Washington standard. [volume] (Olympia, Wash. Territory) 1860-1921, 1897-04-23
A FIDDLER WANTED.
HE WAS FAMED AND AT DANCE
MUSIC DID VERY WELL.

the oregon Short Line-MiIIion.
aires and Immigrants Attend a
Dance and Experience a Musical
Snrprise-M. Ysaye Plays for a
"Couniry Dance"
Washington Star.
On st. Patrick's day, 1894, five
through trains, bonnd both to the
eastward and westward of the Oregon
Short Line of the Union Pacific, were
tied up at Glenn's Ferry, Idaho. They
had been caught between two serious
washouts, one at Pocatcllo and the
other at Indian Creek, three days be-
fore, and had to wait at Glenn's Ferry
for track repairs along the line before
they could proceed. Glenn's Ferry is
bleak little railroad and sheep herd
crs' town of 800 or 400 inhabitants,
situate on sagcbrush bluff overlook
ing the unspeakably dark and dreary
Snake river.
The five stalled trains carried GOO
passengers of as miscellaneous char.
acter as could be gotten together at a
carefully selected congress of types.
There were emigrants and million
aires; soldiers on the move; dainty
women in palace cars and women
bound for Creede and Cripple Creek in
day coaches; miners who killed time
during the wait in shooting magpies
circling over the Snake river; Sho-
shone Indians travelling to the limits
of their reservation; we'll behaved and
quiet people, noisy and tumultuous
people. But all were stuck alike, and
they made the best OF it.
Lines of social demarcation were for
the time erased. All hands mingled
easily on the little station platform
and in the little station waiting room.
The supply of food on the dining cars
gave out the first day of the hitch, and
everybody were fed, and we'll fed, too,
in the station eating room. They sat
down at the tables in relays and pa
ticntly awaited their turns.
The railroad employees and their
wives were to give dance at the little
town hall on St. Patrick's night. The
switchman who had been customarily
employed to fiddle for them had been
switched to another division. In a
quandary, the dance committee toured
the trains and station to ascertain if
any of the stalled passengers happened
to he carrying violin and was capable
OF producing music on it. In one of
the sleeping cars they came across an
artistic looking man, with very long
hair, seraphic, oleaginous counte-
nance and exceedingly baggy clothes.
They were looking for n fiddler they
said. Did he know of any one on the
train? Well, he didn't know Gn out
ragcously bad English); he played q
little himself once in awhile, and had
rather fair fiddle with him. The
long haired man accented the " fiddle"
rather curiously. But the railroad
men were overjoyed. Would he play
for them to dance with their wives and
sweethearts? Certainly! Did he know
dance music? Well, some.
All of the stalled passengers were
invited to the dance, and they all
went. A good many of them could
not get in. The baggily clothed fid-
dler turned up in good time. The
pianist was waiting for him. So was
the railroad dance committee, one of
the members of which slipped So in
one-dollar bills into the fiddler's hand
as payment in advance for the even
ings work. 1t was smilingly accepted.
The dance began. The fireman's wife,
who played the piano, produced an
old bethumbed violin and piano tune
book and turned to the lancers. She
told the fiddler at the end of the first
dance, that he did pretty we'll, only
he went too fast. Then there was a
waltz. The fiddler was informed by
his accompanist that he was getting
along finely, and everybody in the
room began to prick up his ears at the
sweetness of the violin music, al
though the dances were common
enough and tawdry enough.
Another waltz-the " Beautiful Blue
Danube" All of the dancers on the
floor stopped dead at the first bar, and
the travellers with cultivated musical
ears moved closed to the piano. The
pianist ceased. She wished to listen.
The violin music was miraculous. The
player swayed from side to side as he
phrased. He appeared to be oblivious
of his surroundings. He improvised
variations of inspiring tenderness. He
out-Straussed Strauss. His violin
sang, throbbed with passion. When
the last note died away, the people in
the hall appeared to be in a dream
all but one.
AN. Ysaye," said Charley Fair, the
son of the late United States Senator
Fair, stepping from the throng,
"won't you play that lively, rattling
thing you gave us at the Bohemian
Club in San Francisco the other nightY
It's been running in my head ever
since"
NJ. Ysaye played Berlioz's "Pizzi-
cato as he perhaps never played it be-
fore.