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Copyright, JU13, by the Star Company. UreHt Britain Bights Heaerved.
3
Gertrude Bryan—“SHylock
management."
Katherine Stevenson—“Bare
knees barred by fiance.".
Lottie Engel—"Lured away by
a handsome chauffeur."
Eva Fallon—“Fell into the bass
drum; fined $40."
Kathleen Clifford—Her Turn
Next.
Six Equally Charming Kilted and
Bare-Kneed “Stars'” Succeed
Each Other for “Reasons” Which
Only Deepen the Gay White
U PON the “fattest” prima donna part
which musical comedy successes have
furnished in recent years—namely,
that of the cunningly kilted and bare-kneed
hero of “Little Boy Blue”—roosts the most
persistent and implacable "Jinx” that ever
bothered the theatrical population of New
York’s Gay White Way.
In the two seasons of its prosperous
course, “Little Boy Blue” has been played and
sung by no less than six different talented
young women of virtually equal charms as
to voice and bare knees. Bach was eminent
ly satisfactory to audiences, and yet each—
up to the present incumbent—fell by the
wayside as soon as the baleful glance of the
"Jinx” was focussed upon her.
Here is the list, with the totally inade
quate explanation tacked onto each case:
Miss Gertrude Bryan—Couldn’t get her sal
ary raised.
Katherine Stevenson—Fiance objected to
bare knees in public.
Eva Fallon—Fell into the bass drum and
had to pay for it.
Lottie Engle—Ran away with an automo
bile demonstrator, thinking the machine he
drove so gracefully was his own.
Florence Martin—Stage fright over seeing
the ghosts of her predecessors.
Katherine Clifford—Still working.
Aren’t these explanations enough to make
the Mysterious Jinx roar with malicious de
light?
Katherine Clifford, sole present survivor of
the Little Boy Blues, is doing as well as
could be expected considering her knowledge
that everybody in the Broadway theatrical
world is eagerly awaiting the moment when
the “Jinx” will get her.
However pretty they are, however tune
ful their voices, iiowever charming their
bared knees, prima donna eligibles are no
longer yearning to he Little Boy Blue. At
this writing, whenever a Henry W. Savage
lieutenant points his finger at one formerly
ambitious and says:
“You’re next!” she ejaculates:
"Gracious, I hope not! ^Every time I pass
the Savage offices I keep my fingers crossed!”
It is a big thing for an ambitious young
woman to be picked out to “create” the prin
cipal part in a musical comedy production.
If she succeeds in her interpretation she not
only gets into the limelight, but may expect
to stay there during the run of the piece.
It was into the rosy mouth of Gertrude Bryan
that this juicy plum—now turned persim
mon—fell. She was very young, very pretty
and had the rare gift of piquancy. That she
was a young “unknown” did not matter to
Broadway, as Little Boy Blue did not matter.
Broadway welcomes an unknown when she
is young and pretty.
Instantly the pretty unknown became very
well known. Clothes were named after her,
hats and ties and, yes, really knickerbockers,
all blue. She was asked how to dress, how
to flirt, how to win a husband and how to
hold him, how to cook, how to make a mill
ion dollars. She became, and for a little time
she remained, the idol of New York theatre
goers.
Then Miss Bryan became, day after day,
what she was for two hours every evening
and at two matinees, “blue.” She confided to
her manager the reason. In substance she
said to the impresario who introduced Eng
lish speaking opera on the American stage:
“New York, the hardest city to please in
the world, is prostrate at my feet. It would
rise and run away if it knew the truth. The
truth that I, Gertrude Bryan, am getting only
sixty dollars a week.”
“But it cost me three thousand dollars to
have you coached in the part,” was the man
agerial argument; and there was an oral
postscript revealing business acumen, “I
must get my money back.”
Miss Bryan perceived that this is a cruel
world, especially the business segment of it.
She so remarked. Also she made personal
observations unflattering to the management.
And she resigned—walked right out of the
blue knickerbockers. They never saw her
again, will never see her more. She re
moved to Flushing, Long Island, where she is
adorning suburban society.
Exit the first Little Boy Blue, enter the
second. The blue silk knickers fitted lovely
Eva Fallon without a wrinkle. The white
lace ruffles were perfectly lovely, and all
went well. The “Jinx” was invisible and in
audible. But one night—pause for business
of shedding tears—Miss Fallon tripped od
the high blue heel of Little Boy Blue’s blue
satin slipper and there were blue devils to
pay. Little Boy Blue’s blue heel caught on
a board of the uneven stage, flung Miss Fal
lon face foreward and sent her catapulting—
where do you suppose? Straight through the
big bass drum in the orchestra. Bang!
The drummer stopped drumming. His few
remaining hairs arose at the sight, for, stick-
from his beloved instrument were two neat
blue silk clad and wildly kicking legs.
The first violin sprang to her rescue—but
the drum was beyond rescue.
Wasn’t that bad enough? No indeed. For
after several days of humiliation and arnica,
Miss Fallon received a Saturday envelope
lighter than the previous one. A slip enclosed
explained the defect. Miss Fallon looked, read,
screamed:
Way’s Most
Baffling
Mystery
“Fine for burst
ing bass drum,
$40.”
Language, emo
tion, resignation
sent; resignation
accepted.
Exit Miss Fal
lon, sobbing. En
ter Miss Steve-
son, smiling. Miss
Stevenson was as
pretty as her pre
decessors and the
sky-colored nether garments fitted
_ her every whit as well.
“Now,” said the variegated com
pany that supported “Little Boy
Blue,” we will have peace and un
to peace shall be added joy, for our
season will be long and great will
be the profits unto ourselves and
to the management.”
But the third Little Boy Blue had
a fiance. The fiance was a clergy
man, a brilliant and prominent
Chicago clergyman. Being an ad
mirer of the arts he was glad when
his fiancee chose the stage. To
show his approval he journeyed
Chicago to Muncie, Ind., to see her
performance. At first the glitter and
music delighted him. He thought
his adored one more than ever adorable. But
presently those who sat near him saw him
shudder and cover his face with his hands
so that no sight should reach his eyes
through his closed eyelids. Miss Stevenson,
dancing the Highland fling with joyous aban
don, glanced tenderly into the front row and
saw the bent head, saw the shaking hands
covering a pale face. She knew! She glanced
at the six inches of bare knee between her
Highland plaid and her Highland stockings
and blushed. She faltered in her dance. The
orchestra.leader wildly waved a frantic baton.
Her indecisive steps were four bars behind
the music. • Curtain!
Miss-Stevenson supped and talked with the
Here You See a Pro
cession of Five Little
Boy Blues Dancing
Through the Stage
Door Into Oblivon
for Reasons Which
Add to the Mystery.
From Left to Right
They Are—Gertrude
Bryan, Katherine
Stevenson, Eva Fal
lon, Lottie Engel,
Florence Martin. See
on the Left of this
Page for “Reasons.”
clergyman, who was still pale. He talked too, concisely
and inescapably. Rusult, the resignation of the third
Little Boy Blue.
. Came Lottie Engle, who boy blued very well. They
fitted her, too, with a little taking in. And she would
still have been dancing and singing through the ro
mantic song story had it not been for an automobile
and the man who operated it.
“T saw the most beautiful handling of a motor car
to-day,” said Miss Engle, as she slipped into them—
the much worn blue silk knickerbockers. "He handed
it with the same ease and dispatch as Ellen Beach Yaw
takes a top note. He handled It with one hand. He
must have grown up with that car. Yes, some one in
troduced him. He is coming around to take me for a
drive at noon to-morrow.”
Elopement in the motor car, telegrams, distraction.
That, the spouse Miss Engle took was a demonstrator,
not the owner of the car, ,vas immaterial to the dis
traught management, perhaps to her. The point to the
unsentimental stage manager and the demoralized com
pany was that there was no Little Boy Blue.
Florence Martin entered in time to “save the show.”
But it troubled her that she was No. 5 in a rapid pre
cession of vanishing Little Boy Blues.
"What’s the use?” she asked as she blackened her
left eyebrow.” I never was lucky. I’ve always earned
what I got by hard work. What’s the noise? A door
squeaking? I thought it was the screech of the Jinx.”
The fifth Little Boy Blue went on the stage blue all
through. She kept on saying "What’s the use? I never
was lucky!’’ She fancied always she heard the scream
of the "Jinx,” and in a few brief weeks Bhe, too van
ished. Invitation to return to the company and the
part she refused.
Kathleen Clifford, the sixth of the Little Boy Blues.
"For how long?” she askB shiveringly, glancing over
her slim white shoulders. One never knows where
the "Jinx” will pounce nor when.
Newly Found Spiders That Fish and Eat Fish
T HE other day Professor E. C.
Chubb, the noted naturalist, of
Natal, South Africa, was on a
field trip to collect specimens of fish
and aquatic insects for the Durban
Museum, in Natal. His aquarium
had run low, so he went into the
country in search of material. Soon
he ran across a shallow stream into
which he dipped his small net; while
in this act he happened to see on the
edge of the water such a beautiful
spider that he captured it.
Upon his return home Dr. Chubb
placed the spider in a large aquarium
with a number of fairly large fish.
The spider, be it remembf ed, was
only three inches long with its legs
spread out, and the insect was nearly
all legs. For a short time it crawled
about the ledges of rock in the aqua
rium, when suddenly it took up a
most interesting posture. With two
of its legs upon a Marge pebble, the
other six were well extended and ex
panded over the water, commanding
a very comprehensive area in the
aquarium.
Within the aquarium were a num
ber of pet fish of rare value. Dr.
Chubb had barely left this part of
the museum after depositing his
water spider there, when a young
helper, a boy, rushed to him with
the announcement that the spider
was devouring the fish in the tank.
Dr. Chubb hastened back and was
almost struck dumb with amazement
to - find the spider upon some rock-
work, holding in its tentacles a beau
tiful fish more than four times as
heavy as the Insect that was de
vouring it.
It was uncanny; Just think of it.
a little hit of a spider with no power
to swim or live under water catching,
holding and eating a lively, squirm
ing, quick-swimming fish! Verily,
the spider was toying with the fish
as a cat does a mouse. It toyed with
it, clutched it, and then ate every
last fragment of it. Soon nothing
but the backbone of the fish was left.
The spider had devoured the fish as
completely as an otter eats its trout.
That same night, an hour before
midnight, Dr. Chubb, fatigued from a
hard day’s work, sat himself down
beside the aquarium to s'tudy the
behavior of this piscian fisherman
as it sought its watery prey. Where
the water was not unusually deep
stood the aggressive sentinel of the
spider-world. It took up a position
on a stone which sloped into the arti
ficial pond. As before, two of the
spider’s legs clung to the rock, while
the other six were spread out over
the water. These last made little
indentations on the water, but never
broke the surface film. The body of
the insect was well over the water
close to the surface.
Suddenly there came a pretty little
fish darting toward Mr. Spider about
to pass beneath his legs. “Splash”
went the spider, legs, body, head and
all completely under the water. With
wonderful rapidity, agility and pre
cision six legs were thrown around
the fish without loosening the two
that clutched the rock and simul
taneously the powerful fangs were
piercing the body of the fish and
draining its life’s blood. The spider
quickly brought its prey to the rocks
*ind lost no time in eating it.