Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1908-09-20

1ul lmperSOndl enthusiasm WHICH is the
most charming characteristic OF the bull
dog.
The average stage doorkeeper is a man
of brawny arm and sinewy muscles. q
person of firmneSS and determination He
can. nonchalantly, chuck intrusive
young man into the middle of the street
and at the same time request a chance
paSserby for match in a tone of a
ricn melancholy sadness that would indi
cate that the violence on his part pains
him more than words can tell.
He Is the guardian of the chorus girl
Is the stage doorkeeper. and 1t is to him
that she invariably turns for protection
when some uncouth stranger seeks to
meet her in unconventional style.
The majority of Washington's stage
doorkeepers are old men, Some of them
have in their time served on police
forces in different cities. some have shone
as their successors now shine before the
footlights. and some have merely wan
dered here and there, drifting and drift
ing until chance TO settle down during
the long hours Of the night and draw pay
for the proceeding lured them to the
stage door.
Dean among them in point of service is
John Riordan. doorkeeper of the National
Theater stage entrance during the day.
Riordan Is an Irishman. as his name sig
nifies, with all of an Irishmans keen APP
probation of the absurd. For thirty
eight years he has been "ho!ding down.
the little wooden chair just inside the
stage door. and during that time he has
had an excellent opportunity TO behold
all OF the many strange specimens that
seek admission to the stage.
II he Is firm he is also good natured
All who know him are well aware Of the
stalwart, genial figure that occasionally
emerges from the little alleyway at the
side of the theater for the brief consola-
ton Of Il short clay pipe.
To the stranger Riordan is affable and
good humored. He rarely gets brutal and
gruffly says:
Nav, YOU can't come in here.
He assumes an expression of mingled
sadness and surprise when approached,
and gently and confidently informs the
applicant for admission that he (Riordan)
would personally take the greatest pleas
ure in allowing every liberty possible. but
that hard hearted and cynical manage
ment has brutally insisted that no one
shall enter the sacred precincts of the
actors workshop.
In little room near tho main en-
trance of the National Theater there
ably one of the most interesting charac-
terS in town. When the lights of the
theater have gone out and the laughing
audience has long since forgotten the play
in sleep. this old man retires to his lit
tie room and sits there until morning
breaks. 1t is a quaint little den of d
place. furnished only with chair and a
heavy table. Around the walls are rows
and rows or pictures OF actors OF anOther
generation-most of them long since dead
and forgotten and a few whose names
still stand beacon lights in the world
of histrioHicS. The drop lamp throws
strange shadows over these faded photo
graphs and over the half-sad half
thoughtful face of the old doorkeeper who
sits among thenl-a living man In a
world of ghosts
The Nationals Cerberus.
This man is Frank Foster, doorkeeper
Of the National Theater Thousands of
latter-day thea tcrgOers never heard of
him. So soon do men forget the achieve
ments of their fellows. Silently. this old
man watches through the long night,
where once he moved thousands by his
acting. Pick up paper of thirty or
forty years ago, providing. of course, one
can be found in a sufficient state of
preservation to be picked up and you
will find the name of Frank Foster as