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DALY THEATRE
ADDRESS AT A DINNER AFTER THE ONE HUNDREDTH PERFORMANCE OF
"THE TAMING OF THE SHREW."
Mr. Clemens made the following speech, which he incorporated
afterward in Following the Equator.
I am glad to be here. This is the hardest theatre in New York to get
into, even at the front door. I never, got in without hard work. I am
glad we have got so far in at last. Two or three years ago I had an
appointment to meet Mr. Daly on the stage of this theatre at eight
o'clock in the evening. Well, I got on a train at Hartford to come to
New York and keep the appointment. All I had to do was to come to the
back door of the theatre on Sixth Avenue. I did not believe that; I did
not believe it could be on Sixth Avenue, but that is what Daly's note
said--come to that door, walk right in, and keep the appointment. It
looked very easy. It looked easy enough, but I had not much confidence
in the Sixth Avenue door.
Well, I was kind of bored on the train, and I bought some newspapers--New
Haven newspapers--and there was not much news in them, so I read the
advertisements. There was one advertisement of a bench-show. I had
heard of bench-shows, and I often wondered what there was about them to
interest people. I had seen bench-shows--lectured to bench-shows, in
fact--but I didn't want to advertise them or to brag about them. Well,
I read on a little, and learned that a bench-show was not a bench-show
--but dogs, not benches at all--only dogs. I began to be interested,
and as there was nothing else to do I read every bit of the
advertisement, and learned that the biggest thing in this show was a St.
Bernard dog that weighed one hundred and forty-five pounds. Before I got
to New York I was so interested in the bench-shows that I made up my mind
to go to one the first chance I got. Down on Sixth Avenue, near where
that back door might be, I began to take things leisurely. I did not
like to be in too much of a hurry. There was not anything in sight that
looked like a back door. The nearest approach to it was a cigar store.
So I went in and bought a cigar, not too expensive, but it cost enough to
pay for any information I might get and leave the dealer a fair profit.
Well, I did not like to be too abrupt, to make the man think me crazy, by
asking him if that was the way to Daly's Theatre, so I started gradually
to lead up to the subject, asking him first if that was the way to Castle
Garden. When I got to the real question, and he said he would show me
the way, I was astonished. He sent me through a long hallway, and I
found myself in a back yard. Then I went through a long passageway and
into a little room, and there before my eyes was a big St. Bernard dog
lying on a bench. There was another door beyond and I went there, and
was met by a big, fierce man with a fur cap on and coat off, who
remarked, "Phwat do yez want?" I told him I wanted to see Mr. Daly.
"Yez can't see Mr. Daly this time of night," he responded. I urged that
I had an appointment with Mr. Daly, and gave him my card, which did not
seem to impress him much. "Yez can't get in and yez can't shmoke here.
Throw away that cigar. If yez want to see Mr. Daly, yez 'll have to be
after going to the front door and buy a ticket, and then if yez have luck
and he's around that way yez may see him." I was getting discouraged,
but I had one resource left that had been of good service in similar
emergencies. Firmly but kindly I told him my name was Mark Twain, and I
awaited results. There was none. He was not fazed a bit. "Phwere's
your order to see Mr. Daly?" he asked. I handed him the note, and he
examined it intently. "My friend," I remarked, "you can read that better
if you hold it the other side up." But he took no notice of the
suggestion, and finally asked: "Where's Mr. Daly's name?" "There it is,"
I told him, "on the top of the page." "That's all right," he said,
"that's where he always puts it; but I don't see the 'W' in his name,"
and he eyed me distrustfully. Finally, he asked, "Phwat do yez want to
see Mr. Daly for?" "Business." "Business?" "Yes." It was my only
hope. "Phwat kind--theatres?" that was too much. "No." "What kind of
shows, then?" "Bench-shows." It was risky, but I was desperate."
Bench--shows, is it--where?" The big man's face changed, and he began to
look interested. "New Haven." "New Haven, it is? Ah, that's going to
be a fine show. I'm glad to see you. Did you see a big dog in the other
room?" "Yes." "How much do you think that dog weighs?" "One hundred
and forty-five pounds." "Look at that, now! He's a good judge of dogs,
and no mistake. He weighs all of one hundred and thirty-eight. Sit down
and shmoke--go on and shmoke your cigar, I'll tell Mr. Daly you are
here." In a few minutes I was on the stage shaking hands with Mr. Daly,
and the big man standing around glowing with satisfaction. "Come around
in front," said Mr. Daly, "and see the performance. I will put you into
my own box." And as I moved away I heard my honest friend mutter, "Well,
he desarves it." |
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