Part 1
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.
Obvious typographical and punctuation errors have been corrected after careful comparison with other occurrences within the text and consultation of external sources.
More detail can be found at the end of the book.
NAT GOODWIN'S BOOK
NAT GOODWIN'S BOOK
BY
NAT C. GOODWIN
ILLUSTRATED
BOSTON
RICHARD G. BADGER
THE GORHAM PRESS
TORONTO: COPP CLARK COMPANY LIMITED
COPYRIGHT, 1914
BY NAT C. GOODWIN AND RICHARD G. BADGER
_All rights reserved_
THE GORHAM PRESS, BOSTON, U.S.A.
PREFACE
In penning memoirs or autobiographing it is extremely difficult to avoid writing impersonally, yet I shall strive to avoid it as much as possible, not so much from a sense of duty as from a standpoint of mercy.
I have never enjoyed reading about myself and I am firmly convinced that there are few who have. Perhaps, if I am tempted during this review to give myself an opinion of myself, it may be received with favor even by those critics who have never agreed with any of my characterizations.
I started this little work with some degree of terror. I had such a poor background to frame my somewhat checkered career upon. I fully realized that a man must be a very great person, or at least imagine himself to be, to write an autobiography. But finally after listening to the advice of friends I approached myself, albeit surprised at my temerity. After having read many autobiographies I discovered that most nearly-great persons who indulge in the dissipation of giving to the world their opinions of themselves were either born in dilapidated garrets or on unproductive farms.
As there were no trees in my garden of youth nor a candle placed in an empty bottle to shed its effulgence upon my future life I wondered how I could diversify and be truthful, yet entertaining. A feeling of apprehension akin to that which always follows the first night of one of my productions took hold of me. I wondered how this little effort of mine would be received.
When reading a criticism the morning following a production I am always fearful of being found out. If I am condemned I know I have been! But after I have fully digested all the unkind criticisms, which are usually written by those who do not fancy me in any serious effort, I am in the end always superlatively happy in knowing that the critic has done his duty.
If I had my way, he would be doing TIME!
Generally he is so blissfully ignorant of what he prates about that I have a silent chuckle all to myself at the expositions of his glaring and blatant incompetency. Yet it has always been a question in my mind whether the public enjoys reading vituperative attacks upon its stage favorites particularly after it has been entertained and amused the previous evening. I think that it is thoroughly satisfied with its own verdict and resents another's antagonistic to it. It much more enjoys reading something of the actor's private life particularly when it can read something which exposes his or her particular vagaries. And the public is prone to believe everything the visionary gentlemen of the press chronicle. The more unwholesome it is the more it believes; the more suggestive, the more palatable.
You have only to put any sort of halo around an actor or a cigar, good or bad, to beget a following or a smoker!
Unfortunately the halo that the public has been kind enough to place above me will not bear minute inspection. It is opaque. However, being unable to escape it I have always been content to smile within and when the haloed one has been supposedly exposed I can do nothing but sit tight and accept the inevitable. At times it has been a bit harrowing to submit, yet it has taught me self-control which I will endeavor to exercise in this little work. If I am tempted to use the personal pronoun more frequently than necessary I shall deflect and command my thoughts, to wander among more agreeable persons. Having lived so long within the confines of my kindly bestowed halo I have become fully aware of my limitations. The agreeable personalities are easily found and I hope my readers will enjoy their companionship as much as I have enjoyed them.
Every reference made to these delightful people is inspired by the kindliest of feelings and if I have judged one or two more harshly than they seemingly deserve the error is of the head, not of the heart; for I loved, liked or admired them all and I am none too poor to do them reverence--even now.
While some may regard my opinions as impertinences none can convincingly deny my right to think, and as all is given impersonally I believe that none will doubt my motives.
Many will question the various attitudes in this book particularly regarding marriage and divorce. They will advance the theory that the bonds of matrimony must be welded more closely even when the participants find it difficult to live normally. I know that many who are incarcerated in the dungeons of matrimonial thraldom would not stop at murder to burst their bonds. It does not require the philosophy of a Bacon or an Emerson to prove that such incarceration is wrong. Why make martyrs of those forced to live together when hate supplants love, when bodies and thoughts play upon different instruments producing only discords? The laws of our country make it possible for us to file the bars of our unwholesome cells and suppress this monumental mockery. The views I have incorporated in this book, right or wrong, I stand by. All through my life I have never feared criticism for any of my acts. My moral or physical courage has never failed. I have been and always will be willing to stand by my guns and take my medicine.
Before completing this work I unfortunately submitted a few excerpts to a visionary representative of one of the Los Angeles papers. He immediately published broadcast what he had absorbed and very obligingly gave it the title of his own imagination, "Memoirs of Matrimony," thereby creating the impression that my book was to be devoted simply to my marital experiences. Such was never my intention, but as more than thirty years of my life have been devoted to matrimony naturally my autobiography demands mention of the women who have borne my name.
I have been censured sometimes harshly for my versatility in the selection of wives and many have marvelled at my fortunate (or unfortunate) selections. I have always been long on the market of home and wives.
I truly believe that no home is complete without a wife, providing she is of the kind that enjoys the company of intelligent, honest and clever people. Some men only lease their mates and then prate about their respectability. If I have decided at different times to tear down any of the Ephesian domes which I have erected, is the fact of my destroying them enough to warrant my being known, as was Alexander, as the fool that razed (or is it raised?) them?
While autobiography and a round up of memories will necessarily be conspicuous I shall endeavor also to make this book a medium of retrospective thoughts given to the many people, prominent and otherwise, with whom I have come in contact. As I have no notes I shall write purely from memory's tablets. If inaccuracies occur they will be unintentional.
Many of those dear friends have long since passed down the lonely mountain trail, but their sweet memories still linger by the roadside. If they but leave the perfume of their souls to mark the road for me to follow when I arrive at the corral nature has established in the valley I hope that we all shall meet and that they will elect me their callboy, that I may be privileged to ring up the curtain upon perpetual joy.
N. C. G.
OCEAN PARK, CALIFORNIA.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I COMMENCEMENT DAY 17
II MY DEBUT 22
III STUART ROBSON 26
IV JOHN MCCULLOUGH 35
V SIR HENRY IRVING 38
VI "BARRY" AND JEFFERSON 41
VII A SUNNY SON OF SOMETIME 49
VIII CHARLES HOYT 51
IX SIR CHARLES WYNDHAM 54
X CHARLES R. THORNE, JR. 56
XI SOL SMITH RUSSELL 61
XII RICHARD MANSFIELD 67
XIII IN VARIETY 75
XIV ELIZA WEATHERSBY 80
XV SUCCESSFUL FAILURES 89
XVI BACK IN THE 'EIGHTIES 92
XVII THE HALCYON DAYS OF UNION SQUARE 96
XVIII THE BIRTH OF THE SYNDICATE 101
XIX STARS 109
XX ATMOSPHERIC PLAYS 115
XXI ACTORS PAST AND PRESENT 118
XXII MAUDE ADAMS 121
XXIII TYRONE POWER 126
XXIV AN ARTISTIC SUCCESS! 127
XXV THE SKATING RINK 131
XXVI NUMBER TWO 134
XXVII A FIGHT WON (?) 140
XXVIII JOHN CHAMBERLAIN 148
XXIX W. S. GILBERT 152
XXX HENRY E. DIXEY 153
XXXI SWAGGER NEW YORKERS OF ANOTHER DAY 155
XXXII JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY 157
XXXIII DIGBY BELL AND DE WOLF HOPPER 159
XXXIV BLAINE AND INGERSOLL 162
XXXV JIM CORBETT IN ENGLAND 164
XXXVI THE COCKNEY CABBY COMEDIAN 166
XXXVII A GILDED FOOL AND OTHER PLAYS 168
XXXVIII GEORGE M. COHAN 177
XXXIX THOUGHTS VAUDEVILLE-BORN 179
XL JOHN DREW 181
XLI THE RIVALS REVIVAL 182
XLII WILTON LACKAYE 185
XLIII "YOUNG" MANSFIELD 187
XLIV DAVID WARFIELD 190
XLV A DAY AT RENO 192
XLVI LILLIAN RUSSELL 197
XLVII DRAMATIC SCHOOLS 198
XLVIII NUMBER THREE (ALMOST) 201
XLIX THE CONFESSIONAL 207
L SAN FRANCISCO 211
LI ANTONY (?) AND CLEOPATRA 216
LII HONOLULU AND SAMOA 223
LIII PUBLICITY--ITS RESULTS 230
LIV IN THE LAND OF THE KANGAROO 233
LV WELCOME(!) HOME 240
LVI NUMBER THREE 243
LVII WHEN WE WERE TWENTY-ONE AND OTHER PLAYS 248
LVIII AT JACKWOOD 254
LIX "WHY DO BEAUTIFUL WOMEN MARRY NAT GOODWIN?" 262
LX BILLY THOMPSON 265
LXI THE CRITICS 266
LXII JAMES A. HEARNE 277
LXIII EDDIE FOY 279
LXIV WILLIAM GILLETTE 280
LXV WILLIAM BRADY, ESQ. 283
LXVI ROBERT FORD 284
LXVII MORE PLAYS 286
LXVIII WILLIE COLLIER 288
LXIX HENRY MILLER 290
LXX WHAT'S IN A NAME? 291
LXXI I TRY BEING A BUSINESS MAN 293
LXXII THE FIVE FATEFUL FISH CAKES AND NUMBER FOUR 302
LXXIII SIR BEERBOHM TREE 315
LXXIV THE ORIGIN OF THE STAGE 317
LXXV MY STAGE-STRUCK VALET 321
LXXVI GEORGE C. TYLER 324
LXXVII I FIND THE VERY BEST PHYLLIS 326
LXXVIII THE LAMBS CLUB 329
LXXIX I "COME BACK" 332
LXXX I GO BACK 334
LXXXI DAVID BELASCO 336
LXXXII "AUTHOR--AUTHOR" 337
LXXXIII MUSHROOM MANAGERS 341
LXXXIV "KEEP OFF THE GRASS" 345
LXXXV CALIFORNIA 350
LXXXVI I BECOME A BARNSTORMER 352
LXXXVII NUMBER FIVE 355
LXXXVIII L'ENVOIE 356
INDEX 359
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
FACING PAGE
NAT C. GOODWIN _Frontispiece_
WILLIAM WARREN 20 _The greatest comedian that ever lived_
STUART ROBSON 26 _The best Shakespearean clown of modern times_
TONY HART 30 _He had the face of an Irish Apollo, did Tony Hart_
JOHN MCCULLOUGH AND ASSOCIATE PLAYERS IN THE DRAMATIC FESTIVAL 36 _"Mr." McCullough and the rest of us_
SIR HENRY IRVING 40 _An extraordinary man_
JOSEPH JEFFERSON 46 _I firmly believe I improved his morals_
SIR CHARLES WYNDHAM 54 _A remarkable man_
CHARLES R. THORNE, JR. 60 _A royal picture to contemplate_
IN THE LITTLE REBEL 76 _One of my first excursions into the legitimate_
ELIZA WEATHERSBY 80 _The wife who mothered me_
IN HOBBIES WITH ELIZA WEATHERSBY 84 _The play I won at faro_
LITHOGRAPH OF GOODWIN'S FROLIQUES 88
IN TURNED UP 92 _In the days when I was an imitator_
LOTTA 98 _In the days when work was play_
JACK HAVERLY 102 _The man who conceived the syndicate_
IN THE GOLD MINE 112 _My get-up in The Gold Mine_
THOSE WERE THE HAPPY DAYS 118
COQUELIN 124 _Would he have gone in vaudeville? I wonder_
NELLA BAKER PEASE 134 _The best amateur piano player I ever heard_
NAT C. GOODWIN, III 138
PALS 150 _Richard Carle, Fred G. Stanley, Nat Goodwin, Walter Jones, De Wolf Hopper_
IN CONFUSION 160 _Back in the eighties_
NAT GOODWIN AND COMPANY IN IN MIZZOURA 168 _One of the best casts I ever saw_
TICKET SALE FOR IN MIZZOURA 176
DICK GOLDEN 182 _We were pals for many years_
DAVID WARFIELD AND NAT GOODWIN 190 _I'm proud of the company_
IN MIZZOURA 200 _One of the greatest of American plays_
MRS. N. C. GOODWIN, SR. 210 _A dear old lady living in Boston_
HOW MUCH A LAMB I WAS I DIDN'T KNOW--THEN! 216
AN AUSTRALIAN GREETING CAN'T TOUCH ITS FAREWELL! 220
IN AN AMERICAN CITIZEN 232 _If we had been associated a few years longer my name would have been up as her leading support!_
AS BOB ACRES 240 _I gave Bob a country dialect_
MAXINE ELLIOTT 246 _Fate's partner_
IN WHEN WE WERE TWENTY-ONE 252 _The biggest bit of any play I ever produced_
IN NATHAN HALE 258 "_They hang Nat in the last act_"
WM. H. THOMPSON 264 _An artist to his finger tips_
JAMES A. HEARNE 278 _He knew how poor Sol "fell"_
ROBERT FORD 284 "_A cold-blooded, conscienceless murderer_"
AS CAMEO KIRBY 294 _I never played a character I liked so well_
EDNA GOODRICH 304 _My young and handsome star_
AS SHYLOCK 310 _One of my successful failures_
IN HAMLET 320 _It had always been my desire to appear in Shakespearean roles_
MARGARET MORELAND 326 _The very best Phyllis_
AS FAGIN IN OLIVER TWIST 330 "_Fagin was a comedian_"
DAVID BELASCO 336 _An intellectual giant_
DRAWN WHILE WE WERE "BARNSTORMING" 344
THE RANCH AT SAN JACINTO, CALIFORNIA 350 _A scene not equalled in the Austrian Tyrol_
NAT GOODWIN'S BOOK
NAT GOODWIN'S BOOK
_Chapter I_
COMMENCEMENT DAY
One bright morning in June, 1872, the Little Blue Academy of old Farmington College, Maine, rang with the plaudits of an admiring throng of visitors. Some of them had come in their capacious coaches, lumbering and crushing their way through the streets of the usually quiet village, while others in good old Puritan fashion had come afoot and across fields and by-ways. Altogether the tumult was great both without and within and the Puritan housewives, their quiet thus sadly disturbed, devoutly offered up thanks that such affairs occurred but once in a twelvemonth. But the clatter of contending Jehus and vociferous villagers on the campus was nothing compared with the resounding clash of palms and other noisy demonstrations of approval within.
It was Commencement Day. Eager papas and mammas, sweet, admiring misses and anxious friends were there that neither valedictorian, salutatorian, orator nor poet might lack that proper sort of encouragement, without which any affair of this nature must necessarily be incomplete. They were to decide as well the winner of the prize in elocution. Truly it was a day of mighty portent.
Many had spoken their parts and the rafters and roof had given back the approving shouts in echoes almost as resounding as the words themselves. At length my name was announced by our preceptor and worthy master, Mr. Alden J. Blethen, the present manager and owner of the Seattle "Times."
With some timidity, but tremendous eagerness, I mounted the improvised rostrum and began my recitation of a poem called "The Uncle." As I began my eyes seemed to be swimming back and forth in my head. I saw nothing but birds floating into space. Then a death-like silence ensued and images usurped the place of birds. They assumed forms and through the mists came men and women and one by one they seemed to come before my vision until the room was filled. I finished, I thought, in a hush and was utterly oblivious to the great burst of applause which greeted my efforts. My seat-mate, poor Charlie Thomas who in after years was associated with Charles Hoyt, the writer and producer of many successful farce comedies, grabbed me by the arm and hurled me back upon the stage whispering, "Give them that 'Macbeth' speech!" Mechanically I acted upon his suggestion and began the soliloquy. I remembered nothing more until we left the hall. In fact I was in a comatose state until summoned that evening by Mr. Blethen to come into his library where, in the presence of the other scholars, I was presented with a set of Shakespeare's Complete Works.
As I went to my room that night I began to dream of the life to come. I saw myself startling the world as King Lear.
Two days after I received the first newspaper criticism of my work from the Portland papers. The notices pleased me beyond words and brought more joy to my young heart than any I ever received in after life. With pardonable pride, I trust, I set one forth here:--
"The little Academy had never known the delirium of applause until a slight, delicate youth, with peculiar flaxen hair, round blue eyes, and a complexion as fair as a girl's mounted the rostrum and spoke his lines. Such elocution must have awakened unusual interest, and so easy was the speaker, so perfect his actions and charming his intelligence, that the old dormitory shook with plaudits."
I was told twenty-five years later by a little Jew critic named Cohen that I lacked all these attributes, after I had devoted a quarter of a century in earnest endeavor to accentuate them! How I must have retrograded in all those years! Until he told me I thought I must have travelled ahead, for I could not possibly have gone back. But perhaps I never started! The notices in the Portland papers fanned the smoke into a flame and from that day I determined to become an actor. Some years before I had become imbued with the idea, the inspiration coming from my living in close proximity to an actors' boarding-house kept by a Mrs. Fisher at No. 3 Bulfinch Place, Boston. Many and many a time have I waited between school hours and play to catch a glimpse of the occupants of this celebrated yet modest hostelry, for here were housed many conspicuous actors of the day. Many a time I endeavored to touch the sleeve or any part of the garment of the players as they emerged from the house on their way to rehearsals and if I succeeded my mission was fulfilled for the day.
On one occasion William Warren's hat blew off. I rushed for it and rescued it from beneath a horse's hoofs. I returned it to the owner and he thanked me very graciously. The incident was too much for my young nerves. I played hookey that afternoon. School had no charms for me that day. An actor had spoken to me!
Years after I was privileged to meet this gentleman at a breakfast given in my honor by the Elks of Boston with Mayor O'Brien in the chair. I had been invited to appear at a charity benefit to be preceded by this breakfast. I was playing at the time at the Bijou Theatre, New York, but I arranged to leave on the midnight train, arriving in time for the breakfast at nine. Afterwards I appeared at eleven o'clock at the benefit, catching the one o'clock train back to New York.