Watch Yourself Go By Part 50

There never was a full rehearsal of the minstrels ere they embarked for Parker's Landing on the good boat "Jim Rees." There was no railroad to the oil regions from Pittsburgh in those days. The Allegheny River was navigable to Venango, opposite the present Oil City.

Two members of the minstrels, song and dance men, took a dislike to Alfred. Others soon became intimate with him, they enjoyed his humorous narratives, particularly his experiences with Node Beckley and the panorama. The two members mentioned exhausted the new boy's patience and he invited both to fistic combat. His challenges were laughed at; the jibes and jokes became more and more insulting.

Jealousy, that canker that eats and festers at the hearts of actors as it does at those of no other humans, was the motive for their actions.

Alfred had introduced a bit of acrobatic comedy in the closing farce that was the laughing hit of the minstrels. Owing to the lack of acts, the stage manager ordered Alfred to put on a single turn. This act preceded the turn of the song and dance men. The singing of Alfred took with the oil men greatly. The two who followed were not even fair singers, their efforts fell flat; they had the stage manager change them on the bill. The change put them just before Alfred. When advised of the change he reminded the stage manager that he went on only for accommodation in the olio and flatly refused to follow the song and dance men. The angel ordered the two song and dance men on in their usual position, following Alfred. Alfred rehea.r.s.ed a dance secretly. He finished his singing turn with this dance, introducing all his known acrobatic stunts. This rough dance simply set the oil men wild and the two worthies fell flatter at every performance.

No philanthropist of the "Coal Oil Johnny" sort had discovered the minstrels as yet, but the path of their travels was one of nightly carousals. The two dancers were a.s.sisting the manager-angel in scattering the money that came in. The people were hungry for amus.e.m.e.nts; hence the tour thus far had been one of profit.

The manager and his companions never went to bed when there was another place to go. It was one of the pa.s.s-times of the two dancers to enter Alfred's room noiselessly, pull him violently out of bed and steal out in the darkness. In one of their playful moods they carried Alfred's wearing apparel to another part of the hotel.

Alfred warned the stage manager that he intended to resent this treatment. However, there was no cessation to the indignities the two put upon the young minstrel.

But like all so-called ladders, they could not stand the gaff. After a particularly keen onslaught upon Alfred with their tongues, in which several of his weaknesses were commented upon, Alfred got back at them: "I don't have to cater to the manager to hold my job; I'm drawing my wages on my work, not on my cheek," was Alfred's retort.

At t.i.tusville, a banquet was tendered the minstrels by the landlord of the hotel.

Many speeches were delivered, good, bad and very bad--all predicting the perpetual success of the minstrel enterprise. There was a lull in the gaiety. The toastmaster announced as there was no prepared program all would be expected to say something. He thereupon introduced one of Alfred's tormentors.

The fellow arose, cleared his throat and made a laborious attempt to speak a few intelligible words, concluding with an indelicate story.

The landlord tiptoed across the room closing the door that none might overhear. With a maudlin leer he followed the landlord with his eyes, as he shouted: "Thanks, Landy, this ain't a ladies' story." As he sat down there was neither laughter nor applause.

The toastmaster called upon Alfred. He was overcome with bashfulness and did not arise until several urged him to say something. "Get up, get up," urged the two men opposite. Alfred arose, so confused he could not articulate. A voice shouted: "Tell them about the panorama."

Alfred began Palmer's lecture. It had no application to the occasion, but few understood it, there was an oppressive silence. Alfred had no idea of when to cease talking, and would probably have given the whole lecture, had not Bill Young, a musician, one who took a very great interest in him, seized him by the arm, shaking him forcibly: "Here, here; you forgot the song, you promised to sing for us." Bill continued: "Gentlemen: Alfred will now give you a correct imitation of an old maid singing 'Barbara Allen.'"

He gave the imitation so cleverly that the guests applauded again and again. As he ended the song, his eyes closed, imitating the old maid, something soft and mushy struck him on the breast of his white shirt.

The juice spattered into his face and over those near him.

A glance at the mushy mess, Alfred's eyes fell on the two men opposite him. One was looking apologetically at the gentleman next Alfred who was wiping his face with his napkin; the other laughing tantalizingly.

Retaliation was speedy. It was not two seconds after the decayed tomato landed on Alfred until a large platter of soft salad of some sort, a sugar bowl and several smaller dishes were landing just where aimed.

One of Alfred's tormentors lay upon the floor, his face and vest literally covered with salad and other cold lunch. The other was making for the door, dodging plates and cups that flew perilously near his head.

Alfred, being the swifter, soon overtook the fleeing man. There was a short struggle, and Alfred's well directed blows took all the fight out of him; he begged for mercy.

The landlord led Alfred to the parlor, commanding him to keep quiet and not cause further disturbance.

Alfred remained in the parlor for what seemed to him a long time.

Finally, the landlord returned to advise the man struck with the salad plate was pretty badly cut and they thought best to get a doctor. He further stated the other one had complained to the police.

"The coward," sneered the landlord, "I wish we had let you give it to him; he would have had something to complain of. However, the chief is a good friend of mine and I think I can fix it so you will not be locked up."

Alfred's first thought was, what will the folks at home say should he be thrown into jail?

The chief of police and members of the company and others crowded into the parlor. The chief, one of those officials who felt his importance greatly, a.s.sumed to try the case then and there.

"Have you had any fights before?"

"Yes, sir, thousands of them," answered Alfred. He was under the impression the question covered his entire life. Everybody in the room laughed.

"No, I had reference to a fight with the parties whom you a.s.saulted here tonight," continued the officer.

Alfred was just a little ashamed of the admission and entered into an explanation: "I never tried to fight them before, though they have done everything they could to worry me. Ever since I joined the show it has been one insult after another. I could scarcely keep my hands off them only I was afeared they would double team on me. I'd had it out long ago but for that," and as Alfred talked he warmed up.

"Hold on," the chief interrupted, "do not incriminate yourself. Did either of these men ever offer you violence?"

"No, they was afraid to, they're both cowards. I will fight it out with either of them right now." Alfred was angry; the old Brownsville way of settling such disputes was all he thought of.

The chief remarked to those near him: "I feel sorry for this boy, owing to the fact that they have tormented him;" he turned to Alfred, "I do not feel sorry for them nor wish to protect them, yet that is no legal excuse for your a.s.sault upon them."

Someone came forward with this proposition, that inasmuch as they all belonged to one family, that they shake hands all around, call everything square and go on about their business.

"Well, if the party will withdraw the charge of felonious a.s.sault it's all right with me. I don't get nothing out of it nohow," was the police officer's reply.

"Get them together," was the suggestion made by several. Alfred interfered by saying: "I'm willing to get together or do anything that's fair but I'm not going to travel with this gang of rowdies another day."

The chief nudged him to cease and whispered: "Then they'll put you in jail."

"Well, I'll put them in jail, too," retorted Alfred.

"What charges will you prefer against them; you stated you had never had trouble with them before?"

"But look what they have done to me," persisted Alfred. "They have plagued me until I couldn't have a minute's peace of mind, and then they hit me with a rotten tomattus as big as a gourd, why--?"

The chief here interrupted Alfred to inform him that in law a rotten tomato was not considered a dangerous weapon.

"Well, if anybody would hit you with a rotten tomattus, I know what you'd do; you'd shoot 'em, that's what you'd do."

"Why, there was no tomattuses on the table; I can prove it by the landlord."

"Them fellers went to the slop barrel and fished it out; didn't I smell old sour swill on it. Why the smell of that tomattus would made a dog sick."

Whether it was Alfred's anger, emphasized by his smacking his hands together, his hurried speech, or the description of the condition of the tomato, the laughter that convulsed all seemed to make him more indignant.

With heightened voice and more forcible gestures he continued: "If I do live in a little town, I've been away from home before, and I won't let no son-of-a-gun ride over me even if he is as big as the side of a house. I've got a home; I've got good people; I can go to them and I won't travel another day with a pack of drunken rowdies. You can do with me as you please. You say there's no law agin heavin' rotten tomattuses at a person in a banquet. What kind of law have you got in t.i.tusville?

If anybody would hit another with a tomattus at the dinner table in Brownsville they'd beat h.e.l.l out of him quicker'n you could say 'Jack Robinson.'"

The remainder of Alfred's forcible, if not eloquent, speech was drowned by laughter. Half a dozen present volunteered to go his bail.

Numerous attempts were made in the early Sunday morning to influence Alfred to continue his travels with the troupe. To all arguments he gave the same answer: "No; I'll not travel further with a lot of drunken rowdies."

With all sorts of promises, a raise of salary, promotion, and other alluring inducements, they failed to move Alfred. Finally as do all cajolers, the manager endeavored to threaten the boy into following his wishes. But with no better results.

"I would walk home before I would travel another day with you," was the parting shot as the manager left the room, swearing he would have Alfred in jail and keep him there.