The Dalles daily chronicle. [volume] (The Dalles, Or.) 1890-1948, 1891-12-16
AN OLD TINE THEATER.
at 1.-THE GRAND DUKE" MANY
BRIGHT ACTORS GOT A START.


ers-Most of Them Have Prosrered and
Some Are Famous in a Way.
Two decades ago the Grand Duke !
Sheater, or newsboys' playhouse, was one
of the most famous Institutions of this
metropolis. Today the protector and
chief manager of this unique resort runs
an express team from stand in the New
Bowery. His name is Richard Burke.
Dick Burke is not a large man phys
ically, but he is person of acute men
tai development. He is, as were all the
leading newsboy players connected with
the original Grand Duke theater, a typ
ical New Yorker. He was born in the
.tFourt" ward, and he knows about every
inch of Manhattan island. He sold news
papers as early as he was able to walk,
and there never was thing in or about
New York that Dick didn't know.
Now that all the boys of that time are
grown to manhood, and many of them
are firmly fixed in the real theatrical
world, the story that Richard Burke can
tell of the old days in the cellar at 81
Baxter street has a peculiar interest.
That cellar was a spacious affair, as cell
lars go nowadays. 1t was entered by a
fat door, which opened from the street
One dived down into this thespian home
instead of climbing upward. The fur
nishings were primitive in the extreme.
There was not even raised stage. The
boy actors played their parts on the same
floor from which the spectators ap-
plauded.
About the only accessory that the cell
lar boasted was curtain of bedticking,
which hid the players from the people.
There were about seven boys in the
original Grand Duke company, headed
by Teddy Sullivan and Dick Burke.
They had no paid tutors. Schools of act
ing did not flourish then. AS Burke ex-
plains, ''They went to the real theaters
and caught onto their pieces"
WHERE THEY PLAYED.
They played mainly negro sketches in
that old cellar at the corner of Baxter
and Worth streets, and many of the
"kids" played better than they knew,
for nearly all of them have since distin-
guished themselves before the public on
the professional stage. 1t was a time
ripe for such an innovation. There was
chivalric spirit abroad in the breasts
of the youth of the land which made
deeds of heroic strength and valor rank
high. Ned Buntline was recounting
the deeds of Buffalo Bill in the New
York Weekly. Leon Lewis was writing
of the adventures of daring youths in
The Ledger. Everywhere bravery show
ed its front. 1t was not unnatural, there
fore, that these New York newsboys
should strive to do and dare for them
selves, and, adopting the buskin, cleave
their own career in the face of many diff
fculties.
They were strong, healthy, sensible
boys, and they knew that in minstrelsy
they had their forte. That they did not
aspire to the higher distinction of play
ing Shakespearean parts only emphasizes
their good sense. So they played in
black faces, and those famous old time
sketches, sBeasley's Dog and 1.-The
Coming Man," figured conspicuously in
their repertory. The elite as well as the
ragtag and bobtail of the town dived
down into the dingy cellar to witness
the antics of the merry lads. The Grand
Duke Alexis, on his memorable visit to
America, was a distinguished auditor
one night. In fact, the theater afterward
had its best known title from this august
potentate, who smiled and paid for his
fun at the newsboys' theater.
There was one typical episode in the
career of this juvenile lyceum to which
Mr.. Burke still refers with pleasure.
About the time that the boys theater
was in progress James Gordon Bennett
was organizing souphouses throughout
the city. One night swell party en-
tered the cellar. Among the visitors
was Tony Pastor. Each person put
down a dollar for his entrance fee.
ACTING FOR CHARITY.
The souphouse business was upper
most in everybody's mind, and Pastor
had recently created fund for its sup
port. j. j. McCloskey, the playwright
and then actor, was one of the party
What did he do but spring up in tn,
middle of the performance and make
ringing speech calling upon those pres
emit to contribute to the soup fund.
Dave Conroy, one OF the boy players
leaped to his feet and declared that tn,
Grand Duke company would give an en-
tertainment to help the cause. Other
of the boys seconded the motion, and i
was carried amid enthusiasm.
On later night special programm,
was arranged, the souphouse benefi
was given and 1856 was realized, which
was handed over to Mr.. Bennett. Thi
was succeeded by other entertainment
of a charitable nature, heartily entere,
into by the Grand Duke boys, until thei
theater gained wide reputation, no
only for its uniqueness, but for the prac
tical good it was doing. But all thi
couldn't last. The boys grew to man
hood and the things of the old time wer
swept away. Teddy Sullivan wa
drowned at the Fulton street ferry thre
or four years ago. Two others of tn
Grand Duke actors are now robust an
popular policemen. Sam Bernard is
variety agent, and has made money an
reputation also as Dutch comedian
Jack Conway is of the vaudeville firm {