A Tragedian's Grievance
A fading stage actor pours out a rambling, self-justifying account of his feud with the managers of Koster & Bial's, insisting he was wronged and vowing to sue for his salary — a small, human slice of theatrical backbiting from Gilded Age New York.
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The Evening World · December 14, 1888 · Page 1
2 min read&Quot;...should he be so accused!"
As to his trouble with Koster & Bial, he exclaimed: "God knows, I swear with uplifted hand I said no obscene word to those who were hired to gibe at me in the audience. I may have called them hamfatters, but it was in an aside. I was engaged for the season. Four times I gave the fortnight's notice to Mr. Bial, and each time was induced to withdraw it. I got a two weeks' vacation, and the attendance fell off ninety per cent.
"I don't wish to say I was the mascot of the house, but I certainly was not its Jonah. One of the firm told me that they could not have kept running all summer had I not been there.
"I dreaded to return to that place. It would be degrading to a star of the third or fourth magnitude. I could a tale unfold (the Dane) — but there, enough of that.
"They guyed me and called hard names. I was told that the management hired them to do it. I called them hamfats. The wine-rooms — oh, those wine-rooms! They are a den of horrors. I'll give the wink to Anthony Comstock! I'll give the hint to Mayor Hewitt, and that place will be closed up.
"I have been engaged in literary work. I've written editorials and critiques. I wrote 'Must Shakespeare Go? or Live on Bacon!' for Col. Shepard's paper at his urgent solicitation, and am now about to put in press a volume of poems.
"I dreaded to go back, I say, but the $100 a week was an item, and I returned like a sow to her wallow.
"They say they discharged me, but it is not true. I sent my wife to collect ten days' salary due me, and she, without my privity or consent, gave them a receipt in full. Then they dismissed me without the two weeks' notice. I now sue them for my salary for the rest of my engagement. I have sued Koster & Bial, and as justice is in my cause I shall win."
Just at this moment a pretty, fair-haired little girl ran into the room, lisping that mamma had put the night-cap on her head. It was only a little white cap, jauntily set on her bright curls, but she made a pretty picture, her face against the distraught features of the tragedian. He petted her and kissed her tenderly, and then she ran away. It was Josephine Beatrice Huebner, the child of the young widow to whom O'Conor was married in Hoboken a year ago.
At Koster & Bial's the complaint of the tragedian was smiled at, but the members of the firm declined to talk.
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