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Show O;. oPlqfforrm J V THE vernacular of th commer- Iclal theater, the wofd "hokum," as you perhaps know, Is employed em-ployed to designate those various vari-ous devices and stratagems that ire positive in inflaming; the emotions emo-tions of the average play-going: yokel and In working that noble creature up to the proper pitch of agreeable re-ronfe. re-ronfe. The Harrv James Smith opus named "The Uttle Teacher," which the Messrs. Cohan and Harris are concurrently displaying on the stage of the Playhouse, is of this hokum all compact, and the rustic who can resist its passionate wooing of him is hardy fellow, indeed. With the crafty efficiency of the ignoble Doche, the play launches asainst the artless emotionalism of the potwalloper its deadly gasea of sentimentality, its hand grenades of uplift, its howitzers of optimism. Of the thousand and one hokums not a single hoke.is omitted. On the wall, the picture of George Washington, surrounded by American flags, is neighbor to a sepia tint of Woodrow Wilson. On the blackboard of the itry schoolhouse. the youngsters JHv in colored chalk the national .emblem. The uncouth, but magnifi-V magnifi-V cently hearted, hero fells wtih a single sin-gle well-directed blow the knave who casts an aspersion upon the heroine's fair name. The heroine speaks all her uplifting messages in the quivery tones ever so successful in brewing a tear in the eye of the tender bog-trotter. bog-trotter. Two of the principal characters charac-ters are young children whose drunken drunk-en father has beaten them until, so the audience is indignantly informed, tiift backs of the small dears are covered cov-ered with welts. And not merely wells, but so thoroughly relentless is the hokum, purple welts. And not merely purple welts, but big purple welts. There is an organ that has not been played on for thirty years it was locked the day the baby died which the heroine, in the iamplit quiet of evening and with the tots in their nighties huddled at her side, toots doloroso. All Are Familiar. There is a scene in which the heroine hero-ine holds at bay, with her revolver, the unshaved scoundrel who would snatch her babes from her. There are the sour and gossipy old maids who seek to find sin in the actions of the spotless heroine. There is moist talk of the Belgian orphans and of the wonder of being back in old New Tork again. There Is the joke about Jersey Jer-sey City. There is the comic red vest on the country lout who elaborately elab-orately pulls up his trousers, lest they crease, when he seats himself. There is the old gentleman who comically com-ically forgets whiie he is talking that hn has a lighted match in his hands and who burns his fingers. There is the eleventh-hour discovery that the brute who beats the children is not their father no real father, observes the dialogue, could do such a thing and that the youngsters are in actual-itv actual-itv the kidnaped offspring of a rich NjTork family. There is the lit lower which the heroine gives i wistfully to the man who loves her and which the latter presses for sweet memory's sake in a book. There is - the spectacle of the hero in khaki, Vready to leave for France. N2ut let us pause to mop up the ef?V The touching business is without with-out end. From 8:15 until 11, the assault as-sault on the tear ducts and indignations indigna-tions of the auditorium is without quarter. And from this assault there is but one sanctuary: The gentlemen's gentle-men's smoking room in the basement. base-ment. Has Usual Outcome. The theme of this masterpiece, as the canny reader has ere now doubtless doubt-less suspected, is of a countenance long familiar to the American stage, the theme, to wit, of the saccharine school mistress who comes to the small village, who is objected to by the usual objectors and who finally turns the tables in triumph and marries the lumberjack to whom she has taught the A, B, C's. If there remains a public for this kind of play, that public Is the same public that remains for coltsfoot-rock candy, Oulda, suspenders, spiral shirt-studs, "The Bohemian Girl" and Ptso's cough syrup. Yet the producing firm of Cohan and Harris is in this matter mat-ter of theatrical hokum "so sagacious, and so regularly successful, that it would not surprise one to learn, a year hence, that the play has made sn unspeakable fortune. That, however, how-ever, in the language of Margaret of Navarre, is yet another story. The company presenting "The Little Teacher" Is headed by Miss Mary Ryan. In the Harris theater, at least un to the hour of writing, there Is en-visagable en-visagable a something by Miss Adeline Ade-line Leitzhach and Theodore I.iebler, Jr., culled "Success." This offering is of a face as entirelv ancient as "The Little Teacher." though its hokums are by no means so certain. The fable here is of an actor who goes to the dogs, whose wife leaves him, who meets in later years a la WarHc-Id, with his daughter, etc., etc. The piece is badly written and its sedulously aimed pathos provokes numerous rebellious snickers. The acting is as bad as the play. Among the culprits are Brandon Tynan and Jess Dandy. The scenery is as bad as the actors. Coming to the music shows, one discovers the best of the recent lot in the Princess theater. The title, "Oh, Lady! Lady!"; the authors, that adroit tiinitv composed of Messrs. Bolton, 'VVodehouee and Kern. The secret of the uniform success of these Princess entertainments is not far to seek. Aside from the agreeable tunes and lyrics generally supplied by the chefs in point, these shows are ever capitalizations of youth, and that youth is the leading factor in a music mu-sic show's charm only an extremelj' young boy, Indeed, can doubt What is more, the youth that these exhibitions exhi-bitions play up is not the rouged and powdered pseudo-youth of the thirty-five thirty-five promiscuously platformed on most of the other local ' stages, but youth more or less authentic. The present show follows closely the form of "Oh Boy" and "Very Good Eddie" Ed-die" and divulges as its leading figure Miss Vivienne Segal, a young person whose work seems steadily to improve. Assisting are the Misses Carroll Mac-Comas Mac-Comas and Florence Shirley and Carl Randall and Harry Fisher. Mr. Wode-liouse Wode-liouse has never written better lyrics, though Mr. Kern has often written better melodies. Lyrics Are Boyish. j At the Bijou, "Girl o' Mine," by tile Messrs. Philip Bartholomae and Frank , Tours, proves pretty thick going. Save in the instance of Miss Dorothy Dickson, Dick-son, the faces revealed upon the platform plat-form are suggestive of those of the nurses in the charity hospital of a small town. The lyrics are of a sub-college sub-college boy quality and tho humor provocative of everything but laughter. laugh-ter. In the case of "Over the Top," Mr. Bartholomae enjoyed the presence on his stage of Miss Justine Johnstone John-stone and the coincident advantage of a poulet so attractive that attention atten-tion was diverted from his written words. But this advantage Is in the . case of the current exhibition denied him and his bald lines so labor unL aided against the stalls. And, as I have observed, the result is scarcely happy. Miss Dickson is the one interesting in-teresting member of a company that embraces Edna Wallace Hopper. Miss Marie Nordstrom and Frank Fay. At the Forty-eighth Street theater, Andreas Dlppel's newest production, "The Love Mill," from the work-table work-table of Earl Carroll. A less than so-and-so entertainment, offering nothing even remotely Intriguing. This is the sort of exhibition about which the reviewer finds difficulty in saying anything. To attempt to put words' on paper concerning it Is akin to an attempt to describe the taste of celery. One recalls, as one proceeds to the reviewing task, that there were lyrics and tunes and scenery and dialogue and all the usual component parts of a music show, but the mind retains no direct memory. The effect is of an express, train that has whizzed by the station platform at night, leaving behind it little save the recollection of a couple of bright red lights and a large quantity of very chilly air. I admit that this is no way to write of a music show, whatever its quality, but if you think the job a simple one, try your hand at describing for me your net impressions impres-sions after haying eaten a dish of beaten whites of eggs. Service Is Recooked. In summary, there has been nothing of significance recently made visible on the New York stages. The service, in the main, is one of frequently re- ' cooked plats. At the Knickerbocker theater, true enough, that admirable actor, Arnold Daly, is presenting an adaptation of Hermann Bahr's "Josephine," "Jo-sephine," but in the auditorium of this playhouse I am a guest, by the pro-nuneiamento pro-nuneiamento of the Messrs. Klaw and Erlanger, approximately as welcome as Wuerzburger in Paris. Nevertheless, Neverthe-less, I am presently having fashioned, at considerable personal expense, a set of green whiskers and some flowing magenta mustaches. Once these ornaments are ready, I shall mask myself in them, and, thus completely com-pletely unrecognizable, walk grandly past the alert doorkeeper and describe for you what I have seen. |