Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1890-06-22
MANUFACTURING NOVELTY.
OLD MANAGERS AND NEW PERFORM
ERS JOIN ISSUE HERE.
An Hour In q Theatrical Agents Office
A Dying Woman and New Play
One Touch of Nature.

L Oho AOuSA VA &NatuT6s
| "There is nothing new under the sum-
said theatrical manager to me the othel
day on Union Square. even the grea
novelties presented by Russelps comedians
are as old as the hills in foundation, ant
scarcely novel in treatment. Charlie Reet
did lots of his side-splitting acts of The
City Directory long ago, and 1 remember
when he was playing at No. 5S5 Broad
way, on the end in female minstrel show
in which poor Dick Fitzgerald was inter
ested, that he was doing just as good work
and employed many of the bits which now
conyulse the habitues of the Bijou for the
delectation OF the FOUNDERS who foate6
about the vicinity of the Metropolitan
Hotel in those days.
"Charlie used to sing song then, en-.
titled 'Baby's Cut TOOTH with quite as
much vim and effectiveness as he now
sings that medley in Act First of The Di.
rectory.' And am sometimes inclined to
believe that he was funnier than he is
now. But then, this may be mere mat.
ter of taste.
"Isn't it odd, though, that we should be
talking about him and Dick Fitzgerald
down here in front of the very house in
which poor Dicks widow now lies dying.
Yes; she is not expected to live through
the night, and all that will be left of the
once popular Dick, the variety manager,
and his marvelously faithful and devoted
wife will be that white dog there and the
pictures in Mr.. Armstrong; Office"
Knowing Dick as l did, and recalling
his sudden death and sad fate, / went up
stairs into Mr.. Armstrong; office to learn
something more about the widow, who lay
at deaths door in the apartments over
looking the busy square, bathed in sun
shine, decked with green grasses and
spreading foliage, and filled with thou
sands of gaily-dressed girls, women and
children and men coming from the matt
nees at the various theaters in the neigh
borhood and surging hither and thither
through Fourteenth street and up and
down Broadway, unconscious of the clos
ing scene in domestic tragedy being en-
acted behind the window blinds of the
building a few doors from the Union
square hotel.
No; there was nothing new under that
days sun, or behind the dingy shades of
the apartment in which Mrs. Fitzgerald
was painfully, yet peacefully, l trust, pass
ing away.
Nothing new! Only the old, old story of
death stretching forth his hand to claim a
forfeited life and to lift the burden from
the shoulders of one who had borne it
with unwavering constancy and marvellous
patience along rugged and thorny path
for years.
No; there was nothing new even in the
dramatic agency behind the dying woman's
apartment, except the few half-sheet bills
hanging on the different pegs on the wall,
beneath the photographs of several we'll
known speciality artists, announcing the
menus for the amusement of the patrons
of the different variety theaters in this
and other cities during the ensuing week.
No; there was nothing new even among
the loungers in the office, most of whom
were ng-and-dance men or sketch
artists" in and out of burnt cork.
There they sat, waiting for engagements,
ci ehS VI OH dliSCl a UldU WHO
had money and wanted to risk it in the
show business-unmindful of the solemn
climax impending in the chamber few
feet away, except when some newcomer
dropped in and SAID, "How is Dicks widow
to-day"
Then the voices of the loungers would
be hushed until Mr.. Armstrong had re-
piled to the querist, stating that she could
not live till the morrow
After this the loungers would resume
their anecdotes, and, perhaps, the new
conner would tell of his experiences in
some similar direction, not to be outdone
by the last reconteur,
Your variety performer is man of
marvellous experiences, and he never per-
mits anybody to excel him either in Incl
dent, narration thereof, or volubility.
Even here, while the good wife's life
was ebbing slowly away, one of the loung-
ers, seeing the white dog, which had been
known to everybody as "Dick Fitzgerald's
Pardner," said: 'Say, the white bull will
be an orphan when his mistress dies"
"No, it won't either" said another, pug
naciously.
"Why won't it ?" quo.h the first speaker.
'Dick was always papa and his wife was
always mother to Dick. He is dead, and
she will cross the dark river tonight. So
tomorrow the white bull will have lost
the best papa and mamma it ever knew,
and it may fairly be called an orphan.
Seew
"You're wrong. Mrs. Fitzgerald willed
that dog to Billy Lester of the Lester and
Allen team, SO the dog will not be an
orphan. Billy will be father to it."
"Well, Pm glad to hear it, for it's the
greatest dog I ever knew. 1t played on
the stage, looked after Dick when he was
out late nights, and since Dick died. you
bet nobody could come up Mrs. Fitzgeralis
| stairs in this house without that dog let
ting the neighborhood know all about it.
OH you should see him when he heard a
fire engine going by. That dog was as
good as an automatic fire alarm"
81 knew better dog than that" quietly
put in a bystander.
aWhere ?" swiftly demanded three OF
the others viva voce, because Fitzgerald's
dog has a reputation in the profession; in
! deed, it may be said it belongs to the pro-
fession. Wherefore any attempt to reflect
or cast discredit on the canine was re-
garded as somewhat personal by the rest
of the variety performers, who booked
from Fitzgerald & Armstrong; Office "On
the Alps Mount st. Bernard! The dog
/ knew could find man lost in the snow
on the mountains and bring him home
safe in his mouth, watch, diamonds, and
money, every time Not cent would be
| missing"
These remarks were listened to with
profound contempt, and one man sneer.
ingly put in: "You're like Hermann
Lederer and Ted Marks. You even 90 te
Europe for vaudeville dogs to beat the
dogs in the American variety business
Something between a laugh and a his
| followed this rebuke, which might have
furnished me with glimpse of something
new in this phase of repartee but for the
advent Of John p. Smith, the manager
and exploiter of "The Tourists and hi.
question: "How is Mrs Fitzgerald ?'
This brought the speakers back to the
old line of thought, and Mr.. Armstrong:
| answer that she could not possibly live
! through the night dispelled the tendency
to acrimonious leyity occasioned by the
| dogs appearance.
Mr.. Smith, tall, pleasant-faced gentle
man, with wealth of snow-white hair
an erect form, keen eye and musical voice
diverted the loungers' thoughts into an
4 IL Il L. AZ