By one of those odd coincidences which sometimes happen, the death of the first manager and originator of the Union Square Theatre, “Bob” Butler, took place on the very day the benefit of the last manager of the Union Square Theatre, “Jim” Collier was announced.
“Bob” Butler has been “retired” for some time, but in his day he made a little “local” noise. He was brought up to “business,” but got “show life” on the brain, and gave up Wall Street for “the variety” line of the show business. At one time he had four “variety theatres” in full blast, two of ‘em in this city. Of course he busted. He had some first class variety talent in his employ, at different times. Men like Tony Pastor, Hugh Dougherty, Sam Ryan, Ben Yates, Add Weaver, and women like Mlle. Galetti, Clara Harrington, Mlle. Katrina and Annie Hindle. He took seven different theatres at various periods, three of the seven bein’ burned down while he leased ‘em. It is due to him altogether that the Union Square Theatre was ever started. Butler interested Shook in the enterprise, and it was Butler that kept the theatre goin’ for years, and then left Shook in possession. It was “Bob” Butler, too, who discovered (for America) the Vokes Family and brought ‘em over; and altogether, “Bob” Butler deserved and got a good deal of notoriety.
As for “Jim” Collier, he has had a stronger “local” pull on New York then most managers–except, say, Lester Wallack and Augustin Daly–for he was born in New York and has always lived in it, and knows a good deal about it, and a good many in it. He grew up in the old Fifth ward, where he not only “ran wid de machine” but was a machinist himself. He learned his trade under John Carney, who was the finest engineer in New York thirty years ago, at least, so others considered him–including himself. Carney is carrying on his business in the Fifth ward still, I am told. He looked upon “Jim” as a promising apprentice, if he would only “apply himself,” which was just what Collier wouldn’t do.
Instead of attending to “biz,” Jim was always “spoutin’” at the old Murdoch Amateur Dramatic Association Rooms, which occupied a part of a house just back of old Noblo’s. Any quantity of dramatic talent was lying around loose in those rooms. Billy Florence was originally a member of the “Murdoch,” and though a good deal younger than Jim Collier now, was a good deal older than Collier then.
Maggie Mitchell, who still plays the youthful Fanchon, was also a member of the “Murdoch,” and quite as old, if not older, than Billy Florence himself. Jane Coombs, who has long since flickered out, was one of the members at that time, as were Mat. Lingham, George Boniface and Frank F. Mackay. Sam Ryan, later on, joined the “Murdoch,” and, altogether, this old time amateur society produced a heap of good actors.
Once Billy Florence and Jim Collier wanted the same part, and after a lot of chin-music the point was settled accordin’ to John T. Raymond’s present style, by matchin’ pennies. Collier won.
On another occasion some of the older members of the “Murdoch” tried to “freeze” Collier out, thinkin’ he was too ambitious for a youngster. But Jim wasn’t to be frozen. He was indefatigable. He set to work and studied every male part there was in the piece, so as to be ready to play any part. There was no “freezin’” out this kind of a chap.
The same man discovered “Jim” Collier who discovered Henry Irving–I mean “Pop” Bateman. He saw Collier at his first appearance on the public stage at Newark, liked him and engaged him that night to join his travelin’ company. Bateman and Collier were a good deal alike, hated “frills” and were genuine. To this hour Collier always expresses his obligation to Bateman, but Henry Irving don’t. To the contrary, it has been stated that Irving was directly instrumental in oustin’ out the family of his deceased benefactor from his theatre in London.
And like Sothern, Collier’s “greatness,” such as it was as a performer, was thrust upon him. He didn’t like the role of Landry in Maggie Mitchell’s “Fanchon,” but played it under protest and made a tremendous hit in it–the hit of his life as an actor.
If Collier had kept right on actin’ in New York, he might have become perhaps the most popular actor in the city, for his manly, free and easy way pleased men and women alike, but he “took to the road,” went out under Maggie Mitchell and then took to keepin’ a saloon.
The saloon was well kept, but it kept Collier out of the public eye. It made him a prime social favorite with men about town and sports, but it told against him theatrically.
And when he gave up his Saloon he didn’t trust himself again before the public as an actor, but as a manager.
“Shed” Shook had taken a likin’ to him, just as Bateman had done twenty years before. The two played tricks and cards, cracked jokes and bottles, and told stories together, and so Collier drifted into bein’ Shooks theatrical head man.
As a practical joker, “Jim” Collier ranks with Sothern and John McBride Davidson in the past and “Ned” Gilmore and “Billy” Birch in the present.
His strong point in carryin’ out a joke is the air of hearty, honest indignation with which he will resent before his victim the bare suggestion of the undignified idea that he, James Collier, actor, manager, etc., could be for a moment guilty of even entertainin’ the suggestion of a joke.
“What! You accuse me, sir–me–of participatin’ in such a vulgar atrocity as a low prank of this sort!” he exclaimed, drawin’ himself up and lookin’, as well as speakin’, daggers at a callow youth, on whom he had just “put up” a stupendous sell. “Apologize, sir!”
And the callow youth did apologize and wilted, whereupon Collier unbended, forgave him and gave him a drink. But to this day the callow youth is prepared to swear that if ever there lived a man who would resent the imputation of a practical joke, it is James Collier.
