Chapter 7 PANIC AT NEW ORLEANS-THERMOMETER FALLS 105 DEGREES-BANQUET AT CHICAGO-THE COUNT DI LUNA AT MARKET-COFFEE JOHN-AN AMERICAN GEORGE ROBINS-MY UNDERTAKER.

ON getting down to New Orleans we found a great change in the temperature, and although it was the month of January the thermometer stood at about 75°. It had been raining exactly six weeks prior to our arrival, and only ceased as our train went in, fine weather immediately afterwards making its appearance.

Our opening opera was La Sonnambula with Nevada, which was followed by La Traviata with Mdme. Patti. Prior to the last act a panic was caused in the theatre by the falling of some plaster from the front of the dress circle. Someone near the exit to the stalls shouted "Fire," a cry which was repeated by numbers of men in the lobby. Consternation was seen in the faces of the audience, and a general rush was made for the doors. The situation was serious in the extreme; but the presence of mind of some gentlemen present, aided by the equal coolness of several ladies, had the effect of allaying the general fright.

Many ladies, on the other hand, fainted from excitement, whilst numbers of persons left the theatre, so that the last act was given with a very bare house.

"A great deal of excitement," wrote a local journal, "was manifested in the street, and rumour magnified the incident. It took the shape of a fearful accident in the minds of some people, and it was some time before the public was assured that no damage had resulted to life or limb. One young lady fainted as she was about to enter her carriage in front of the theatre. She fell to the side walk, slightly cutting her mouth, and was unconscious for a few minutes. With the assistance of Dr. Joseph Scott, her friends succeeded in reviving her, and she was placed in a carriage and driven home. Mr. David Bidwell was this morning waited upon by the Item reporter, who informed him of the many rumours regarding the safety of the St. Charles Theatre. Mr. Bidwell said: 'The whole trouble comes from the fall of a small piece of plastering, three feet long by one foot and a half wide, in the left part of the theatre, back to the parquette seats. The plastering at that place had been disturbed during the Kiralfy engagement by the moving out of some scenery. I had the spot repaired during the wet weather, and, from the dampness, the plastering did not hold. As regards the solidity of the theatre, you can state that it is the strongest building of its kind; the walls are in places four feet thick. Everything inside is sound and substantial, having been recently repaired and renovated. Mr. William Freret, the architect, has just been in here, and made a thorough inspection. He finds everything in first-class condition, and sound as can be. The public should not give credence to silly rumours, but listen to the voice of common sense and reason, and accept this satisfactory explanation.'"

The City Surveyor, with various architects, visited the theatre the following day to report; but all certified that the building was solid, and that probably the stamping of so many feet in applauding Patti had caused the fall of the plaster. However it may have been, my receipts being so considerably injured, I was compelled, after paying damages to the manager for not completing the engagement, to remove the Company and rent the Grand French Opera-house for the ensuing week. When my announcement was made several ladies called upon me, and a meeting was convened at one of their houses at which the élite of the city were present. A number of gentlemen had been invited to tea, and before being allowed to leave the room each of them was required to subscribe for at least one box. In this manner the whole of my boxes for the remainder of the season were disposed of.

I had a deal of trouble in getting the theatre into working order, it having been closed for a considerable period. The corridors had to be whitened and the dressing-rooms to be papered, and all the business had to be conducted in French, as my stage carpenters and employés were all of that nationality. The manager of the other theatre had refused to allow any of his staff to assist.

During this time the great New Orleans Exhibition had been opened, to which thousands of people were attracted. My attention, however, was drawn to the Woman's Work Department, in great need just then. I therefore organized a grand benefit matinée on their behalf, which was promptly responded to by many of the ladies of New Orleans. Many of my principal artists took part in the concert, and I was assisted by a splendid Mexican cavalry band. A large sum of money was realized, which was afterwards handed over to the treasurer of the Woman's Department.

After a performance of Les Huguenots we all left that night for St. Louis. The temperature was now intolerable, the thermometer marking 75 degrees. But on reaching St. Louis the following Monday afternoon we were overtaken by a blizzard. It was literally raining ice. The streets were impassable, it being difficult to stand upright or to move a step; whilst the thermometer stood 30 degrees below zero (62° below freezing point)-being a fall of 105 degrees. I need scarcely say everyone caught sore throat, even to the chorus. One or two of the ballet girls were blown down and hurt on leaving the train, and it was with considerable difficulty that I made a commencement that evening, two hours after our arrival, with a performance of La Sonnambula. This was followed by Semiramide with Patti and Scalchi, and by Lucrezia with Fursch-Madi. All the artists not taking part in these works were ill in bed during the week.

Prior to our leaving St. Louis a magnificent banquet was tendered to me by the Directors of the newly-organized Opera Festival Association of Chicago. The day originally fixed was the Wednesday during that week; but it had afterwards to be transferred to Thursday, all the trains to Chicago being snowed up, whilst several thousands of freight cars blocked the line for miles. I ventured after the performance on the only train allowed out of the station for Chicago, where I arrived the following day, and visited the huge glass building, formerly the exhibition, where I marked out what I considered would be the dimensions necessary for the construction of the New Grand Opera-house. In doing so I must have rather miscalculated my measurements, as I was shortly afterwards informed that if carried out the theatre would be a mammoth one.

In the evening I attended the banquet given in my honour, which was laid for fifty covers in the large room of the magnificent Calumet Club. The banqueting hall was picturesquely decorated with flowers. The tables were curved in the form of a huge lyre, bearing the coat of arms of the Association.

At the head of the table, which formed the base of the lyre, sat the President, Ferd. W. Peck, and at his right hand I was placed as the guest of the evening. Next to me was the Mayor, and next him the Hon. Emery A. Stores, the Vice-President of the Association. At President Peck's left hand sat the Hon. Eugene Carey and George Schneider, the treasurer of the newly-formed Association. All the city notabilities, more or less, were present on this occasion. At the conclusion of the banquet the President rose, introducing me as "The Napoleon: the Emperor of Opera," giving at the same time a brief outline of the work proposed to be accomplished. My speech was a very short one. I said: "After twenty-four years' experience in the rendition of opera I feel that my greatest success is about to be achieved here in Chicago. Never before have such opportunities been afforded me. I have this morning been over the Exposition building with an architect, and have fixed upon a large, comfortable auditorium. I also visited the hall where the extra chorus was practising, and I must say I was surprised at its excellence in every way. Never have I heard a better chorus, even in the Old World."

The Mayor afterwards rose and paid me the highest compliments.

In the small hours of the following morning, when we separated, I went to the station and thence returned to St. Louis.

At the close of the week we left St. Louis with the whole of the troupe, some 180 strong, reaching Kansas City late that evening. Most of the members of the Company went to the Coates House, Mdme. Patti, however, remaining in her private car, where the following day I paid her a visit. No sooner had I entered than we were shunted and sent some four miles down the line, much to the surprise of Nicolini, who had been speaking to me on the platform but a moment previously. We were detained a considerable time, and Mdme. Patti experienced a great shock as suddenly a goods truck, which had got uncoupled, came running down. This caused a great concussion, which broke most of the glass, and sent Nicolini's cigars, jams, the parrot, the piano, the table, and the flowers all pell-mell on to the floor. Mdme. Patti, however, took it in good part, and, assisted by her maids, commenced gathering up the broken ornaments and smashed bottles. The floor ran with Chateau Lafite.

Mdme. Patti visited the opera that evening, the Mayor of the town conducting her down the passage way to her proscenium box amidst such a storm of applause as is rarely heard in an Opera-house. Ladies burst their gloves in their enthusiasm, and men stood on their seats to get a view of the Diva. On reaching the box the audience rose and cried: "Brava!"

After the performance that night the train moved on in the direction of Topeka, where, through the politeness of the railway officials, I got Patti's car attached to the San Francisco express, which conveyed her to her destination in about three and a half days.

The rest of the Company remained in Topeka to give a performance of Il Trovatore, Mdme. Dotti being the "Leonora," Mdme. Scalchi "Azucena," De Anna the "Count di Luna," and Giannini "Manrico." The success was immense, the house being full, and the receipts reaching ￡700.

In connection with Topeka, I must mention rather a curious incident. We had exhausted our stock of wine in the train, and those artists taking part in the performance, on entering the hotel near the theatre where it was proposed to dine, were surprised and annoyed at having water placed before them; the baritone vowing, with a knife in his hand, that unless he could have a more stimulating beverage he would refuse to play the "Count di Luna" that evening.

Inquiry was made high and low, but there was not a drop of wine or spirits of any kind officially known to be in the town. Going along the street on my return to the hotel, I met a gentleman with whom I was acquainted, and through his kindness I was enabled to obtain from a medical practitioner a prescription. The prescription was in the Latin language, and the chemist evidently understood its meaning. There was no question of making it up. He simply handed me three bottles of very good hock.

At the conclusion of the opera, it being a most delightful evening, the various choristers and others made purchases of all kinds of comestibles, and it was a most ridiculous thing to observe some going down with chickens carried by the neck, others with cauliflowers and asparagus. The "Count di Luna" with a huge ham under his arm, and "Manrico" with a chain of sausages, took their provisions down to the cars to be cooked for supper, during which the train started for St. Joseph.

We reached St. Joseph the following day, where Mdlle. Nevada appeared in La Sonnambula, greatly pleasing the audience, which packed the theatre full.

We arrived the next afternoon at half-past four at Omaha, where we remained one day, my advance agent having failed to conclude any arrangements for our appearance there.

Shortly afterwards we started for Cheyenne, arriving in the Magic City, as it is called, in about a couple of days; when, to my great astonishment, no announcement whatever had been made of our visit, my advance agent again, for some unaccountable reason, having gone on the road towards San Francisco without notifying even a word.

Our coming there was quite an unexpected event. Arrangements were immediately made to give a performance. This entailed a delay of a couple of days, which delighted me, although it caused some loss, as it enabled me to drive over the beautiful country and visit once more the charming Club, where I had a right royal welcome from my numerous friends of the previous year.

At four o'clock the 3rd Cavalry band, in full uniform, came to serenade me at my hotel.

The opera selected was Lucia di Lammermoor, and the receipts came to some ￡700.

At the close of the performance we started for Salt Lake City, where we arrived on the following Thursday. Here, to my great regret, I was compelled to change the bill in consequence of Mdlle. Nevada's indisposition, at which the inhabitants and the Press grumbled as if it were my fault. Reports of course were circulated that she had not received her salary.

Whilst at Salt Lake City many of the artists and orchestral players wandered about, visiting various places of interest; and some were attracted to a restaurant kept by one "Coffee John," in whose window was exposed a huge turtle, bearing this tragic inscription on its head: "This afternoon I am to have my throat cut;" whilst on its back was a ticket for a private box, with the statement that Coffee John had paid 40 dollars for it, and was going to visit the opera that evening.

In order to patronize this enthusiastic amateur several of our principal artists went in and ordered luncheon. Coffee John was very polite, promising to applaud them on hearing them sing, and allowing many of them to go into the kitchen to prepare their own macaroni. The price of the luncheon was very moderate, so everyone decided to go and dine at Coffee John's later on.

When dinner was over they asked the waiter how much they had to pay.

"Six dollars a head," said the waiter.

"Corpo di Bacco!" exclaimed one of the artists; "dat is too dear. Where is Coffee John, our friend, our friend?"

"He has gone to dress for the opera," replied the head waiter, "and I dare not disturb him."

As there were twelve diners the bill came to 72 dollars, so that Coffee John, who had paid 40 dollars for his box, occupied it for nothing that evening, and profited, moreover, largely by the transaction. The waiter told the astonished artists that his governor had paid 40 dollars to hear them sing without kicking, and that he expected liberal treatment in return; finally, he thought the best plan for them would be to pay their six dollars each and clear out; which they eventually had to do.

Mdlle. Nevada had taken cold at Cheyenne, and contracted what turned out to be a severe illness; and I lost her services for no less than four weeks afterwards.

The night before we reached Salt Lake City Mdme. Scalchi's parrot died, which caused the excellent contralto to go into hysterics and take to a bed of sickness. I had announced Il Trovatore, in which the now despondent vocalist was to have taken the part of the vindictive gipsy. This I considered would amply compensate for the absence of Nevada. Only half an hour before starting for the theatre I was notified by Mdme. Scalchi's husband that she would be unable to appear that evening. I insisted, however, upon her going at all events to the theatre, as I considered the death of a parrot not sufficient reason for disappointing a numerous public. I threatened at the same time to fine her very heavily if she refused.

About an hour afterwards the call-boy came down, up to his waist in snow, to the door of my car-some little distance from the station-stating that Mdme. Scalchi had again gone into hysterics, and was lamenting loudly the loss of her beloved bird.

On my arriving at the theatre with another "Azucena," taken suddenly from the cars (this one was lamenting only that she had not dined), I found that it wanted but five minutes to the commencement of the overture. There was Mdme. Scalchi dressed as "Azucena," and it was impossible even to obtain possession of her clothing, for she was almost in a fainting condition. At last, however, she divested herself of her gipsy garments; and she was replaced by my new "Azucena," Mdlle. Steinbach.

After the opera was over we started for San Francisco.

On reaching Ogden early in the morning I received a telegram from San Francisco notifying Mdme. Patti's arrival there, but adding that she would not come out in Semiramide in conjunction with Mdme. Scalchi, though that was the opera announced for my opening night. La Diva wanted a night entirely to herself.

As every seat had been sold for the first performance, and places were at a high premium, I did not see how it was possible to make any alteration in the bill. I therefore declined. Towards the latter part of the following day, at Winnemucca, I got another telegram saying that Mdme. Patti would appear in Il Barbiere. This I declined, knowing that opera to be, in America at least, most unattractive. Nearly at every station did I receive telegrams, some of which I answered. At last I effected a kind of compromise by substituting Linda. This change caused me a loss of some ￡600 or ￡800.

On the road I had received a telegram from my auctioneer, the famous Joe Eldridge, desiring to know if he should reserve any seats or offer the whole to the public. I replied that not a single seat was to be reserved; he was to sell all. He took me at my word, and the following day I received a telegram that not only had he sold the whole of the pit and dress circle and boxes, but also the whole of the gallery for every night of the season, and that the premiums on the tickets alone amounted to something like ￡15,000 for the two weeks' season; and, although over 3,000 tickets of admission for every night of the whole season had been sold, the demand, instead of abating, kept on increasing. In many cases as much as 150 dollars per seat premium had been paid. The sale altogether surpassed that of the previous year.

I was afterwards informed by an eye-witness of the indefatigable exertions Joe Eldridge had gone through on the day of the auction. On entering the orchestra he first of all gave a graphic description of each of the different prime donne who were to take part in the season's performances, explaining also the enormous value the tickets would reach as soon as the whole of the Company arrived. He then, feeling warm, took off his hat. After a few lots had been sold he removed his cravat, afterwards his coat, followed later by his waistcoat and his shirt-collar, which he threw off into the stalls. Then, as the business became more exciting, off went his braces. Afterwards he loosened his shirt, tucking up both sleeves; and he was in a state of semi-nudity before he got rid of the last lot.

On leaving the theatre after the sale this highly esteemed gentleman, I regret to say, was attacked by pneumonia, which carried him off in a few hours. His death was a sad shock to all, for he was a general favourite.

The San Francisco Daily Report wrote on the subject:-

"Joe Eldridge arrived in San Francisco in 1849, and after visiting various parts of the State returned to San Francisco, in the house of Newhall and Co. About this time he lost his right leg in a very remarkable manner. He was in the habit of signalling each sale by a hearty slap of his hand on his right thigh at the word 'gone.' The constant concussion brought on a cancer, and the leg had to be amputated. This misfortune, which would have depressed most men, more or less, for the rest of their lives, had no effect on his energy or his high spirits. He was a most charitable man, and beloved by all who knew him, being one of the founders of Mill's Seminary, whilst he was a pillar of strength at Dr. Stone's first Congregational Church."

One word as to Joe Eldridge's method of doing business. No one could get such prices as he obtained; and these he often secured by pretending to have heard bids which had never been made.

"Nine dollars," an intending purchaser would say.

"Ten dollars," Joe would cry.

"I said nine," the bidder would explain.

"Eleven!" shouted Joe. "I know your income, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Twelve!" he would then exclaim, supported and encouraged by the laughter and applause of the public. "And if you say another word I'll make it thirteen."

A very different sort of man was the auctioneer by whom poor Eldridge was succeeded. He called me the spirited "impresio," and sang the praises of Mdme. Bauermeister, whose name he pronounced "Boormister," and Mdme. Lablache, whom he described as the famous "Labiche." Rinaldini was another of my singers whose name, sadly as he mutilated it, had evidently taken his fancy. Mdme. Bauermeister, Mdme. Lablache, and Signor Rinaldini are excellent artists. But it was a mistake to insist so much on their merits while passing over altogether those of Mdme. Patti, Mdlle. Nevada, and Mdme Scalchi.

In due course we arrived at San Francisco, where the usual crowd was awaiting us. During the latter part of the journey one of my corps de ballet became seriously indisposed, and died the following Tuesday in St. Mary's Hospital. She was but sixteen years of age, and had been with me eight years, being one of my Katti Lanner school children. She had taken cold in the dressing-room at Cheyenne. During the journey, the train being twenty-three hours late, she received the attention of Dr. Wixom, Mdme. Nevada's father, also of Dr. Palmer, Mdme. Nevada's present husband.

On the day of the funeral some magnificent offerings were placed on the coffin, consisting of pillows of violets with the initials of the deceased, anchors of pansies, lilies, violets, roses, etc., likewise a beautiful cross of violets and camellias. I attended the funeral personally, accompanied by my stage manager, Mr. Parry, and seven of the ballet girls, including a sister of the dead girl, who all carried flowers. The affair was strictly private, the experience of the previous year suggesting this on account of the crowd on the former occasion. The whole of the flowers were afterwards placed upon the grave; and a celebrated photographer, I. W. Tabor, produced some beautiful pictures which I sent to London to the family of the deceased, who received them before the news of her death.

At the conclusion of the funeral, which had been conducted by Mr. Theodore Dierck, of 957, Mission Street, the spirited undertaker begged to be appointed funeral furnisher to the Company, he having had charge of the Lombardelli interment in the previous year, which, he said, "gave such satisfaction;" and I was not astonished, though a little startled, on my last visit to find over his shop this inscription:

"Funeral furnisher by appointment to Colonel Mapleson."