{"id":1665,"date":"2024-02-20T08:02:40","date_gmt":"2024-02-20T13:02:40","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/jerrykuntz.org\/harryhill\/?p=1665"},"modified":"2024-02-20T08:02:43","modified_gmt":"2024-02-20T13:02:43","slug":"two-odd-characters-of-the-stage-published-apr-24-1881","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/jerrykuntz.org\/harryhill\/two-odd-characters-of-the-stage-published-apr-24-1881\/","title":{"rendered":"Two Odd Characters of the Stage [published Apr. 24, 1881]"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\"\"
Rawhide horsewhip<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

      One of the funniest people ever connected with theatres in this or any other country was Andrew Jackson Allen, or \u201cDummy Allen,\u201d as he was generally called. Though he was a New Yorker born and bred, and always had the good sense to prefer New York to any other place to live in, still in the course of his wanderin\u2019 life he lived in a good many places. He was of Welsh descent and had an impediment in his speech, two things which made his dialect rather peculiar. He was a little deaf, too, owin\u2019 to a severe cold caught on a sea voyage, but he made his deafness very convenient. He could hear when he wanted to and couldn’t hear when he didn’t want to. As he was all the time borrowin\u2019 money and forgettin\u2019 to return it, this deafness was in constant demand. In fact, borrowin\u2019 sums from fifty cents to ten dollars, and praisin\u2019 Edwin Forrest, of whom he was a great admirer, formed the major portion of the occupation of his spare time. Often he would mix his two occupations together, as in this particular instance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      He borrowed ten dollars of Dick Martin, an old New York sport who had a weakness for theatrical people. One day Dick met Allen and asked him if he couldn’t let him have back his tenner, or a V at any rate.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      \u201cOh yes,\u201d replied Allen, \u201cde poy\u201d (meanin\u2019 the boy, by which term he always alluded to Forest,) \u201cblayed berry well last night, as you say, considerin\u2019 he was so padly subborted.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      \u201cBut,\u201d interrupted Dick, \u201cI didn’t say anythin\u2019 about Forrest last night, but I did say I wanted some of my money back this mornin\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      \u201cYes, yes,\u201d continued Allen, \u201cas you say, the poy will do petter de next time as his cast is much petter.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      Dick saw Allen’s \u201clay\u201d and that \u201cDummy’s\u201d deafness would be too much for him, so he quietly said, in a much lower tone than he had previously employed, \u201cWell, Allen, let’s step over to the Hone House and take a drink.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cStrange, ain’t it,\u201d said Allen with a wink, takin\u2019 Dick’s arm and crossin\u2019 over with him to the Hone House at once, \u201chow much blainer I can hear when a man speaks softly to me than I can when he pellows?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"
Andrew Jackson Allen<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

      Allen was a capital costumer\u2013one of the best. He knew every branch of this business, and was in great demand. Mr. Forrest thought that nobody knew anythin\u2019 about stage costuming but Allen, and when he went to Europe he paid Allen a big salary and expenses to go with him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      Next to Forrest, Allen admired General Jackson. He always used to tell his friends that if it had not been for his \u201ctalkin\u2019 up\u201d the General he never would have been President. Gratitude may have had something to do with Allen’s exertions in the cause of Jackson, for the General loaned Allen twenty dollars once at a race-course down South, and never mentioned \u201cthe little circumstance\u201d again. It was not so much the lendin\u2019 him the money that made Allen feel grateful, but it was the fact that \u201cde General never said a word about de matter atterwarts.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      Allen was a great hand at \u201cgaggin\u2019,\u201d and generally managed to get a big house at his benefits, for he was not only a good costumer, but a tolerable actor in small parts. His favorite dodge for a benefit was \u201ca balloon ascension.\u201d Once when he was engaged at the old Pearl Street Theatre, in Albany, he advertised for the occasion of his benefit a grand balloon ascension from the stage to the dome of the theatre. The eminent aeronauts, Mons. Gageremo and Mlle. Pussiremo, were to go up with the balloon, and it when it reached the dome, they were to throw prizes out of the balloon on the audience beneath.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Of course the novelty of these announcements attracted an immense audienc\u2013the greatest actor or actress livin\u2019 couldn’t have been honored or delighted with a bigger house. The early part of the programme consisted of a \u201cgrand harlequin pantomime,\u201d in which \u201cDummy\u201d acted \u201cclown.\u201d After the pantomime \u201cthe balloon ascension\u201d took place. Such a balloon!–a toy balloon, pulled up by a big string; and such \u201caeronauts!\u201d–a tom cat and a pussy cat, one dressed in tights, the other in bonnet and short skirts, and both strapped to the balloon. The balloon, with the two cats mewin\u2019 and squalin\u2019, was pulled per programme from the stage to the dome, and when the balloon got up to the top, another string attached to it was pulled violently. The balloon burst, the tom cats tumbled on the heads of the audience, and with the two tom cats fell a shower of \u201cprizes,\u201d consisting of penny whistles, tin toys and the like. Meanwhile Allen, by special arrangement with the treasurer, had got his money and gone home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

      Besides costumin\u2019 and actin\u2019, Allen had a turn for makin\u2019 \u201csilver leather,\u201d and sometimes durin\u2019 his travelin\u2019 show life, when, as he would say, \u201cde theatre pizness would go pack on him,\u201d he would make up the deficit in his \u201cbocket\u201d by makin\u2019 silver leather and sellin\u2019 it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      Once Dummy was very hard up in a little town in the valley of Virginia. Actin\u2019 didn’t pay in that section, and his stock of \u201csilver leather\u201d was exhausted, like his \u201cburse,\u201d and Andrew Jackson Allen was at his wit’s end. But one night, after goin\u2019 to bed supperless, for the same reason that Jack did in his nursery rhyme, a bright idea struck \u201cDummy.\u201d He would try his \u201cballoon ascension\u201d racket, \u201cassisted by Mons. Gageremo, and Mademoiselle Pussirimo.\u201d Bright and early the next mornin\u2019 he went to the landlord of the only tavern in the place, to whom he owed \u201ca little pill\u201d for \u201cpoard and washin\u2019,\u201d and told him that by advancin\u2019 a little cash for fixin\u2019 up an old balloon, which he always carried with him among his theatrical traps, he might make some money for himself, besides payin\u2019 up his score at the tavern in full. The landlord of the Inn was sick in bed, but not so sick but that he could see it was in his interest to help \u201cDummy\u201d out of his scrape. So with his pecuniary aid, \u201cDummy\u201d managed to fix his balloon into shape, and to astonish the printer by givin\u2019 him a cash order for big posters announcin\u2019 \u201cthe greatest wonder of the age,\u201d \u201cthe flyin\u2019 ship,\u201d \u201cthe air whale,\u201d etc., etc. What a rush there was when the time arrived for the ascension of the balloon. People came on horseback, in wagons, or on foot for twenty miles, to see it. \u201cDummy\u201d acted first as treasurer and stuffed his pockets full of country coin. Then, heavy in pocket but light in spirit, he went to fix his balloon for \u201cgoin\u2019 up,\u201d his idea bein\u2019 to go up with the balloon and the money and not to come down with either till he got into the next county or some other county. But when he got to the balloon to his utter horror he saw several rents in it; it was n. g.; that balloon would never ascend. But no matter \u201cDummy\u201d was equally determined that none of the money should ever be refunded. So he mounted a cider barrel, near the balloon, and made a speech to the crowd, informin\u2019 them that certain chemicals he needed for the balloon had become exhausted, and that would be absolutely necessary for him to ride for \u2018em to the next village, where he could doubtless get all that was wanted for his \u201cgas.\u201d He appealed to the people as \u201cVirginians, chivalrous Virginians, noble descendants of the noble Pocahontas, to wait one hour for his return.\u201d Then he borrowed the landlord\u2019s horse and rode off. After two hours those left in the crowd determined he was a fraud and they never saw \u201cDummy\u201d again. His ride beat any ride on record.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      But it is only fair to say that, as soon as he could with safety to himself, \u201cDummy\u201d dismounted, and takin\u2019 more regular ways of conveyance, left the landlord’s horse where the landlord afterwards recovered it. \u201cDummy\u201d also sent him in full the amount of his board bill. He was a humbug when he had to be, but he wasn’t a regular cheat after all.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 As for the noble descendants of the noble Pocahontas, they took their revenge out on the balloon which \u201cDummy\u201d left behind him. They made a bonfire and destroyed the balloon, or what remained of it, that night. \u201cDummy\u201d always insisted that he saw the burnin\u2019 of the balloon though he must have been twenty miles away by that time. Anyhow, accordin\u2019 to \u201cDummy\u2019s\u201d account, \u201cit was the dabdest fidest sight he ever seed. The hubbuged and disappoidted fellows burdt the bost bagnificedt ballood ever codstucted. The fire shootig up to the horizod was sublibe.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"
A. J. Allen as “Goldfinch”<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

      In the latter part of his eventful career Allen settled down to keepin\u2019 what would be called nowadays \u201ca theatrical chop house.\u201d He called it \u201cThe Divan,\u201d probably because there was not such a thing as a divan in it. He was one of his own best customers, especially in the eatin\u2019 line. Allen was one of those lucky and peculiar chaps who have an appetite for solids as well as fluids, each counteractin\u2019 the evil effects of the other. He invented two dishes which he had a great run in their day. He called one \u201ccalapash\u201d and the other \u201ccalapee.\u201d He claimed that they were entirely different dishes, but a committee of \u201cold rounders\u201d bein\u2019 appointed one night to examine \u2018em, reported as follows:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      \u201cWe, the undersigned, appointed by ourselves a committee to examine into the composition of the two dishes, calapash and calapee, of which Andrew Jackson Allen, otherwise known as \u2018Dummy,\u2019 claims to be the soul inventor, do hereby state solemnly that they said calapash is made of ancient\u2013very ancient and venerable\u2013cheese, codfish of an uncertain age, onions, mustard, rum and wine\u2013more rum than wine and more cheese than either. We also state that the said calapee is composed of precisely the same ingredients as the calapash, with the addition of a little sour cabbage. \u2013 Signed: Charles Durang; Henry Hait, and others.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      Like Browne in later years, Allen kept in \u201cThe Divan\u201d a number of theatrical portraits. Some of these were genuine, but some it is supposed were bogus. But if anybody who happened to know personally, or had seen professionally, any of the originals of these doubtful or bogus portraits, chanced to pass any uncomplimentary remarks on the \u201clikenesses,\u201d \u201cDummy\u201d would insist on their correctness, and explain any discrepancies in appearance by the most ingenious excuses. Behind the bar on the great attraction of the Divan, bein\u2019 \u201cthe identical dress worn by George Frederick Cooke, the immortal tragedian, in his unrivaled character of Richard III.\u201d \u201cDummy\u201d was ready at any hour of the day or night to perish in the defense of the genuineness of this relic. Still the boys always shrewdly suspected that it was really only one of \u201cDummy\u2019s\u201d gags, as some of the \u201csilver leather\u201d was to be seen sewed to the dress of \u201cthe immortal tragedian.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      Another curious theatrical character of the olden time, well known in and around New York, was a lady by the name of Jones\u2013Mrs. George Jones.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mrs. George Jones was a really clever actress\u2013a Fanny Herring style of performer. She was on the whole good-lookin\u2019, but not of the \u201cpretty\u201d sort\u2013no confectionery about her. She didn’t \u201ctaffy\u201d worth a cent. She was nearly six feet high, and quite large\u2013what the papers would call \u201ca majestic woman.\u201d As I have just said, she was a good actress; but it wasn’t her actin\u2019 that made her famous; it was her knowledge how to use a rawhide, and usin\u2019 it. She got the name of \u201cthe man flogger,\u201d and she deserved it, for she is said to have cowhided more critics and managers than any five other women in or out of the \u201cprofession.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"
Melinda Topping Jones<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

      Men that deal in wild beasts have told me that a lion ain’t such a very bad sort of a beast till he once tastes blood. But after the first taste he keeps on wantin\u2019 more blood all his life, and when once he has tasted the flesh and blood of a man he cares nothin\u2019 more for a deer and such small game, but is a regular \u201cman eater\u201d the rest of his life. Well, it seemed to be a little that way with this Mrs. Jones. They say that at first she was a pretty quiet sort of a woman, but havin\u2019 been insulted once by a manager she went for that manager with a cowhide, and from that time seemed to take particular delight in cowhidin\u2019 managers and critics.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      With the actress and actresses of a company she was pleasant enough\u2013would give a joke or take one all right. But from a manager or from a newspaper man she wouldn’t take a bit of nonsense or a word of abuse. They used to say of her that in order to have things \u201chandy\u201d she usually carried a good-sized rawhide under her cloak.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      Once in Cincinnati she was playin\u2019 a star engagement, and did pretty well in the way of drawin\u2019 audiences. She was her own agent, and wasn’t quite as smart as an agent nowadays would have been, for she didn’t have a settlement with the manager till the end of the week. But on Saturday she made tracks for the box-office\u2013but the manager had made tracks before her. He was one of the \u201csnide\u201d kind, and had absquatulated, as they say out West, and had sunk all the available funds of the concern in his breeches pocket. Mrs. Jones was very mad, and flourished her rawhide in a very suggestive manner.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

      Just then the treasurer happened to look toward the stage, and there was George Stone, the low comedian of the theatre, loafin\u2019 about. Now George looked a good deal like the missin\u2019 manager, whom Mrs. Jones herself had only seen once or twice. So, wantin\u2019 to have some fun at George’s expense, the treasurer suddenly exclaimed, pointin\u2019 to Stone\u201d \u201cBy heavens! there he is.\u201d \u201cWho?\u201d asked Mrs. J., givin\u2019 her rawhide another nervous twitch. \u201cWhy, the manager. He must have forgotten somethin\u2019 and come back for it; but he’ll be off in a moment again.\u201d \u201cWill he?\u201d said Mrs. Jones; and with that she gave a series of springs like a mad panther, and was on the stage in a twinklin\u2019, her hand raised and her rawhide in her hand. George Stone saw her comin\u2019, and wondered what the deuce it all meant. But he didn’t stay for any explanation\u2013just then. He was standin\u2019 by an open \u201cdrop\u201d on the stage. He took in the distance well, and just as Mrs. J. reached at him, and made a dive for him, George made a first-class \u201cdive\u201d through the trap, followed by an A No. 1 quick exit through the rear of the theatre. Mrs. Jones was hardly the sort of woman to go through a trap, so she darted for the stage door, and chased George up the street. But with his start George made good his escape, though he never went near the theatre again till Mrs. Jones was ten miles on her way to Cleveland.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 When in Philadelphia playin\u2019 an engagement, one of the newspaper critics didn’t like her in a certain piece, and said he didn’t, pretty strong. But after he had written his article against her he heard about her rawhide and her hobby for man-floggin\u2019. So, bein\u2019 a little chap and a timid one, he rushed down to the office, with another piece praisin\u2019 her sky-high, and ordered the \u201cpuff\u201d to go in and the attack to come out. The puff went in all right, but somehow or other the attack, which had been already set up and in the \u201cforms,\u201d went in too, and next mornin\u2019 the town laughed to see the same woman praised and attacked in the same paper. Mrs. Jones herself laughed when she understood it all, but the poor little critic didn’t laugh, for he was discharged.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

[Editor’s notes: Though the above column slightly ridicules A. J. Allen, he was an important figure in the history of American theater; so much so that stage historian Winona Fletcher wrote a 500-page biography, Andrew Jackson Allen, “Internal and External Costumer” to the Early Nineteenth Century American Theatre<\/em> (1968).<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mrs. George Jones was Melinda Topping Jones. She separated from her husband, George Jones, who was known as Count Joannes, the eccentric actor, orator, and author. By comparison to her ex, Melinda was normal and even-tempered.]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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