But I say, judge, are ye satisfied to take no for an answer? “Are ye going to give the gurl up for good and all?” ‘Well, I don’t know—I hate to,” Judge Andy replied with a peculiar sort of glance at the other. As well as any man living ho knew how fertile was the raind of McCracken, Many a time had he been indebted to the Trishman for somo. ingenion; plan which had bridged the way over a Cifficulty, and from the manner in which the otuer spoke, Judge Andy got the idea into his head that McCracken had devised some scheme which coald be worked in the present case, ‘ “if you are afther thinking the gurl is worth x the trouble, some way can surely be arranged , to eg her.” “Not by fair means, though,” Judge Andy observed. © ** Phat the civil does it matter to yees wheth- er tae means be fair or foul so long as yees get the gurl?” the Irishman demanded. ** Well, as far as I am concerned, it doesn’t matter in the least, but [ must be careful not to ges into any scrape.” ‘* Of course, that goes widout saying. Every- thing must be managed on the quiet. of suppose that Miss De Browne will not be afther doing much to help yees?” **Oh, no, she takes the ground that the girl knows her own mind, and that when she says no, S26 means it. ‘** I have an idea too that she thinks there is a love affair between Miss Estelle and this actor chap, and she is rather inclined to help it on,” _** You should have won her to your side wid a big bribe,” the lawyer suggested, sbrewdly. “ ve her a fifty-dollar set of jewelry and I thought that would be sure to fetch her, if any- thing would.” _ ** And phat did she say?” ' “Oh, she thanked me—said it was a sell on me though, for she wouldn’t be able to do ser- | vice enough to pay for such a costly present, but m3 she would take it, all the same, as I had plenty Fate: of money and could afford to throw a little of it ayy ** It’s a mizhty smart woman, that same Miss De Browns,” McCracken observed, with an approvin nod of the head. ‘* But she had the idea that the game was up?” ** Most decidedly! She said that, in her opinion, there wasn’t any use of trying, for it would only be a waste of time,” ie ‘*She meant a fair and above-board game, of -_ * course.” a ** Oh, yes, you couldn’t hire her to do any- thing underhand.” ‘“* Well, if yees can’t be afther winning wan way, then ye must try another,” the Irishman observed, in a philosophical sort-of-way. “That is, ye know, if yees are bound to win, regardless of the way the trick is‘-worked.” ‘ Well, 1 am, if the matter can be so arranged that I will not be apt to get into any scrape if the plan does not succeed.” rg ve ms alons for that!” cried McCracken, with a knowing wink. “Twill be the man who will pull all the wires and do ail the dirty work, and if there is a smash-up, small hurt will it do my reputation, seeing that [ haven’t any tos art on.” **Go in Mae and make the running!” ** It will cost ye money, judge!” ~~ «PL go five thousand on the scheme,” ob- ‘served Judge Andy, after a moment’s thought. te ** Will that be enough?” **Oh, that is lashings of money!” *“* What is the nature of the scheme you pro- _—--s- pose to work?” _-** Go fer the gurl’s reputation,” responded the other, with an evil grin. “Get her compromised wid you in such a way _ that the only chince she will have to preserve her reputation is to become yer wife. “She isa sae hg, a you know, and the _ thought that all New York will think she isn’t any better than she ought to be will be a: t to Vade her to desperate measures, bx *“T am going to work though the woman _ whoinstructed her for the stage, this Madame ‘**Tt’s knowing to her I am; she has a b'aste of +a son who is the divil’s own boy; I’ve got him «Out of trouble five or six times and the woman _ thinks sho owes me a debt of gratitude, and thin asshe has a hard time to git along—for this scallywag son of her kapes her poor—a few hundred dollars will look like a mighty big sum to her, and there isn’t much doubt I will be able BED... 60 get her to play the game I want.” ~ Go ahead! I am willing to pay the - money!” Pil commence this very night, and if the trick don’t work it will be mighty quare!” CHAPTER XXXVII. ee THE ACTRESS-MAKER,. Inalllarge cities—that is cities of the first- lass like New York, Philadelphia, Boston, 7% ‘By me == | OO Ctl, ci | i a meme A " “a te e* st ~~ re F » ~The Actor Detective. Chicago and San Francisco, there is a peculiar business which gives a, more or less, good sup- port to the few people who follow it. New York is the headcuarters for this “trade,” and can boast of a round dozen at least who have no other business. To speak of it literally as it is, it is the making of actresses, although the professors of the art, business or trade, whichever you may be pleas- ed to call it, never by any chance speak of it so bluntly. But, in reality, that is exactly what it is. Certain people hang out their *‘ shingle” and advertise in the newspapers that they are el>- i } | cationists and invite people who are anxious to | go upon the stage to place themselves in their care, they guaranteeing that after a certain number of lessons the aspirant will be fit to play the round of characters to whicn the pupil aspires, nda number them go stiil further, and de- clare that after the pupil has taken a certain number of lessons they will certainly procure the aspirant an engagement in some good company, and when some young lady—whose friends have declared for years that she was ** a born actress and would surely make her fortune if she went upon the stag>”—calls upon the ‘‘ elocutionist,” who is generally of the softer sex, but in her busines; as hard as iron for all that, she is re- ceived in the most cordial manner, and when she tells of the opinion of her friends, and how, from early childhood, she was alwuys ‘* dying” to go on the stage, the lady declares that an one with the least judgment could see wit half-an-eye tbat she was eminently fitted for the stage, and there isn’t the least doubt that fame and fortune lie before her, if she will only deign to take a certain number of lessons and then honor the ‘‘ boards” with her presence. The teacher follows this declaration with a ‘** shost” story—to use the slang of the day—in regard to the number of actresses she had ‘* made.” Carelessly she mentions the names of certain ; ' —— to nine hundred and ninety-nine out of a thou- sand this good angel of a manager never comes. The young ladies who have bounded upon the stage, fresh from the hands of the actress- maker, and at once clutched fame and fortum , can be counted on the fingers of one hand, aiii in order to find as many as that, one must gv back in the history of the drama for forty years at least, The lady of whom we set ont to speak in this chapter, Madama3 Mikella, was a fair example of the actress-makers, although a trifle more honest than the majority of those who made a. living by this odd profession, But as she herself said: ** Tt does not pay to be too honest. ‘* If I were to tell my pupils the truth I should lose two-thirds of them immediately. ‘“‘There is Miss Bertie Van Gooselem, the daughter of the Avenus A butcher, who has made a fortune by selling poor meat and giving bad weight to tbe miserable, struggling poor who buy by the ten « ents’ worth. ‘* Her father is as mean a man asever grasped. a quarter until the eagle screams, and, although he has plenty of money and owns no end of houses all over New York, still lives in the first floor of the tenement house just as he did when he ceased to be a journeyman butcher and started out on his own account, ‘* But, as both father and daughter bave got the idea that Bertie will just coin money if she goes on the stage, they are willing to pay liber-. ally for ber training. ‘** Now, suppose I should say to this girl, who is no more fitted for the stage than I am to ride. a horseback act in the circus, ‘ You have no talent for the stage, my dear, and there isn’t any use of your throwing away your money. .- *** Not only that, but even if you had talent, your face, figure and voice are so much against you that it would only be the hight of folly for you to hope to succeed in the line of characters to which you aspire. ‘** You are entirely too fat for Juliet, or any ladies who occupy yrs positions in the dramatic | of the young and interesting characters of that art, claiming all of them for her pupils, and tell- ing how grateful each individual actress is, be- cause of the excellent training she received from this particular lady. ‘* And they all admit that if it hadn’t been for me they never could have made the hits upon the stage that they have done!” The would-be actress listens—and is lost. Soon she is enrolled on the list of the elocution- ist’s pupils, and her training for the stage begins. Of course the thing is all a swindle from bLe- ginning to end. : nature.’ ‘The girl stands about five feet high and weighs over a hundred and fifty pounds, with a face as round asa Dutch cheese and about as thuch expression to it. . ‘* Then she has one of those disagreeable ) ing, creaky voices, which reniind the hearer of the noise of a hand-saw in active operation, and, to crown all, she has a funny little lisp. ‘* Now, as I said, suppose I told Miss Bertie the truth? ‘*She wouldn’t believe me. Not at all! She The art of acting can no more bereally taught | would become violently angry, all ber friends off the stage, than one could Jearn toskate away from the ice, or to swim without going into the water. A few simple rudiments can be instilled into the pupil, but that is all; the actual work of the stage must be encountered, just as the learner must tumble about on the ice, or flounder in the water, before either skating or swimming can be acquired. But the trade of actress-making—the pupils are almost invariably of the softer sex, only a few callow youthsever troubling the instructors —is one that depends almost entirely upon per- sonal vanity; the mor® vain and silly the pupil, the more certain is she to believe that if she can only get upon the stage she will astonish the world, And it is a well-known fact—well-known to those who ply the trade, although they are sel- dom honest enough to admit it—that the more unsuited a pupil is for a dramatic life by reason of an entire lack of all necessary requirements, the more anxious she is to get on the stage, and the readier to pay whatever sums may be de- manded. And it is from weak and silly pupils of this kind that tbe ‘‘actress-maker” derives the greater part of her gains. From the intelligent and sensible girl she can- not profit much, because after a certain time the pupil grows tired of the teaehing and longs to try the actual life, and if she has any push and go-aheadativenesss, she seeks the manager of some company, tells what she wants, and usual- ly succeeds in getting a position. Not the one which she bad been led to expect would be open to her by the flattering words of her teacher. The manager hasn’t any room for a ‘‘ Juliet” or a ‘‘ Pauline” at two or three hundred dollars a week, but if the lady will be content with five dollars and her board and traveling expenses, to play minor rdles—very minor, indeed, as a rule —possibly there may be a chance. f course the bigh-flown young lady, eaten up by vanity, and having full faith in the *‘ yarns” of her teacher, turns up her nose at such an op- portunity as this. Really the chance is open of becoming an ac- tress in earnest, and receive pay for being taught, instead of paying at the rate of a dollar or two the hour for lessons of no earthly use. She waits for the manager who will take the word of bis teacher that she is a wonderful actress and who will risk his money to give her the onportunity to astonish the public. It is hardly necessary, I suppose, to state that ee EI nnInEnIn EEE ——— 4. Pes, y would declare that I didn’t know what I was talking about, and I should lose a pupil wortb three dollars a week to me. ‘* My plain speaking wouldn’t cure her of her infatuation at all, either; even when a bad case of this kind tries the stage, and is guyed and laughed at by the audience, no cure 1s effected ; halt the time they believe the guying to be gen- uine applause, and if so rough that it is not pos- sible for them to take this view of it, then they ascribe the guy to the malice of some of the other performers whom they affect to believe to be jealous of their abilities, and they think these jealous ones have sent their friends to the front of the house expressly to kick up a dis- turbance. ‘“‘The girl would merely leave me and go to some other teacher, who would take her money without going to the trouble to tell her that she was throwing it away. ‘*Therefore, as I said in the beginning, it sometimes does not pay one in this world to be too honest.” And this was the woman whem the wily Irish- man, Corny McCracken, had selected as a tool, by means of whom the young actress, Miss Estelle, might be induced to look with a favorahle eye upon the suit of Judge Andy Fitz- gerald. Madame Mikella’s life had been rather an eventful one. She came of a good New York family, had been somewhat of a belle in her youth, and at an early age married a young merchant who was doing a prosperous business, Keller was the gentleman’s name, and for the first ten years after his marriage his wife held her head high as one of the notable dames of the metropolis. Particularly in private theatricals was she famed, and her friends all declared she would make her fortune if she should go on the stage. For ten years all went well with the Kellers, and then came one of the destructive panics which every few years sweep over the countr ’ with the fury of a hurricane, Keller’s business was prostiated by the shock, and in the rnin were ingulfed nearly all his own and his wife’s relatives. The stroke killed the man, for the merchant was not strong, and the overwork and anxiety was too much for him. Tbrown upon the world, utterly helpless, was the wife with her boy of tender PP agai In this emergency she tried the profession in which it had so many times been predicted she would be so successful. com * es ! ; , } : ; ' O \ ru (oil | ) 7 FF , =e > ‘, sya" a ae ‘» > , ‘ **¢ 4 . oe