Capital journal. (Salem, Or.) 1919-1980, 1919-11-15
O.S.P. MINSTREL SHOW
FULL OF SWEETNESS IN
SPITE OF "SOMETF4ING"
BY Gertrude Robson.

According to the city editor there
was good stuff for a human interest
story in the o. s. P. play" and 1 was
To- cover it. With an instinct, all femi-
mine, refrained from telling him that
4 had seen the performance the even
ing before; the show was good and if a
chance was offered to see It again
well-there's little of the 'tinpan-
ner'' in every girl. if you know what 1
mean. So polished my finger nails,
secured q pass for myself and girl
companion and went I told myself
that could ease my conscience with
the supposition that having already
Geen the play would allow me to con-
eentrate my mind more fully upon the
story" but I needn't have bothered
with excuses; my conscience never
once showed its face.
We were late. The curtain had al
ready gone up and Happy Gordon with
Mis- good natured nonsense was elicting
bursts of laughter from grey clad audi
emce. From point of vantage in the
gallery had an ideal view of both
entertainers and entertained, and I
learned more of human interest" in
those two short hours, than I have in
all the rest of my life. And I have
voted twice!
There Are Faces.
From the assemblage below, faces
stood out from companion faces, COM
naanding attention. There was a boy
in his early twenties, with one arm,
who sat on the edge of his chair and
watched the stage with the interest of
q child; there was a big man with a
thick neck, and q shaven head shaped
Hike those of German soldiers in popu-
kar magazine illustrations. There was
am old, old man with hair as white as
witty sallies or CHEEKY choruses, but
sat through the entire performance
with his eyes upon his hands folded
quietly in his lap. Far in the rear,
beneath the gallery, one who might
have been thirty or fifty or hundred,
sat with an ugly little dog upon his lap
and stroked the ruffled hair or pulled
tenderly at the silky ears, while the
WttIe mongrel answered the caresses by
Nesting closer or giving an apprecia-
tive lick to the friendly hand. On
sogne of the faces stories were written
IN cold clear type; on others the script
Was blurred and the tale almost in
diScernible, while the pages of very
aGw were folded close and bound with
Tire covers of secrecy.
Smiles Effective Camouflage.
UP on the stage, in the glare Of the
foOtlights, fellow prisoners did their
best to erase for a few moments the
Swallowed pasts of their comrades. The
R1instrels, with their painted foolish
smiles, danced and sang and did all the
emumerable stunts that negro min
sareis have done since time began,
while others in gay colonial costumes
fnterspersed the nonsense with ballads
Of the far past, or. to them, the yet
more distant present. Did they dream,
perhaps, in their brave ruffled finery,
of the marble halls and happy things
of which they sang? One there was,
who held his head high, although his
hands were clenched tight beneath the
Race ruffles of his sleeves, and sang OF
q mother, as wonderful as yours and
mime. For those few moments in which
his voice held the great hall silent, he
was a boy again. Gone We're the pow
dered wig and the buckled slippers,
and face beneath the mask of painted
makeup was the face of a little lad
who knew that no matter what the
trouble might be, he could go to mo-
Their! The faces in the shadowy audi
ence were very solemn, and the ap-
pYause that called the singer to his feet
again and again was unanimous, except
for the thick-necked prisoner and the
and man with the tired eyes and quiet
hands.