in the summer of 1888 yellow fever appeared in florida and raged with peculiar violence in jacksonville. early in september i received a letter inviting me to meet a number of ladies at rooms on broadway to organize a committee for the relief of the jacksonville sufferers. mrs. stedman (wife of the poet) was with me at the time i received the letter, and she agreed with me that it would be a most beautiful thing for the new york women to send substantial relief to their stricken sisters in florida. so, on the day and hour appointed, mrs. stedman accompanied me to the place designated. we found ourselves in the presence of a large roomful of ladies neither of us had ever before seen. i was made chairman by acclamation, and a mrs. manton secretary.
i had never presided at a meeting, but i did my best. i invited an expression of the views of those before me as to the wisest schemes for the benevolent work. a great many suggestions were offered of a totally unpractical nature, and i finally asked for an adjournment, to meet two days from the present, and requested my "committee" to consider the matter, confer with their friends, and give me the opportunity to seek advice from mine. mrs. stedman seemed much discouraged, as we walked home together. she felt sure nothing would result from 427this experiment; and besides, as mayor hewitt was engaged in collecting funds for the relief of jacksonville, perhaps all good citizens should send their offerings to him. i intended at the next meeting to follow up her suggestions, but only half a dozen ladies appeared. i represented to them that we must have money at once to pay for our service in future and a small debt already incurred, and we then again adjourned. in the vestibule an army of eager newspaper reporters awaited us, in whose hands i left my friends, having nothing myself to communicate. next morning every paper in new york announced the interesting fact that mrs. roger a. pryor was president of "the ladies' jacksonville relief society," that names well known in social and literary circles were associated with hers, and donations of clothing, food, and money were solicited! of course the press sent me many reporters, and i found myself suddenly invested with importance and armed with authority. i went joyfully to meet my appointment for another meeting, and found a room, full indeed—but of empty chairs! not a soul came! i waited throughout the hour alone. at the end of it a message was sent in to me from the reporters without. what had we done? what should they say in the next morning's issue of the herald, the world, the sun, the tribune? sorely perplexed, i answered: "tell the gentlemen we are sitting with closed doors. i shall have nothing to report for several days."
i suppose no woman in all new york was ever in a more embarrassing situation. here was i advertised 428as president of a society engaged in a great benevolent enterprise, and the society had simply melted away, disappeared, left no trace, not even a name and address! what would new york think of me? i keenly felt the absurdity of my position, but superior to every personal annoyance was my own disappointment. an opportunity to work effectively for the stricken people of florida had been suddenly snatched from me. a friend in jacksonville, having heard of the movement, had written:—
"i have been prostrated by yellow fever, and am unable to carry out the plans i had made with bishop weed for aid for the sick and friendless children here, and the bishop's days are filled with the most pressing duties. along this pathway through the valley of the shadow of death there are many little children whose pathetic condition touches the chords of our tenderest sympathies. but our hands hang limp and helpless, and so we hold them out to you."
i found myself consumed with longing to help them. i felt then—as i felt afterward for the orphans of galveston—that i could almost consent to give my own life if i could but save theirs.
these were the dreams of the night, and with the dawn i had resolved to be "obedient to the heavenly vision." before ten o'clock i sent telegrams to mrs. vincenzo botta, mrs. wm. c. whitney, miss rose elizabeth cleveland, mrs. frederic coudert, mrs. judge brady, mrs. whitelaw reid, mrs. levi p. morton, mrs. don dickinson, mrs. william c. rives, mrs. william astor, and mrs. martha lamb. would they join me in a gift from new york women to jacksonville? 429 every one responded, "yes, gladly, if you will manage it." mrs. astor, mrs. reid, and mrs. coudert sent money—a goodly sum—to start my work.
here i was, then, with a splendid following—le premier pas? where could i commence? surely not by begging money—that i would never do. by some means we must earn it. just then i saw that mr. frohman had offered a matinée for the mayor's relief fund. i communicated with mr. frohman, asking him to beg the mayor to let my fine committee have this matinée with which to inaugurate our work. his honor evidently regarded the proposition as indicative of nerve, needing repression. mr. frohman quoted him as surprised, and quite decided: "mr. hewitt says he thought everybody knew he needed all the money he could get."
he had only that one matinée. before night i had telegraphed every reputable theatre and concert-hall in the city, and secured nine! thoroughly upon my mettle, i went to work. my support was all out of town except mrs. botta and mrs. fanny barrow. we were a committee of three for several weeks, but we diligently increased our strength by letters and telegrams. mr. aronson, of the casino, fixed upon september 27 for his votive matinée, and mr. john mccaull, who had wallack's theatre, selected the same day. "never mind, madam," said mr. aronson; "i'll turn away enough people from my doors to fill wallack's." "rest assured, madam," said mr. mccaull, "i'll turn away enough people from wallack's to fill the casino." so i had 430two great matinées on my hands—fixed for the same day, the same hour.
i knew it would be vital to my interests to have these initial entertainments successful. i busied my brain with schemes which i cunningly revealed to my friends among the merchants. i wanted satin banners painted with palms and orange-blossoms for mr. aronson and mr. mccaull. i wanted beautiful satin programmes for every man, woman, and child who played for me, and for all my patronesses. i craved flowers galore. i longed for fine stationery, white wax, and a seal. i obtained all these things. so many flowers were sent that baskets and bouquets were presented to everybody on the stage. the actors caught the enthusiasm. mr. solomon, who sang the topical song at the casino, introduced happy, appropriate lines. "aunt louisa eldridge" opened a flower sale in the foyer, and made a large sum for the charity. satin souvenirs were given to everybody with the "compliments of the ladies' jacksonville relief society." every note (a personal one written to each performer) was sealed with white wax and a seal made expressly for me. little fanny rice was bewitching in nadjy—singing the pretty mignon song which is borrowed in the play. at wallack's there was a splendid programme, in which many stars participated—kyrle bellew, and others, and a wonderfully funny balcony scene from "romeo and juliet"—de wolf hopper the juliet, jefferson de angelis the nurse, and marshall wilder, romeo!
when it was all over, there was one very tired 431woman on 33d street. but next day the papers announced "brilliant audience, beautiful mounting, grand success." everybody was thanked, by name, through the papers. mr. aronson sent me $904.50. early next morning i was summoned to my parlor, and before reaching it, i heard a masculine voice: "don't be afraid—speak up now!" entering, i was confronted by a wee, winsome lassie with long curls, great eyes, a lovely little face from which a big hat was pushed, while a chubby hand was thrust into mine and a sweet little voice said, "i'se dot sumsin for you!"
it was the baby girl of mr. stevens, the manager of wallack's, and the "sumsin" was a big roll of bank-notes—$1620—while an honest little hand presented the silver fraction, 85 cents.
this money, $2525, was immediately forwarded to governor perry, who sent it where it was sorely needed,—to the little town of fernandina and other small towns in florida afflicted by the scourge,—gainsville, manatee, mcclenny, crawfordsville, and enterprise. from all these towns, as well as from governor perry, i received (fumigated) letters of thanks and assurance that every dollar was used to relieve distress!
from that time onward i thought of nothing, worked for nothing—except the relief of jacksonville. i was nothing but a theatrical manager. it was the custom of the theatres to present me with the building and play—also with a plan of the house and all the tickets. i had to sell the seats and boxes, do all the advertising, and meet sundry 432outside expenses—ushers, orchestra, etc. i did all this with little help until my friends returned to town, and then mrs. egbert guernsey, mrs. barrow, mrs. stedman, and mrs. botta became my pillars of strength. each matinée was honored as were the first two, with satin programmes, banners, and flowers, personal notes sealed with white wax, etc. i sat from morning until night at my desk, and my diary, kept at the time, records two thousand letters written by my own hand. every theatre gave us a play, and the eden musée a varied entertainment, and mrs. sherwood came from rome to give us two readings.
when mr. daly's turn came, i had some difficulty in selling seats. the public had endured a good deal of jacksonville, and began to say, "the relief society is still with us," or, "the jacksonville relief society, like banquo's ghost, 'will not down.'"
my dear friend, mr. cyrus field, found me in some anxiety, and sent me his clerk every morning to ask how i was "getting along," taking entire blocks of seats and filling them with his friends.
mrs. jeanette thurber also came in (when i was flagging) with her large heart and full hands; so our old friends—mrs. gilbert, james lewis, john drew, george clark, kitty cheatham, and ada rehan—played, as the jenkins of the day announced, "to a large, brilliant, and fashionable house." i added to each of my satin souvenirs for "the cast" a quotation from shakespeare. ada rehan played "the wife of socrates" as an afterpiece. on her souvenir was printed in gold:— 433
"be she as shrewd
... as socrates' xantippe,"
"she hath a tear for pity, and a hand
open as day for melting charity."
when the time arrived for mr. chickering to give me his hall for a concert, i was beginning to feel a little weary, and was glad to enlist the interest of professor ogden doremus, formerly president of the philharmonic society. i wrote letters which brought many offers. "how many?" asked dr. doremus. "a hatful," i answered. we poured them out on a table and made a selection. "these," said the doctor, "are fine, fine! but we must have a star! i'll go out to-morrow and sweep the skies for comets. the great planets will not work for nothing."
at night he wrote me: "no hope for a star! everybody wants money! we must manage with our amateurs."
the next day i drove up boldly to the metropolitan opera house and asked for mr. stanton. i told him my story, and begged him to "help me, to help my poor countrymen."
"i'll give you alvary!" he exclaimed. "nothing is too good for your cause!" "oh," i faltered,—for i was astounded,—"i'm sure alvary will not condescend to sing with a company of amateurs, to the accompaniment of one piano." "will not?" said mr. stanton; "it is my impression alvary will do what i order him to do." he continued, however, as colonel mapleson had done with patti, to say that, although this was all true, it would be 434wise for me to request alvary to sing. this i did, receiving a gracious, acquiescent reply.
mrs. shaw, the famous siffleuse, had just returned from england, where she had whistled for the prince of wales, and i was delighted at her offer to contribute to the concert. the programme was arranged, mr. chickering notified, and twelve hundred tickets sent me to be sold. we set the stage magnificently, borrowing rugs, choice furniture, pictures, hangings. we furnished a greenroom with refreshments, cigars, and flowers,—and a remoter private room for the great tenor,—had the banners extraordinarily handsome, and advertised our programme for friday night, october 12.
early monday morning i received the following note:—
"herr max alvary supposed when he consented to sing for madame pryor that she would arrange a programme in accordance with his social and artistic position.
"madame pryor has not done this. herr alvary will not sing for madame pryor."
before i recovered my senses after reading this astounding missive, i received the following:—
"madam; when mrs. shaw consented to whistle for you, she forgot she was under contract with mr. pond. she cannot appear on any occasion outside mr. pond's series of entertainments."
light broke upon my clouded vision. this—the siffleuse, was the offending one! i wrote at once to herr alvary that the number to which he had 435objected was withdrawn. i told the telegraph messenger to wait for an answer. he returned after an absence of several hours, and reported: "i asked the gentleman for an answer, and he slammed the door in my face. then i waited outside till dinner-time!"
tuesday, wednesday, passed. i forbore to annoy mr. stanton. it was not my will to accept anything against another's will. herr alvary might go to—france for me! i should certainly not humble myself to him. in the meantime, dr. doremus tried again and again in vain. thursday! no alvary, no whistler! a pretty way indeed to treat a confiding public buying tickets to hear both of them!
finally i broke down. i wrote to the naughty boy, and wrote to his heart. i said in conclusion, "while you hesitate, my countrymen are dying." he had a heart and i found it. i received a prompt answer:—
"madame pryor:—
"i will sing for you friday, and i will sing as often as the audience wishes. i am sorry for the sorrow i gave you, but—madame pryor, you know the human voice was never meant for whistling!
"your humble,
"max alvary."
the concert was fine. he sang as never before, returning again and again in response to the enthusiastic recalls of the large audience. mrs. sylvanus reed, who was one of my patronesses on all my programmes, brought with her twenty or more of 436the young ladies of her school. i had not required evening dress, but from my lofty seat in the sky gallery i looked down upon hundreds of the flower-decked heads of my dear american fellow-women.
after alvary's last number, he appeared in a side aisle, sweeping the galleries with his opera-glass. "mamma," said my daughter fanny, "that man is looking for you!" "he'll not find me," i assured her; "he never saw me." "but a man who has seen you is with him and is helping him!" sure enough, the double barrels were soon focussed upon me in my eyrie, and alvary, in an impressive manner, waved his hand, laid it upon his heart, and thrice bowed low.
but this was not the last time i saw my naughty, bonny boy alvary. i was bidden once to spend my day as pleased me best, as it was my birthday, and i elected to see "siegfried." i tied my card to some violets and threw them at the feet of the then greatest tenor in the world, and he recognized the tribute. many were the lovely letters i received after this delightful concert, one most charming from my dear old friend, william c. rives.
but the blessed frost soon came to do more for the stricken city than i could do. i reopened, cleansed, and refurnished st. luke's hospital, sent nearly a thousand dollars to sister mary ann to rehabilitate the catholic hospital, and a similar sum to the jacksonville orphanage. governor perry sent a committee all the way from florida to thank me, letters poured in from distant friends, the papers said lovely things about my effort. "who is the 437best theatrical manager in new york?" was asked of a. m. palmer. "well," he replied, "if you wish a true answer, i should say mrs. pryor!"
in a time of national disaster no other city in the world responds as does new york. witness the galveston flood, when one bazaar i had the pleasure of managing yielded $51,000—witness the san francisco earthquake! every heart is warmed with sympathy—every hand open, when real trouble, real disaster, overtakes any part of our country. and nowhere do we find a quicker response than among actors, who are rarely, if ever, rich, and never lead, as others do, a life of ease.
the letters i received from the new york women who had so nobly stood by me and helped me were, for a long time, delightful reading. they are still cherished as a reward second only to the crowning reward—the relief of suffering—which has comforted me all along the subsequent years of my life. they are noble, generous letters, and i wish i could give them here, every one, as models of beautiful letters as well. one, from the gifted mrs. vincenzo botta, is an example of the rest:—
"25 east 37th street, december 13.
"dear mrs. pryor:—
i congratulate you most warmly on the success of your movement in the relief of our jacksonville citizens, for it is you alone who have been the moving and animating force of it all. it will be a pleasant thing for you to remember always, and for us, too, who have followed your lead, though so far behind. it will not be possible for me to take the place on the committee to which you appoint 438me. do take it yourself, dear mrs. pryor! you ought to do so. now the burden of this work is over, you should not give it into other hands. so i beg you earnestly to take my place.
"ever cordially yours,
"annie c. l. botta."
it had been suggested that the committee which had exhibited so much ability should not disband, but remain as a permanent organization for the relief of sudden national disaster. i had wished to see mrs. botta at the head of this committee.
we finally, to our regret ever since, elected to disband. when i rendered my report and bade my dear co-workers adieu, i told them some pleasant truths. every banner and every blossom had been given us. the american district telegraph company had made no charge for service—messengers sent me daily to await orders.
the press had been very generous to us. for advertising our entertainments, all charges were remitted by the tribune, herald, sun, and other papers. the editors of sixteen new york papers gave us unstinted praise and encouragement. if they perceived cause for criticism, they withheld it. they helped us in every way, and rejoiced our hearts by the sweet reward of approbation. they said that we were "a band of self-denying and gifted women, who add another to the roll of gracious achievements which do honor to piety and womanhood."
we could not follow our work in the little towns of florida, by the cot of the poor negro or the home of the widow and orphan and destitute. it should 439be enough for us to know that through us some cooling influence reached their fevered brows, that suitable food and clothing was found for them, that their hearts were cheered in a dark hour by perceiving that they were not forgotten or friendless. we were told that our alms for the orphans were in response to the dying prayers of mothers (a little band of new york children elected to become the guardian angels of one of these hapless orphans), and we learned that our gift to the catholic sisters was larger than any they received from any other source. we were assured that comfort was restored, pure conduits for water constructed, and good food and clothing provided for the protestant orphans. we reopened the hospital, needed more than ever in jacksonville, and about to be closed for want of money. all this was much reward, and we could add to it our own grateful consciousness of having done a noble and worthy deed.
i shall ever feel the deepest gratitude for my support in this charity; for the gift of beloved and honored names,—names never withheld from a noble cause,—for generous forbearance towards myself, and for many words of approbation and encouragement. my heart is full of gratitude, and full also of all "good wishes, praise, and prayers" for the noble band of players who made the great work possible.
"the little band" of children who elected to become the guardians of one orphan was the morning-side club, their president a very lovely little girl—renée coudert.
