History of Santa Clara County, California, with biographical sketches of the leading men and women of the county who have been identified with its growth and development from the early days to the present, Part 21

Author: Sawyer, Eugene Taylor, 1846-
Publication date: 1922
Publisher: Los Angeles : Historic Record Co.
Number of Pages: 1928


USA > California > Santa Clara County > History of Santa Clara County, California, with biographical sketches of the leading men and women of the county who have been identified with its growth and development from the early days to the present > Part 21


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John W. Dunne joined the San Jose Ama- teur Club in 1866. He was a boy of sixteen when he made his first apparance on the stage. In preparing for the production of "The Gold- en Farmer," no woman could be found willing enough to play the part of "Elizabeth," the heroine, so Dunne was called in to fill the breach. He was a handsome fellow in those days, beardless, peachy-cheeked and with a voice that was soft, light and clear-almost like woman's. When on bended knees, with clasped hands and streaming eyes he besought heaven to "save me from a fate far worse than death," the audience shivered and appealing eyes were cast on the villain, who seemed to hold the fate of Elizabeth in his hands. And that villain, who stood over the shrinking heroine, with his six feet of stature, blood-shot eyes, gleaming teeth and hands red with gore, was none other than that mild-mannered, up- right, progressive citizen, Alex. P. Murgotten. Dunne's success as an amateur decided his destiny. He became a real actor. After play- ing all sorts of parts, from utility to leading business, he departed for Salt Lake City to ac- cept a position in the Mormon Theater. There


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he played for a year or more and then set out on a territorial tour, acting as leading support to Mrs. Annie Adams, the mother of Maude Adams, America's foremost actress. Next he associated himself with the elfin star, Patti Rosa, soon inarried her, became her manager and until the death of his talented wife played in Hoyt's comedies from one end of the coun- try to the other. He was next heard of as the husband of Mary Marble, a worthy successor to Patti Rosa, and engaged in a similar line of work. They toured the country until vaude- ville became the rage, then went into pocket- edition drama and became public favorites. He was a San Jose visitor in 1919.


Frank Bacon is (1922) one of the most tal- ented and popular of the great American act- ors. He is a former San Josean and the city was the scene of his first stage experiences. He was in his early twenties when he arrived in San Jose. He tried photography, experi- mented with newspaper work and drifted into other lines of work, but none of them succeed- ed in holding his interest. His ambition in those early days was to become another John Mccullough, Edwin Booth or Lawrence Bar- rett. He turned up his nose at comedy and so when "Loyal Hearts" was produced at the California Theater he was rejoiced when he was asked to play the part of the Union officer. The press notices were commendatory. The allusion to his magnificent voice made him more than ever determined to become a trage- dian. Miss Jennie Weidman, a very talented amateur actress, was one of the performers. She and Frank became great friends and soon friendship resolved itself into love. They were married soon after the performance at the California.


It was after Frank left San Jose to try his luck on the professional stage that he stum- bled upon his proper line of work. The por- trayal of a "rube" character on the Alcazar stage in San Francisco, gave the critics a chance to say all manner of nice words. Frank took notice and very soon decided to drop "straight" business for "rube" comedy. He had everything in his favor. He was a slow speaker, had a dry way of saying things, and his deep, flexible voice could at will be used to evoke either tears or laughter. The years went by, his art ripened, the coarse, low comedy "rube" was fashioned into the human country- man and culmination came in the creation of "Lightnin' Bill," a lovable shiftless old coot, in many respects a latter-day "Rip Van Winkle." The play called "Lightnin'" has had a run of three years on Broadway, New York, is now (1922) enjoying a phenom- enal run in Chicago, and Frank Bacon has been acclaimed as one of the finest character actors


of the century. He has a charming orchard home near Mountain View, in Santa Clara County, and every year his vacations are spent there.


John T. Malone, another San Joscan, who made good as a professional actor, was a grad- uate of Santa Clara College. He studied law, was admitted to the bar and when the stage bee buzzed in his ears he was deputy district attorney of Santa Clara County. After ap- pearances on the amateur stage he went to San Francisco, supported Eleanor Calhoun, during her engagement in that city and after- ward went east to become a member of Edwin Booth's company. After Booth's death he took out a company of his own, playing in legitimate drama as long as there was any demand for it and then gave up the stage to accept the position of secretary of the Play- ers' Club, New York. He died in New York several years ago.


The late Charles W. Williams, former pro- prietor of the Evening News, would have won fame and fortune on the stage if he had gone from amateur into professional work. He was a born comedian and the most talented and popular laugh-maker who ever appeared be- fore the footlights in San Jose. He came to California when a mere boy and for some years was a clerk in Cassius Morton's music store on First Street. He was a fine piano player and his services in the store were very valuable. From the store he graduated into newspaper work, starting first as business manager of Charles M. Shortridge's Times and winding up as the proprietor and editor of the Evening News. It was after he became a newspaper publisher that he dallied with stage work. His first appearance was a negro boy in "The Octoroon." He made a hit in the part and followed up his success by joining Charles R. Bacon's New York and San Francisco Min- strels, organized for performance in San Jose only. He was one of the end men and con- vulsed the audience by his inimitable dialect specialties. In 1881 he became the manager of the California Theater and in April, 1882, was the recipient of a complimentary benefit. His songs brought many encores. In the same year he played an Irish comedy part in "Loyal Hearts." The press notices spoke of him as one of the great Irish comedians on the American stage. Shortly after this appear- ance Williams resolved to forsake straight the- atricals for operetta and musical comedy. He had a fetching singing voice and under his management were produced "The Mikado," "Olivette," "The Mascot," "Patience," and the popular operettas. His "Ko-Ko" in "The Mikado" was very artistic and mirth-provok- ing and so well pleased with the performance


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was a San Francisco manager that he induced Williams to repeat it at the Tivoli. Williams consented to go, made a success of the trip, but could not be induced to give up newspaper for stage work. San Jose suited him and he was an actor for the fun of the thing. His last appearance as manager and performer was about a year before his death, which oc- curred in 1917.


Felix G. (better known as Phil) Hartman was one of the early San Jose amateurs. He played small parts, sometimes acted as stage manager but more often as property man and scene shifter. He was easily excited and in his excitement would frequently lose his head and make the most ridiculous blunders. At an entertainment given in Saratoga, Hugh A. De Lacy sang "Old Black Joe" in character. To give a touch of realism to the song and the acting it was arranged that "Joe" should die and that the dying should be done to slow music and red fire. Phil Hartman was the scene shifter and property man, and in the hurry of getting his props together he forgot to provide himself with the fire powder and its accessories. "Never mind, Hughie," he said to De Lacy, "I can fake it so the audience won't know the difference. I'll go out, get some fire crackers, take out the powder and light it." De Lacy had his doubts about the substitution, for he knew Phil's optimism, dis- played on other occasions, had not always been vindicated. However, there was nothing to do but take chances. Phil secured the pow- der, placed it in a tin plate and stood ready in the wings to do the lighting. Soon the time came for him to act and as De Lacy sang the last line of the last verse, Phil lighted his first match. The powder wouldn't burn. Then an- other match was tried. Same result. De Lacy kept on singing, but with one eye on Phil, who struck match after match on the seat of his trousers, the perspiration meanwhile running in streams down his face. De Lacy, hoping against hope, sang the last verse over again, but no fire was forthcoming. At last Phil gave it up in despair. Turning an agonized face on De Lacy, he said in a voice that could be heard all over the hall, "Go on and die, Hughie, for I can't make the darned fire burn." Hughie died in a hurry, for his fingers were itching to get at Phil's throat.


Still later Phil gave a magician's show at the San Jose Opera House. As scene shifter and handy man for the "Fakir of Vishnu" he had learned many of the tricks of that old time juggler and illusionist. Phil called him- self the "Fakir of Ooloo" and what he ex- pected to be his best act was one of levita- tion-the suspending in mid-air of a woman subject. There were steel rods concealed un-


der the clothing of the subject and an upright rod support was also hidden from view. The subject was a heavy woman, while Phil was a lightweight. When all was ready Phil made his explanatory talk and then began to lift the woman to a horizontal position in the air. Once in that position two rods would snap into place and the suspension would be an accomplished fact. But Phil, try as he would, could not raise his subject to the horizontal line. As he tugged and perspired the machin- ery squeaked and the audience roared. He made several attempts, letting down his bur- den between times in order that he might re- cover his breath, and finally gave up in disgust and sat upon the floor. The performance was as good as a circus and the spectators, though the advertised program had not been carried out, felt that they had received their money's worth and applauded accordingly.


John T. Raymond was California's star comedian. He made several professional trips to San Jose and always played to full houses. His most popular role was of "Col. Mulberry Sellers," taken from Mark Twain's Gilded Age. Mark did not like Raymond's interpre- tation of the character, claiming that it was a gross exaggeration, almost a burlesque, not at all like the "Sellers" his brain had conceived. But Raymond's audiences liked the interpreta- tion and money always flowed in at the box office whenever Raymond's "Sellers" was the attraction.


Raymond was very fond of practical jokes and he played them so often that his fellow actors grew to be afraid of him, for they could not guess what was hatching in that queer brain of his. Such tricks as finding their shoes nailed to the floor when they were in a hurry to make ready for a performance, or wigs grotesquely queered, were always to be ex- pected. But there were unexpected variations. On one occasion when a lurid melodrama was on the boards, there was a scene in which the victims of the villain appeared before him. The villain was John McCullough, and Ray- mond, James A. Herne, Harry Edwards and Julia Corcoran, were the victims. All except Raymond were in line on the platform. He had painted his nose a fiery red and with a most serious expression pointed both hands at Mccullough. The audience roared, then hissed and the curtain was rung down.


When Raymond gave "Col. Sellers" in San Jose the actors who had suffered from his jokes turned the tables on him. The most try- ing part of his performance was the eating of raw turnips, for he loathed vegetables and never ate them except upon compulsion. The members of the company knew this and one night they doctored the turnips. Raymond


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ate them, made a wry face but said nothing. The next night he called for apples, but when it came time for the repast he found he was compelled to eat raw onions covered with apple skins.


At another engagement Raymond was play- ing "Polydor" to the "Ingomar" of John Mc- Cullough. In the striking scene where "Ingo- mar" orders the barbarians to seize "Polydor," Raymond came around to the front of the stage and instead of dropping in front of "In- gomar" and clasping his hands in piteous en- treaty, dropped, crawled between McCul- lough's legs, dived back and circled round "Ingomar," his teeth chattering in terror. Mc- Cullough laughed, the audience took the cue and the curtain went down amid a general roar of laughter.


Some of the old-time minstrels lived in San Jose. One of them, Johnny Tuers, adopted the stage as a profession, after he left San Jose. Charley Rhoades, Fred Sprung and Ned Buck- ley came to San Jose to reside after they had given up active work as entertainers. Tuers was an end man and flat foot dancer. He was the originator of this style of dancing and the champion of the Coast. He played in all the cities and towns from Los Angeles to Salt Lake but most of his time was spent in San Francisco. In the late '60s he quarreled with a man on Washington Street in that city. Pistols were drawn and an innocent bystander, James Dowling, a theatrical manager, stopped Tuers' bullet and ceased to live. Tuers was tried for murder and acquitted. "Billy" Tuers, Johnny's brother, stayed in San Jose. He was never on the professional stage, but appeared many times as an amateur, acting both as end man and dancer. In middle life he was stricken with blindness and died in Santa Cruz several years ago.


Charley Rhoades was the pioneer banjo player of the state. Not long after the discov- ery of gold his banjo was heard on the streets of San Francisco and in the northern and east- ern mining camps. In the early '60s he joined a minstrel company and as end man and banjo player was before the public until his removal to San Jose in 1874. He was the reputed au- thor of that popular old song, "The Days of '49," and up to his retirement it was the favor- ite song of his repertory. The style of the song is shown in the following verse :


There was Kentuck Bill, one of the boys, Who was always in for a game, No matter whether he lost or won


To him 'twas all the same.


He'd ante up, he'd pass the buck, He'd go a hatfull blind,


In a game with death Bill lost his breath In the days of '49.


Another verse refers to Reuben Raines, a Sacramentan, for whom the late Edward John- son, a pioneer millhand of San Jose, some- times acted as assistant. Johnson used to boast of his connection with the Raines' out- fit and would recite with gusto the following verse :


There was another chap from New Orleans, Big Reuben was his name. On the plaza there, in a sardine box, He opened a faro game. He dealt so fair that a millionaire He became in course of time,


Till death stepped in and called the turn In the days of '49.


Rhoades was a consumptive and after a few years' residence in San Jose removed to Santa Clara, where he died about forty years ago.


Fred Sprung and Ned Buckley left min- strelsy to become ranchers and neighbors. Their homes were located on Mclaughlin Avenue near the Story road. Sprung was a bass singer and interlocutor and in the olio appeared as a negro impersonator. Before he came to California he was a member of a band of minstrels organized to give performances on the Mississippi river boats. The band was a small one, but each member was advertised as an artist in his line. On these boats the gamblers, always in force before the opening of the Civil War, would frequently postpone a game to listen to a minstrel performance. On these occasions they would pick favorites and the performers thus singled out would re- ceive donations far in excess of the amounts of their salaries. Sprung found it a happy, easy life and was sorry when the war put a stop to it. He died in San Jose about twenty years ago.


Ned Buckley, endman and comedian, did not stay all the time on his ranch. He had business interests in San Francisco which kept him away from San Jose more than half the time. Finally he sold his ranch and left San Jose for good.


Other San Joseans who have won honors, either on the dramatic stage or in motion pic- tures, are Edmund Lowe, Howard Hickman, Ed. Jobson, Frank Stevens, George Hernan- dez, Vernon Kent and Clarence Geldert.


CHAPTER X.


Distinguished Visitors to San Jose and the Santa Clara Valley-Bayard Taylor's Day Dream-Political Orators-George Francis Train-Henry George as a Detective-Bret Harte-Presidents Hayes and Harrison- The Ovation to General Grant-Beecher, Ingersoll and the Old-Time Orators-Gen. John C. Fremont-Ned Buntline.


Many distinguished men and women have in acacia and eucalyptus and the tall spires visited Santa Clara County. During the '50s of the Italian cypress; let me leave home when the Christmas holidays are over and enjoy the balmy Januarys and Februarys, the heavenly Marches and Aprils, of my remaining years here, returning only when May shall have brought beauty to the Atlantic shore. There shall my roses outbloom those of Poes- tum, there shall my nightingales sing, my or- ange blossoms sweeten the air, my children play and my best poem be written. I had another and a grander dream. One hundred years had passed and I saw the valley, not as now, only partially tamed, and reveling in the wild magnificence of nature, but from river bed to mountain summit, humming with human life. I saw the same oaks and syca- mores, but their shadows fell on mansions fair as temples, gleaming with their white fronts and long colonnades. I saw gardens refreshed by gleaming fountains, statues peeping from the bloom of laurel bowers; palaces built to enshrine the new art which will then have blossomed here; culture, plenty, peace every- where. I saw a more beautiful race in pos- session of this paradise-a race in which the lost symmetry and grace of the Greek was partially restored: the rough, harsh features of the Oriental type gone ; milder manners, bet- ter regulated impulses and a keen appreciation of the arts which enrich and embellish life. Was it only a dream?" Gen. John C. Fremont, David C. Broderick, William M. Gwin. Gov. Burnett, Bavard Tay- lor. J. Ross Browne and others came to San Jose, sometimes on business, sometimes for pleasure. Bayard Taylor, the famous poet, story writer and traveler, first visited the Val- ley in the early '50s. In his "Pictures of Cali- fornia" he thus describes what he saw : "How shall I describe a landscape so unlike any- thing else in the world? With a beauty so new and dazzling that all ordinary compari- sons are worthless. A valley ten miles wide through the center of which winds the dry bed of a winter stream whose course is marked with groups of giant sycamores, their trunks gleaming like silver through masses of giant foliage. Over the level floor of this valley park-like groves of oaks, whose mingled grace and majesty can only be given by the pencil ; in the distance redwoods rising like towers; westward a mountain chain nearly 4,000 feet in height, showing through the blue haze dark green forests on the background of blazing gold. Eastward another mountain chain, full- lighted by the sun, rose color touched with violet shadows, shining with marvelous trans- parency as if they were of glass, behind which shone another sun. Overhead, finally, a sky whose blue luster seemed to fall, mellowed. through an intervening veil of luminous vapor. No words can describe the fire and force of J. Ross Browne was a traveler, who wrote descriptive, semi-humorous accounts of his wanderings for Harper's Monthly. His home was in Oakland, but he loved San Jose and its people. the coloring-the daring contrast which the difference of half a tint changed from discord into harmony. Here the great artist seems to have taken a new palette and painted his cre- ations with hues unknown elsewhere. Driv- ing through these enchanting scenes, I in- Political Orators. dulged in a day dream. It will not be long, I thought,-I may live to see it before my prime is over-until San Jose is but five days' journey from New York. Cars, which shall be in fact traveling hotels, will speed, on an unknown line of rail, from the Mississippi to the Pacific. Then let me purchase a few acres on the lowest slope of these mountains over- looking the valley and with a distant view of the bay; let me build a cottage embowered


The political campaigns of the '70s brought many distinguished Eastern and Northern or- ators to California. San Jose was not slight- ed and as spell-binding was the main stock in trade of the stump speaker, the Califor- nians received their full share of lofty periods and flowery diction. Among the orators who came to San Jose were Hannibal Hamlin, Vice- President under Lincoln ; Julius C. Burroughs, United States senator and the silver-tongued


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orator of Michigan ; Gen. W. S. Hancock, Gar- in 1870, was the business partner of kings, field's opponent in the race for the presidency ; John A. Bingham, of Ohio, United States sen- ator and statesman; Ex-Governor George L. Woods, of Oregon, Thomas Fitch, of Nevada, and several others.


In politics the things done nowadays are any- thing but on all fours with the things done forty, fifty and sixty years ago. In the early days there was partisanship, pure and simple. The line-up in every campaign showed the ad- herents of one party in diametrical opposi- tion to the adherents of the other. And those were the days of whoop-'er-up. of intense en- thusiasm, of excitement, of deep sustained in- terest. Street corners were the scenes of ani- mated discussion. Often the ready fist shot out when word of mouth failed to give force to the argument. But it was all in the play and when the curtain fell villain and hero shook hands and all was well as before.


In San Jose the very strenuous political peri- od began in 1865 and ended in 1884. In 1868 Grant and Seymour were the opposing candi- dates. Meetings were held, not in halls, but on the street where men could congregate and where the best places could not be occupied by the women, who were then non-voters. The idea in those days was not to give a theatrical performance to which one must procure a re- served seat, but to talk to the people without any other accessories than an improvised stand, an American flag and a row of tallow candles. On one occasion-in 1865-no stand was used, but at the intersection of Santa Clara and First streets, mounted on a dry goods box, the late lamented Thomas H. Laine, afterwards law partner of John H. Moore, D. M. Delmas, S. F. Leib and W. A. Johnston, eloquently enunciated the principles of De- mocracy, while the yellow torches on the cor- ners flared, their offensive residuum permeat- ing the air.


George C. Gorham, then a recently defeated candidate for governor, afterwards secretary . of the United States Senate and author of "The Life of Edwin M. Stanton," was Cali- fornia's most remarkable stump speaker. His voice was often heard in San Jose. He had a most remarkable command of vituperative language and a sledge-hammer style possessed by no other orator in the State. He was the first to advocate upon the stump the "Father- hood of God, Brotherhood of Man" principle.


Citizen George Francis Train was, in his time the best-known American and the strang- est man in existence. He started forty clipper ships to California in 1849, organized the Credit Mobilier which built the Union Pacific Railway, constructed the first street railway in England, organized the French Commune


queens and emperors, was in jail eleven times, and, to wind up, broke the world's around-the- world record three times, the first time in eighty days, a feat that gave Jules Verne the idea for his captivating story.


In the early '70s he came to California on a lecturing tour. San Jose was visited and the lectitre was given in the Opera House, which at the time of opening was crowded to the doors. The historian will never forget either the occasion or the man. His head was much too large for his short, stoutly-built body, but physical appearance was forgotten as one watched his movements and listened to his talk. Active as a cat and charged with dy- namic force, he was never still for a moment, but moved from one end of the stage to the other, waving his chubby hands and uttering disconnected, choppy sentences in a manner that compelled interest and admiration. He was called a mountebank, a poseur and man with a screw loose in his upper story, but he cared not the snap of a finger for what was said about him, but seemed to delight in the caustic criticisms that followed him while he was in the limelight.


Before beginning his San Jose lecture he said to the audience: "They say I am inco- herent and that I wander from my subject. Maybe these gentle critics of mine are right, but I can talk coherently, and I will give you something that will be to the point. First, I will present a sample of coherent lecturing and, following that, a sample of what they call incoherent lecturing. At the finish you shall say what style you wish me to use to- night." Now came the samples. The coherent one was dry and uninteresting and was re- ceived in silence. But after the sample of in- coherent the applause shook the building. When quiet had been restored Train shouted : "Now, what will you have?" "Incoherent," was the unanimous reply. "All right," Train said, "incoherent it shall be." Then the circus opened. The lecturer jumped from one sub- ject to another, bursts of eloquence were fol- lowed by clownish jokes, points at times were driven home with sledge-hammer force, gems of poetry were sandwiched in between lines of exquisite prose and at intervals came epi- grams charged with scorn and bitterness, for in that distempered brain of his burned the fire of genius. Indeed Train was wonderful as well as strange, and it was easy to under- stand why he was such a success as a platform lecturer. After leaving California he returned to New York, ran as independent candidate for the presidency, defended Victoria Wood- hull by publishing extracts from the Bible, an act that landed him in the Tombs; threw




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