Journal Notes

Entertaining Women:

Actresses, Dancers, and Singers in the Old West

Long before actors were vying for an Oscar nomination and world wide fame thespians were trying to carve out a modest living entertaining prospectors and settlers of the Old West. Today the curtain goes up on a woman entertainer who captured the hearts of the western pioneers.

Ladies and gentlemen, Sara Kirby Stark, the Pioneer Manager

Sarah Kirby threw down the newspaper and paced across the room, only to turn and race back to the crumpled pages. She picked them up, smoothed them out, and once again read the diatribe against her penned by John Hambleton. Sarah was stricken with grief at the suicide of Hambleton’s wife. That the actor should blame her for his wife’s untimely death and publish his accusations in the San Francisco newspapers increased her distress. Her fingers whitened, and the edges of the page crumpled as she saw herself likened to a snake squeezing the life from its victim. Hambleton wrote of his dead wife’s devotion:

For six years of struggling hardship through poverty and sickness she was at my side night and day, with the same watchful attention as a mother to an infant, until, with the last two months a change had taken place, like a black cloud over shadowing the bright sun. She gradually lost all affection for me, riveting her attention on a female

friend who, like a fascinating serpent, attracted her prey until within her coils. In silence I observed this at first, and deemed it trifling, until I saw the plot thicken.

Sarah crushed the flimsy copy of the Evening Picayune again. She must counter this ugly story or lose her reputation in the city. Not for this had she struggled to attain a pinnacle of success as both an actress and a theater manager. As a manager of a company of actors—one of very few women managers—bad publicity could cost her everything.

A genuine pioneer of theater in California, Sarah Kirby had made her debut in Boston but arrived in the brawling new territory within a year of the first rush of Argonauts heading for the sparkling, gold-laced streams of the Sierra. Rowe’s Amphitheater in San Francisco saw her first performance as Pauline in The Lady of Lyons.

Two months later she appeared at the Tehama Theater, which she had opened and comanaged in Sacramento. By August 1850, she was a full-fledged manager, producing plays at a theater in Stockton, and in September she was back at the Tehama in Sacramento.

To learn more about how Sara Kirby Stark’s career began and about the other talented performers of the Old West read

Entertaining Women: Actresses, Dancers, and Singers in the Old West.

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Entertaining Women:

Actresses, Dancers, and Singers in the Old West

Long before actors were vying for an Oscar nomination and world wide fame thespians were trying to carve out a modest living entertaining prospectors and settlers of the Old West. Today the curtain goes up on a woman entertainer who captured the hearts of the western pioneers.

Ladies and gentlemen, Emma Nevada, Diva of the Diggins

Doc Wixom lifted his three-year-old daughter and stood her carefully in the middle of the table. Wrapped in an American flag, golden brown ringlets framing her sweet face, Emma Wixom smiled at her audience. The church on the banks of Deer Creek was crowded with miners and merchants, teamsters and salon keepers. They were there to benefit a local charity, and the sight of a child symbolized the hopes of the future.

Unafraid of the eager faces crowded around the table, little Emma Wixom knew what was expected of her. She was happy to sing on this lovely morning. She did it all the time, unaccompanied, singing for the pure love of the sound.

That summer day in 1862, in the thriving California Gold Rush town named Nevada, she gave a performance to remember. Inside the Baptist church on the banks of Deer Creek, Emma took a deep breath and released a pure soprano voice that held the audience spellbound. By the time the last note sounded, there was not a dry eye in the house. Brawny, wet-cheeked miners showered her with nuggets of pure gold.

Emma Wixom, the daughter of a country doctor, began a long and illustrious career that day in the church. She would go on to sing opera in Europe and America. She would draw standing-room-only crowds to her performances, but her biggest fans remained the reckless, rugged gold miners who first took a little child into their hearts.

To learn more about Emma Wixom’s (later known as Emma Nevada) singing career began and about the other talented performers of the Old West read

Entertaining Women: Actresses, Dancers, and Singers in the Old West.

Time to enter to win a copy of the book

Entertaining Women:

Actresses, Dancers, and Singers in the Old West

Long before actors were vying for an Oscar nomination and world wide fame thespians were trying to carve out a modest living entertaining prospectors and settlers of the Old West. Today the curtain goes up on a woman entertainer who captured the hearts of the western pioneers.

Ladies and gentlemen, Lillie Langtry, the Jersey Lillie

At 23 years-old Lillie Langtry’s striking looks were inspiring poets to write sonnets about her grace and pen and ink artists to sketch her elegant profile. She was known as a “Professional Beauty,” one of a handful of women in England with such arresting features they were invited to the finest soirées just so guests could admire them. Langtry was a tall, curvaceous lady with Titian red hair and portraits of her sold in shops for a penny.

Emile Charlotte LeBrenton was born to William Corbet and Emile Martin LeBreton in October of 1853 on the Isle of Jersey, a few miles off the coast of Saint-Malo, France. She was the only daughter in a family of six children. Her mother called her “Lillie,” which fit the beautiful child with lily-white skin.

Her education included studies in history, the classics and early theatre. By the time she turned 20 she had developed a love for theatre and a strong desire to leave her birthplace and see the world she had read so much about.

She married Edward Langtry on March 9, 1874, not long after watching his yacht sail into the Jersey harbor. He took her away from her home to England where they met and mingled with the country’s most renowned aristocrats. Their marriage would not survive the attention Lillie received from male admirers and friends who persuaded her to pursue a career on stage. The two separated after the birth of their daughter in April 1881.

Theatre owners looking for a chance to capitalize on the well-known siren’s popularity, invited her to join their acting troupe. Knowing that they were attracted only by her beauty, she refused all offers, deciding instead to take acting lessons. For months she trained with the critically acclaimed actress Henrietta Hodson Labouchere and on December 15, 1881, made her acting debut at the Theatre Royal in Westminster.

Lillie’s performance was stunning and audiences filled the house nightly. Labouchere became her manager and arranged for her pupil to appear at the most prestigious playhouses in England and Scotland. New York theatre owner and producer Henry Abbey saw Lillie in a show in Edinburgh and was instantly captivated by her talent. He wrote Henrietta with a generous proposal for Lillie, including an offer of 50 percent of the gross proceeds from her shows. Henrietta encourage her student to accept, but Lillie held out for 65 percent of the gross and payment of all her travel expenses.

To learn more about how Lillie Langtry’s singing career began and about the other talented performers of the Old West read

Entertaining Women: Actresses, Dancers, and Singers in the Old West.

Time to enter to win a copy of the book

Entertaining Women:

Actresses, Dancers, and Singers in the Old West

Long before actors were vying for an Oscar nomination and world wide fame thespians were trying to carve out a modest living entertaining prospectors and settlers of the Old West. Today the curtain goes up on a woman entertainer who captured the hearts of the western pioneers.

Ladies and gentlemen, Catherine Hayes, the Irish Prima Donna

A demure ten-year-old girl sat in front of a clear blue river, half hidden under a canopy of willow trees in a lush garden, singing. Her silvery-toned voice resonated across the water and filled the afternoon sky with a melancholy sound. Couples canoeing on the river paddled toward the song, halted their boats, and waited in the shadows of the trees, listening. No one said a word. Not even a whisper gave away their position to the unknowing girl. Indeed she didn’t realize anyone was paying attention until she finished her tune and rapturous applause commenced. Thus was the romantic beginning of Kate Hayes’s singing career.

When Catherine (Kate) Hayes was born in July 1823 in Ireland, her mother, Mary, compared the child’s features to those of a cherub. Her talent for singing like an angel was soon revealed.

Kate’s father, Arthur, abandoned her and her sister when they were small children, leaving the family destitute; consequently, Kate and her sister were forced to go to work as soon as they were old enough. From the age of eight, Kate worked a variety of jobs, from caring for infants to scrubbing inn floors. At nineteen she found employment as an assistant to a charwoman. She sang as she cleaned the homes she worked in, and passersby who overheard her were astonished at her remarkable voice.

Bishop Edmond Knox of Limerick heard Kate singing as he was passing by one of the homes she was cleaning, and he proclaimed that she had the most beautiful voice he had ever heard. He was the first to recognize her potential and consequently took her on as his protégé. Bishop Knox consulted with friends and, along his wife Agnus, helped raise the necessary funds to send Kate to Dublin with letters of introduction to the accomplished vocalist and voice teacher Professor Antonio Sapio.

Professor Sapio agreed to train the young girl, as her voice possessed a clearness and mellowness he had rarely heard before. One month after her arrival in Dublin, Kate made her first formal public appearance at a concert hosted by her instructor. The discriminating audience was impressed by her talent, and the reviews in the newspaper the following day reflected the crowd’s pleasure. Intuitively, Sapio knew his protégé required more specialized training than he could provide and encouraged Catherine to continue her studies in France.

Bearing a letter of introduction from celebrated pianist George Osborne, Kate arrived in Paris in October 1844. Manuel Garcia, a renowned voice instructor who also taught other singers such as Jenny Lind, Maria Malibran, and Henriette Sontag, became her vocal teacher.

Garcia taught Kate everything he could, then sent her to Italy to study for a career in opera. She concentrated on language arts and drama. In Milan, she met many influential theater patrons who arranged for her to audition for Giuseppe Provini, manager of the Italian Opera in Marseilles, France. Provini was so taken by her talent that he scheduled her operatic debut on May 10, 1845, as Elvira in Bellini’s opera I Puritani. She was discovered by an American stage producer shortly after her debut in Italy. The producer quickly whisked her off to the United States.

To learn more about how Catherine Hayes’ singing career began and about the other talented performers of the Old West read

Entertaining Women: Actresses, Dancers, and Singers in the Old West.

Enter to win a copy of the book

Entertaining Women:

Actresses, Dancers, and Singers in the Old West

Long before actors were vying for an Oscar nomination and world wide fame thespians were trying to carve out a modest living entertaining prospectors and settlers of the Old West. Today the curtain goes up on a woman entertainer who captured the hearts of the western pioneers.

Ladies and gentlemen, the Polish Phenomenon

A cold wind blew down the canyon, carrying pellets of frozen snow and grit from the mines in the hills surrounding Virginia City, Nevada. The wind swirled through the narrow streets, bringing damp, cold air and the smell of wood smoke into National Guard Hall. A restless audience debated the prospects of entertainment this stormy evening.  Could a Polish woman really deliver the goods tonight?

Miners with callused hands mingled with clean-fingered merchants and discussed the probabilities of a rousing performance. Gamblers watched the stage for signs that the mysterious Madam Modjeska would soon appear and wagered she would be unintelligible in the French play Adrienne Lecouvreur. Helena Modjeska barely spoke English, they said with knowing looks. Her English teacher had been German, they chuckled, so the odds were good that the great tragedy would become a farce.

Backstage, Helena Modjeska paced the boards, running her lines and tamping down nerves. She was more than six thousand miles from Cracow, waiting in the wings to perform a play in front of an audience of Comstock miners about a Parisian courtesan who had died nearly fifty years before. This brawling town of Virginia City was shocking, with its gambling dens and brothels doing brisk business alongside shops, hotels, and, just one street away, churches. How could she possibly convey the pathos and strength of the character through two language barriers in a town described as an outpost of hell?

That she did so, and with startling success, was chronicled in the Nevada press. Barely two weeks after Helena’s thirty-seventh birthday, the Territorial Enterprise of October 23, 1877, presented her with a gift of unstinting praise: The acting of Madame Modjeska last night at National Guard Hall was not like anything ever seen before in Virginia City. It was the perfect realization of something which we fancy is dreamed of by us all, but which we have waited and waited for through the years until deep down in our hearts we have concluded it was something too rare for any earthly one to give realization to—that it was but a longing of the divine within us which only in some other state less sordid, dull and cold that this could find full expression. But last night the dream was made real, and more than once did the audience rub their eyes and look up with that questioning gaze which men put on when startled suddenly from a broken sleep.

To learn more about how Helena Modjeska’s acting career began and about the other talented performers of the Old West read

Entertaining Women: Actresses, Dancers, and Singers in the Old West.

Enter to win a copy of the book

Entertaining Women:

Actresses, Dancers, and Singers in the Old West

Long before actors were vying for an Oscar nomination and world wide fame thespians were trying to carve out a modest living entertaining prospectors and settlers of the Old West. Today the curtain goes up on a woman entertainer who captured the hearts of the western pioneers.

Ladies and gentlemen, Catherin Norton Sinclair, the Talented Divorcee.

Shakespearean actor Edwin Forrest rifled through the desk drawer in the sitting room of the New York home he shared with this wife, socialite turned actress and theatre manager Catherine Norton Sinclair. The contents of the drawer belonged to Catherine, but Edwin wasn’t interested in maintaining her privacy. In his frantic search, he uncovered a worn and rumpled letter written to his bride from fellow thespian, George Jamieson. “And now, sweetest, our brief dream is over; and such a dream!” the correspondence began. “Have we not known real bliss? Have we not realized what poets have to set up as an ideal state, giving full license to their imagination, scarcely believing in its reality? Have we not experienced the truth that ecstasy is not fiction? And oh, what an additional delight to think, no, to know, that I have made some happy hours with you… With these considerations, dearest, our separation, though painful will not be unendurable; I am happy, and with you to remember and the blissful anticipation of seeing you again, shall remain so…” Jamieson’s declaration of his feelings for Catherine ended with a promise to do “my utmost to be worthy of your love.”

Edwin reread the letter with poised dignity and on its completion sank into the nearest chair, cursing the day he had met the woman he had married. After a few moments, he arose and frantically paced about the room. He denounced Catherine for her infidelity and fell to the floor weeping uncontrollably. According to Edwin’s biographer William Rounseville Alger, Edwin was “struck to the heart with surprise, grief, and rage.” Catherine’s take on Edwin’s reaction and the circumstances surrounding her husband reading the letter are vastly different from Alger’s account. Almost from the moment the pair met, Edwin was jealous of everyone Catherine knew in her social standing and did not shy away from making a scene.

Catherine was born near London in 1818 to Scottish parents who had four children in all. Her father, John Sinclair, was a well-known vocalist who had toured America in 1831 and 1833. Historical records note that Catherine was endowed with natural beauty, and, whatever the quality and quantity of her formal and social education, she had in her teens acquired a sparkle and vivacity that attracted men. She was popular and well-liked and attended formal soirees, theatre openings, and art exhibits with a myriad of friends from all walks of life.

To learn more about how Catherine Norton Sinclair’s acting career began and about the other talented performers of the Old West read

Entertaining Women: Actresses, Dancers, and Singers in the Old West.

Enter to win a copy of the book

Entertaining Women:

Actresses, Dancers, and Singers in the Old West

Long before actors were vying for an Oscar nomination and world wide fame thespians were trying to carve out a modest living entertaining prospectors and settlers of the Old West. Today the curtain goes up on a woman entertainer who captured the hearts of the western pioneers.

Ladies and gentlemen, the incomparable Charlotte Cushman.

It was a cold evening in the early spring of 1859 when the well-known actress Charlotte Cushman debuted in Shakespeare’s Hamlet at the Metropolitan Theatre in San Francisco. The city’s most wealthy and influential people arrived by carriage. Throngs of curious bystanders eager to see the aristocrat hovered around the walkway leading into the building. The fine, brick edifice rivaled the most notable on the East Coast.

Inside, the grand hall was fitted with the most ornate fixtures and could seat comfortably upwards to a thousand people. From the private boxes to the gallery, every part of the immense building was crowded to excess. Charlotte Cushman was recognized by theatre goers as the “greatest living tragic actress,” and everyone who was anyone wanted to see her perform. Several women had won fame with their impersonations of male characters in various dramas, but critics and fans alike regarded Charlotte as the best of them all.

In 1845, a theatrical reviewer in London had written about one of Charlotte’s performances in glowing terms. “Miss Cushman’s Hamlet must henceforth be ranked among her best performances. Every scene was warm and animated, and at once conveyed the impression of the character. There was no forced or elaborate attempt at feeling or expression. You were addressed by the whole mind; passion spoke in every feature, and the illusion was forcible and perfect.”

The audience that flocked to see the exceptionally talented Charlotte in California was not only treated to a “forcible and perfect” interpretation of Hamlet, but that evening they were also treated to a display of the actress’ temper.

 To learn just what caused Charlotte’s temper to explode, how her acting career began, and about the other talented performers of the Old West read

Entertaining Women: Actresses, Dancers, and Singers in the Old West.

Enter to win a copy of the book

Entertaining Women:

Actresses, Dancers, and Singers in the Old West

Long before actors were vying for an Oscar nomination and world wide fame thespians were trying to carve out a modest living entertaining prospectors and settlers of the Old West. Today the curtain goes up on a woman entertainer who captured the hearts of the western pioneers.

Ladies and gentlemen, the immensely talented Lillian Russell.

If a woman gets the reputation of being a professional beauty, it is hard work to live up to it.

Lillian Russell, The Theatre Magazine, 1905

The green silk robe shimmered in the light of the dressing room. Adjusting the neckline, Lillian Russell glanced into the mirror and considered the interviewer’s question about beauties never appreciating their good looks. “I think they do,” she countered. “They are glad to have it, as they are grateful for any other gift. I am pleased and gratified when someone says I look nice.”

Looking “nice” was a part of the job that the corn-fed beauty from America’s heartland never forgot. The costume she wore in the second act of Lady Teazle showed off her abundant charms to perfection. The green silk, the large plumed hat, and the ebony walking stick adorned with orange ribbons were but a pretty frame for the statuesque blond performer whose sumptuous exterior diverted attention from a sharp mind and a warm heart.

As she continued dressing for the second act of the play, she answered questions from Miss Ada Patterson, longtime reporter for The Theatre Magazine. “How,” asked Patterson, “had a girl from Iowa earned the name “America’s Beauty”?

“I came away from Clinton when I was six months old, and I don’t remember much about it,” she told the reporter. A backward glance over a smooth white shoulder gave a glimpse of the famous smile, curving perfect lips. A spark of mischief flashed in the beautiful, blue eyes framed by long, thick eyelashes as she added, “Although there are Tabbies who say they remember my life there when I was six months old sixty years ago.”

The feature later published in The Theatre Magazine of February 1905 never came right out and said that America’s most famous beauty was now forty-three years old. Behind her lay phenomenal success as well as heartbreak and failure, yet none of it dimmed the glow. The interviewer that day compared the throat and shoulders rising from the green silk to the Venus de Milo. The pure soprano voice still hit high C with ease, and, after more than twenty-three years on stage, the name Lillian Russell still drew people to the theater.

To learn more about Lillian Russell and about the other talented performers of the Old West read

Entertaining Women: Actresses, Dancers, and Singers in the Old West.

Enter to win a copy of the book

Entertaining Women:

Actresses, Dancers, and Singers in the Old West

“I intend to play westward, and to appear in the town in which I was born—Sacramento.”

Mary Anderson’s comments to a reporter at the San Francisco Call, 1886

The angry hawk clenched its talons on the heavy leather gauntlet, stabbing the delicate wrist beneath. Wings bated, the half-wild bird glared fiercely into the large gray eyes of his captor. Mary Anderson stared back with steely determination. This unruly bird would be tamed, she resolved, and would become a living prop for her performance of the Countess in Sheridan Knowles’s comedy, Love. A stuffed bird would not provide the realism she intended, and what Mary Anderson intended usually came to be. Mary wrote in her memoirs:

There is a fine hawking scene in one of the acts, which would have been spoiled by a stuffed falcon, however beautifully hooded and gyved he might have been; for to speak such words as: “How nature fashion’d him for his bold trade, /Gave him his stars of eyes to range abroad, /His wings of glorious spread to mow the air, /And breast of might to use them’ to an inanimate bird, would have been absurd.

Always absolutely serious about her profession, Mary procured a half-wild bird and set to work on bending its spirit to her will. The training, she explained, started with taking the hawk from a cage and feeding it raw meat “hoping thus to gain his affections.” She wore heavy gloves and goggles to protect her eyes. The hawk was not easily convinced of her motives, and “painful scratches and tears were the only result.”

She was advised to keep the bird from sleeping until its spirit broke, but she refused to take that course. Persevering with the original plan, Mary continued to feed and handle the hawk until it eventually learned to sit on her shoulder while she recited her lines, then fly to her wrist as she continued; then, at the signal from her hand, the bird would flap away as she concluded with a line about a glorious, dauntless bird. The dauntless hawk and Mary Anderson were birds of a feather.

Born July 28, 1859, at a hotel in Sacramento, California, Mary’s earliest years were unsettled. Her mother, Antonia Leugers, had eloped with Charles Henry Anderson, a young Englishman intent on finding his fortune in America. It was a love match not approved by Antonia’s parents. The young couple arrived in Sacramento in time for Mary’s birth but too late to scoop up a fortune from the nearest stream. The easy pickings of the 1849 Gold Rush were gone.

To learn more about Mary Anderson and about the other talented performers of the

Old West read

Entertaining Women: Actresses, Dancers, and Singers in the Old West.

Enter to win a copy of the book

Entertaining Women:

Actresses, Dancers, and Singers in the Old West

Actress Jeanne Eagels was an attractive, petite entertainer with delicate features. According to her friends and peers she was childish, adult, reasonable, unreasonable – usually one when she should be the other, but always unpredictable. The Oscar nominated actress was born Amelia Jean Eagles on June 26, 1890, in Kansas City, Missouri. She was the second of four children born to Edward Eagles, a carpenter, and Julia Sullivan Eagles.* Edward and Julia were from Kentucky and both had an ancestry that could be traced back to France and Ireland.

As a child Jeanne was frail, but mischievous. There wasn’t a boy on the block that wasn’t afraid of her. According to the sole biography written about the famed thespian by Edward Doherty and entitled The Rain Girl, Jeanne was a tomboy. She liked to climb onto the roofs of barns, swing from the limbs of trees, walk fences, and skip from rafter to rafter in the attics of the buildings in the neighborhood.

“She was six or seven when she fell from a fence she and her sister were walking on,” Doherty wrote about Jeanne. “She broke her right arm and ran home to her mother. A doctor was called, but he wasn’t the best in the world. He set the arm, but it pained her all the rest of her life, especially when it was wet. And it was wet every night and every matinee for five years when Jeanne performed in her most recognizable stage role, that of Sadie Thompson in the play Rain.”

Throughout the duration of her career, Jeanne told newspaper and magazine reporters that she had broken her arm while traveling with the circus. She claimed she’d fallen off a white horse she was riding around the ring. It was the first of many stories she herself would contribute to the legend of Jeanne Eagels.

To learn more about Jeanne Eagels and about the other talented performers of the

Old West read

Entertaining Women: Actresses, Dancers, and Singers in the Old West.