Philip B. (Philip Bovier) Hawk.

Overland monthly and out west magazine (Volume 85) online

. (page 62 of 86)
Online LibraryPhilip B. (Philip Bovier) HawkOverland monthly and out west magazine (Volume 85) → online text (page 62 of 86)
Font size
QR-code for this ebook

the Theodore Kosloff corps under the
direction of the Russian dancer.

Puccini is again represented in the
repertoire with La Tosca, Roselle tak-
ing the name part, Chamlee as Mario
and Scotti in his cosummate role of
Baron Scarpia, with which he is in-
separably associated and that so finely
displays his declarnato gifts and his-
( Continued on Page 283)



September, 1927

Page of Verse


DESIRE was born a small white pain
Throbbing through a childless dream
And lost in early tears . . .
I wanted to drive the Horses of the Sun
And crack the wind for a whip
Across their blazing flanks;
But the reins hung high in the Tree of the Dawn,
Gold-gleaming beyond my grasp . . .
And I wept as a child alone can weep.

Youth went staggering past the child . . .
I wanted the long warm arms of the Moon,
I wanted her pale parted lips;
Humbly I kissed her nebulous hair
And cringed at her careless touch ;
But she heard the seductive tinkle
From the thousand tents of the stars
And sold her body to them . . .
While I smiled as youth alone can smile.

How frail my desires have grown,

Drifting ash-like through the fire;

Now I long only to creep

Beneath the shoulders of the hills,

And within their dark negation crouch content

While they bear the tread of the rains at night

And silence the screaming sky at noon . . .

And I long as age alone can long.



THE ancients held there was a magic art,
A mystic power, which favored men possessed,
To change with but a wish Life's worst to best.
Where Low-borns fought for trifles on the mart,
Or bought with sweat the toilers' meager store,
The Heaven-taught changed base pewter into gold,
Or silver made from iron-rust and mould;
Nor soiled their hands, nor wrought their muscles sore.
"A childish myth", I said, when first I read
The ancient mystics' most omnific claim.
And then one day Love came. "Prove me", he said.
"I will", said I, "thy thrall I now acclaim."
And lo! My world was filled with love and joy
Life's silver rare, and gold without alloy.



A RMORED in dauntless, dazzling youth,
-'* I stormed the secret towers of life,
To find elusive, lovely Truth

And win the matchless maid for wife.

I caught at countless cloaks of faith

And pried dark doors of cult and creed

But ever I found a filmy wraith
To mock my hungry spirit's need.

Then Beauty came, a peasant lass,

Who tuned my ear to woodland streams,

Taught me the barefoot joys of grass,

And filled the moon's pale cup with dreams.

She showed me how an eagle swerves
And swings in luminous skies afar ;

She bade me mark a mountain's curves,
And warm my hands before a star.

Till, comforted, I put aside

My passion for the proud one's charms,
And took the simple girl for bride

Who gave sweet solace in her arms.



'LL have a princely funeral,

^ Be it in fair or stormy weather

A brave and a merry festival

Scarlet and yellow wines to broach,

And Pegasus to draw my coach

And swinging behind to a roaring drum

The bards of the centuries will come,

And they'll drink my health and sing together.

They'll drink to my voyage across the skies

And bid me godspeed in gallant wise :

Shelley will fiercely toss his curls

And weep that I died unknown and young,

And Byron will pledge me good luck with the girls

That I'll sing to in Heaven my songs unsung,

Villon will toast me and shatter the glass

"Never you sorrow for fame, little brother,

For our songs as yesterday's snows must pass,

And poets win praise from one another."

And Dante "Son, here's wishing you well,

It was damned fine stuff I wrote about Hell

But never you fear, it was all in my head,

As I found out after I was dead."

So they'll gather and drink at my funeral

Poets and good fellows one and all :

Till Pegasus whisks me beyond the blue,

And my glorious guests come rollicking after

A reckless, riotous, rowdy crew

Shaking the sky to each airy rafter

With their divinely drunken laughter.


September, 1927



LOOKING back over the summer
and early fall season of the thea-
tre and viewing it as a Westerner,
proudly appraising his region's move-
ment in the drama, we pause and en-
deavor to contemplate in an unpreju-
diced manner what has actually been
done, the general trend of the theatre
in the West, and what the prospects may
be for the late Fall.

No profession so surely reflects the
temper of the seasons than does that of
the theatre. Feeling the pulse of vaca-
tionists, and sensing the need of the less
fortunate residents who must stay in
town for the summer, the theatre as a
whole produces plays romantic, and light
in name as well as in character. Wit-
ness: "Love in a Mist" at the Curran,
"Meet the Wife" and "The Alarm
Clock" at the Alcazar, and "The
Harem" at the Lurie. Nothing deep,
nor ponderous, nor heavy. In fact, if
played at any other season of the year
they would be an insult to the intelli-
gent theatre-goer. But the average audi-
ence does not choose to be intelligent
in the summer. Entertainment is what
it craves, gay, impossible, and wild,
and entertainment is what it gets. When
the late fall and winter months come
there will be time enough to look upon
the theatre seriously and to expect pro-
ductions artistic, thoughtfull, and worthy
of contemplation.

While the city is rollicking with
laughter and shedding all semblance of
seriousness with a characteristic flap-
perish shrug, the little theatres and
schools of drama outside of town are not
quite able to shake off their feeling of
responsibility in carrying on the "move-
ment" (whatever it may be).

Perhaps it is well that they do insist
upon "bearing the light," even in a sum-
mer sufficiently brilliant by Nature's
means, for the movement in the theatre
at best is not so near perfection that any
promoter of drama, in the interest of
the theatre, can afford to relax for a
moment. Naturally the summer session
work at the two universities, California
and Stanford, is the significant influence

The Play's
the Thing


in the torch bearing. At Stanford, Gor-
don Davis, a young and very serious
director, conducted his Little Theatre
Workshop throughout the year. The
summer season effort culminated in a
production of "Loyalties," a drama of
society characteristic of Galsworthy. A
difficult vehicle, this play, for while it
has plot, character, and suspense, all
these elements depend a little more
strongly than usual upon the actor's
personality and ability to project the
part, rather than upon lines and natural
building up of plot. Be it said, how-
ever, that the Stanford players handled
it rather well on the whole. The men
were virile, sincere, and quite serious in
their work, but the women were inexcus-
able. The play calls for sophistication
and culture, and they had neither. They
wore most fetching negligees, smoked
innumerable cigarettes, and frantically
pitched their voices at various proper
levels to this end, but all to no avail.
There was no thought or sincerity back
of their work. To the men go the

What a dreadful time the theatre has
in co-ordinating the action and the set-
ting! If the sets are merely suggestive,
the acting is abominably realistic, and
if the acting is subtle, the sets shriek
with the commonplace. At Stanford
there was a closer unity than usual, but
even here the sets avoided the modern
tendency to merely suggest, and became
quite matter of fact in a manner not co-
incident with the acting. One felt an
attempt at professional atmosphere in
the Stanford theatre. Something effi-
ciently clear-cut and self-consciously
forceful, a drama which might be in-
fluenced by idealistic football players,
Babbitts, and other strong, virile men,
contrasting itself in a startling manner
with the artistic productions at the Uni-
versity of California, which reflect the
influences of the artist, the poet, the
thinker, the sculptor. And this is not
saying that one is greater than the other.
It is merely noting that two great uni-
versities, both of some influence in the
dramatic world, choose radically differ-

ent means of expression. From this we
might venture to amuse ourselves by way
of prophecy: Some day from Calfirnia
will come a great poetic drama, its in-
spiration the Greek Theatre, a fusion
of soul and thought, a delight to the
spiritually inclined ; Someday from Stan-
ford will come a production, perfect
from a professional standpoint, vivid,
forceful, a delight to producers, audi-
ence, and box office. This is neither an
estimate nor a challenge. It is merely
a surmise.

A delightful experience in childhood's
play world was the program in Perry
Dilley's Puppet Theatre on the U. C.
campus. Tinkling, fairy-bell, music-box
tunes provoked a mood adaptable to
childish thrills of adventure. The adult
felt his own reactions mirrored in the
expression of the children there as they
dimpled with merriment, pulled up their
shoulders in ecstasy, and literally wiggled
with delight. A program of two fairy
plays was given. One, "The Three
Wishes," of French primer lore, and
the other, "The Dragon Who Wouldn't
Say Please," a tale of Perry Dilley's own
imagination. In Gordon Craig's "Art
of the Theatre" he rather prays for the
return to the stage of the uber-marion-
ette. Chance, unstable emotion, the ex-
ploitation of personality, all of which
ever retard the actor's theatre from per-
fection, are eliminated from the puppet
and marionette shows, and give the audi-
ence a purely classic production upon
which to meditate. While we would not
join our orisons with Craig's, we would
recommend a puppet show to some too
blatant producers, for there is food for
thought here, and possibly an inspiration.

The epitome of romance and beauty
was the performance of "Romeo and
Juliet" at the Forest Theatre at Carmel-
by-the-Sea late in July. The stately
redwoods surrounding the theatre seemed
to lend their shelter to the immortal
lovers, and the stars shone down kindly
upon them. Nowhere is Shakespeare so
perfect as when played in a forest. His
is the rare drama that rightly dares to
play in close association with Nature.
(Continued on Page 288)



September, 1927



C llriters



A MESSAGE of cheer to sorrowing
mothers: "There is no death. Life
goes on without hindrance or handicap.
We are very busy .... The one thing
that troubles the men who come here is
the fact that the ones who love them are
in agony . . . ."

This unique book of 84 pages is
made up almost entirely of the letters of
a son, who was killed in France, to his
mother, who had been his pal, and who,
he says made him a man.

He had qualified for wireless work in
the army, during which time he had
"bullied" his mother into becoming a
proficient helper. One day she goes
into his room to read over his last letter,
which she had just received laughing
and crying over it, as she states, when
the wireless signaled "attention."
Jumping to the instrument she receives
from her son the accurate description of
his death, which was later confirmed

From then on she continues to receive
letters from him through the wireless
code, and she offers these letters with no
comment other than the following: a
man who was killed in battle and is yet
alive and able to communicate with the
one closest to him in sympathy, must
make his own arguments. I have no
knowledge of established psychic laws
or limitations. But I know what I
know. Reviewed by Anne de Lartigue


IT IS exhilarating to discover in this
age of well-oiled machinery of living
one who so appreciates the glorious ad-
venture of hardship. One who can re-
live the glories of ancient Greece undis-
turbed by its flea-ridden inns. Richard
Halliburton set out to follow the trail
of Ulysses the idea in itself is inspir-
ing, and one must needs admire the cour-
age and perseverance that brought about
its fulfillment. It would be easier more
whole-heartedly to admire the exploit
were it not for the fact that this is to a
great extent done for the reader by the

author. Richard Halliburton knows
that he did an original and daring
thing, and he doesn't mind telling the
world that he did it. He tells it vividly,
although not too well as regards the
craftsmanship of writing. Much can be
forgiven him however, for his reverent
and beautiful description of the grave of
Rupert Brooke on the island of Skyros.
It is the best thing in the book, and one
feels, reading it, a quick start of sympa-
thy for his youthful hero-worship of
the English poet. The keynote of the
book is youth its impetuosity, its en-
thusiasm, its bumptiousness. Richard
Halliburton might well take for his
motto "de 1'audace, de 1'audace, et
toujours de 1'audace."

Richard Halliburton. Indianapolis,
The Bobbs-Merrill Co. Illustrated by
photographs. $5.00.

WRITING. By Willard King Bradley.
Funk & Wagnalls Company. (No
prive in -eview copy.)

LABELS. A. Hamilton Gibbs. Little,
Brown & Company. $2.00.

grave. Century. $2.00.

SUMMER STORM. By Frank Swinner-
ton. George H. Doran Company. $2.00.

THE HOLY LOVER. By Marie Conway
Oemler. Boni & Liverright. $2.00.

THY SON LIVETH. Reviewed by Anne
DeLartigue Kennedy. Little, Brown &
Co. $1.25.

Capek. The Macmillan Company. $2.50.

OKLAHOMA, Courtney, Ryley Cooper.
Doubleday, Page Co. $2.50.

HE LOVED Sophy; he didn't love
her. He wanted her; he didn't
want her.

This is about the gist of John Wes-
ley's love-life as told by Marie Conway
Oemler in THE HOLY LOVER. The
eminent founder of the Methodist faith
is made to look like seven kinds of a
bigot; and there's slim chance of any-
one standing up to take issue on the

With two emigrant ships loaded with
a miscellaneous assortment of humanity,
Colonel James Oglethorpe, accompanied
by John Wesley, set out from England
to found a crown colony in Georgia, as
against the claims of the Spanish. Ogle-
thorpe seems to have succeeded, probably
in spite of the fact that he had Wesley

When he left his native shores, Wes-
ley's ambition was, ultimately, to Chris-
tianize the red man. After three years
in the settlement of Savannah, the high-
minded young man who was to mold,
according to his own severely spiritual
convictions, those of everyone with
whom he had contact, packed up his
duds and went home. He not only gave
up the idea of converting the Indian,
but changed his mind about becoming
the spiritual guide and mentor for the
white man, as well. Seemingly very few
tears were shed over his departure.

People must have been very tolerant
back in the early years of the Eigh-
teenth Century. Yes, very tolerant. As
for Oglethorpe organizer, executive,
representative of the crown he was tol-
erance incarnate. He was out there to
establish a colony, but how it was ever
accomplished is a mystery, what with
J. W. hanging to his coattails. In fact,
the amours of the straight-laced little
ecclesiastic set the whole town by the
ears. You see, it was like this: he loved
Sophy, or thought he did. He wasn't
just sure, so he talked the whole matter
over with his good friend Delamotte,
then went out and rehashed it with a
dozen or so others, finally returning
home to draw lots out of a hat "to try
the spirits." Sophy gave him a hundred
chances to propose, if she gave him one.
But either to torment himself or to

September, 1927



gratify his super-religious vanity, he de-
cided each time to remain a bachelor.

This continual see-saw between "I
can" and "I can't," "I will" and "I
won't" is very nearly as wearing on the
reader as it must have been on the
nerves of the man himself. And poor
Sophy! What happened to her? Mar-
ried the other fellow, of course, even if
he was the illegitimate son of an errant

If one enjoys page after page of tittle-
tattle, scandal, gossip, back-biting, social
petty larceny in short, a continuous
tempest in the teapot, let him read this

up a romance rich in exciting incident
and teeming with action.

ital story. Don't start it before eleven
p. m.


A FACTORY for the creation of the
Absolute in quantities depending
on the size of the machine installed.

Such is the idea around which Karel
Capek builds his latest book, THE ABSO-
LUTE AT LARGE. It is quite safe to as-
sume that were anyone else to attempt a
story of this nature it would never ap-
pear in print. Capek, it will be recalled,
was the author of that fantastic play,
R. U. R., he wrote Krakatit, an equally
fantastic novel, and now with the ap-
which is still more fantastic, it is a mat-
ter of lively speculation as to what theme
he will select for his next book.

With the attention of a large part of
the world directed along scientific lines,
these books fit in very nicely with the
present state of the public mind. Al-
though Capek doesn't presume to do any
more than sketch in the scientific details
of the device around which the tale re-
volves, he does make a wonderful story
of the human reactions following the
installation of the machine in various in-
dustrial centers. Like the others, his
latest book is based on the wildest sort of
improbabilities. With this much to go
on, an author is immediately placed in a
ticklish position ; he is bound to either
flunk miserably or score heavily. Nor
does he flunk, in the case of K. C. On
the contrary, he carries the reader along
in keen suspense which is well sustained
from first to last.

In an attempt to find a solution for
the problem of the coal shortage, a young
engineer perfects a miraculous mechan-
ical device which makes use of every
atom contained in a lump of coal. In
the application of this esoteric principle
there is evolved a gas which produces a
high state of emotionalism in those who
are working near or happen to be in the
vicinity of the machine. Its effect on
national and world affairs, culminating
in the Greatest War ( 1944-1953) makes


THE reading public is like any other
neither sophisticated nor gullible, but
when a title smacks of the esoteric they
are often prone to make snap judgment,
which is correct more often than not.
PLAY WRITING bears all the earmarks
of intrinsic worth.

As the title indicates, the appeal is
directed primarily to those who some
day hope to be full-blown scenario
writers, as well as those who are actually
contributing to the silver screen. Be-
sides the pages given over to the actual
mechanics of photoplay writing, more
than half the book is devoted to the
scenarios of "The Beloved Imp" and
"The Sidewalks of New York," both by
the author of the book, Willard King
Bradley. The initial chapter, called
"Author! Author!" broadens the appeal
somewhat to include those of us not so
vitally concerned with inspiration, con-
tinuity, subtitles and the like, as it in-
cludes intimate flashes from the early
lives of the more prominent of those
who have made the movies, both on and
off the screen.


titled his latest novel The Slacker
and found it very appropriate. The fact
is the story is about a slacker who really
after all the world of today will sympa-
thize with, when if the book had been
written three years ago Major Gibbs
would have been "killed" in the name of
letters. The story is one of life; of a
family, two boys and one girl; one boy,
Dick Wickens, was a hero of the war;
the daughter, Madge, earned distinction
with her hospital service, but Tom re-
fused to fight and was given the title of
Coward. The story having this setting,
then the adjustment to a jazz-, money-
mad world is most interesting. This is
a good credit to Major Gibbs' last novel,


THO THOSE who still enjoy the
I stories of the early West, that period
of struggle, that period of vision; of
determination, of love and romance, dust
and rain, will enjoy OKLAHOMA, by
Courtney Ryley Cooper. Mr. Cooper
has studied the conditions of Oklahoma

when it was opened to the settlers. There
is much in this book which could be
used for history. It is the story, in short,
of a group of homesteaders into new
territory, the clamor for the government
to open the territory to settlers and then
finally the group who hired Pawnee Bill
and went into adventure with him as
their leader. It is good reading with
plenty of action, told by one who knows
the pioneer country as perhaps no other
man of today does.


THERE has been much written of
middle aged men of late. One of
the most interesting pictures of a middle
aged man is that which John Har-
grave gives in ANDTHEN CAME SPRING.
It is a story of one Mr. Godwin Birt-
whistle, wealthy, aging, respectable, mar-
ried, grown children ... of a trip to
London, one of those business trips and
the inevitable woman. The alluring
woman, this time in the person of Leeta,
a parson's daughter. It is most interest-
ing how Mr. Hargrave depicts the char-
acter of Mr. Birtwhistle and "then came
spring." It is a book you should not miss.


IF YOU have read "Gentlemen Prefer
Blondes" and enjoyed it you will en-
joy "They Do Not," by Colin Clements
and illustrated by a Bond Salesman. It
is one of the most clever pieces of humor
yet to reach our desk. It is hard to clas-
sify ... to say anything about it except
that it is funny. Fact is after you have
read it you aren't perfectly sure whether
it is NOT written to prove that Luella
wasn't the young lady of whom Anita
Loos wrote. Anyway, it is delightful.
Do not miss it.


WITH a romantic touch here and
there, but on the whole a trifle
diluted and not by any means up to the
standard set in his NOCTURNE, THE
Doran Company has just brought out
Frank Swinnerton's SUMMER STORM.
This is a story of London and two typists
working in the same office, both in love
with the same man. Polly and Beatrice
are opposing types ; therefore their meth-
ods differ widely. The contrasting mo-
tives and reactions, however, present in-
teresting slants. As a usual thing, Mr.
Swinnerton's style is another name for
beauty in prose, but in the case of SUM-
MER STORM it would seem, rather, that
life and vitality have been sacrificed for
the sake of this beauty.



September, 1927


Considered* *




Of course, you want him to
have the best.


West Coast


a school for junior boys, is es-
pecially equipped to handle the
educational, physical, and moral
needs of your boy. Sound instruc-
tion is emphasized and individual
attention is given to each lad's re-
quirements. A brotherly atmos-
phere prevails in the school, and
through the field of athletics,
sports and recreation the boys are
trained in manliness. Let us talk
with you about your boy.

The Dormer Tragedy

(Continuer from Page 267)

killed him on the spot; but the very
horror of the scene forbade. He was
spared but avoided and ignored by those
who guided him to Sutler's Fort where
an anxious wife and children awaited
his return.

That Keseburg may not be too harsh-
ly judged in the absence of his conten-
tion, the following is quoted from his
lengthy contradiction of the charges as
published in McClashan's "History of
the Donner Party" :

"It is with the utmost horror that I
revert to the scenes of suffering and
unutterable misery endured during that
journey. I have always endeavored to
put away from me all thoughts or recol-
lections of those terrible events. Time
is the best physician, and would, I trust-
ed, heal the wounds produced by those
days of torture ; yet my mind today re-
coils with undiminished hor'ror as I
endeavor to speak of the dreadful sub-
ject. Heretofore I have never attempt-
ed to refute the villainous slanders
which have been circulated and pub-

Online LibraryPhilip B. (Philip Bovier) HawkOverland monthly and out west magazine (Volume 85) → online text (page 62 of 86)