The daily morning journal and courier., 1902-03-11
LAST OF A GREAT RACE.
Deaths of West, Emerson and Rice
 Negro Minstrelsy Seems Doomed.

Deaths of West, Emerson and Rlce- Negro Minstrelsy Seems Doomed.
 Billy West, Billy Emerson, Billy Rice the stars fall fast. Yet these artlsts | had all but survived their art, for negro minstrelsy seems doomed, nor can even ! the witty MT. Dockstader give 1t a long | reprieve. The public taste changed; the minstrels relied too much on thelr oio 1 laurels and wore out their welcome. we
 know the weakness of the praisers or past time, and we will not say that the | theater at present seems to be intend- | ed mainly for the benefit or detriment | of girls too young to appreciate it or as ! a means of passing an evening to We'll dressed we'll fed, mostly unimaginatlve | folks to whom it represents few hours rest. the interval between dinner ana l a supper at one of the lobster palaces or which New York will son principally consist
 It seems though, as though tastes and times were simpler once. Perhaps people laughed more easily. The gen eration that felt the death Of Dickens as personal loss had the gift of hearty laughter. During the civil war and af-
 
 ward gayety. The great gods of ennui, the Ibsens and the Tolstois, were not dronjng as vet. People were willing to enjoy themselves In their own way and a manager couldn't boost a SUCK into a star, and a playwright was not A cheap pathologist Burton had not long been dead; Wallack was still in his prime The name of John Brougham will recall to many not yet decreplt something of the gayety of temper, the high spirits of those not altogether re- mote days. Joseph Jefferson is the one eminent survivor of the eminent actors on whom the patrons of negro minstrel sy in ifs best estate were brought up. Why, the boys who waited with beat ing hearts for the curtain to rise, who wouldn't have missed a sound of the orchestra. who yelled so ferociously at | the appearance of "supe," had heard | Eddie" Booth offer his kingdom for horse. especially of Saturday night. | and felt their hair stand up as "Ned' Forrest cursed Goneril and Began with | all the wind of those tremendous lungs Negro minstrelsy was no foolish whim. It was legitimate art in it's good time and MT. Dockstader and MT Primrose have not forgotten the tradi- tions A long bead roll of names and companies comes to the mind The rat tie of the bones tickles the ear agree ably. The eye of memory sees those preposterously black faces, impossible red lips, abysmal mouths, world-shad- owing feet Where did those monument ! tai shoes come from? The banjo has fallen into the hands of the girls-lucky banio!-and they play it as if they were betting a canary bird or toying with caramel The old minstrels used | to whack it. thump it, take it by vio- lence They were robustious with it. and yet they dragged sweet tones out of l it. The dialogue between the interlo- cutor and MT Bones were meatier if I less artistic than Plato's. The songs, comic or sentimental, were given with an irresistible heatriness often with clever art We can see Billy Emerson | as Policeman Moriarity threatening the truckman: "I'll have you off that dray for ogling the ladies:'
 "The girls all cry
 As I go by:
 Are you there, Mo-ri-ar-i-tee" Good old Billy! He used to make everybody feel just as happy as a big sunf1ower He sang that, and Love Among the Roses" and "Moriarity"