My Actor-Husband: A true story of American stage lifeAnonymous
General
My Actor-Husband: A true story of American stage life
Anonymous
Actors -- Fiction; Married people -- Fiction; Theater -- Moral and ethical aspects -- Fiction
The Molletts enjoyed a comfortable income which they appeared to use
judiciously. Their home was comfortable and in good taste. Their library
was a treat; not merely fine bindings and rare editions. The volumes
showed an intimate acquaintance with the owner. By the process of
elimination they had formed a selected chain of the better class of
actors, who found a warm welcome awaiting them whenever they played
Boston. The Molletts' leaning toward the artistic had no taint of the
free-and-easy predilection. The element of illusion furnished by their
player friends was precisely the variety needed to counteract the
monotony of their daily routine. Both sides benefited by the exchange.
Boston was the first stand on tour. The second season had opened with a
six weeks' engagement in New York and one, two or more weeks were booked
in the larger cities. The original company was advertised and--rare
integrity--maintained. Will decided that it was cheaper to carry the boy
and me on the road than to keep up two establishments. Luckily we sublet
our apartment. I was for sending Experience back to her home, though I
had become sincerely attached to her and so had Boy. Will declared we
could not manage without a nurse. I assured him we could. "You don't
suppose you can carry that Buster around in your arms, do you? And
wouldn't I look nice climbing on and off trains, and coming into hotels
with a baby in my arms? Pretty picture for a matinée idol! No, ma'am,
Experience remains. Besides," he smiled at me, "a nurse and a valet help
to make a good front. It'll keep the management guessing."
Unfortunately the management were not the only ones kept guessing. Good
hotels were expensive and Will's position did not permit him to stop at
any other kind. It worried me a great deal to see Will's envelope come
in on Tuesday and scarcely anything left on Wednesday when we had paid
the bills. I suspected, too, that Will had some debts hanging over from
last season. I knew he had drawn on the management during the summer. We
foolishly took a cottage at Allenhurst on the sea, where we spent our
holidays. The week-end parties proved expensive. It was easily
accessible to New York and I never knew how popular Will was with the
profession until that summer. I regretted we had not gone back to the
farm in the Catskills.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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