The San Francisco call., 1910-08-21

II BEGAN as a 7headliner' in vaude-
Vile 10 years ago. 1t was in New
York that the event took place,
and though / was an experienced actor
at the time, with no little Legitimate
experience behind me. the venture was
not g success. I had made d mistake.
It was and is the customary mistake.
] thought anything would do for vaude-
Vile. Many another actor has made
the same blunder. 1t remains the pop
ular error among actors to this day.
II is also the stumbling block over
which trip the heels of a thousand half
baked sketch writers. The actor
thinks that any little scene grabbed at
random from one Of his past successes
will do. and that TO the slight offering
the zlamor Of his name Will add the
needed Iuster to dazzle the public and
bewilder the management into paying
much gold The sketch writer believes
blandly that he can best practice dram
aturgy by dashing of little playlets
which he can, Of course-so he tells
himself-easily sell, and then, when
his wings are strong he can soar away
and be with the spirits of Shakespeare,
Ibsen and Moliere or travel compan-
fonably with Pinero and Jones, Shaw
and Thomas. He is confident that 20
pages of dialogue constitute a one act
play. provided he make it brief enough
to be played in IS minutes. 1t doesn't
much matter. he persuades himself,
what the things about so long as a
more or less coherent series of cpl
sodes is strung together, beaded with
time worn business and sprinkled
freely with smartness or vulgarity or
both"
II was Mr. J. c. Nugent, who is the
squarer' at the orpheum, who was ad-
rainistering the unconscious rebuke to
the levity which I had brought along
with me. I was entitled to a mirth-
ful feeling. too. because L had just
sat through a second hearing of his
remarkably clever and closely knit
sketch, The Souarer." They led me
back on the stage as Mr.. Nugent
strolled off from his last bow" to his
audience.
4E contemplated me for a few mo-
ii ments without enthusiasm. On the
~ other hand, he was not piqued.
Neither, still was he Indifferent It
was all in a days work, 1 thought. But
it was not that, either. It seems. as
he told me later. that he has been
coming to San Francisco. on and off,
for nine years, during which time he has
prospered, built himself q home in
New York. where his wife, who for
rnerly played with him, now remains
with his two children, and has written
two and perhaps three profitable plays
which (two OF them) have seen New
York success; yet in all that time he
has never before been the subject of
special newspaper attention here. He
has just gone along conscientiously,
7 believe, honestly and artistically in
the development OF himself and his
work, and that's all there was to it.
So there was no enthusiasm in his
greeting Of the writer, as there is
usually in the case of those beginners
who seek publicity, even if sometimes
II is not altogether what they would
have written about themselves, and
there was not the enthusiasm either
Of the conceited who dearly love their
likenesses in the papers and cut them
out and send them to their friends.
Neither was there pique such as some
OF the great ones" assume wherewith
70 indicate their annoyance at being
bored by strangers quiver full of in
terrogations. and. finally there was no
indifference in his manner, because, /
presume, he was too well bred
However, somewhat perplexed at the
encounter, I followed to his dressing
room
you are too accustomed to the linn
itations OF the actors room to require
an apology said he, pointing to a
chair. Thereupon he sat himself on a
trunk and proceeded to puff meditative-
" at his cigar. Encouraged by my
questions and enticed into specula-
dive mood by the drifting floating rings