Evening star., 1921-04-03


Fairy should have been
called. Sometimes she seemed best
described as A-Sense- Of -Humor. More
often. however, he preferred to know
her as Fame.
For Fame to Spindel was some
thing which came to you overnight.
like a cold in the head. or milk
bottle at the door. You simply woke
up and found it there. The mere
thought of it. waiting like gnome
on your doorstep, was something 10
send a tingle of romance through
the small hours of the chilliest night
if you only made it a point to re-
member.
Not that Spindel ever quite for
got. For there were two things
about SPindel that always surprised
his friends. One was his industry
the other was his optimism
Unlike so many others whose blood
had been fevered by the virus OF
stage life, this doggedly industrious
disciple of Romance never let the
day be sufficient unto itself. Idle
ness. in fact. was a luxury he couio
not afford. He was at least plod-
der. And he believed, as he used to
put it, in taking the bull by the
horns.
So his immediate object in h1e
was not so much to discover the 1airv
on the threshold as to keep the WolI
from the door itself Yet he nursed
the entirely romantic delusion that
Fame was something on which one
might stub ones toe in the DARK.
Success was a sort of accident, the
same as finding a dime on the street
curb: you went to bed piodolns
jugeler of a dozen or two WOODEN
puppets, and you woke up the Great
est Dramatist of the Age.
For Spinders ambition. even when
he came, a raw youth. from the
middle west. was not merely TO ne
an actor He nursed. in fact. an
abhorrence for greasepaint and call
boards and dressing rooms and ny
drogenated coineurs. He made no
secret of the fact that his Work on
the stage was only a means to an
end. Like an illustrious Elizabethan
prototype to whom he often referred
he merely played parts that In the
end he might learn to write them.
For Spindel, like Shakespeare. want
ed to be a playwright.
~
T IKE this prototype already re-
- ferred to, Spindel was not essen
TALLY a man of letters. He prided
himself on being one of the people
This claim was advanced. perhaps, in
extenuation of certain oddities OF or
biography, for to the end Spindel
was always a little weak in spell
ing. But he was both adaptive ana
courageous, and no one could accuse
him of not keeping his ears cooked
and his eyes open. He nosed through
rels like a parent over a cradle; he
blinked a: park lovers like a hawk
at a young rabbit, always hoping 10
situation" So. while the weekly pay
envelope of the actor was keeping
the pot boiling, his experiences Oe-
hind the footlights were initiating
him into the tricks of the theatrical
trade. He was devouring knowledge
armyworm devours herbage.
Yet after three years OF playing
small parts. and playing them none
too well. he concluded that the back
of the curtain had little more to
teach him. He wanted to get out
and see life "in the raw. yet no.
where. ironically enough, would he
ever see its rawness less veiled than
under the mask ;. OF, /. the hummer.
Here again, howeyerr sort OF sblithe
pEacticality OF his part kept inter
posing. He continued to marx time
to. the yoke for the sake Of a small
but ever assured weekly envelope.
1t could be called nothing more
than marking time, for all his ardor.
all his energy, was now being
poured into his own secret pursuits,
He was now giving his time and
thought to the writing OF plays
mAenifcently planned dramas which.
by some odd mischance. never saw
fhealight of day, and laboriousiy con-
ceiSed comedies which. unfortunately.
neaone ever heard Of
SdiH vocational hours. in fact, be-
came a sort of somnambulism; he
went through them will all the i'm
personal detachment of sleep
walker. He was. by this time. living
only in his writing. As his parts
grew smaller and smaller. his pay
ent61OpS, III tuIIis grew anu
thinner. But despair was unknown
to- Aeindel. He still believed in the
fAtry outside the door. He still
pzzsed vaguely elated and optimis-
TIE among his old-time friends OF the
stage wearing the veiled smile OF
An naaayenturer who has learned the
secret Of some lost treasure.
There's a guy they'll never grind
dosn.t' said Gunderman's stage
manager. as he watched Spindel one
day pocket his rejected script and
trd1se smiling and undaunted down
Broadway.
hem just wear down. retorted the
spsthetic. Gunderman. to whom the
years had brought wisdom and a
weak digestion. And so fixed was
Guriderman's mind. as to this fact
that he appropriated without hesi-
;atfon a page or two OF Spindels
fhffa- act dialogue. 1t was nothing
more. he argued with himself. than
taking plank or two from passing
derelict.
AS Spindei climbed the stairs to thai
twenty-second street back room
which he dignified as his fstudio. his
bearing took on an added touch o.
jnsouciance. He even whistled and al
fected bit of swagger.
And he had his reasons for this. Fol
Spindel had been heaven born opti
mist enough to bring wife to New
York with him out of the terrs
incognita Of the middle west. And tina
wife was young and perhaps not al
ways appreciative of the humoristi'
turns of over ambiguous human des
tines. She saw the script under he
husbands arm and she went to th'
window and looked out.
INV dear those managers are posi-
lively funny" blithly avowed SPindel
as he put his play in its pigeonhol