The Birmingham age-herald., 1918-02-25
MEN, WOMEN
 AND THINGS


 side of the Atlantic.
 Now, far be it from me to take up a question which has such a tremendous significance for France, England and Belgium. I do not believe we here in America are vet confronted with the question of war brides and war babies.
 am not squeamish and take little stock in a certain kind of prudery which is current in certain circles, but I do not relish much of the prurient sex stuff that is getting into papers, magazines, and books, urging upon the people the need of letting down the conventional bars so that the subject may be traced as familiarly as the topic of the weather.
 l am old fogy enough to believe that there should still be certain reticenses in the discussion of sociology in mixed assemblies, and l am a bit fearful that the campaign to carry the matter into the public schools and colleges, drawing rooms, lyceum courses and pulpit may do harm instead of good.
 
 I reverently uncover my head and take off my shoes and walk softly as on holy ground when I come into the presence of mother love which causes wife to pass through the valley and the shadow to bring into the world the babe that finds life at her breast
 The Mandonna is enshrined in the heart of mankind and the infant Jesus typifies the miracle of birth and causes us to stand in wonder at the gift of fife. It sheds halo around the head of every babe born into the world. and causes every manly heart to kneel humbly at the foot of his mother and thank the good God for such friend
 Owen McGiveny, the distinguished pro- his quick changes in portraying five characters out of Dickens, invited me to visit him in his dressing room at Loew's Bijou and see him make up and then go through his marvellous act I gladly accepted, but this is not to be the story about it.
 
 I went out on the stage, and while waiting for him to go on, I ran across the sweetest little girl baby, just a bit over year old. Her mother and father were doing wonderful bicycle act, and one of the girls in another team was play ying nurse. Jessie spied me, and all 1Onlx a Iilxa fo har cb nut her little hand and gave me friendly smile.
 I said her name is Jessie That is her real name, but you know show people always have a stage name, and I wasn't surprised to find that the little miss who had spent her whole life behind the scenes, in hotels, or railroad trains, was running true to the profession and was known as Happy
 If the young girls, and the married women, who sat out in front had known that the daring bicyclist who did such carzy stunts was the loving mother Of a darling little girl who was waiting in the wings for. her to come off the stage I daresay they would have thought more of the woman than of the per former.
 And the great big, muscular fellow, who lifted his wife high above his head as easily as though she was as light as when he came out of his dressing room to find his little daughter wrapped up to go out into the night air, and take hold of the carriage to lift her gently down the steps into the street, I am sure that he would have gotten greater applause from the women than he did when he was going through his act.
 A stage baby, the tragedy of it! To be brought up behind the curtain and to fit from place to place. to be shut out of the blessed privilege of playing with other children and never to know the thousand and one pleasures that should be the birthright of every child. Yet, stage people are not all paint and pre- tense and shadowy actors, but real men and women, who have their heart-hunger and longing for the things which make life of real worth.
 My heart went out to the giant of man and his petite wife, whose lives were knit together by the tender ties of little Jessie in whom they found re- lief from their strenuous lives as vaude- ville stars. and tried to be good parents in spite of the handicaps under which they made livelihood
 It will be long time before I forget ..IIappy'' as she sat Friday night just at the left wing in an ordinary chair, looking contentedly at her mother. who, every time she came her way, waved kiss or uttered love words, while the father in his act, presumably making funny faces to make the audience laugh, was looking at Happy" who was malx- ing faces back at him. or cooing as he came near where she sat.
 have been back of the curtain many times and am familiar with the noise and the confusion of the scene shifters and the rush of the actors and the excite ment of the manager, but. in spite of the hurry, players and stagehands were af- fected by the presence of a child in their midst and everyone made much of her. She left waving her little hands and say ing "nightie' to all and passed out into the dark. but not until she had left be- hind her stream of light and happi-