Los Angeles daily herald., 1889-04-04
BILLY BIRCH.
The Last Lay of Great Negro
NEanaNrel,

instant.
No man in the amusement profession
was better or more widely known than
Billv Birch. He was the prince OF negro
Yninstrels. Without being musician or
a good singer, he was always the center
of attraction when on the stage. AS
bones and end man he could keep an
audience in q constant roar with his
witty sallies and darky eccentricities.
With one of the Bryants, Campbell, Goes,
Henry, and the great Sam Wells for inter-
locutor, he established the fame OF the
San Francisco Minstrels. That troupe
was at its zenith when the civil war
broke out. 1t had had such accessions
as Wambold and Ben Cotton. The latter
made his mark in the song, 'I'm Going
Down to Washington to Fight for Abra-
hams Daughter" Wambold was q fine
singer and great harpist. Campbell
was simply the sweetest tenor ever
heard on this coast, not even
excepting Harry Squires. Henry and
Goes also bad fine voices and were very
good musicians. But the star OF the
group-the greatchief-was always Billy
Birch. His physique accentuated his
brimfulness of good nature, and he had
the gift Of turning every new topic into
use for the amusement OF his auditors.
He was remarkably original in his wit;
and sometimes, when he was at his best,
and the occasion drew him out, he would
spin out original humorous stories by the
hour. His sallies of wit were sudden
and explosive. Even "chestnuts" which
had been used hundred times, he would
invest with a new interest, and make
them as genuinely laughable as if they
LoI H. ,,oinfaH nna nIOht fha
curtain rose very late. 1t was apparent
that there was something wrong. The
programme had been changed. Billy
was not there, and it was evident that
his absence had put the minstrels out of
Joint. Sam Wells worked uphill to cover
the apparent awkwardness of the eitua-
ton, and kept on plying questions in the
most grandiloquent language. Cot
ton tried his best gags, and Charley
Backus got off his brightest
Jokes. But nothing could dispel
the cold wave that went back and forth
over the audience. At last the whole
thing changed. A sudden breaking of
glass was followed by racket that
reused the slumberers, and Billy came
tumbling through the skylight, lighting
on the stage, to the great conformation
of the troupe. Billy had fallen asleep in
the upper part OF the building, and
adopted this mode of getting on the
stage to cover up his tardiness. Then
followed one of his wittiest colloquies
with the middleman, and in a few min
utes he had every body at ease, and the
programme went off splendidly.
Early in the sixties the San Francisco
Minstrels removed to New York, where
they had fine run of business for many
years. 1t was on his way to Gotham
that Billy happened to be passenger
on the ill-fated steamer Central America.
This was one of the serious experiences
of his life that he disliked to recall. Yet
when describing the catastrophe with
pathos and feeling thatseemed foreign to
q nature 80 ebullient as his, he could not
always refrain from injecting phase of
humor in it. Nearly five hundred pas
sengers went down with the steamer
but not child nor woman was among
the victims. The gallant men, when
they saw that their fate was sealed,
filled all the boats they had with the
women and the children, bade them
God speed, and bravely turned round to
go down with the wreck. Then occurred
a terrible scene. Money belts were
opened and the deck was literally strewn
with double eagles. The steamer was
gradually settling. Night came on.
Everything that would float and that
might prove help to q distressed
swimmer was thrown overheard. At
last the crisis came. The ship lurched.
A loud sound of concussed air was heard
and the sea opened and closed forever
over the doomed steamer. Some came
to the surface; others never cot
out of the maelstrom and the
wreck. Among the former was Billy
Birch. He used to describe it himself.
He felt himself knocked hither and
thither-at one time sucked under, at
another rising rapidly and scraping
against debris. At length he rose to the
surface. 1t seemed that he had been in
the depths for an age. He threw out his
arms and he felt something floating. AS
he seized it, he was spoken to by a
voice he recognized. 1t was that of q
fellow passenger who was very frail. The
voice said, "If you try to get on this we
shall both be lost, for it will not float
with two." Billy had great heart and
he was good swimmer. He was better;
he was large, fat man, and his adipose
water as if it was blubber. He left the
poor fellow to his slim chance, and
foated around all night, at times catch
ing plank or pail, which gave him a
rest. AT daylight he espied large
chicken coop and swan to it. On
this he foated for several hours, when
brig bore down on the scene and he was
rescued.
Billy used to say that fat was no good
to help man out of small hole; but it
was mighty handy thing to have when
you are required to navigate the ocean
without deck under you. He had been
in the water twelve hours, and he used
to say that half the time he just lay on
his back and floated. "Butmy thoughts"
he would say, "were what troubled me.
I thought of every mean thing l ever did
and, singularly enough, when / tried to
think of the good things, do you know l
couldn't bring them up?"
Poor Billy! His lines have been cast
in hard places of late years. When pop
ular taste fell away from negro min
strelsy, Birch found himself poor and
stranded. He had outlived his profes-
sion, like many of the old.time minstrels,
and found no place in the amusement
world he could fill. The result was PEN
ury and perhaps want, with the slow
gnawing of ever-present regret that he
had not in the days of his prosperity laid
up what would have kept him comfort
able in his declining years. Death was
perhaps the kindest friend he could have
t. II -