The Wit and Humor of America, Volume IV. (of X.)
Page 23
THE GRAND OPERA
BY BILLY BAXTER
Well, I decided to get into my class, so I started for the smoking-room.I hadn't gone three feet till some woman held me up and began telling mehow she adored Grand Opera. I didn't even reply. I fled madly, andremained hidden in the tall grasses of the smoking-room until it wastime to go home. Jim, should any one ever tell you that Grand Opera isall right, he is either trying to even up or he is not a true friend. Iwas over in New York with the family last winter, and they made me gowith them to _Die Walkure_ at the Metropolitan Opera House. When I gotthe tickets I asked the man's advice as to the best location. He saidthat all true lovers of music occupied the dress-circle and balconies,and that he had some good center dress-circle seats at three bones per.Here's a tip, Jim. If the box man ever hands you that true-lover game,just reach in through the little hole and soak him in the solar for me.It's coming to him. I'll give you my word of honor we were a quarter ofa mile from the stage. We went up in an elevator, were shown to ourseats, and who was right behind us but my old pal, Bud Hathaway, fromChicago. Bud had his two sisters with him, and he gave me one sad look,which said plainer than words, "So you're up against it, too, eh!" Weintroduced all hands around, and about nine o'clock the curtain went up.After we had waited fully ten minutes, out came a big, fat, greasylooking Dago with nothing on but a bear robe. He went over to the sideof the stage and sat down on a bum rock. It was plainly to be seen, evenfrom my true lovers' seat, that his bearlets was sorer than a dog aboutsomething. Presently in came a woman, and none of the true lovers seemedto know who she was. Some said it was Melba, others Nordica. Bud and Idecided that it was May Irwin. We were mistaken, though, as Irwin hasthis woman lashed to the mast at any time or place. As soon as Mike theDago espied the dame it was all off. He rushed and drove a straight-armjab, which had it reached would have given him the purse. But shiftySadie wasn't there. She ducked, side-stepped, and landed a cleverhalf-arm hook, which seemed to stun the big fellow. They clinched, andswayed back and forth, growling continually, while the orchestra playedthis trembly Eliza-crossing-the-ice music. Jim, I'm not swelling this abit. On the level, it happened just as I write it. All of a sudden someone seemed to win. They broke away, and ran wildly to the front of thestage with their arms outstretched, yelling to beat three of a kind. Theband cut loose something fierce. The leader tore out about $9.00 worthof hair, and acted generally as though he had bats in his belfry. Ithought sure the place would be pinched. It reminded me of ThirstyThornton's dance-hall out in Merrill, Wisconsin, when the Silent Swedeused to start a general survival of the fittest every time Mamie theMink danced twice in succession with the young fellow from Albany, whosefather owned the big mill up Rough River. Of course, this audience wasperfectly orderly, and showed no intention whatever of cutting in, andthere were no chairs or glasses in the air, but I am forced to admitthat the opera had Thornton's faded for noise. I asked Bud what thetrouble was, and he answered that I could search him. The audienceapparently went wild. Everybody said "Simply sublime!" "Isn't it grand?""Perfectly superb!" "Bravo!" etc.; not because they really enjoyed it,but merely because they thought it was the proper thing to do. Afterthat for three solid hours Rough House Mike and Shifty Sadie seemed tobe apologizing to the audience for their disgraceful street brawl, whichwas honestly the only good thing in the show. Along about twelve o'clockI thought I would talk over old times with Bud, but when I turned hisway I found my tired and trusty comrade "Asleep at the Switch."
At the finish, the woman next to me, who seemed to be on, said that themain lady was dying. After it was too late, Mike seemed kind of sorry.He must have give her the knife or the drops, because there wasn't aminute that he could look in on her according to the rules. He laid herout on the bum rock, they set off a lot of red fire for some unknownreason, and the curtain dropped at 12:25. Never again for my money. Farbe it from me knocking, but any time I want noise I'll take to aboiler-shop or a Union Station, where I can understand what's comingoff. I'm for a good-mother show. Do you remember _The White Slave_, Jim?Well, that's me. Wasn't it immense where the main lady spurned theleering villain's gold and exclaimed with flashing eye, "Rags are royalraiment when worn for virtue's sake." Great! _The White Slave_ had _DieWalkure_ beaten to a pulp, and they don't get to you for three casesgate-money, either.