THE STATE REVIEW 



39 



Hartley Campbell's 



By Thornton Prescott Craft 



Start 



It's always a pleasure to meet the old 

 actor, so when a telephone call informed me 

 Jack was in town, I lost no time in arrang- 

 ing a visit. 



Jack isn't old, as the world calls time. 

 He's simply old in that he is a veteran actor 

 and having tired of heing bandied from 

 pillar to post; of putting up with the incon- 

 veniences of one-night stands which even 

 the best of his profession experience, and 

 of. one horse hotels in jay towns, he long 

 ago abandoned the glories of footlight exist- 

 ence to settle down with a business of his 

 own, in a center of population. Not that he 

 altogether lost his love for sock and buskin, 

 but he made this love bring him in some- 

 thing besides giory. He had good returns 

 from his legitimate business and he added 

 materially to his bank account, and perhaps 

 incidentally to his reputation, through club 

 entertainments. 



In his day Jack had been a real live actor 

 man. He had formed a part of that famous 

 company of thespians which brought fame 

 lo the Union Square theater, and fortune 

 to more than one manager and playwright. 

 The parts he essayed in those days may 

 have been small, but association with such 

 people as Harry Montague, Charles R. 

 Thome, Fred De Bellville, Owen Fawcett, 

 Walden Ramsay, Sara Jewett, Maud Harri- 

 son and others, who are simply a memory 

 today, had an educational value whose 

 worth has made itself manifest even in the 

 semi-professional work which he is doing 

 today. 



When we met the natural inclination 

 ;-ame to talk over old days and the glories 

 of the past. Not that either of us are so 

 ancient we cannot view with pleasure and 

 profit the accomplishments of the latter 

 day stars. From actor to playwright was a 

 natural transition, and this in turn brought 

 reminiscences. Jack said he had a short 

 time before witnessed, in a small Illinois 

 town, a presentation of the "White Slave," 

 and together we wondered why this, of all 

 Hartley Campbell's plays, seemed to survive 

 when each believed it was the poorest ex- 

 position of that author's ability. We harked 

 back to the glorious old days when "My 

 Partner" was the theatrical triumph of the 

 country, and Jack asked, "Did you ever 

 know what Bartley received for that play?" 

 I answered, "No," but added he must have 

 secured a goodly sum in royalties or a big 

 price at the outset as it was iertainly a 

 money-maker. 



"Wrong, my lad," responded Jack; "he 

 got a trifle over one hundred dollars." 



Here was the tale I was looking for and 1 

 demanded its recital. 



"I was in New York at the time it was 

 first produced," he said, "although I had 

 left the Union Square and was associated 

 with another company. Campbell I knew by 

 sight, as did the majority of players who 

 made New York their home. He had scored 



a few minor successes, but was having the 

 struggle which comes not alone to play- 

 wrights, but to all actors not yet able to 

 dictate terms. He had unlimited confidence 

 in his ability and an absolute faith that he 

 would eventually win. The waiting was the 

 wearisome part. This manuscript of 'My 

 Partner' he had placed with Shook & 

 Palmer, at that time, and for years after, 

 the managers of the Union Square. With 

 the efforts of many other aspirants for dra- 

 matic fame it had passed into a pigeon-hole 

 and been forgotten by all but Campbell. 

 Finally tired of waiting for results, he had 

 taken this child of his fancy once more into 

 his possession. 



"The theater had about finished a profit- 

 able run and was casting about for some- 

 thing new. Likewise Louis Aldrich and 

 Charles T. Parsloe, who had made a decided 

 hit in the piece, wanted to star, and desired 

 a vehicle in which to exploit themselves: 

 These were conditions known to Campbell. 

 He was standing disconsolately on Broad- 

 way in front of Black's saloon, one after- 

 noon, when Aldrich and Parsloe passed. He 

 called to them. Both knew and both liked 

 him, as did everyone who was acquainted 

 with Campbell. Bartley was in the frame 

 of mind where he intended to make a strike 

 if energy would only lead the way. Here 

 was the way, and he hailed the actors, say- 

 ing, 'You boys want a play, and I've got the 

 thing you're looking for." 



"Neither Aldrich nor Parsloe seemed en- 

 thusiastic, but Bartley was not letting a lit- 

 tle thing like an icy reception stand in the 

 way. 'See here, before either of you raise 

 an objection, I'll tell you what I'll do| You 

 want a play; I've got it. I want money; 

 you've got that. I'll read this to you. If 

 you like it, pay me what you've got in your 

 pockets, whether that's five cents or five 

 thousand dollars.' 



"Aldrich and Parsloe looked at each other 

 and then led the way into the saloon. They 

 took a private room and ordered some wine. 

 Campbell started in and read the first act. 

 Not a word was spoken. As the scene 

 closed Campbell looked up, anxiously. Aid- 

 rich said quietly, 'Go on.' Campbell read 

 the play through, with no word of comment 

 from his hearers. At the last curtain Pars- 

 loe turned to Aldrich and said, 'That China- 

 man suits me.' 



" 'I can't find anything better than Joe 

 Saunders,' responded Aldrich. Campbell was 

 limp between joy and anxiety. 



" 'You said you'd take what we have in 

 our pockets?' queried Aldrich. 



" 'Yes,' replied Campbell huskily. 



" 'Shell out,' said Aldrich to Parsloe. 



"They emptied their pockets and after 

 taking out the cost of the wine and cigars, 

 retaining a trifle for incidental expenses, 

 they had just $118 to turn over to Campbell. 

 He took it thankfully, saying, 'You've got 

 that play cheap, and it's going to make your 



fame and fortune. You came to me in a 

 time of need. The play will make my fame 

 and I've others that will bring the fortune 

 later. You're welcome to the bargain.' 



"Aldrich and Parsloe went straight to 

 Shook and asked for a lease of the theater 

 to stage a new piece. 



" 'What is it?' asked Shook. 



" 'Hartley Campbell's "My Partner," ' was 

 the response. 



"'Oh, that's no good, boys; I've had it 

 here a year.' 



" 'If you have you never read it,' retorted 

 Aldrich. 



"The lease was made, the play produced. 

 It leaped into popularity with the first pro- 

 duction. It made the two actors famous 

 and brought them both fortune. It made 

 Campbell known from ocean to ocean and 

 led to his fortune. 



"The day after the production, Campbell, 

 resplendent in new clothes and wearing the 

 contented air of the prosperous man, al- 

 though most of that $118 had been spent, 

 met Shook on the street. Shook grasped 

 his hand and said, 'Bartey, if I had that play 

 of yours again I'd give you $10,000 for it.' 



" 'You had your chance and missed,' re- 

 iurnel Campbell, 'but I've a trunkful of bet- 

 ter plays.' 



" 'I don't want anything better,' said 

 Shook. 'Bring me as good a play as "My 

 Partner" and I'll give you the $10,000 in 

 cash.' 



" 'Oh, no, you won't,' said Campbell, airily. 

 'You'll give me $20,000. I have money now 

 and don't give my plays away.' 



"Shook wanted a play badly, but he hated 

 to give in. He wouldn't pay the $20,000, 

 but he made a royalty arrangement. 'The 

 Galley Slave" was produced. Within two 

 years the royalties had returned Campbell 

 more than the $20,000 and he still owned 

 the play. Before its usefulness passed it 

 had paid him many times over the $20,000 

 which Shook had refused to pay. More 

 11: an this, it paved the way for other pro- 

 ductions, which added vastly to his wealth, 

 tor he could dictate his own terms." 



The skin of a rattlesnake over three feet 

 long was found at Menominee, Mich., wound 

 tight around one of the pedals of a piano 

 which was being tuned and placed in shape 

 for use by Tony Vandenberg, a well known 

 piano man. The piano was shipped from 

 Groveton, Texas, last summer, and was 

 nearly two months on the road. Something 

 appeared to be the matter with it when it 

 was set up, the tone heing imperfect. Not 

 much was thought of it, however, for some 

 time. Finally it was decided to have a tuner 

 look the instrument over. When Mr. Van- 

 denberg opened the instrument he found the 

 skin of the snake, dried and almost pure 

 white, tightly wrapped around the pedal. 

 Milwaukee Wisconsin. 



