The Press., 1920-03-25
AMATEUR NIGHT
By EDWARD w. GILBERT
(Copyright.)

Clarsie paused. trembling at the for bidding little stage door of the London Theater, on the Bowery in New York.
 Nothing but the memory of her land lady'S last grim words, 'TOmOrroW want the room, or the rent would have given her courage to enter. But a long sickness, dull times in the pa per-box trade (making it impossible for her to get job), and the end of her meager savings, had brought her to the problem of where to shelter on the morrow. and how to eat; her last meal having been the previous evening.
 She had often seen the f1aring post CTS of the amateur nights at the Lon don, setting forth the cash prizes to the best act, and a wild hope had grown in her mind that she might win, not perhaps, the first prize of five dollars but perhaps the second, and that would mean shelter for another week and enough food to keep her futtering soul and frail body together, and so she stood hesitating on the threshold of her greatest venture.
 
 She might have lacked courage to enter, but the dOOrkeeper, happening to look out saw the wavering little fig ure and asked, not unkindly: "What dye want?" ClarSie murmured something in which he heard the word "amateur." "Got your name dOwn?" asked he. "All right, go on in. Jim, put this lady wit the amatOOrs." She found herself one of line of people, mostly boys, standing with their backs to the wall of a narrow passage In front of her was a typical East Side boy, in little cap, green-red sweater, and depressed-lOOking canvas shoes. Along the line ran buzz of con- versation, rough jokes, and BOwery slang
 ''This your first time, lady?" asked the lad ahead of her.
 "IeS," said ClarSie faintly.
 "What'S your act-singin'?"
 She nodded faintly
 "Tm buck -dancin'," said her new ac- quaintance. "This is my fourth time"
 A crash of music from the front, and the chorus trooped past, off the stage, and scattered to the dressing rooms. Clarsie heard dimly, as from an immense distance a voice say:
 "Gentlemen. the amateurs will now perform. We have a large list tonight. and l think you will be much enter tained."
 She opened her eyes and saw. stand ing at the entrance to the stage, a gentleman with a tired and cynical expression. Beside him stood a figure which, to Clarse's eyes. was the most magnificent she had ever seen. The lady was of great height and thinness.
 Good night" said this apparition to the man in evening dress, and then, as her eye fell on the line, "Ah, the amateurs. What, a girl, too?"
 "Oh, we have them sometimes" said her companion.
 The white hussar shrugged her shoulders and walked past them, but. just as she passed, her eyes met those of Clarsfe, and the look of fright, pain and helpleSSneSS that she saw there startled her. She stopped suddenly.
 Don't be so frightened, little girl" she said, GOT you'll go up in the air" She gave her a rough, friendly slap on the shoulder, turned and stepped back to the wings just as the manager, with his list, stepped out on the stage. eve have first" came the voice, "Barney Dooley. buck-dancer"
 "That's me-" said the youth in the T the stage.
 A noise, like the roaring of the sea. greeted him. Cat-callS, misses, hand clappjng and wild whoops were min @lCd In q continued roar.
 You here again?" "Oh! Barney, why don't you die" "Take it away, take it away"
 During this internal concert, Bar ney gravely footed it, and, as a hail of small coin descended upon the stage, without losing a beat of his feet, he stopped and gathered them into his cap.
 'Take it away, take it away, take it away"
 'ScuSe me" said man at ClarsieS
 
 was a ten-foOt pole with a red iron hook on the end. and, while she looked with horror, he placed 1t around Bar | ney's neck and dragged him from the stage, amid sounds like the roar of a menagcrie. The manager who had never | changed his expression of weary in difference, glanced at his list, and | said cOldly: "Ne have next, Miss Clar | sic Ellis. in songs" A cry greeted this announcement. "Oh, Clarsie! oh, .Clarsie!" Come out here, Clarsie"
 "We dare you, Clarsie" "GO On." said the white hussar Don't let them buffalo you." The next moment Clarsie found her | self facing a whirling mass of tobacco | smoke.
 The leader shook his bow, the or | chestra played, and she stood dumb Her lips opened; her throat worked | cOnvulSively. and she went through the l motions of singing, but was still dumb | She would have run, but she was an chored with fright Something struck | ClarSie on the cheek and fell tinkliny | to the stage With the clearness of sight that the dying are said to pos sess, she saw that it was silver coin "Oh, how cruel" she said, and rage hlaZed in her and drove out all fear. "l will sing" >l't thought, and she threw back her head, proud and brave. and her voice rose and scared clear | and triumphant over that sea of cruel | faces.
 At the first words of the old song, i the noise broke out afresh, and some | called insistently for the hook, but the high voice of the Dispenser of Doom 'n the gallery called, "Shut up; give