Showing posts with label Mabel Barrison. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mabel Barrison. Show all posts

Wednesday, December 25, 2019

A Musical Bubble in Two Bottles: The History of Mamzelle Champagne - Part II

A guest posting by Eric Shanower
To read Part I click here

Chorus girl and artists' model Evelyn Nesbit. Her verdict on Mamzelle Champagne: "Putrid."

By summer 1906 the Madison Square Roof Garden had been closed for several years. Its re-opening on June 25 proved a notable occasion—though how notable it would become no one knew beforehand. About one thousand people filled the roof garden that night to see the Broadway debut of Mamzelle Champagne.

The show’s star, Harry Short, almost suffered a serious accident during his first entrance. He appeared in an airship—actually a box run on wires from the gallery. The attendant working the ropes gave too much slack and the box slammed into the proscenium arch, nearly throwing Short out into the orchestra. He kept his nerve, however, and climbed down onto the stage, continuing as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.


Mabel Barrison, Wizard of Oz actress and friend of Evelyn Nesbit since their days in the hit musical Florodora. Barrison created the role of Tryxie Tryfle during Wizard's original 1902 Chicago summer run and played Dorothy Gale for several weeks in New York in September 1905.



Mamzelle Champagne failed to favorably impress many audience members. Some of them left before the show ended, including actress Mabel Barrison, who had created the role of Tryxie Tryfle in The Wizard of Oz during its pre-Broadway run in Chicago in summer 1902. Mamzelle Champagne was well under way when Stanford White entered the roof garden and claimed Mabel's vacant seat, little suspecting it to be the last place he would ever sit.

Actor Harry Short, who played the lead role of Fuller Spice on opening night.

Many accounts claim that Harry Short stood onstage performing the number “I Could Love a Million Girls” when the shooting occurred. One account claims that the song had ended and Short had just spoken the line: “I challenge you to a duel, let it be pistols,” while another account claims that one of the Big Six chorus girls sang a line that ran, “I challenge you, I challenge you to a duel, a du-u-el”—either of which might account for the audience’s momentary confusion over whether Thaw’s gun shots were part of the show. Yet another account claims that Arthur Stanford had just finished singing “There Was a Maid” while the six chorus girls of Spice’s Big Six waited for their cue to enter and sing “I Could Love a Million Girls” with him.

The most reasonable version of events seems to be this:

The time approached 11:00 PM and Mamzelle Champagne was nearly over when Eddie Fowler, as rich plumber Gustavus Hicks, strode downstage to the footlights and, quoting a catch phrase employed earlier in the action, bellowed: “Here is the spot where the hero slays the villain!”

“We will fight with pistols,” retorted Harry Short as Fuller Spice, in response to the plumber’s challenge. Fowler and Sylvia Starr exited, leaving Short alone on stage to sing “I Could Love a Million Girls.” After the first verse, the Big Six entered to join Short. As they sang the song’s refrain, Thaw, obsessed by the idea that White had “ruined” Thaw’s wife Evelyn, approached White in the fifth row and without warning fired three times.


Spice’s Big Six performing “I Could Love a Million Girls.”


As blood poured from White’s wounds, two of the Big Six women screamed and fled into the wings. “Get back into your line!” Lionel Lawrence, acting as stage manager, shouted loudly enough for the audience to hear. One of the women headed back onstage, but again turned to flee. Two of the remaining four women on stage collapsed. Lawrence ordered the orchestra to continue playing and rang down the curtain on one of the most dramatic endings of a performance in theatre history.

Audience members realized that the shots hadn’t actually been part of the show. Several fainted. Lionel Lawrence, fearing a panic, rushed into the house from the wings, shouting, “Ladies and gentlemen: A serious accident has happened. We shall not be able to go on with the play. I ask you, therefore, to pass out as quietly as you can. There is no need for any alarm, I assure you.” Most of the audience calmed down and filed from the theatre without a dangerous amount of commotion.


Harry Kendall Thaw, millionaire Pittsburgh playboy, whose sanity was in question long before he shot White, in a sketch by Ike Morgan, illustrator of The Wogglebug Book by L. Frank Baum and friend of Wizard of Oz composer Paul Tietjens.

Meanwhile, the on-duty fireman Paul Brudi intercepted Thaw, who was heading toward an elevator. Brudi disarmed Thaw and escorted him down to street level in the elevator and into the custody of New York City policeman Anthony L. Debs. Evelyn Nesbit Thaw, who’d been sitting near the rear of the theatre with her husband and two friends during the performance, fled to the apartment of her close friend May McKenzie, a chorus girl who’d played the role of Bardo in the original 1902 Chicago cast of The Wizard of Oz.


May McKenzie, Wizard of Oz actress and staunch chum of Evelyn Nesbit Thaw. McKenzie stuck to her friend’s side throughout Harry Thaw’s trial. Though expected to be called as a witness, she was not.

Stanford White had died instantly. His body slid onto the floor and lay in a pool of blood among pieces of glass from a broken bottle. Lionel Lawrence covered White’s ruined face with theatre programs. Some cast members, still in costume and make-up, mingled with the straggling audience, asking for details of the shooting and predicting dire failure for the show. Others fanned those of the Big Six chorus girls who had fainted on stage. The rest of the Big Six huddled in the dressing rooms.
One account of the murder offers the curious information that when skaters enjoying the roller rink inside Madison Square Garden heard that a man had been shot on the roof, they dropped their skates and ran up six flights to the roof to see. Some neglected to take their skates off and tried to climb the stairs on their wheels.

Within hours newspaper headlines screamed reports of the murder. Reviews of Mamzelle Champagne offered details of the shocking event while critical reaction to the show itself was tepid.

A review in the New York Clipper of June 30, 1906, claimed that “there is little to try the brain of the auditor . . . The book can be whipped into better shape, and later performances will probably see an improvement in it. Some changes to the company are advisable too.”

The New York Dramatic Mirror of July 7, 1906, said, “As most of the patrons sit at tables sipping cooling drinks and chatting, it does not matter very much what is going on on the stage, so Mamzelle Champagne will probably fill the bill as well as anything else that might be put on. . . . The music is jingly and more or less catchy . . . The cast is mediocre.”

Some critics proclaimed Mamzelle Champagne a failure—Kenneth Lord of the New York Sun, who left the theatre mere minutes before the shooting, declared it “hopelessly bad”—while others thought it might reach success with judicious revision.


Producer Henry Pincus’s wife, actress Viola De Costa, played the title role of Mamzelle Champagne.

Despite all critical opinion, audiences flocked to subsequent performances of Mamzelle Champagne. Thaw’s murder of White—the “Crime of the Century”—made international headlines. People bought tickets not so much because of the performance on stage, but because of ghoulish fascination with the scene of the crime. In the Manhattan of 1906, late arrivals to theatrical performances were far from unusual, but audience members each night crowded the Madison Square Roof Garden theatre twenty minutes before the curtain rose. Patrons requested seating as close as possible to the table where Stanford White had sat.

A newspaper article noted that random lines of Woolf’s script seemed to comment grotesquely on the notorious event of opening night, lines such as:

“Here’s where I forget my wife and all my other troubles.”

“My little girl, they say old men are the worst.”

“Fare-thee-well, purveyor to degraded tastes.”

“And this is where our hero dies upon the spot.”

To its credit the show didn’t try to trade on the sensational publicity of the murder. Mamzelle Champagne did its best to put the tragedy behind it. But tragedy provided Mamzelle Champagne unexpected fortune. It became the most successful Madison Square Roof Garden show up to that time, extending performances into late August, after all other New York roof garden shows finished their summer runs.


After the shooting, the sales of sheet music for the song “I Could Love a Million Girls” exploded. The publisher had difficulty keeping up with orders.[Frances G. Spencer Collection of American Popular Sheet Music. Crouch Fine Arts Library, Baylor University. Waco, Texas.]

After opening night Mamzelle Champagne went through many changes, as most stage shows did in a time before theatrical previews. Much of Woolf’s dialog, which was easily lost on auditors in the open air of the roof garden, was pruned or simply eliminated. Several new musical numbers filled the empty spots, including a new opening chorus—“Life”—and a new closing—“The Goddess of Liberty.” Harry Lester Mason played a new comedic character, Heinrich Hasenpfeffer, a detective with a thick German accent. John L. Kearney assumed, to critical acclaim, the role of Fuller Spice when Harry Short left the show after the first week. The hit of the show turned out to be future Broadway playwright and Hollywood screenwriter Maude Fulton—in her first Broadway role—as Mabel Chatterton, wearing a red jacket and singing “Could I Fascinate You?” The single interpolated song, “Somewhere” by Charles K. Harris (lyricist of the 1893 smash hit “After the Ball”), regularly received four or five encores each night. Publicity touted the frothy concoction as “the biggest theatrical fad” of the summer season with the claim that it “leaves no bad taste.”


Actress Maude Fulton was said to have been sixteen years old when she made her Broadway debut in Mamzelle Champagne. She was actually twenty-five.

But the public couldn’t forget the murder. Every evening countless audience members asked the ushers to point out “the exact spot” where the tragedy occurred. The head usher grew so tired of these questions that he took to hiding in the shadows during intermission.

On July 15, a distant relative of Harry Thaw, Henry Phipps Hoffstet, and his companion John Lee Hobart attended a performance of Mamzelle Champagne. During the first act they carried on a loud conversation and insulted the actors onstage. Conductor Cassius Freeborn complained to producer Henry Pincus, declaring that the two young men were distracting the orchestra and that the musicians wouldn’t be able to play for the second act if the disturbance continued.

A waiter was sent to tell Hoffstet and Hobart to be quiet. They merely insulted the waiter. Producer Pincus called the police, who arrested the two men for disorderly conduct. At the police station Hoffstet fainted and was sent to New York Hospital. Pincus then withdrew charges and the offending men were released.

Events involving the Mamzelle Champagne company weren’t all so grim. On the afternoon of July 18, the show—with all its actors, musicians, costumes, and scenery—transferred for a single benefit performance to the Hebrew Orphan Asylum at Amsterdam Avenue and 137th Street. The company, orchestra, and equipment traveled in a parade of automobiles provided by Richard W. Meade, President of the Metropolitan Transportation Company. The orphans were reportedly delighted by both the show and the souvenirs distributed. Immediately afterward, the company rushed back to Madison Square Garden for the evening performance.


Spice’s Big Six up close and personal.

Morbid curiosity about the show faded, but ticket sales remained robust. Audiences seemed interested in attending Mamzelle Champagne for its own sake. Refinements to the show continued. New features debuted even during its final week, when Madlyn Jane Summers introduced a blackface toe dance.


August 1906 newspaper advertisement for Mamzelle Champagne.

Copyright © 2019 Eric Shanower. All rights reserved.

Sunday, October 6, 2019

I was NEVER in the Chorus!

There is a great deal of confusion on the internet, on eBay, at IBDB, and at various online stores, regarding actress Grace Kimball—or rather, actresses Grace Kimball—as there were actually three of them—a dramatic actress and two different chorus girls.

The original Grace Kimball, born in 1868, was a leading dramatic actress who had appeared with Charles Frohman's company in The Victoria Cross (1894), with E. H. Sothern in The Prisoner of Zenda (1895), and Heartsease with Henry Miller (1897). She had retired from the stage in 1898 after marrying Lawrence McGuire. But in 1902 she resumed her acting career, appearing in The Liars and Camille, among other plays.

Grace Kimball - Dramatic Actress
Grace Kimball, the chorus girl from The Wizard of Oz, was born in Chicago on March 23, 1882. Her real name was Grace Orpha Jones.

Grace Kimball as Gentleman of the Wizard's Court.
This Grace Kimball appeared in The Girl From Up There (1900) with Montgomery and Stone, followed by The Liberty Belles (1901), which also featured future Wizard of Oz cast members John Slavin and Lotta Faust. In 1901 she co-wrote the song "In a Cosey Corner" with John W. Bratton, which proved a hit.

Just prior to being cast in the 1902 Chicago production of The Wizard of Oz, Grace Kimball had been with Anna Held's The Little Duchess company, with fellow chorister Mabel Barrison. The two chorus girls were fired from the tour of The Little Duchess after taking up with two "Stage-Door Johnnies" and missing the train. Luckily, both Kimball and Barrison were soon hired for The Wizard of Oz in which Grace Kimball played Peter Boq the Munchkin, a Snow Girl, a member of the Phantom Patrol, a Gentleman of the Wizard's Court, and a Cavalier in Act III. Her friend, Mabel Barrison, created the part of Tryxie Tryfle.

On August 20, 1902, chorus girl Grace Kimball had an encounter with Grand Duke Boris Vladimorowitch (a cousin of the Czar), who had decided to sample The Wizard of Oz. The Grand Duke was so enraptured he invited three of the chorus girls—Grace Kimball, Georgia Barron, Clara Pitt—and the Witch of the North Aileen May—back to his hotel suite at the Auditorium Hotel. One of the four girls declared, "We can get an ordinary American Johnnie to pay for our little morsels of food three times in any day of the year, but how many times can we open oysters and things with a real duke? Tell me that."

Grace Kimball as a Snow Girl in The Wizard of Oz (1902).
The four girls and Duke Boris had a late supper at the Auditorium Dining Hall. The Grand Duke told the girls how charmed he was, bowed lowest before the blushing Miss Kimball, and asked if he might not drink her health from her slipper. She said yes, and the story appeared in papers across the country, where it was read by millions.

Unfortunately the various newspaper articles often confused chorus girl Grace Kimball with dramatic actress Grace Kimball. The latter was not amused to be linked to such a sordid romp with the Czar's cousin. She sent out a press release. Below is the publication in the Denver Post, August 31, 1902.

Request has been made for the publication of the following explanatory note, designed to set those right who may be puzzled in regard to two stage people who bear the same name. The request comes from the representative of an actress whose standing is unquestioned, and the statement is in these words:
"There are two Grace Kimballs in the theatrical realm, and one of them has been causing the other a vast amount of annoyance. One is a chorus girl, the other the well-known actress who was leading lady with Henry Miller, E. H. Sothern, and in Charles Frohman's Never Again company. The chorus girl in Chicago the other night is said to have filled her slipper with champagne, and Grand Duke Boris, a cousin of the czar, drank her health from the misfit goblet. It is perhaps unnecessary to call the attention of an indulgent public to the fact that this elegant international episode took place without the knowledge of the original Grace Kimball, who is naturally horrified to see her name in big type in the newspapers as apparently figuring in this rather peculiar incident. Miss Kimball the actress has been engaged as leading lady of the Fawcett stock company in Baltimore, and is not and never has been in the chorus."


Grace Kimball - Dramatic Actress.
The December 15, 1902, issue of the Rockford [Illinois] Republic was still covering the actress's consternation with the chorus girl.

"In the opinion of Grace Kimball there should be some law to prevent chorus girls from stealing the names of players who have become well known. Everyone remembers how annoyed Francis Wilson was when a chorus girl commenced to call herself "Frances Wilson." Then there was a girl named Maggie O'Brien who changed her name to Zaza Belasco. Also a chorus girl has recently been discovered here who calls herself Marie Cahill, after the prima donna of that name. Now Miss Kimball who won her reputation with E. H. Sothern and Henry Miller, is much annoyed because of a girl of the chorus who bears the same name, possibly with every justification, but nevertheless under annoying circumstances. This Grace Kimball is the young woman from whose silken slipper the Grand Duke Boris is said to have drunk champagne last August."

Shortly after the Duke Boris incident, the chorus girl Grace Kimball was given the part of Tryxie Tryfle in The Wizard of Oz after Mabel Barrison left the show. Grace Kimball again played Tryxie when The Wizard of Oz opened on Broadway in January 1903.

After her time in The Wizard of Oz, Grace Kimball appeared in Reginald De Koven's Red Feather (1903) where she met her future husband Walter Stanley Hawkins, who was also performing in the show. They were married in New York during the Broadway run of Red Feather. Kimball next appeared in Weber & Fields Higgledy-Piggledy for two seasons.


May 12, 1901, Boston Post.
I mentioned up top that there were in fact three Grace Kimballs. The third was another chorus girl who also got her name in the papers.

The article accompanying the photo at left explains Grace R. Kimball is a pretty actress from Lynn, Massachusetts. She is the daughter of a police officer and had sung with the First Baptist Church of Lynn before joining Anna Held's company of The French Maid (1897), and was later in The Sunshine of Paradise Alley company.

She is to marry an unspecified Washington millionaire and will take up residency "in one of the most attractive mansions of the capital city."

This Grace Kimball apparently didn't marry the fellow, but let him send her to Paris to study, as seen in the clipping below.


May 15, 1901, Portsmouth [New Hampshire] Herald.

And that is the story of the three Grace Kimballs. One of whom was never in the chorus!


Copyright © 2019 David Maxine. All rights reserved.