Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1900-01-27

a devout amateur actor, and 1t CHANGED
that he and a prominent player named
Burton appeared in the same character at
about the same time With the true con-
fidence of genius, he announced that he
thought 1t high time his abilities were
recognized by the press. The man in charge
OF dramatic happenings obligingly told him
that II he would write something about
himself 1T might be published. and Robson
TOOK TOOK his MS pencil in hand. He announced
tnat stuart Robson had played this char
acter; that he played it better than
Burton eyer had played it or ever would
play 1t; and. moreover, that the world
would orr day recognize Robson's supe-
riority some strange chance the criti-
clsm got MO the paper precisely as writ
Ten. 1t was the first public recognition
Robson had ever received. No one thought
at the time that 1t was entitled to credit as
prediction.
The following story is related by Lucille
Saunders, the contralto of the Alice Nelson
Opera Company: 1T was in Birmingham,
England. during concert season with
Madame Patti. I was late in starting for
the concert hall. but had the street and To-
cation of the stage door clearly in my mind,
of squares away, so 1 walked. On reaching
what l supposed was the stage door, 1 told
the attendant to conduct me to the artists
room. He was polite little cockney, and,
prised way, said: "Ho it's this ere way.
ma am. and with that he pulled me
through a side door and down long, dark
halfway that seemed to run at a sharp in
twisted through various labrynthian pas
sages. all very much to my amazement,
and finally landed me in a low-ceilinged.
square. undecorated room, with a marble
noor. and temperature hot that 1t
could only be described in highly spiced
language. I finally gasped, Where in the
name of heaven. am ~
AIRY, or whatever his name was,
n
scrapng. lit Is the 'ottest room 'ereabouts,
ma'am.
What do you mean I shrieked.
Didn't you want the Turkish bawth,
ma'am? he whined. You said the 'ottest
ROOM
=" Take me to the concert stage, you
idiot. l cried, as l threw the bunch of flow
ers | carried at his head.
We'll. l finally got on the stage, just in
time Tor my number, with great rivers of
perspiration running down my beautiful
evening gown. Without a moments hesi-
tation. | had to go on and sing my first
song. which, with peculiar irony, happened
to be 'Greenland's Icy Mountains -
Minnie Palmer, the winsome soubrette,
whose success in MY Sweetheart" has be-
come part of theatrical history, seems to
have found the fountain of perpetual
youth.
why, she doesn't look to be more than
fifteen years Old remarked a lady who for
the first time saw her at the New Grand
one night this week.
"Ha, ha, ha;" laughed her escort Min
could not be overheard.
Minnie is" That about hits off pop
ular appreciation of her, although it would
better be put Minnie is-Minnie." Her
age does not count, because she has never
looked any different. She remains the
same fairy-like funmaker of old After
overheartng the snatch of converse ton men
toned a Star man called upon Miss Palmer
ana found her as charming off as on the
stage.
Since My Sweetheart days have been
but once in Washington. But l love the
city; there is none like it. Why have l
deserted America? 1 have not. But I'm
afraid that America has outgrown me as a
star. / am by nature and training a SOU
brette, not the peroxide kind. if you please
but like Lolita and Maggie Mitchell in the
early days-say ten or fifteen years ago.
Those Were charming, fresh little plays full
of what is called heart interest, but the
public wants them no more, and therefore
can say with Cthello. My occupations
gone" at least SO far as starring again is
concerned. I'd like to try My Sweetheart
again. Do you think it would please? Yes?
Thank you so much, but my good sense
tells me that the public is too used to
great productions and great casts to pay
the same price to see one poor little wo-
man in her mimic role No, that dear lit
tie play would not stand a great produce
ton and a great cast. 1t was not built
for such a burden Or indeed. a bigger one
than myself. Still, l shall never cease to
wish to play 1t again. But I'll stick to
vaudeville now-it pays, and then there's
no bother.
Mr. Stuart Robson is an omniyoro,1s read
er. Oliver Goldsmith, as all the actors
companions know, has been Robson's ia
vorite author. He can quote from him at
will, and knows The Deserted Village
Three summers ago, during one of his vaca-
tons, Robson took a trip to Ireland for the
sole purpose of hunting out the old Gold
located 1t a few miles from the town of
Athlone. Mr.. Robson describes his journey
to Goldsmith's birthplace in his own way
''Athlone, as you probably know, is locat-
tween Dublin and Galway. I have travelled
Ireland thoroughly, and 1 know no more
picturesque town of its size than Athlone.
1t is full of historic memorials, and one
might say of this old place what Marlowe
said of other ancient ruins. One cannot
tread upon them but one sets ones foot
upon some sacred story After good din
ner at the local arms summoned a jarvey
who drove around at the appointed hour
and. mounting upon the jaunting car, we
drove off to Goldsmith's birthplace. which,
he said, was some ten miles outside the
village. The old Goldsmith house is still
standing; that is, the ruins of the place are
still there. with walls stanch and sound as
If they had not weathefed the SHOWS and
summers of two centuries. AS / walked
up past the old gateway ] saw in my minds
eye the figures of Goldsmith's venerable
father, precocious Noll himself, his brother
and his sisters starting from the house to
greet me with true Irish hospitality The
old fireplace where Noll must have mused
for hours, is still intact, but, alas, the day
when visited the place fat pig from a
neighboring cottage had ensconced him
self in the fireplace and lay comfortably
doing mid the weeds and wild flowers that
had taken root between the stones of the
hearth! 1 remember this particular pig was
white and black, and resembled man sit
ting in his shirt sleeves. l spent an hour in
compiacent soliloquy in the old Goldsmith
house. and then under the guidance of one
Of the peasants of the place went to see
the other souvenirs of Goldsmith's bow
hood. The old stone mill, the hawthorn
bush, the parsonage and the Three Jolly
Pigeons Tavern. immortalized by Gold
smith as Tony Lump6ins' fayorite resort
in She Stoops to Conquer'-all of these
venerable landmarks are still to be found"
Frank Daniels made an experiment last
week at Wallack's, New York, well caicu-
lated to set at rest all arguments as to
the most valuable form of advertising.
Speaking of it the comedian said:
LAS everybody with eyes must know, the
atrical organizations 1pay out fortune
every year for adVertising. This advertis-
ing takes many formS-newspapers bill
boards, Autographs IN windows, elevated
railroad stations. postal cards, street cars
and hundred and one other things SUM-