The times. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1897-1901, 1901-05-12
FATE OF FOOTLIGHT STARS
Prominent Actors Who Left the
Boards for the Madh0use.
often Too Great Indulgence in the
Pace That Kills the Cause of Their
Downfall - The Last Appearance
in Public of John McCoIIoHlyh.

+ in Public of John Mccullough.
| Madness and the American stage are
getting to be Familiarity linked Within
| a little over a decade eleven of the stel-
lar lights of the Thespian world have quit
| the boards for the madhouse. hopelessly
! insane. and there have fingered a short
period until death has given most of them
a final release. Besides the eleven, there
have been scores OF other similar cases
| whose fate has excited only the briefest,
if any, comment. because Of their incon-
spicuous position in stageland.
The recent sad mental collapse of Maui
rice Barrymore calls attention TO the
many pathetic cases that strsw stage his
tory and eXcttes enquiry into their cause.
In every instance it has been the same.
1t is the pace that kills that has caused
these mental wrecks, and not overwork.
The victims of madness have burned the
candle from both ends. Strong drink,
late hours. all the so-called delights Of
BChsmianism, the gambling table, being
known as good fellows and FOUNDERS,
have at last entailed the inevitable pen
atty. Reason has fed; madness and death
only remain.
a list Of the famous actors who have
succunlbed to such causes within a few
years shows: J. X. Emmett, Tony Hart.
Steele Mackaye, Maurice Barrymore.
Charlie Hoyt. William J. Seaman. Viii
liam Hoey, John Mccullough, Harry Ker-
nell. BARLEY Campbell, and George S.
Knight.
II is a noticeable fact that no women
appear in the above list. which speaks well
for the general character of the women of
the stage and their ability to Withstand
the temptations to which they are ex-
posed.
One Of the first men in the above list to
succumb to the fastness of the pace at
which he lived was BARLEY Campbell the
author Of THE White Slave" and dozen
other plays which fifteen or more years
ago were ali the rage. a play by Camp
bell was sure of a so, and managers fell
over one another and offered the most al
Turing terms to get a drama from his pen.
His income from royalties was away up in
the thousands monthly, and ne spent it as
rapidly as it came in once launched on
the wave of prosperity, the adulation
-showered upon him turned his brain.
Champagne flowed for him and his COM
pGnions day and night. and the gaming
table frequently held him for twenty-fOur
hours or longer at single sitting.
Campbell was originally reporter on
Pjttsburg paper, and il was while he was
so employed that he had the manuscript OF
''The White Slave accepted for produc-
ton at a local theatre He had 10 defray
some Of the expenses OF the production,
and having no means of his own, had sue
ceeded IN borrowing a couple of hundred
dollars from friends for the purpose
The night Of the first performance his
nature was so wrought up by anxiety that
he was afraid to go to the theatre and
watch the performance. Meeting friend
in the street he took him into an adjacent
hotel and telling him OF his fears, be-
sought the friends company. After taking
three or four drinks of brandy with the
friend Campbell mustered up enough cour-
age TO go 10 the theatre. The first act was
almost ended as the-two men entered, and
at its conclusion the applause was so ire
mendOus that all doubts as 10 the play
success was dissipated.
HAD DETERMINED ON SUICIDE.
lets go out and get a drink" said
Campbell to his friend.
The two men were soon bsc ok a. the hotel
with a bottle of champagne before them
this time As Campbell emptied his glass
he said
DO you know what intended to do to-
night, Dick?'
nc" was the friends reply.
Campbell reached into his pocket and,
bringing out a Wicked-lOOking revolver,
III The White Slave had failed" he
said, Il was going to blow out my brains
there in the theatre.
Campbell didn't blow out his brains,
but in a few succeeding years Of pros
perity managed TO drink them out. He
turned night into day, and in few years
the inevitable result Of his reckless dis
sipation developed itself. Paresis came,
and the madhouse became his home. \
brief period oof detention, and the bril-
liant BARLEY Campbell was taken out
corpse.
John Mccullough, Genial John, as he
was known. was another case, only slight
~ dissimilar from that of BARLEY Camp
bell. Mccullough was victim of good
fellowship Nightly after the perform
ance. no matter in what city he might
he n was McCulloughs delight to get
congenial party of friends about him be-
fore Widespread table, at some hotel
or restaurant, and there, after the ViandS
had disappeared, 20 sit with plentiful sup
ply Of liquids and swap stories until long
after the daylight had crept into the
room. Not infreQuenuy these convivial
sessions would last so long that the ac-
tor would go directly from them to ap-
pear on the stage.
The end came suddenly in Chicago. Nc
CullOUgh was playing at McNicker's The
alter ia THE Gladiator taking the role
Of SDartaCus. The night before Mr.. Me-
CullOugA had been out with friends AFTER
the performance as usual and had had
but two or three hours. sleep when ne
was aroused 20 go to the theater. His
manager AT the time was j.. D. Price, and
he has described that last appearance as
follows:
..The theatre was crowded. In the first
act where the rugged Thracian, weight
ed with chains, is brought captive in
Rome the great actor STROBE feeDly TO the
centre Of the stage and stood with clasped
hands and bowed head. When he spoke
the empty sound Of his voice struck terror
TO the hearts of the actors who stood
about him and loved him. 1t was not
the Spartacus they knew who confronted
them but the ghost Of Spartacus. He did
not know what 70 do or where to move.
What shall 1 say? he enquired audlbly
to the prompter
MCULLOUGHs LAST PERFORMANCE.
The last act was chaos. Some Of the
audience OWNED the truth. But others,
thoughtless and ribald believing McCul-
Tough under the influence Of drink scoffed
and teered as the curtain fell. Utterly
exhausted, the great actor was lifted to
his feet. IT was the rebuke Of his sympa-
thizers to the human jackals who snarled
at the fallen lion. He staggered in front
Of the curtain. For an instant ne stooq
lrresolute. Then came the reInembranoe
OF insult. Ladies and gentlemen, he
said, If you had suffered tonight as
have suffered you would not have done
this.
THESE were his last words in public
was ringing and admirative, and John
Mccullough, with all his splendid dignity
made his last exit from the stage.
his dnss gn h ToaT q refres h and sm3g
That's the way to play Spartacusr he
said. I never acted so well in my life.
He had already forgotten the troubled
scenes Of that awful night
He held his last rehearsal the next
DAY. Never was sadder scene enacted
In theatre. IT WIS mock rehearsal
Again the tragedian's memory was a
blank At the end Of the first act he sud
denly demanded a rehearsal of Richie
lieu 1t had barely commenced before he
gtrayed of in the fourth act where the
decrepit cardinal-statesman Is intercepted