Atlanta semi-weekly journal. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1898-1920, 1902-03-20
New York Sun.

New York Sun.
Billy West, Billy Emerson, Billy Rice"
the stars fall fast Yet these artists had
all but survived their art, for negro min
strelsy seems doomed nor can even the
witty Mr. Dockstader give 1t a long re-
prieve. The public taste changed; the
minstrels relied too much on their old lau-
rels and wore out their welcome. We
know the weakness of the praisers Of past
time, and we VIII not say that the theater
at present seems to be intended mainly
for the benefit or detriment of girls too
young to appreciate it, or as means OF
passing an evening to well-dressed, we'll
fed, mostly unimaginative folks to whom
it represents a few hours rest, the inter
val between dinner and supper at one OF
the lobster palaces of which New York
will soon principally consist.
1t seems, though. as though tastes and
times were simpler once. Perhaps people
laughed more easily. The generation that
felt the death Of Dickens as a personal
loss had the gift of hearty laughter. Dur
ing the civil war and after, there was
natural reaction toward gayety. The great
gods of ennui, the Ibsens and the Ttol-
stois, were not droning as yet People
were willing Ito enjoy themselves in their
own way; and manager couldn't boost
a stick 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 decrepit something
of the gayety of temper. the high spirits
of those not altogether remote days. Mr..
Joseph Jefferson is the one eminent sur
vivor of the eminent actors on whom the
patrons, OF negro minstrelsy in its best
estate were brought up. Why, the boys
who waited with beating 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 king
dom for horse, especially of Saturday
night, and felt their hair stand up as
Ned Forrest cursed Goneril and Regain
with all the wind Of those tremendous
lungs.
Negro minstrelsy was no foolish within.
IT was legitimate art in its good time, and
Mr.. Dockstader and Mr.. Primrose have
not forgotten the traditions A long
beadroll Of names and companies comes
to the mind. The rattle. of the bones
tickles the ear agreeably. The eye of
memory sees those preposterously black
faces. impossible red lips, abysmal mouths,
Notwithstanding feet. Where did those
monumental shoes come from? The ban
10 has fallen into the hands Of the girls
lucky banjo!-and they play it as If they
were petting canary bird or toying with
caramel The old Ministries used to
whack IL, thump 1t, take 1t by violence.
They were robustrous with it,and yet they
dragged sweet tones out of it, The dia-
logues between the interlocutor and Mr..
Bones were meatier II less artistic than
Plato's. The songs, comic or sentimental,
were given with an irresistible heartiness,
often with a clever art. We can see Billy
Emerson as Policeman Moriarity threat
ening the truckman: "I'n 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 every
body feel Just as happy as big sunfiower
He sang that, and Love Among the Ros-
es'' and MORTALITY around the world
And he was only one of a jovial crew
high livers, honest and thirsty souls, most
of them. Like every honest good fellow
they spent their money freely. Rich again
and again, and paupers at the endI
Billy Rice with his stump speech! How
many ludicrous monologues. temperance
lectures anu what not, punctuated by the
thumps from an impossible cotton UNI
brella. have the minstrels given! The Nor
ris brothers: Nelse Seymour, one of the
mightiest minstrels OF all; Mr.. Birch. Mr.
Backus, Mr.. Bernard, Mr.. Wambold, all