The Indianapolis sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis, Ind.) 1880-1904, 1885-01-25

New York on salary of $50 per week,
and an increase on the success of the
paper. he was prompt. arriving in New
York almost as soon as his letter of &C
ceptance. He afterwards told me that
he was getting but so per week on the
Plain Dealer, and assumed the editorial
chair of Vanity Fair; but salt could not
save the paper, tvitbstanding its gen.
uine merit. The American public does
not want refined wit, though since that
time they have been partially educated
up to 1t; they want broad humor, and
personal allusion. Punch never did sell
in this country, and if We want anything
outside of daily paper it must be cheap
aud agreat deal of it. Witness our
so-called literary papers, eight large
pages, running six continued stories, for
| five cents.
When Vanity Fair was sure to go
down Artemus was very respondent.
What should he do? One day walking
up Broadway | said to him, Charley,
why don't you lecturer Lecturel Why
the idea was absurd. He could write, but
he could not talk; he was not able to get
up and say ten lines on an emergency.
| soon talked him out of that by telling
him that he could read his lecture or
commit to memory. That point settled,
now what should be his subject? At that
time the caDard of the Twenty seventh
street ghost was in full blast, and sug-
| gested ghosts as a subject, knowing that
whatever he wrote he would make it
| funny, aud before we parted it was agreed
| that he should write what he could on
| this subject, and or the next evening
come down to Pfaf's, the noted Bohe-
! milan resort on Broadway above Blocker
street, and read ii to the party that as
sembled there every night.
This programme was carried out, and
Artemus duly appeared with what he
called "A Lecture About Ghosts" and
read it amid uproarious approval, the
main fun of which was that there was
not word in it about ghosts, and it was
settled on all sides that it must be
brought before the public. But how?
| There was an actor and occasional man
ager at that time playing general utility
at Wallack's thertre, the elder of the
name, on Broadway near Broome street,
whose name was De Walden. | went to
De Walden, whom | knew and talked
Artemus to him. He saw it and an intro
duction followed. De Walden worked
assiduously, and the entire press helped
him. Everybody was the friend of Arte.
mus, for more genial, jovial, liberal
man did not live. Alas! for himself. De
Walden took Niblo's saloon, now the
dining room of the Metropolitan, for one
night, with the privilege of six. They
ran the six nights, crammed to the doors,
and doubt if ever audiences laughed
before or since as they laughed that week.
The financial result to Artemus was ST.
$50 and Artemus was jubilant From
that hour his course was one uninterrupt-
ed of success, and lecture after lecture
followed each one greater than the pre-
ceding, and fortune flowed into the pOck
cts of Artemus
How many genial and liberal traits
and acts could relate of him, one only
of which shall come to the surface. There
are many vino will remember Ned Mullen,
the kind-hearted and unfortunate Ned,
the Tenniel of America He lay sick,
dying, at st. Vincent's Hospital, and a
few of his friends undertook to raise some
money for him. Artists and authors are
not apt to be Overburdened with cash,
and so the filthy lucre" poured slowly
In. In this emergency / went to Arte-
mus, who was then giving his lecture on
the Mormons ut Dodworth's hall, and
who had known Mullen we'll, and stated
the case. Certainly! Certainly said
Artemus, crowding his baud into his
pocket, while visions of ten, or perhaps
twenty ran through my head. "How
much do you wantp That was q puz-
hn
my boy" He took his hand slowly out
of his pocket and said thoughtfully:
-! guess I'll give him night, say
Wednesday"
was astounded and the night was
given, putting $3.50 into poor Mullen's
depleted pouch and no public mention of
the affair.
The last time saw Artemus was
very short time before his departure for
England. He was doing the humorous
at the Washington theatre. / went to
his dressing room, and found him with
the usual necessity" he called it. We
had only time to say few words when
he was called. He threw his arms about
my neck, kissed me with laugh, and
ran. | listened to him through the even
ing and roarej with thousand others,
but we never spoke again.
hold in my possession one Of the most
comprehensive deadhead tickets perhaps
ever issued to any man, signed by Arte-
mus. 1t reads:
Admit Mr.. Whitaker and all his
friends to reserved seats for this and
every other season. ARTEMUs WARD.
By the by, what has become of the
$4,000 left by Artemus to found an asy-
lum for old and infirm printers and in
which his mother bad a life interest?
His mother is dead, but where ia the
money. Is that dead also?
The Upright Man.
lCarl Pretzes Weekly