The Anaconda standard. [volume] (Anaconda, Mont.) 1889-1970, 1899-04-09
Green Re- Room T alk,

| hood of 5000 to make this one trip.
| Miss Arthur was next peremptoriiy in
| formed that her time in Cleveland and
| Chicago was Cancelled. The week which
| she was to fill in Cleveland. and where
| she would have played to large bust
| ness, was substituted by some small
| towns, where travelling with her large
] productions imposed great hardship
upon her Besides this, Miss Arthur
| was forced to accept another railroad
| jump from Toledo. Ohio, to Providence,
| r. |. 1t will undoubtedly aggregate
| $1,000 to $1,000, and will take the best
| part of two days to travel. Last sum-
| ner Miss Arthur entered into a con-
| tract with the syndicate to appear at
| the Columbia thea ter for the weeks of
| April 3 and TO- The syndicate people
: now issue notice that no contract ex-
| lists, for the reason that they have an
| nounced that it was Cancelled. Miss
| Arthur and her lawyers think entirely
| otherwise, and will not only enjoin the
| Columbia theater from allowing any
| other performance to be given upon
! Miss Arthur's dates. but will come here
| upon the proper time ready to give the
| performances There seems to be no
| doubt about the fact that the syndicate
| can make things hot for theatrical
people if the spirit moves them. 1t is
| in the power of the big, grasping COR
| poration to impose route of gruesome
| one might stands that makes one weary
| simply to contemplate, and by adroit
| manipulation of time cards legally ar
range jumps that will curtail the long
est purse or drive the unfortunates out
| of the business. This drastic species
of discipline has been frequently tried,
| and has been found to be cruelty eff
cacious. The vanity and righteousness
of leading actors has led to the
| strengthening of the syndicate, and it
| is their trouble, not that of the public
or the newspapers, save only as it af-
fects the quality of stage perform
ances. Francis Wilson fought out his
own salvation with the syndicate, but
none of the other poular stars seem to
have had enough stamina. mental or
| financial, to stand forward-they have
met the syndicate, and are its.
Beatrice Moreland, actress, is GER
| tainly persistent person, if her own
stories about herself are to be accept
ed. In a recent interview telling of
her early efforts to get on the stage,
! she says:
Il recall the memorable visit of Miss
Ellen Terry to New York. and how !
followed her carriage in the streets to
the Victoria hotel. I was confronted
| by her maid. who rebuked me with a
| froWn. and was about to turn me out
just as Miss Terry herself appeared.
| The great English woman turned to
| me and said:
My dear, you must never meet an
actress off the stage; distance lends
| enchantment' I demurred against the
| ruling. and she relented, giving me
portrait of herself. Lily Langtry in
| the first flush of fame and beauty, was
another Of my divinities. I saw her at
| the Bellevue in Philadelphia, having by
| some chance passed her sentinels and
entered into her presence. She was
Every kind in her advice to me by urg-
ing me to give up my ambition for the
| stage. She told me with charming
grace of her houses and her Jewels and
| wonderful stories of London. one of
which was that she had been a lady in
| waiting to the queen. I have since had
| occasion to doubt the latter part of her
| story.
After much conniving I succeeded
| in meeting Emma Nevada on the day
following her debut in New York. She
was singing at the old Academy, and I
| saw her at the Everett house with her
father and Mr.. Palmer. to whom she
was afterward married.
THE late Emma Abbott was another
| divinity at whose shrine I worshipped
She lived with her husband, John
Wetherill, at the Fifth Avenue hotel.
When she was in New York I made
up my mind that I would have a word
| with the great songstress. I succeed
ed, but Mr.. Wetherill did not take
kindly to me. After my first interview
| she asked me to call, and the invitatio
was repeated again and again. One
| day I knocked at her door and to her
! Who is it.? I replied, It's I, Beatrice
l heard quite plainly Mr. Wetherill's
| impatient voice:
| oh, Lord! it's that d little nui-
| in b11t
called, Come at tomorrow, dear; I'll
| be alone
"Of course I called. and told her
| what I had heard the day before, and
we both had good laugh over it.
Once l called on Minnie Maddern
| Fiske and she advised me with gentle
| admonition to give up any idea of go
| ing upon the stage. I recalled this to
| her years afterward when I was a
| member of her company
| inspired by the beauty and success
| of Rose Coghlan I one day called upon
| her, and she, too, told me that life be-
| hind the footlights did not always
| mean happiness for woman, and that
| I would find more that was really
worth having in almost any other pro-
| fession. Since then l was for four
years a member Of Miss Coghlan's
company"
| ing enga cement of Stuart Robson. be-
| ginning al the Grand on April q, will
| be received with pleasurable anticipa-
| ton by that excellent players admir-
ers in Butte. He will present his new
| play THE ,Meddler" here. Stuart Rob-
| sons name has always been potent
| factor in things theatrical. Season af-
| ter season he caters to our desires for
| amusements by furnishing plays which
| not only teach moral but are also in
variably to be commended for their
cleanliness and wholesomeness. In these
| days where we are surfeited with a
| deluge of hastily constructed slap-stick
| farce comedies, which rely on their
ability to crowd in as much horse
| play as possible, it becomes a pleasure
| to chronicle the advent of this legit
| mate comedian, who by his careful and
| artistic methods has succeeded in en-
| dearng himself to thousands of theater
| goers all over the United States, in
| whose households the name of Stuart