652 
FOREST AND STREAM 
December, 1919 
JAMES ALEXANDER HENSHALL 
THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF THE APOSTLE OF THE BLACK BASS, 
FATHER OF THE GRAYLING AND DEAN OF AMERICAN ANGLERS 
I T -was the custom of Johnnie and I to 
attend a performance at one of the 
theatres on Saturday evenings, but we 
[.referred the Baltimore Museum, then un- 
der the management of John E. Owens, 
one of the best comedians of his day. 
The “Museum” was popularly and fa- 
cetiously known as the “Methodist Thea- 
tre,” inasmuch as many people who would 
not patronize a regular “theatre” felt no 
compunctions of conscience in attending 
the “Museum,” though the play might be 
the same, in either case. This may serve 
to show that there is something in a name 
after all. However, it made no difference 
to Johnnie or me, as we each had his con- 
science under perfect control. 
All theatres at that time employed a 
stock company for the entire season. 
EIGHTH PAPER 
we call the soubrette and the ingenue. 
Among others of the stock company was 
Joe Jefferson, then playing small parts, 
one of which, the dumb slave in “Alad- 
din,” I remember very well. His brother- 
in-law, Charles Burke, a comedian, used 
to play the title role in the old version of 
Rip Van Winkle, which he made a low 
comedy part. It is very likely that Jef- 
ferson’s predilection for the character of 
“Rip” caused him to have the play re- 
written and improved by Dion Bouci- 
cault. At any rate he adopted the char- 
acter as his own, and his own it surely 
was. 
Jefferson was a good angler, was very 
fond of fishing, and indulged in the sport 
whenever an opportunity offered. In 1877 
soon after the death of Samuel Phillippe, 
Along the Little Miami River near Cincinnati, Ohio. 
Tragedians and other stars played weekly 
engagements, usually with a different play 
each night; from which it is apparent 
that the position of a stock actor was no 
sinecure, inasmuch as he was compelled 
to study and play a different part each 
night, or at each performance. Now-a- 
days an actor may personate a single 
character during an entire season. 
We always looked on the stock com- 
pany of the Museum as a happy family, 
,and we were quite familiar with the capa- 
bilities of each and every one, and withal 
felt a kind of proprietary interest in the 
entire ■ company. We were in love, ' of 
course, with the “l-ady’s maid” and the 
^iJi^usemaid,’.’ ^hich in .modern parlance 
the inventor of the split-bamboo fishing 
rod, Jefferson visited his home in Easton, 
Pennsylvania, and purchased from the 
daughter one of Phillippe’s split-bamboo 
rods. He also gratified his natural taste 
and artistic temperament by painting very 
meritorious landscapes. He and my 
friend, the late C. T. Webber, of Cincin- 
nati, one of the modern masters of paint- 
ing and sculpture, used to spend consid- 
erable time painting and fishing at Jef- 
ferson’s ^winter lodge in the Lousisana 
lowlands. 
The auditorium or theatre was situated 
in the top stories of the Museum building, 
v/hile the lower rooms were occupied by 
collections of natural history, and also by ^ 
various living human freaks such as 
giants, dwarfs and fat women. Naturally, 
there occurred occasionally some amusing 
and unlooked for incident during a play. 
One of the most laughable happened one 
evening during a hard fought melee be- 
tween some sailors and pirates on the 
deck of a vessel. The leading man was 
supposed to be shot in the forehead, and 
falling face downward would again rise to 
renew the combat with his face streaming 
blood. For this contingency there were 
several holes in the floor at one side of 
the stage, and the wounded actor stagger- 
ing toward the place, would fall with his 
face over one of the holes, through which 
a stage hand would thrust a brush satur- 
ated with a red liquid. 
On the night in question the combatant, 
unfortunately, fell with his face over the 
wrong hole, while the brush appeared at 
another one near by, wagging furiously 
in plain sight of the audience. The actor, 
in his agony, wormed and wriggled his 
body to the right hole, but, alas! the 
brush popped up at the other hole again. 
Then “Gallagher” did the right thing in 
the circumstances. He sat up, and seiz- 
ing the brush he proceeded deliberately 
to smear his face with the crimson gore, 
and then thrust the brush through the 
hole, and leaping to his feet he again en- 
tered the thickest of the fight. This 
brought down the house,” and the de- 
lighted audience yelled and laughed long 
and boisterously, crying “encore; en- 
core;” while Johnnie shouted “Let ’er go, 
Gallagher.” 
Another amusing affair happened one 
evening during an engagement of Gus 
Adams, a heavy tragedian and a contem- 
porary of Edwin Forest, and like him, 
possessed of a fine physique and an admir- 
able stage presence; and on this account 
he played Jack Cade, Metamora, and 
other copyright plays of Forest. Unfor- 
tunately, Adams had one besetting sin. 
He was addicted to an occasional indul- 
gence in too much red liquor, usually 
ending in a fit of jim-jams. On the even- 
ing referred to, Adams, during the play, 
Rolla I think, was to appear on the stage 
leading a child by the hand, and as his 
pursuers gained on him he was to rush 
up onto a slender bridge spanning a 
chasm; and from there, while brandishing 
his sword in one hand, and holding the 
child above his head with the other, his 
bare, brawny arms showing to great ad- 
vantage, and gesticulating wildly he 
hurled defiance and obloquy to the sol- 
diers below. 
On this particular occasion Adams was 
just recovering from the effects of one of 
his periodical sprees, and was in a very 
irritable state of mind. It so happened, 
that at the last moment, it was ascertained 
that the little child who had taken part 
