Newspaper Page Text
autobiography of
AU ‘ CLARA MORRIS.
••CLARA’S COOK” ion AN UNPRO
TECTED YOUNG ACTRESS WAS
“WHEN IN DOUBT TAKE THE
CENTER OK THE
STREET.”
jlJm Morrl* Hn Her First Dost With
processional Scandal and Finds
the Taste Exceedingly Hitter—She
Makes Her Costume of Pink Cam
bric and an Old Lace Curtain,
Whereupon Her Chnructer Is As
sailed—A Proposal of Murriutce and
What Came of It.
IV.
Copyright, 1901, by the S. S. McClure Cos.
1 remember, particularly that sedond
season, because It brought to me that
first taste of slander, my first newspaper
notice and my fist proposal of marriage.
The latter, being—according to my belief
—the natural result of lengthening my
ekiris and putting up my hair—at all
events, It was a part of my education.
Of course, the question of wardrobe
was a most important one still. I had done
very well, so far as peasant dresses of
various nationalities were concerned, I
had even acquired a page's dress—nothing
but a plain, skimpy white muslin gown,
for I had gained surprisingly In hight
with the passing year. And lo! the re
port went about that Mr. Peter Richings
I'll ;-■
ff „‘ff
c=== ° WUfa \
*v — v '
and his daughter Caroline were coming
in a fortnight, and they jvould surely do
their play Fashion, in which every one
was in a dance. I was distraught! I knew
every one would bring out her best for
that attraction, for you must know that
actresses in a stock company grade their
costumes by the stars, and only bring out
the very treasures of their wardrobe on
state occasions. I was in great distress
one of my mates had a genuine siik dress,
the other owned n buch of artificial gold
grapes—horribly unbecoming, stiff things
—but mercy! gold grapes! who cared
whether they were becoming or not—were
they not gorgeous (a lady star had given
them to her), and quite fit for a ball room?
And I would have to drag about, heavy
footed. In a skimpy muslin!
Hut In the company there was a lady
who had three charming little children.
She was the singing soubrette (by name,
Mrs. James Dickson.) One of her babies
became sick, and I sometimes did small
bits of shopping or other errands for her,
thus permitting her to go at once from
rehearsal to her beloved babies. Enter
ing her room from one of these errands,
I found her much vexed and excited over
'he destruction of one of a set of line
new 14ee curtains. The nurse-maid had
carelessly set It on fire. Of course, Mrs.
Dickson would have to buy two more to
replaJe them, and now, with the odd one
i" her hand, she started towards the
'runk, paused doubtfully and finally said
to me: “Could you use this curtain for
'ome small window or something, Clara?”
At her very llrst words, a duzzllng pos
'd! Mlty presented Itself to my mind. With
burning eheecks, I answered, "Oh, yes,
tnu am, I_i— on UBe it—but not at a win
dow, I'm afraid.”
"All right; lake It along then!" she
cried, “and do what you like with It. It's
only been up two days, and has not a
mark on It.”
The I’ii'Mt Hitter Drop.
1 fairly flew fiom the bouse; I sang as
I made my way uptown to buy several
ystds of rose-pink paper-cambric and a
half garland of Ametlean-made artificial
ro>e. Then I *p and home, and behind
■o krd doors, rnea-ured and cut and
“ ri I'Ped—and regar tier s of poslbls sect
btits, held sboul a gill of pins In my
mouth, while | hummed over my wot It
A t my fesrt ware begone—they hed fled
tfore the waving whits curtain, which—
'rtunately for me- we* of fins metlvd
't carrying for Je.gr,, unusually small
**’l*nds < t reea and doM' *
And when the yreot ntgbi cams, I ap
peared as one at th* bail guest* In o p nk
‘•'•'-ses.ip, with whits Imm eter Areas,
whose low waist was garlanded with wild
roses. So happy at heart and light of
foot. I danced with the rest, my pink and
white ballooning about me in the cour
tesies with as much rustle and glow of
color as though it bad been silk.
Put alas! the imitation was too good
a one. The pretty iittie cjjeap gown I
was so happy over, attracted the atten
tion of a woman whose whisper meant
scandal—whose lifted brown was an innu
endo—whose dropped lid an accusation.
Like a carrion bird, she fed best upon
corruption. Thank Heaven! this cruel
creature, hated by men, feared by the
women, was not an actress, but through
mistaken kindness, she had been made
wardrobe woman, where—as Mr. Els er
declared—she spent her time In ripping
up and destroying the reputation of his
actors instead of making and repairing
their wardrobes.
That nothing was too small to catch
her pale cold eye, is proved by the fact
that even a bal et girl’s dress received
her attention. Next day, after the play
“Fashion” had been done, this woman
was saying—“ That girl’s mother had bet
ter be looking after her conduct, I think.”
“Why, what on earth has Clara done?”
asked her listener.
“Done!” she cried; “didn’t you see her
flaunting herself around the stage last
night in silks and laces no honest girl
could own? Where did the money come
from that paid for such finery?”
A few days later, a woman who board
ed in the house favored by the mischief
maker, happened to meet Mrs. Dickson
—happily for me—and said en passant:
“Which one of your ballet girls is i>t who
has taken to dressing with so much
wicked axtravaeance? I wonder Mrs.
E'.lsler don’t notice It.”
Now, Mrs. Dickson was Scotch, gen
erous and “unco” quick tempered and
after she had put the Inquiring friend
right, she visited her wrath upon the origi
nator of the slander in person, and verily
the Scoth burr was on her tongue and
her ”rs' rolled famously, while she ex
plained the component parts of that ex
travagant costume—a window curtain—her
; gift—and pajer cambric and artificial flow
ers to the cost of one dollar and seventy
five cents —“and you'll admit,” she cried;
“that even the purse of a 'gude lass can
stand sic a strain as that,' and what's
more, you wicked woman! had the girl
been worse dressed than the other you
would have been the first to call attention
to her as slovenly and careless!”
This was the first drop of scandal ex-
pressed especially for me, and I not only
found It’s tas>te bitter—very bitter, but
learned that it had wonderful powers of
expansion and that the odor It gives off Is
rather pleasant In the nostrils of every
one save Its object.
Clara's Code.
' One of the most unpleasant experiences
in the life of a young actress Is her fright
ened lonely rush through the city streets,
at twelve o'clock at night, to reach her
boarding bouse—and claim sanctuary. 1
doubt if even a Una und her lion could
pass unmolested through those streets,
dotted with all night “tree and easys"—
where, by the way, nothing Is free but
the poisonous air, and nothing easy, but
-the language. At all events, from my own
varied and unpleasant experiences, and
from the stories of others, 1 had first
drawn certain deductions, then I proceed
ed to establish certain rules for the guid
ance and direction of any girl who was
so unfortunate as to be forced to walk
abroad unattended at nlgh't. These
rules became known as ‘"Clara's Code,"
anil were highly approved, especially
by those girls who "couldn't think,"
ns they declared, "hut stood stock mill
too frightened to move,” when some
wanderer of the night unceremoniously
addressed them. 1 cunnot remember all
those rules now, since for these many
years God h is granted me a protector,
but from the few that I can reea I, I am
convinced that their principal object was
to gain plenty of leewoy for the perse
cuted g rl's escape.
No. I sternly forbade her ever, ever to
pass between two advancing men—at
night, of course, be It understood— leet
th< y might arise bold of her and so
frighten her to death Bhe we advised
never lo permit herself to taka tha 1 1 aids
of the weilf when meeting etranger.
who might thus crowd her against the
house sand cut off har chances l/r run.
Never to pegs the opw.ing lo tu allay way t
THE MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY. MARCH 17. 1901.
f DON’T I HUR RYIWP'
I 'Take time to see that^E^
mJS 6
I COM^y^^^RACT
without placing the entire width of the
sidewalk between her and it; and always
to keep her eyes on it as she passed.
Never to let any man pass her from be
hind on the outside was to be insisted
upon—lndeed she she uld take to the stre. t
first. She was not to answer a drunken
man, no matter what might be the na
ture of his speech. She was not to scream
—if she could help it—for fear of public
humiliation, but f the worst came, and
some hideous prowler of the right passed
from speech to actual attack, then she
was to forget her ladyhood, and remem
bering only the tenderness of the male
shin, and her r ght of self-defense, to
kick like a colt till help came, or she was
released. Other portions of the “code” I
have forgotten, hut I do di-tinctly re
member tliat it wound up with the really
Hoyle-like observation: “When in doubt,
take to the center of the street.”
We all know the magic power of the
moon lght, have seen it transmute the
commonest ugliness into perfect beauty
and change a world-worn woman into the
veriest lily maid, but how few know the
dread power exercised oVer man by the
street gaslight after midnight. The kind
est old drake of the farm pond, the most
pomposuly gobbler of the buckwheat field
becomes a vulture beneath the midnight
street light. A man who would shoot for
being called a blackguard between 7
o'clock in the morning and 12 at night,
often becomes one after midnight. It is
frequently said that “words break no
bones," but lei a young girl pass along
through the city streets a few nights
and she will probably hear words that
drowning her in shamed blushes, will go
far towards breaking her pride, if not
her bones. Men seem to be creatures of
very narrow margin, they so narrowly es
cape being gods, ond they so much more
narrowly escape being wild beasts. Un
der ihe sunlight, man, made in the image
of God, lifts his head Heavenward and
walks erect—under the street lamps of
midnight, he is stealthy—he prowls—he
Is a visible destruction! You think I ex
aggerate In this matter? Do not! I
speak from experience, and what is more,
at that time 1 had not yet learned what
the New York streets cou.d produce alter
midnight.
But on the night after the chair epi
sode,Frank Murdoch heard one of the girls
say she had used the Clara Code very
successfully the night before— when two
drunken men had reeled out of tin alley,
who wou.d have collided with her had she
not followed the rule and kept the whole
sidewalk between them. He stood at the
door, as I came down stairs, and os soon
as I reached him he asked sharply: "Do
you go home alone nights?"
"Yes." I answered.
"Good God!” he muttered.
After a pause I looked up at him and
met his eyes, shining wet and blue
through two tears. “Oh," 1 hastily ad
ded, "there's noth.ng to be afraid off”
"I wish I cou and agree with you," he
answered. "Tell me," he went on, "Have
you ever been annoyed by any one?”
My eyes fell—l knew I was growing red.
“Good God!” he said again. Then sud
denly be ordered: "Give me that bug—
you'll not go through those streets alone
while I'm heri —n< ver n Inrl the and etarice.
I don't see why you can't take my arm?"
and thus I found myarff for the tlret time
eeeorted by e gentleman, and miter my
hot enihair ta-nt-nt wore off a tdt I held
my bend very high and I nrub'ly slow.d
my skirt to trail In the dust, and said to
myself—"tldv . Ilka a raal grown-up
surety they can't call me ‘child’ much
longer now." *
The star ptaytng with ua Junt then was
• tragedian, but ha wa* a vary Ut.la wan,
whose air of alertness, even of aggres
siveness, bod won for him the tit.e of
"Cos. ky" Roberts. He wore enormously
high neels, he laid thick coik so.es on the
outside and th.ck extra soles on the In
side of all his boots and shoes. His wigs
were slightly pad >ed at their tops—every
thing possible was done for a gain in
hight, wnlle all the time he was sp.utter
ing and swearing at what he called this
"cursed cult of legs."
"Look et them,” he snorted, for he did
snort like a horse when he was angry—
as he generally was, at the theater, at
least; “look at ’em, Ellsler—there’s Mur
doch, Proctor, Davenport—all gone to
legs, damn ’em—and calling themselves
actois! You don’t look for brains in a
man’s legs, do you? No! no! It’s the cra
nium that tells! Yes, blast 'em! let ’em
come here and match croniums with me.
that they think It smart to call Cocky!’
They’re a lot of theatrical tongs—all legs
and no heads!”
And yet this poor, fuming little man,
with bis exaggerated strut, would have
given anything short of his life, to have
added even a few inches to his anatomy,
the brevity of which was quite forgotten
by the public when he gave his really
briilinnt and pathetic performance of Bt 1-
phegor—one of the earl .eat of the so-call
ed "emotional" plays.
I have a very kindly remembrance of
that fretful little star because when they
were discussing the cast of a play, one
of those tormenting parts turned up that
.are of great importance to the piece, but
of no importance themselves. Capable
actresses refuse to play them, and inca
pable ones create havoc In them. This
one had already been refused, when Mr.
Roberts suddenly exclaimed: "Who was
it made those announcements last night?
She spoke with beautiful distinctness—let
that young woman have the part—shell
do it all right.”
Courtship and Offer of Marriage.
Oh, dear Mr. Roberts! never “Cocky”
to me! Oh, wise little judge! how 1 did
honor hirq for those precious words—"let
that young woman have the part." That
"young woman!” I could have embraced
him for very gratitude—a part and the
term "young woman!” And since, as my
old washerwoman used to say: "It never
rains but it pours,” while these two words
were still making music In my ears, by
some flash of* Intuition I realized that I
was being courted by Frank. The dis
covery filled me with the utmost satis
faction. I gave no thought to him In a
sentimental way, either then or ever, quite
selfishly I thought only of my own gain
in dignity and importance, for I started
out in life with the old-fashioned Idea
that a man honored e woman by his court
ship, and’ 1 knew naught of the lover who
"loves and rides away.” Yet, in a few
days, the curious cat-like instinct of the
unconscious coquette awakened in me, and
I began very gently to try my claws.
I wished very mudh to know if he were
Jealous, as I had been told that real lov
ers always were so, and naturally I did
not wish mine to fall short of any of the
time-honored attributes of loverdom.
Therefore, I—one morning—selected for
experimental use a man whose volume of
speech was a terror to all—had he been
put to the sword he would have
talked to the swordsman till the
final blow cut his speech. He
was most unattractive, too , In ap
pearance, being one of those actors who
get shaved after rehearsal Instead of be
fore It, thus gained a reputation for un
tidiness that facts may not always Justify
—but he served my purpose all the better
for that.
I deliberately placed myself at his
side—J was only a ballet girl, but I had
ttvo good' ears, I was welcomed. Conver
sation, or rather the monologue burst
forth—standing at the side of the stage.
t with rehearsal going on, he—of course—
spoke low. I watched for Frank's arrival.
Ho came—l heard his cherry "Good-morn
ing, ladles! Good-morning, gentlemen!"
and then he started towards me; but I
heard nothing—saw nothing of him—my
upraised eyes, as wide as I could possibly
make them, were fixed upon the face of
the talker. Yet, with a jump of the heart,
I knew the brightness had gone from
Frank’s face, 'the spring frorp his step. I
smiled sweetly as I knew how—l seemed
to hang upon the words of the untidy
one—and oh! if' Frank could only have
known what those words were; how I was
being assured 1 that he, the speaker, had
that very morning, succeeded in stopping
a leaky hole In his shoe by melting a piece
of India rubber over and on to It, and
that not a drop of water had penetrated
when he had walked through the rain
puddles—and right there, like music, there
came to my listening ears, a word of
four letters—a forbidden word, but one
full of consolation to the distressed male.,
—a word beginning with "D," and for
fear that you may think It was “Dear”
why, I will be explicit, and say that It
was "Damn!” and that it was from the
anger-whiteened lips of Frank—who,during
the morning, gave not only to me but to
all lookers on, most convincing proof of
his Jealousy, and that was but the begin
ning of my experiments. I did this to see
if it would make him angry—l did that,
to see if it would please him. Sometimes
I scratched him with my investigating
claws, then I was sorry, truly sorry, be
cause I was grateful always for his gentie
goodness to me, and never meant to hurt
him. But he represented the entire sex to
me, and I was learning all I could, think
ing, as I once told him, that the knowl
edge might be useful on the stage some
time, and wondered at the very fury my
words provoked in him.
We quarreled, sometimes, like spiteful
children, as, when I startled Into laughter
by hearing his voice break In a speech,
unfortunately excused myself by saying, ]
“It was Just like a young rooster, you
know!”
And he, white with anger, cried;
"You’re a solid mass of rudeness, to
laugh nt a misfortune; you have no
breeding."
Which brought from me the rejoinder;
"I know It, but ytfu would have shown
better breeding yourself, had you not told
me of It."
And then he was on his knee In the
Fur I' I'll ■ I|. r M K i.r nerV
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ECKSTEINS.
IT’S THE TRUTH.
Black Tafleta Silk.
21-inch, worth 60c,
At 4 9 cts
JrintedToulards
worth fully SI.OO,
At 75 cts
Black Peau de So/e.
The $2.00 quality,
At $1.39
Mercerized Silks.
All new colorings.
At 25 cts
Infants Mull Caps.
The 75c kind, this week
At 3 Q ct3
RoekTs Kid Gloves.
$1 quality, warranted,
At §9 cts
New ~BLACK GOODS.
Batiste, Nuns Veiling’,
Etamine, Tamise, Marcel
lita, Grenadine, Clairette
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CEORCIA PHONE 459.
GUSTAVE ECKSTEIN & CO.
entrance, begging forgiveness, apd saying,
"his cursed cracked voice madle a mad
man of him,” as It really did, for he of
ten accused people of guying him if they
did but clear their own throats. And so
we went on, until something in his man
ner—his Increased efforts to And me alone
at rehersal, for as I was boarding without
a roommate In Cleveland, 1 could not re
ceive at home—and truly I think he would
have kept silence forever, rather than
have urged me to break any conventional
rule of propriety—something gave me the
idea that Frank was going to be well—ex
plicit—that—that I was going to be pro
posed to according to established form.
Now, though a proposal of marriage Is
a thing to look forward to with desire—
to look back upon with pride, It Is also
a thing to avoid when It I* In the Immedi
ate future; and I so successfully evaded
hla efforts to find me a one at the theater,
or at some friend s house, that he was
forced at last to speak at night, while es
corting me home.
J lodged In a quiet little street, opening
out of the busiest, more noisy Kinsman
street. In our front yard, there lived a
large, greedy old tree, which had planted
Its foot firmly In the very middle of the
path, thus forcing every one to chasso
uround It, who wished to enter the house.
Its newly donned summer greenery ex
tended far over the gate, and as the moon
shone full and fair, the "set” was en
tirely appropriate. We reached the gale
and I held oui my hand for my bag—that
•mall catch of a bag that. In the hand of
an actiesa I* the outward and visible sign
cf her profession— but he let the hag slip
to the walk, end naught my hand in hi*.
The (treat was deserted. Hearing ageln*t
the gale, beneath the ehaltarlng bought
of tha old trat, tha midnight atlllncM all
• bout ua, he began to epesk earnetly
X nude a frantla aear.h through my
Corduroy Piques.
All colors; value 15c,
At | 0 cts
Fancy Printed Lawns
Cheap at 19c yard,
At | 0 cts
, Batiste Mull.
Fine and sheer, 25c grade,
At 1 7 cts
Mercerized Linen.
So popular for waists,
At 25 cts
Walking Skirts.
Special drive
At $5.98
Negligee Shirts.
Nobby line, special
At 50 cts
New Novelties.
L’Aiglon Ties at 10c
L’Aiglon Belts at 50c
Silver Belts, new....at 50c
Slew knuckle Purses New Hand Bags
•
mind for something to say presently,
when my turn would come to speak. I
rejected instantly the ancient wall of
"suddenness"—Frank's temper did not
encourage an offer of sisterhood, and I
was catching joyously at the Idea of hid
ing behind the purely Imaginary opposi
tion of my mother, when Frank's words,
"then, too, dear heart! I could protect
you, and——” were Interrupted by a yowl
so long, so piercing—lt seemed to rise like
a rocket of anguish into th summer sky.
"Oh,” I thought, "that’s one-enred Jim
from next door, and If our Blmmonds
hears him—and he’d have to be dead not
to hear—he wilt dome out to lighi him.”
I clinched my teeth—l dropped my eyes,
that Frank might not see the threatening
laughter there. I noted how much whiter
his hand was than mine, ns they were
clasped In the moonlight. The pause ha I
been long, then very gently he started
again: "Mtgnonne!”
Distinctly 1 heard the thump of Slm
mond's body dropping from tho porch
roof.
"Mlgnonne! look up, you big-eyed child,
und tell rri" that I may go to your mother
with your promise!" Wow! wow! wow!
spit! suit! wow! four balls of fire glow.. I
for a moment beneath t ,<• tree, then Iwo
dark forms became one dark form that
whirled and bound, and through space, emit
ting awlul sounds!
The cats were too much for me; I threw
bsrk my head end laughed. My laugh
was to mu> h for Frank His temper
broke—he fiurg my ha'd away, crying
out: “Laugh, you little Id otl you’re
worse than tha animals for they—at Inst
—knew ro lustier! Laugh till morning. If
you like!" g. and then—l'm so.ry to say it—
hot then hr k ek'd my l ag—tha prrcktoa
Insignia of by profession— nod rushed
down the street, leaving me standing
English Long cloth.
12-yard pieces, regular $1.39 quality,
Atpß ct *
Linen Table Damask.
Worth $1 25 to $1.50 yard,
At Q 8 eta
Linen Napkins ,
Value $2.50 to $3.50 dozen
a $1.98
Lace Revering,
New line—69 cents quality,
At \ Q cts
Ladies’ Wrappers,
Usual $1.39, this week
At 98 cts
Straight Front Corsets
and all the leading shapes
a. SI.OO
SHIRT WHISTS..
New line, all colors in silk
and washable materials.
Muslin Underwear, full line
at popular prices.
there, amid the debris of the wrecked
proposal.
Next night, he frigidly presented him
self to escort me home, and whi n I coldly
declined his convpony, he turned silently
and left mo. Truth to tell, I did not enjoy
my walk alone—through the market ptaco
In particular—and I ptanend to unbend a
little the next evening, and I was much
piqued to find myself without an excuse
for unbending, since, on the next evening,
he did not offer his company. The third
night there was a big lump In my throat,
and the tears would have fallen, had
they not been suddenly dried tn my eyes,
by the sigtH of a familiar light gray suit
slipping along close to the houses on the
other side of the way.
Petulant—lrritable loyal hearted boy,
he had safe guarded me both these nights
when I thought I was atone! My heart
was warm with gratitude toward him.
and when I reached my gate and passed
inside, I called across the street: "Thank
you, Frank, goodnight!” and he laughed,
and ar swfred; "Good-night. M gone!"
And so It enme about that Frank's woo
ing. being of the strict and stately order.
I gradually came to be “Miss Morris" to
others beside himself. I saw my ad
vance In dignity, and If I did not lova
him, I gave him profound gratitude, and
we were true friends, hla short and hon
orable life through.
THE I*DM* VISITING II \flIT.
Effort of (he lloreno to tlreak It I'p
In South Dakota.
From the New York Evening Post.
Sioux Falls, S. D., March 9.—The Sioux
Indians are determined that the Wash
ington officiate shall not break up their
old-time custom of visiting a neighbor
until they have cleaned out his larder.
Although the Indian bureau has Issued
strict orders ugalnst these visits, tha In
dians have found a way to get around
them.
Visiting between tribes, nation* and
families is an old custom with the In
dians. An unwritten Indian law is that
the guest shall stay as long as he likes,
and that as long as the guest remains tha
host must provide food. To-day each In
dian Is given bis food by the government
every two weeks, and It must last him
that long. If It does not, he has to go
hungry until next ration day, or get food
from another source. Few of the Indiana
husband their food. In the majority of
eases In less than three days after the
food has been distributed little of It la
left, for the Indians fairly gorge them
selves. It Is then that the improvident
visit the more prudent members of tha
tribe, who laid by a portion of their sup
ply.
The redent order of the Indian bureau
says that this visiting must he stopped,
but says nothing against the Indiana
holding a council or “pow-wow*' when
ever the spirit so moves them. It so
happens that the spirit so moves thsm
about the time that a number ot big
chiefs get hungry, and cannot hold off
until ration day. It also happens that
the council Is called to meet with or near
a fellow-tribesman who Is known to have
a fat Larder. The length of the delibera
tions depends upon the stock of gooda
which the Indians may have on hand.
The agents are at a loss to know how
to break up the practice.
Just the other day Htundlng Horse was
eaten out off house and borne by several
hundred fellow-trlbcemtn who held a
“paw-wow" near Ills house. All summer
standing Horne had diligently worked a
piece of ground end raised a fine crop of
potaioes and cabbages, which hs and bla
riuew had stored sway In their winter
ellsr. Since the summer was dry. S'and.
ng Horse and his squrw sere compelled
o carry water from the river, a quarter
•fa mile away, whlia tha other Indiana
U'afed around under tb* traaa and emokad
heir pipes Nos K'sndtng |io% and hie
wife have not a thing in tbs house e
aab
15