5 One of the reactions to Peter Pan that Barrie most enjoyed was that of a small boy who had been given a seat in the author’s box to watch the play. At the end he was asked which bit he had liked best. The child replied, “What I think I liked best was tearing up the program and dropping the bits on people’s heads.”
6 (Peter, one of the sons of the Davies family of whom Sir James Barrie was very fond, recalled an incident that throws a curious light on Barrie’s sense of humor.)
“One evening at dusk I was summoned to J. M. B.’s room, to find him sitting in a somehow dejected attitude, at the far end of the room in the half light. As I entered he looked up, and in a flat lugubrious voice said: ‘Peter, something has happened to my feet,’ and glancing down I saw to my horror that his feet were bare and swollen to four or five times their natural size. For several seconds I was deceived, and have never since forgotten the terror that filled me, until I realized that the feet were artificial (bought at Henley’s), made of the waxed linen masks are made of, and that I had been most successfully hoaxed.”
7 Barrie, valuing the privacy of his home, tended to react violently when it was invaded. A reporter turned up on his doorstep and when Barrie came to the door said brightly, “Sir James Barrie, I presume?”
“You do,” said Barrie, and slammed the door.
8 Barrie was sitting next to George Bernard Shaw at a dinner party. The vegetarian Shaw had been provided with a special dish of salad greens and dressing. Eyeing the unpleasant-looking concoction, Barrie whispered to Shaw, “Tell me, have you eaten that or are you going to?”
9 “You’ll be sick tomorrow, Jack, if you eat any more chocolates,” said Sylvia Llewelyn-Davies to her young son. “I shall be sick tonight,” said the child calmly, as he helped himself to yet another. Barrie, who overheard this exchange, was so delighted with it that he incorporated it in Peter Pan and paid the young Llewelyn-Davies a copyright fee of a halfpenny a performance.
10 While producing one of his own plays, Barrie was approached by an inexperienced member of the cast. Although his part was a very minor one, the young actor, anxious to give it the right interpretation, sought Barrie’s advice. Sir James gave the matter some thought. “I am glad you have asked me,” he finally replied. “I should like you to convey when you are acting it that the man you portray has a brother in Shropshire who drinks port.”
BARROW, Isaac (1630–77), British clergyman and mathematician.
1 There was no love lost between Barrow and King Charles II’s favorite, the Earl of Rochester, who had called the clergyman “a musty old piece of divinity.” One day at court, where Barrow was serving as the king’s chaplain, he encountered the earl, who bowed low and said sarcastically, “Doctor, I am yours to my shoe-tie.”
“My lord,” returned Barrow, “I am yours to the ground.”
“Doctor, I am yours to the center.”
“Doctor, I am yours to the antipodes.”
“Doctor, I am yours to the lowest pit of hell.”
“And there, my lord, I leave you,” said Barrow, turning smartly on his heel.
BARROWS, Sidney Biddle (1952–), famed for running a discreet prostitution business.
1 Called “The Mayflower Madam” due to her Waspy family background, Barrows ran a highly successful prostitution ring in New York City. During the trial of another Madam, Heidi Fleiss, whose business encompassed the movie-studio world of Hollywood, Barrows was hired as a television commentator to describe for viewers the inside world of prostitution. Barrows was once asked to explain how — and why — she was offered this role. “If you want an expert on war, you get a retired general. I’m not exactly a general, but I am retired.”
BARRYMORE, Ethel (1879–1959), US actress, member of a remarkable acting family (Lionel and John were her brothers).
1 Miss Barrymore was in her Hollywood dressing room one day when a studio usher knocked on the door and called: “A couple of gals in the reception room, Miss Barry-more, who say they went to school with you. What shall I do?”
“Wheel them in,” came the reply.
2 Ethel Barrymore was exact in manners and expected from others the same courtesy. When she invited a young actress to dinner, her guest not only failed to appear but did not even bother to account for her absence. Several days later, the two women met unexpectedly at New York’s Gallery of Modern Art. Lamely, the young woman began, “I think I was invited to your house to dinner last Thursday night.”
“Oh, yes,” replied Ethel. “Did you come?”
3 In her old age Barrymore was confined to her bed with heart disease and arthritis. Her room was kept full of fresh flowers and at a near-freezing temperature. On her last evening she awoke from a nap, clasped her nurse’s hand, and said, “Is everybody happy? I want everybody to be happy. I know I’m happy.” She then fell asleep for the last time.
BARRYMORE, John (1882–1942), US actor. Throughout his successful career on stage and screen he always thought of himself primarily as a great classical actor.
1 In his youth Barrymore was extremely lazy and had already acquired an unhealthy taste for alcohol. In 1906 a heavy night of drinking enabled him to sleep through the great San Francisco earthquake. The next morning he was pressed by the army into helping clear the rubble — an event that caused his uncle to remark, “It took a calamity of nature to get him out of bed and the US army to make him go to work.”
2 Although Hamlet was to become one of Barrymore’s most famous roles, the actor was not at all happy with his first performance. He was sitting despondently in his dressing room after the show, when a distinguished-looking gentleman came in. Throwing himself at the actor’s feet, the stranger kissed Barrymore’s hand and gushed, “O Master! I enjoyed your performance so much!”
“Not half so much as I am enjoying yours,” replied Barrymore.
3 During rehearsals for a play the leading lady and Barrymore had a furious row. Barrymore told her pungently what he thought of her parentage and her offstage pursuits. “Kindly remember I am a lady!” snapped the actress. “I will respect your secret, madam,” retorted Barrymore.
4 In accord with his frequently professed contempt for the film medium, Barrymore refused to learn his lines for any of his movie roles. This necessitated having a small army of stagehands hold up boards with the star’s lines written on them so that Barrymore could see and read them during filming. When directors or his fellow actors remonstrated with him about his inconvenient habit, he always produced the same answer: “My memory is full of beauty — Hamlet’s soliloquies, the Queen Mab speech, King Magnus’ monologues from The Apple Cart, most of the Sonnets. Do you expect me to clutter up all that with this horseshit?”
5 When the filming of A Bill of Divorcement was complete, Katharine Hepburn turned to co-star John Barrymore, saying, “Thank God I don’t have to act with you anymore!”
“I didn’t know you ever had, darling,” he replied.
6 The assistant to a movie mogul telephoned Barrymore, explained that she was speaking for her boss, and invited Barrymore to a party the following day. Barrymore replied, “And I am speaking for John Barrymore, who has a previous engagement which he will make as soon as you have hung up.”
7 In 1938 Orson Welles broadcast throughout the United States a radio production of H. G. Wells’s story War of the Worlds, which tells of a Martian invasion. The broadcast was so realistic that it almost caused a coast-to-coast panic. John Barrymore was among those convinced that the Martians had landed. He managed to contain his fear until it came to the point at which the invaders are marching down Madison Avenue. Rushing out to the kennel in which he kept his twenty St. Bernards, he flung open the gate and released the dogs, crying, “Fend for yourselves!”
8 While appearing in the play Redemption, Barrymore was irritated by the audience’s constant coughing. In the next act, as soon as the coughing began again, he pulled from his clothes a large fish and flung it into the seats. “Chew on that, you walruses, while the
rest of us get on with the libretto!”
9 Barrymore faced his end with a last gesture of gallantry. In the hospital and aware that he was dying, he called for a priest, who came to his bedside accompanied by an old and extremely ugly nurse. Asked if he had anything to confess, Barrymore replied, “Yes, Father, I confess to having carnal thoughts.”
“About whom?” asked the nervous priest.
“About her,” said Barrymore, pointing to the nurse.
BARRYMORE, Maurice (1847–1905), Britlish-born actor, father of John, Lionel, and Ethel Barrymore.
1 When Maurice Barrymore was being laid to rest, the straps supporting the coffin became twisted. The coffin, already lowered into the grave, had to be raised again so an adjustment could be made. As it reappeared, Lionel impulsively nudged John and whispered, “How like Father — a curtain call!”
BARTÓK, Béla (1881–1945), Hungarian composer and pianist. In 1940 he moved to the United States, where he died in poverty.
1 (Isidore Philipp, a great teacher of piano, was visited by Bartók in Paris.)
“[Philipp] offered to introduce the young Hungarian composer to Camille Saint-Saëns, at that time a terrific celebrity. Bartók declined. Philipp then offered him Charles-Marie Widor. Bartók again declined. ‘Well, if you won’t meet Saint-Saëns and Widor, who is there that you would like to know?’ ‘Debussy,’ said Bartók. ‘But he is a horrid man,’ said Philipp. ‘He hates everybody and will certainly be rude to you. Do you want to be insulted by Debussy?’ ‘Yes,’ said Bartók.”
BARTON, Clara (1821–1912), founder and president of the US Red Cross.
1 Miss Barton, who never bore grudges, was once reminded by a friend of a wrong done to her some years earlier. “Don’t you remember?” asked her friend. “No,” replied Clara firmly, “I distinctly remember forgetting that.”
2 At a meeting of the National Woman Suffrage Association, Barton was told, “Every woman should stand with bared head before Susan B. Anthony.” “Yes,” was her reply, “and every man as well.”
BARUCH, Bernard Mannes (1870–1965), US financier and presidential adviser.
1 Baruch was telephoned one night when giving a dinner party. His side of the conversation was clearly audible to his guests. “Consolidated Gas — good,” they heard him say, then, “Yes — good — fine.” A lady who was present rushed out the following morning and bought a substantial holding of Consolidated Gas. Over the next few months the stock fell disastrously. When the lady next met Baruch, she reproached, him saying she had bought Consolidated Gas on his recommendation.
Baruch was puzzled, but when she reminded him of the telephone conversation, light dawned. The call had been from a consultant whom he had briefed to investigate Consolidated Gas and who had said that Baruch’s suspicions were well founded. Baruch’s words had been his expression of satisfaction that his hunch had proved correct.
2 A man who had often spoken to Baruch about his love for hunting was eventually invited to the financier’s South Carolina estate for a turkey shoot. For two days the hapless guest toiled around the plantation, firing at every gobbler he saw, but without hitting a single one. Baruch said nothing. On the third morning, however, the guest noticed a particularly fine turkey sitting motionless in a tree right by the path. He crept up silently to the turkey and fired point-blank. The bird dropped at his feet. With great joy he hastened to stuff his trophy into his bag and it was only then that he noticed the card tied around the bird’s neck. It read: “With the compliments of Bernard Baruch.”
BASIE, “Count” [William] (1904–84), US jazz pianist.
1 On tour in London in 1957, Basie went shopping for gifts for his family. He had decided on fur gloves for his daughter, but in several shops he was advised that mittens were more practical for children. “Yeah?” said Basie. “How’re they going to count in the wintertime?”
BAUM, L[yman] Frank (1856–1919), US writer and journalist, author of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz (1900).
1 Baum had a weak heart and was not allowed to smoke, but he often held an unlit cigar in his mouth. Once, when standing on a lakeshore, he was asked whether he ever actually lit the cigar. “I only light up when I go swimming,” replied Baum. “I can’t swim, so when the cigar goes out I know I’m getting out of my depth.” To illustrate this bizarre explanation, he lit the cigar, walked into the lake until the water reached the level of his mouth, then returned to the dry land, the cigar extinguished. “There, now,” he said triumphantly, “if it hadn’t been for the cigar I would have drowned.”
2 Baum’s first book began when a group of children, including his own four sons, asked him to tell them a story one evening at his house in Chicago. He launched directly into a tale about a Kansas farm girl, Dorothy, and spun out her adventures. When one of the children asked him what country Dorothy had landed in, Baum looked about for inspiration. The first thing he saw was a filing cabinet, labeled O–Z. “The land of Oz!” he cried.
BAYLIS, Lilian (1874–1937), British theater manager.
1 Miss Baylis was notoriously discouraging of romances between members of her company. A young actor and actress went hand in hand to her office. For a time she affected not to notice them, then, scarcely looking up from her desk, said, “Well, what is it?”
“We’re in love, Miss Baylis,” stammered the actor, “and we — er — want to get married.”
“Go away,” said Miss Baylis. “I haven’t got time to listen to gossip.”
2 Chronic financial problems beset Lilian Baylis’s theatrical ventures. For these, as for other matters, she was unabashed about seeking divine aid. Members of her company were frequently embarrassed by her habit of going down on her knees in her office. It was said that at one particularly stressful moment she was overheard to pray, “O Lord, send me a good tenor — cheap.”
3 Elated by her recent acquisition of Sadler’s Wells as an opera and ballet house, Miss Baylis stepped off the sidewalk outside London’s Old Vic theater without looking and was knocked down by a passing cab. An elderly gentleman rushed to her aid. “Blimey,” he exclaimed, “if it ain’t Miss Lilian Baylis of the Old Vic.” Raising her head with some difficulty, Miss Baylis announced proudly, “And Sadler’s Wells, too!” And lapsed unconscious.
BAYLOR, Elgin (1934–), US basketball player.
1 When Baylor was the leader of the Los Angeles Lakers, he agreed to take a vote among the players as to whether to buy blue or gold blazers. The vote went for gold, but Baylor ordered blue. When his rival, Bill Russell, heard about it, he asked Baylor to explain. “I told ’em I’d give ’em the vote, I didn’t say I’d count it,” Baylor replied.
BEAN, Roy (?1825–1903), US frontier judge and saloon keeper.
1 Bean was the proprietor of the Jersey Lily tavern in Langtry, Texas, close to the railroad. One day when a train stopped to take on water, a passenger rushed into Bean’s bar for a bottle of beer. Bean lazily told him to help himself, which the man did, rushing out again without paying. Incensed, Bean grabbed his gun and ran up to the train, telling the conductor to hold it. He found his customer in the smoking bar and, cocking his gun, demanded the money for the beer. Alarmed, the man handed over a $10 bill. Bean took it and said, “Fifty cents for the beer, nine dollars and fifty for collecting. This squares your account. You can keep the bottle.” Then stepping down from the train, he told the conductor, “You can go ahead now as soon as you damn well please.”
BEATON, Sir Cecil (1904–80), British photographer, designer, and society portraitist.
1 In 1926 the young Beaton, uncertain about his future plans, begged the advice of a friend, Kyrle Leng. “What on earth can I become in life?” he asked in a letter, and received the reply, “I wouldn’t bother too much about being anything in particular, just become a friend of the Sitwells, and wait and see what happens.”
2 (At an informal dinner party soon after the engagement of Princess Margaret and Anthony Armstrong-Jones was announced, Cecil Beaton was shown one of the fir
st wedding presents, painted by one of the guests.)
“One of the painters present had given them a large picture of a great number of hysterical-looking naked figures milling together in what appeared to be a blue haze or an earthquake or a trench scene of the 1914–18 war. Princess Margaret said, ‘They’re all dancing.’ I took a gulp of champagne and said, ‘Oh, I’m so glad it isn’t a disaster.’ Princess Margaret laughed so much that she had to lie flat in an armchair.”
BEATTY, David Beatty, 1st Earl (1871–1936), British admiral.
1 Beatty commanded one arm of the British fleet at the battle of Jutland in 1916. He was not wholly prepared with all ships in position when he encountered the German fleet, and a brisk battle soon developed. The Lion was hit first and then the Indefatigable was blown up; soon afterward the Queen Mary, with her crew of 1,200, was sunk. Admiral Beatty observed to his flag captain, “There seems to be something wrong with our bloody ships today, Chatfield.”
Ernie Byfield, who used to run Chicago’s legendary Pump Room, was once asked why real caviar was so expensive. His reply: “After all, it’s a year’s work for the sturgeon.”
BEAUMONT, Francis (1584–1616), British dramatist, collaborator of John Fletcher.
1 At one stage in their collaboration Beaumont and Fletcher were arrested on suspicion of treason. As they were sitting in a tavern working out the plot of a tragedy, one had been heard to remark to the other, “I’ll kill the king.”
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