Los Angeles herald., 1910-01-09

| in the bunk factory. We have had Marie
| Bashkirtsen, George sand and Mary
| Maclane. Why may we not learn and profit
! by the devious and totrtuous ways of the
| maker Of regulations and the arbiter of ten
week runs? We can. We shall Hence
| this effusion.
CHAPTER I.
! am reformed press agent. Or,
rather. l am a press agent who re-
/ formed. l am now selling options on
| some of the richest, most fertile graz
! ing land which ever gladdened the
! heart of the migratory COW. 1t is i'll
! Nevada. But there-I have forgotten
| my text ard must return, although |
| should be glad to acqualnt you with
| the advantages of my latest attrac-
| / mean, proposition-in a personal IN
| terview.
| l drifted quite naturally into the
! business of press agenting. My father
/ was an inventor and a cheerful, op-
timistic man. He often went to the
| theater, and one afternoon, unob-
served, / stole into the office of the
manager. We got into an argument
| about the play and it ended in his
| Offering me a job. I beat him in the
argument and he took it out of my
salary for the next two years. That
| was how 1 came to know he was
| real manager.
with an engaging smile and a keenly
! sarcastic tongue. He had much faith
| in himself and very little in the gen
eral public. He delighted in deriding
| their tendency, as he expressed it, to
| follow the bell-wether. And very soon
found l was expected to be that bell
Wether.
1t was rare fun at first. We were
putting on a line of sentimental plays
East Lynne" and Lovers Lane
and 1.-The Two Orphans We had an
incompatible" stock company and a
shrewd, stocky stage manager, who
enforced his most austere commands
with a winning pun. I saw that it was
up to me to do something original. So
l studied the sensational newspapers
a few hours and drew. my own con-
clusions Then 1 began operations.
Our leading man was a shy, retiring
sort of chap-a very good actor at
! that-and l had had a mighty hard
time getting him interviewed. He
hated the task quite as much as a
child hates to be photographed. l de-
cided to revenge myself on him and
win my spurs at one leap. So l Slipped
an unpretentious little note into the
papers to the effect that Sir Francis
Leivson C'East Lynne" was still turn
ing 'em away would positively greet
every unmarried woman above the age
of As at the stage door after the Thurs
| day matinee. In my copy | added
| after the word greet" "with a chaste
| salute" but the cynical copy-readers
! eliminated this to man.
The Society for the Restoration of
| Ear Muffs to the Benighted Eskimo,
| a noble band of devoted spinsters,
were holding a convention in the town
| hall. | saw that copy of one of the
papers containing the item went to
| each of the delegates, literally blue
penciled with flaming arrows pointing
/ to Sir Francis Levison.' Then ] sat
| down and thought about a raise IN
salary.
Sir Francis rarely reads the papers,
being chiefly absorbed in the study of
Ibsen and Echegary. That Thursday
afternoon he went on at each cue III
his usual sober, serious way, charm
ingly relieved by the mocking cynicism
with which the character works his
will upon the piteously good folk of
the drama When it was all over |
stole out by the stage entrance and
lit a cigarette [ had not long to wait.
Even as the exits disgorged their
throngs of jostling, fearful femininlty,
band of decorous old damsels, well
bespattered with badges of the Res
toratiOn society, came determlnedly
and beamingly forward There were
some sixty of them all expectant. I
felt certain some one must have told
them about the "chaste salute" They
gathered about the stage entrance, bus
Ting this way and that with gentle
impatience, some talking about the Es
uuimaux and some about the play.
They never noticed me, the shy author
of their impending bliss.
Presently the rusty hinge creaked
and the door opened. Sir Francis
Levison. in street dress, appeared.
Smiling bashfully at the assemblage.
he strove to make his way through II
to the street. At once there were
shouts of protest some mincing, some
indignant The Restoration society
flowed about Sir Francis like an ad
vancing tide He was imprisoned he
who had always scorned the epithet,
matinee idol" as unworthy of Sc
rious artist. Imprisoned by his own
popularity, he yielded handsomely.
| The Restoration society carried him
| off, and I sped to the nearest news
paper Office to unload my yarn.
| That was my mild entrance into the
arena of publicity The very next week
I added to my laurels. I placarded the
| city hall, against the plain wording OF
the statute. with flaming red posters
| announcing a revival of a shocking
French drama, which turned out to be
an exceedingly tepid problem play |
| started a guessing contest IN friendly
| newspaper as to the real size of Slip
per which the new ingenue was to
| kick-accidentally-O over the bald
| head row while strenuously repelling
| the advances of the villain. I melted
| riot of Irish Nationalists and Orange
| men in the lobby of the theater and it
| all went to the financial credit of
| ''Arrah- Pogue' at the box office. l
| hired a rig and gave away pet kittens
| to advertise Little Lord Fauntleroy"
until the Humane society took me in
| hand.
| At the end of the season I felt that
| I had arrived. Also, grew weary of
the letters of provincial New England
town. 1 shook its dust into my bank
account and sped westward. was still
a press agent, for I conceived several
! schemes for enrichlng my next en-
ployer between Cincinnati and Chilli
| cothe.
! In chicago I came to halt. What
| It did to me l shall tell you in my next
| chapter.
ITO be continued)
A JOLLY OLD PoTENTATE
"Irino, Dodo'' outlives the damsels