The Birmingham age-herald., 1907-12-16
From the Washington Post.

From the Washington Post.
 <<T HAVE been just 57 years on the
 stage" the veteran actor. Frank
 A C. Bangs, said to me, and my first appearance was made here In Washington, in the old National theatre, the grandparent of the present theatre. I took some young friends of mine over there the other day, and my recollection of that eventful night was so vivid that, after picking my way about the stage for a moment. I could tell them. Just here on this spot. though not on these boards, I stood when I said my first lines.' There are several actors who have the advantage of me in years" he added with gentle pride, but I have been longer on the stage than any American actor living"
 Then he went gladly back at my sug- gestioh. to tell me of those early days, and especially to speak of the subject always nearest his heart-his years of work and friendship with the great Booth. His attitude toward Booth Is one of reverence. and he seemed helpless to express all that he felt when speaking of him, not only as the actor. but as the man.
 He seemed so truly, inwardly great" MT. Bangs unused; "there was something beneath his noble reserve and gracious ness, something lack of his great genius, which all of us felt who came into close contact with him. In all the years I was with him so constantly and intimately I never saw him lapse once from his thoughtful. kindly bearing; I never saw him impatient or irritable. Even at re- hearsals and in times of critical suspense on the stage or behind the scenes, never lost his quiet courtesy and poise have never known, I am sure l shall never know. so fine, so really great a man.
 "As to his genius. surely his audiences were never more swayed, more moved by it, than were we on the stage with him. I have often been so carried out of my self by his superb acting, his remarkable rendition of some great speech, that I have been in great danger of forgetting my own part absolutely. When the &C., tors on thes tage. with him are made to forget that a man is only acting, it is great WOrk-great WOrk.
 He seemed so completely merged into the character he was playing that it seemed impossible he should ever forget his lines, and never knew him to do so but once. That was an epoch in the his tory of our stage life. We werep laying "Hamplet" and I astood in the wings, near the stage manager to listen again to MT. Booths delivery of the famous soliloquy It was privilege I rarely missed. The house was breathlessly, tensely still. waiting for the first deep, introspective tones. The silence grew and grew-the wait was so long that sud denly we knew there was something wrong. MT. Booth was standing. the book clasped in his hands, his neditative eyes fixed dreamily on space. Then. very slowly. as man walks who is deep in thought, he came close to the first entrance. where we were standing. One hand supported his elbow. the other covering his mouth-in an attitude of pro- found meditation. From behind this screen came the calm. almost inaudibe murmur to the manager
 ''The word. Henry-what is the word? ForNa moment the mortified Henry was paralyzed, then he gasped:
 Why, to be or not to be- sir.'
 ."Thank you, HeUy," came the low murmur from MT. Booth. as he turned and walked back to his chair, still ap- parently wrapped in thought. Then, as calmly assever, he began the great speech. and the audience was never the wiser for his momentary mental blank ness.
 q always felt that Hamlet was the most polished. finish ed performance he gave, but the most splendidly dram atic was his playing of the hunchback in "rhe Fools Revenge" That great scene used to thrill me to the point of fyenzH I wanted to break away from