Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1891-08-30

ger. I'm not sleeping IN electflc wires sc
much now as did before / saw man do sc
ing yet The electric light spparatu,
worked by the gas man is a wonderful com
bination that would take a layman si1
months to comprehend. 1t is q growth and
the modern theater cannot get along with.
out it.
When we started back we met nice-look.
| ing Tartar conspirHtor in full armor coming
down the narrow, crooked, stone stairs. She
told us to go back, very peremptorily at first,
then pleadingly. 1t would be bad luck to
pass there. As we were not armed and she
was we went back and waited for her to get
down.
'sThey are dreadful superstitions, said
the gas man. So were the old buffers who
used to ride around in the olden time wear
ing ton of cast iron and talking six-foot
English.
MEETING THE STAR PERFORMERS
We made another break for liberty and
would have broken another armor-clad
girls luck if she hadn't rushed up the spout
of the stairs and admired his naughty
stride and the curved snickersnee that
swings across his diaphragm, He had just
come eff after an alternating reign of every
other hour as Sultan, dividing time with
Dizzy Bell
In the right upper entrance Is the porta-
BILE throne and in it reclines Miss Nnapp, a
beauty, at her feet little 4-year-old mig, in
bare legs, sitting on the spangled footstool
and hiding from my fascinated gaze behind
big white fan. The staIwart blacks, who
are chair bearers, are near. They wear
black tights from just above the knees,
tights that they were born in. The tights
are excelleet fits asked Miss Knapp if
she wasn't afraid. "At first" she laugh
ingly replied; mot now" All the same, I
upon their shoulders she took pretty long
breath and held on like grim death to a
dead sheep. A few secondssl slater she was
delivering her notes at the footlights in
that sweet, clear voice that makes her SO
great favorite.
AN ACCIDENT TO A BEAUTY.
Four chorus girls in Moorish costumes
pre-empted the throne that had been carried
teased the little black page. ALI at once
they saw me writing, and oonjecturing that
was making a sketch, unconsciously as
sumed q pose that would have made lovely
picture. One o1-eyed:: beauty was sit
ting fat on the floor between the handles
OF the palaquin. She got up-and there
was q plaguey nail there somewhere-I
heard ripping sound. There were two
rips, the last one beginning with a ''drat
itl' think it was. The other girls laughed
and investigated, while modestly contem-
plated the scenery and pondered upon the
possible trials of chorus girl in future
state.
While they were setting the harem scene
Of the second act conyersed with demure
young woman dressed as page. She bore
lyre-a property Tyre, with six strings
and Q papier mache bulb to 1t. She
thrummed at the strings as she talked. And
as she thrummed she tried to bore holes in
my India rubber heart tried to work the
Hamlet business on her, and asked her if she
thought she could play as easily upon me.
She was neither % stupid as Polonius nor as
polite as Rosenerantz for she retorted laugh
ingly that she could only play one Tyre at q
time. have met chorus girls who can do
better. Somebody must have told her
was newspaper man.
PRETrIER BEHIND THE SCENES.
These young ladies are as pert as they ara
pretty. To my disappointment they looked
prettier here than from the 'front.' And
they are right pretty. If that orchestra
leader who committed suicide at the Casino
had been musical director at Palmer's he
would have been alive now. He left behind
him the most unique reason for seeking
death. He had become s'tired of looking at
those painted chorus women every day"
The musical director here comes back while
they are setting the scenes. He is we'll
built, handsome fellow in dress suit and
wears property smile of engaging sweet
ness.
We take to the other side Of the stage
now, because the Sultan's six feet, two-story
palace occupies all the available space on
the upper. / soon find myself on bench
between jolly and plump little Annie Myers
and the charming Laura Joyce Bell. 1t is
Mrs. Bells fate as contralto to greatly belle
her amiable character. Yet to possess such
a wonderfully rich, reed-like voice almost
tionable yirago in play. As for Annie
Myers, she is general favorite--with her
own sex, too. A man who didn't love her
at once must have calloused heart The
chorus girls can't pass her in the wings
withous tickling her. She is piquant and
saucy and has bright smile and merry re-
tort for everybody. If she is well pleased
with herself she has every reason to be SO.
PREPARING THE PROPERTIES.
I strayed into the property room dnring
the evening and saw q handsome young
man III blonde mustache laying out prop
critics. That is, preparing all the things
that are to be used in the next act It is a
little three-cornered cubby hole, shelved
high upon each side and fitted with drawers
and these shelves and the drawers are chuck
full of nondescript articles used in various
plays. It looks more like q cheap Junk
shop than junk shop itself. The armor,
arms, oars, nets and larger things are kept
elsewhere. The property man lays out
everything In advance that is required In
any particulsr act Not only that, he sees
the articles are all right, delivers them in
trance as they are needed and finally at
tends to the things after they have been
used and puts them carefully away. He
was filling Digby Bells Turkish pipe with
a very fne'article of tobaccowhen saw him,
and laying out choice cigarettes for Miss
Knapp and Miss Myers. These tart young
Tartars smoke the cigarettes as young men
about town in the rose garden scene. The
management sets 'em up every night, though
these giddy young dudes never say Turkey
once. The property man also looks after
the baby-not only the live tar baby but
the laxen- haired, china-legged article with
a nose like punch and judy. As he hands
1t to the statuesque, Miss Hamilton, that
'it is such O good little thing and never
kicks"
CLOSE OF THE PERFORMANCE
When the play comes to near close and
the audience has called the full company to
the front to sing the last roaring song-a
sort of musical pousse cafe of national airs
six or seven times, am reminded of
social callers who get up to 60 and who
don't 60, but start new story at the parior
door, run off into illustration in the hall
and finally, when you think it is all over,
come back again and start over from the be-
ginning, and so on, until you get weak in