Baltimore Evening Sun (12 October 1911): 6.
Just 1,317 days more!
The program of Baltimore’s current vaudeville show:
In His Famous Monologue, “Street Car Confidences.”
In Stupendous Feats of Ratiocination.
Presenting their merry comedy, “Stirring Up the Animals.”
The Thrilling Drama in one act,
First Rescuer................. Fred. Talbott
Second Rescuer............ John Walter Smith
Third Rescuer............... Bill Marbury
Sonny--MAHON & STONE--Bill
In an exchange of plensentries.
Presenting His Mirth-Provoking Sketch,
“Freezing to Death.”
In Artistic Poses
Hear the Grand Jury Fife and Drum Corps
in the Rathskeller.
The Psychic Gymnast
In Lightning-Like Somersaults and Other
Feats of Prudence and Agility.
The Entertainment Concluding With That
A MEETING OF THE COUNCIL
Half an hour of uproarious hilarity, introducing all of Baltimore’s favorite scaramouches, mountebanks, drolls, clowns, comiques, jesters, jongleurs, harlequins, zanies, mimes, pantaloons, Jack-a-dandies, merry andrews. punches, grimacieurs, farceurs, clodpolls, dunderheads and buffoons.
A darn long while!
Make way for the apologists for the apologists for Biggs the apologist!
The scornful words of City Councilman Samuel L. West, of the Thirteenth ward:
Many of the resolutions introduced and passed by the First Branch are absurd.
For instance, F. B. No. 122, and particularly its concluding strophe, to wit:
Resolved, That the “Grand Old Commonwealth of Maryland,” which gave birth to the National Anthem–“The Star-Spangled Banner”--the anniversary of the writing of which is to be fittingly celebrated in the City of Baltimore, September 15, 1914, is composed of citizens whose patriotism is second to none in the Sisterhood of States.
But who introduced F. B. No. 122? None other, so my spies inform me, than City Councilman Samuel L. West, of the Thirteenth ward!
But some do say--!
Come on, Joesting. Tell us the name of that discreet fellow who “was going” to throw a reporter out of his house.
Nothing more is heard about the men higher up. Evidently they have climbed out of sight.
The standing of the clubs in the National Typhoid League, for the week ended September 16:
Baltimore................. 1129 Boston.................. 756
Cleveland................. 570 Chicago................ 312
St. Louis................... 408 Philadelphia......... 309
Pittsburgh................. 356 New York............ 214
Don’t believe them!
Whether or not tonight’s rally of the Greater Baltimore Committee will bring out the Old Guard remains to be seen. Such a meeting must inevitably appeal to the Prominent Baltimorean with great force. It offers him a chance to stand before the plain people in the snow-white vestments of virtue. It is bathed in the blinding light of scandal, and yet it is not scandalous itself. If you were a Prominent Baltimorean you would go. So would I.
We’ll never escape!
The words of two scaramouches at the Maryland Theatre this week:
What State is Baltimore in? Baltimore is in a terrible state.
The real motto of the Old-Fashioned Administration:
Aw, go to h----l!
Notice the “h----l”? The symbol of newspaper virtue! What I wrote, of course, was a little word of four letters, not a word of two letters and a dash. But the rules of every respectable American newspaper forbid the printing of that little word. Newspaper virtue is an affecting, an overpowering thing.
Not for 1,317 days!
What has become of the theatre censors? Here is the season in full blast, with “Alma, Wo Wohnst Du?” as one of the current bills--and yet no word of protest from those connoisseurs of indecency, those specialists in impropriety! For shame, messieurs! Where is your old frenzy for chemical purity?
From the super-Mahon’s Atlanta harangue (an harangue, by the way, which died in manuscript):
Baltimore’s progress has been conservative and solid. Recently, however, her people have become aroused, and have determined upon a quicker step in the onward march.
As the demand for a ripper bill and government by commission well indicates.
A darn long while!
But why not admit the truth at once? When it comes to a choice between the boomers and the super-Mahon, I am for the super-Mahon, first, last and all the time. Come on in, boys! The time arrives to be converted!