Watch Yourself Go By Part 61

Rudely awaking the invalid, Alfred brus.h.i.+ng, picking and pinching the white and greenish b.u.mps from face and night-s.h.i.+rt, indulging in language not proper even on a Texas ranch, he slowly worked his way to the watering trough (the only bathing facility), followed by the invalid, who was parting his whiskers to free them from the hidden lumps, meanwhile endeavoring to console Alfred: "Never mindt, Alfred.

Never mindt. Your s.h.i.+rt vill vash all right, und my viskers, too,"

parting his whiskers and dumping a few more deposits, he remarked: "It's purty badt I know, but, Alfred, it might a bin wusser. 'Ust s'posin' dem schickens roostin' over us hadt been Texas steers."

"The sooner a man goes into business, the sooner he will be able to retire; that is, if he is baked done. If he ain't, he better let somebody do business for him. My boy, it's better to go into business too young than too old. If you happen to spill the beans, you've got the vim to pick them up again."

"Well, Uncle Henry, if I have good luck this season, I'm going to make a break for myself."

"Good luck, huh? If you're lookin' for luck to help you, you'll be so near-sighted you can't see a business chance across a narrow alley. If luck got you anything you might. There ain't no luck coming to any man that waits on it. Every man that's got any get-up in him always has bad luck. He brings it on himself, then he just beats luck out. There ain't no good luck. It's grit and judgment agin dam-fool notions. And grit and judgment wins out nearly every time. I'd rather drive a bad bargain than drive a dray. You can drive a dozen bargains a day. You can drive only one dray. One of your bargains may buck, the other eleven win out. A minstrel show is alright, but, mind, it's a lifetime job, going into business. You ought to know what you're doing. But, I'd thought you'd go into the circus business."

"Well, I would, Uncle Henry, but I haven't got the capital. It takes more money than I ever hope to possess. Besides, I want a business wherein I can make a reputation for myself."

"You better go into a business where you can make money. The reputation will make itself. If you can't make money, you can't make reputation."

"But it's my ambition to have the biggest minstrel show in the country."

"Well, you do that which you feel would be the most agreeable to you.

When I went into the grocery business in Burlington, everybody behind my back predicted I would lose out. Everybody told me to my face I'd win out. Make up your mind to stand on your own judgment."

Sam Flickinger, editor of the _Ohio State Journal_, wrote the first mention of the Al. G. Field Minstrels. He gave Alfred desk room in the job office of the _Journal_, of which he was manager and editor. The first advertising for the Al. G. Field Minstrels was printed in the job office of the _Ohio State Journal_. The dates and small bills have been printed in that office, or the successors of it, ever since.

Almost every one of Alfred's friends advised him to abandon the idea of entering the minstrel business. His family were all opposed to it.

This was the manner in which Alfred's declaration as to going into business seemed to be received by his friends.

Col. Reppert of the B. & O. a.s.sured Alfred he would send him a ticket to any point he might require it from. Billy McDermott, probably fearing the Colonel might not get the ticket to him, presented Alfred with a pair of broad-soled low-heeled walking shoes.

There was one staunch friend whose words were always encouraging.

"You're right, old boy. I wish you all the success you so richly deserve. Never mind the knockers. You're in right. You'll make it go."

Thus did Bill Hunter of the Penna. R. R. encourage Alfred. Alfred often declared Bill a level-headed man, one who would be heard from later.

Frank Field was the city pa.s.senger agent of the Penna. R. R. Frank and Bill were very kindly disposed towards show folks. They carried a troupe on their own account over the Penna. Lines. They were security for the fares to the amount of a couple of hundred dollars. The troupe stranded Bill held the musical instruments. The instruments were taken to the city ticket office, concealed under the counter. Bill and Frank were "stuck." They endeavored to dispose of the horns to Alfred. Alfred joked Bill frequently, advising him to organize a band, and learn to play one of the horns. This "guying" did not alter Bill's att.i.tude towards Alfred's enterprise. He was even more optimistic as to its success. Bill would slap Alfred on the back, saying: "Never mind the salary you are leaving. You'll make more money with this minstrel show in a year than you would on salary in two."

Alfred from the first day he began his minstrel career sought to introduce new ideas; not to do things as they had been done. He was the first to uniform the parade. The costumes were long, light-colored, newmarket overcoats, black velvet collar, stylishly patterned. They were very attractive overcoats, contrasting effectively with the red broadcloth, gold-trimmed band uniforms.

The company rehea.r.s.ed in Columbus and opened at Marion, Ohio, October 6, 1886. The opening day was a dismal, rainy, fall day, just verging on winter. Alfred's good friends gathered in the union depot at Columbus to bid the minstrels G.o.dspeed, although they traveled on another line. Bill Hunter was at the depot to see them off. The genteel appearance of the troupe, especially the overcoats, were favorably commented upon. Bill shook hands with each member of the company as they entered the car.

When the last man was aboard, when the last good-bye had been spoken, Barney McCabe remarked to those a.s.sembled: "I don't know what kind of a show Alfred's got, but they have the finest overcoats that ever went out of this depot." Bill, winking at Barney, said: "I'll have 'em all before two weeks. If he makes money with this troupe, he can ketch ba.s.s with biscuits."

Another of Alfred's innovations was a large amount of scenery and properties. Each piece of baggage was marked with bright letters, "The Al. G. Field Minstrels."

The afterpiece, "The Lime Kiln Club," was quite a pretentious affair for a minstrel company in those days. The stage setting, representing the interior of a Lodge, required antiquated furniture such as could not be hired in the one night stands. Therefore, the minstrels carried all this furniture, a large sheet-iron wood stove with lengths of stovepipe. Not until the last trunk was loaded onto the baggage wagon, did Alfred leave the depot that first morning. Walking slowly along the street, keeping pace with the heavy wagon, proud of the new trunks with the plainly painted names on each, the furniture for "The Lime Kiln Club," with the stove and stovepipe atop of all, the wagon pa.s.sed up the street.

While pa.s.sing a building in course of erection, the workmen ceased their labors to gaze at the wagon. A plasterer with limey overalls gazed at the wagon intently until it pa.s.sed by. Turning to his fellow workmen, pus.h.i.+ng his hands in his pockets deeper, and shrugging his shoulders, he sympathetically remarked: "Hit's mighty cole weather fur flittin'. I allus feel sorry for pore folks as has tu move in cole weather." Looking down the street from where the wagon came he continued: "I wonder whar the folks is. Walkin' to keep warm, I reckon. I hope they hain't any children." Thereafter, Alfred ordered the odd furniture, stovepipe and stove loaded in the bottom of the wagon.

A heavy rain interfered with the attendance the opening night. In the excitement, Alfred did not realize that he had lost money. It was only after the second night--Upper Sandusky--that he figured the first two nights were unprofitable. Chas. Alvin Davis, of Alvin Joslin fame, and his manager, were visitors the second night. The receipts at Bucyrus were very light, and to pile up troubles for the new minstrel manager, a boy connected with the theatre stole from Alfred's clothes in the dressing room all his private funds. The empty pocket-book was found in an ash-barrel at the rear of the boy's residence, yet the police did not feel it was sufficient evidence to warrant the arrest of the young scamp.

The fourth night, at Mansfield, rain, hail, sleet and snow, such as Ohio had never experienced at that season of the year, (October 10), made the streets impa.s.sable. The minstrels played to a very meager audience.

After all bills were paid the company had thirty-seven dollars in the treasury.

Several friends in Columbus a.s.sured Alfred that if he ran short he could draw on them. Alfred had learned six weeks was the most lengthened period any of his friends gave him to keep the company afloat.

"He's ruined. All his savings gone, he will be worse off than when he began life." This was the comment of one of his dearest friends.

Leaving Mansfield at midnight, arriving at Ashland, Alfred, that he might not have the night lodging to pay, sat in the depot until daylight, then sauntered to the hotel. Thirty-seven dollars in the treasury, cold and snowing. Alfred debated in his mind as to whether he should telegraph his friends in Columbus for a.s.sistance. His decision was: "No, I will not humble myself. I'll pull through some way. Besides, I have invested my own money in this concern. If I lose it, it's gone. I can earn more. If I borrow money and lose, I'm in debt."

He didn't know he could do it. He wasn't sure he could pull the show through. He had heard and seen the sneers and smiles of incredulity. He remembered Uncle Henry's advice:

"If you haven't got the stuff in you to stand alone and fight for yourself, you're wasting time trying to do business. Being smart is only half of it. Being game is the other half. The biggest persimmons are atop of the tree. You've got to climb to get them. There are times when you'll have to hold on by your finger tips. But if you're not game enough to take the risk, you don't deserve what's up at the top. The cowards are standing under the tree waiting for the persimmons to fall.

There's so many of them they have to fight harder to get those that fall to the ground than the game fellow that climbs the tree. Men will pull you down, tramp on you, in their endeavors to climb over you. It's the selfish idea of many men they can build up more rapidly if they tear down. They'll block your game, they'll lie about you, they'll not only throw you down but they'll sit on you, and hold you down, until you gather force to squirm from under. You'll never suffer as much when you have the least as you do when the grit has leaked out of you. The man who climbs the tree from the bottom to the top is never licked. If they pull him down he will start from the bottom again. Poverty cannot ruin him. It's only a check. He has less fear than those who have had a ladder placed against the tree for them to climb up. Believe in yourself. Take everything that belongs to you. Take your licking but don't sell out to cowardice. When your grit's gone you're done for."

A thin, a very thin part.i.tion between the room he occupied and that of two of his princ.i.p.al people, Alfred was compelled to play the role of eavesdropper again.

"He won't pull through. I am sorry I joined the show, I throwed away a good engagement to accept this one. I'm stuck again. This thing won't last a week. I'm going to get away at the first opportunity." It was one of a talented team of musicians. They not only did a fine specialty but doubled in the band. The one talking was the manager of the act. Alfred held a contract with the trio. He had fulfilled all the requirements of it and they owed him considerable money, advanced for hotel bills during rehearsals, railroad fares, etc. He lay on the bed debating with himself what to do, enter the room and throw the talker out of the window, or have him arrested.

"I heard Field tell his treasurer he had no money. I'm going to skip.

Take my word for it, we're all up against it."

The other replied: "Well, I owe the company a lot of money. I'll stick until I see how it goes."

Alfred was on fire. He would die rather than fail. The following day was Sunday. This would entail extra expense. Basing his calculations upon receipts in other cities, he feared he would not have funds to carry the company to Akron, the next exhibition point.

He accidently met a Columbus man, a minister, Reverend Messie, the pastor of the church where Alfred's family wors.h.i.+pped. He had recently officiated at the wedding of Alfred's sister; he felt he had met a friend from home. He decided to lay his troubles before the good man but weakened at the beginning. Instead he inquired as to whether the minister was acquainted with a banker in the city. The minister accompanied Alfred to a bank and had Alfred requested him, to make a favorable talk for him, the good man could not have said more.

"This is Mr. Field, a friend and neighbor of mine. He has not acquainted me with the nature of his business with you, but he is responsible, owns property in Columbus and bears an excellent reputation."

The banker invited the minstrel into his private office. Alfred made a statement of his affairs, dwelling strongly on the robbery at Bucyrus, exhibiting newspaper clippings to substantiate his statements.

"Let us see what your liabilities are. Going over them, there were none.

Nearly all of the company were indebted for money advanced. I can't see where you are in any financial trouble. You have no debts following you, have you?"

"None," answered Alfred.

"Well, what is the trouble?"

"It's like this," the minstrel explained. "We've done no business since we opened. I have lost money at every stand. I have but thirty-seven dollars on hand. It's a big jump to Akron. I am sure, I'll require a little money, not much. If it hadn't been for that touch at Bucyrus I'd be all right."

"You'll do business here. It's the best minstrel town in Ohio. Primrose & West did fairly well, although our people didn't know them. Hi Henry packed the house."

"I fear people do not know us," sighed Alfred.

"Well, I'll introduce you--they will know you."

Alfred had ended every statement with the wail that if he had not been robbed in Bucyrus he would be all right.

"The bank closes at noon. Come around, take lunch with me, I'll see you to Akron. Don't worry. I fear you're a bit shaky. You are just starting in business, you require confidence."

"If it hadn't been for the touch at Bucyrus, I'd have been all right,"

ruefully remarked Alfred.