The Washington herald., 1919-01-03

Special Correspondent Of The Washington Herald.
New York, Jan. 2.-De Wolf Hop
per is to erect a monument as a
token of his esteem to the author
or Casey at the Bat" And yet the
humble author made his poem the
oane of Hopper's otherwise happy
life. The poem has indeed given
the comedian more trouble than
some of his wives.
Everywhere he goes the ghost of
Casey pursues. He is an accomp-
hshed public speaker. but after the
applause dies down someone shouts,
Casey" and there is nothing left
TO do but recite 1t.
The poem is a tawdry metrical
conception, but Hopper with his
superb powers of elocution, his
resonant voice and powerful deliv-
cry lifts the poem out of its sphere
and makes it a classic. Hopper be-
gan reciting II between acts eight
cen years ago. He has never been
able to give it up.
1 was privileged the other even
ing to attend a private function at
which Hopper was an honored
guest. Back in his comic opera
days 1 went to see him three nights
in succession in Wang" and then
my purse ran dry. Della Fox was
his co-star and at the pinnacle OF
her career.
Time has perched lightly on the
broad shoulders of De Wolf Hop
per. He is an almost perfect speci-
men of physical manhood, standing
over six feet. A skin malady. ap-
parently harmless, but progressive.
gives the flesh of his face an Gshen
blue appearance, comparable only to
the marks of a powder explosion
close up. He makes no secret OF
wearing a toupee.
He has the most marvellous speak
ing voice 1 have ever heard and his
shades of infection are incompar-
able. At this function there were
many thespic notables, including
Willie Collier. Louis Mann, Frank
Mcintyre, Jack Hazard. Maclyn Ar
buckle and others.
Someone suggested Casey at the
Bat" Hooper's otherwise perfect
evening was Immediately spoiled.
He refused point blank until some
one suggested that a collection bS
made to be turned over to a chill
dren's Christmas fund. Two hun
III uOlldIS "CIt COlltCltu anu 81
Hopper could not refuse.
Nearly every person present had
heard him recite the poem at least
spell-bound. His voice crying the
classic.
He was youthful and boisterous.
Boarding a subway downtown he
was regaling his companion with
chatter about women and the war.
The women who did all that knit
ting were chumps," he said. THE
stun they made wasn't needed. And
the girls who got into uniforms
and paraded around were silly"
Il don't think So" said a girl sit
ting near where he stood.
Pooh! What do you know about
war;" he asked.
She did not reply. He looked at
her more closely and apologized.
Il guess you know lOt.' he said
as he quieted down.
On her arm was a band of black
crepe with a gold star.
Crowds were leaving the theaters.
A queer stiffness lay over Broad
way. Down a lane between silent,
staring people. two lads swung
along awkwardly on crutches. Eacn
had lost a leg at the hip. They
were pale, cCnvalescent no doubt.
Yet a flush came to their faces as
the throngs stopped. stared and
made way. The steady eyes OF the
soldiers never wavsred. They seized
a chance when traffic stopped and
crossed the street. Out of the brave
young eyes. those eyes that had
looked unafraid upon death. gazed
painful embarrassment. 1t was just
like they had said as politely as
possible that they wanted to be re-
garded as men, not as curiosities.
They want to slip back into the
happiness of being one with the
crowd, not shifted into the lime
light of public pity. On Fifth av-
enue the other day traffic was al
most completely congested because
a one-armed soldier was leading his
blind cOmrade on a walk.