The Helena Independent

Of People Come for Tickets—The Absurdities and the Box Office Manager.

The general public seems to have an idea of the New York Recorder. "There's something in the position of the box office to receive the ornamental," said the ticket seller. "There's only one thing I'd rather not be than a ticket seller, and that's a base ball umpire."

"Well, you excuse me one minute, please."

A gorgeously dressed youth with his curly hair well oiled had come to the window.

"I say, me friend," was the youth's greeting. "I'm Roilly, one of de firm of Boyle & Roilly, doin' an act down at de Criterion.

Want tickets fer meself an' me friend here for dis aft."

"Me friend here" was a young man more gorgeous, more oily. The ticket seller looked from one to the other.

"Can't accommodate you to-day, sir," he replied suavely, yet with firmness.

"Can't 'commodate me!" repeated the youth. "Say, are you a-takin' me fer one of dem fresh guys what's tryin' to work de racket? Say, I'm one of de perfesh. and I'm entitled to de courtesies extended to de parfesh. See?"

"Can't do anything for you to-day, sir."

"Hully gee! Where is de boss?—where's Tom Halligan?" Turning to his friend, he remarked, confidently: "I oughter to see Tom about dis. Dese fresh mugs ain't no good." Then, once more facing the ticket seller, he went on: "Do I git dem papes or do I git dem papes? Say, if you knows your biz, young feller, you'll shell 'em out now. See? Dat goes. See?"

But, instead, the two youths went. Tom Halligan was to be appealed to.

"Those," said the ticket seller, "are a fair sample of a dozen or more who drop in on me during the day. You can't—"

A lank man in black had insinuated his melancholy visage within the frame of the window.

"Young man," he began in lugubrious tones, "I must trouble you for three orchestra seats for this evening."

But that's as far as he got. The ticket seller interrupted him.

"Certainly, sir. One fifty each, please."

He reached for the tickets.

"One fifty what! My young friend, perhaps you don't know who I am. Per-

mit me."

And he elaborately drew from an upper waistcoat pocket a card not over-clean, inscribed with the name of "Harold Whit-

Sington, Dramatist."

"I am sorry to say, sir," said the ticket seller politely, "that I never heard of you.

I shall be obliged to refer you to Mr. Halli-

gan, the manager. Room 17, upstairs. Stairway the first entrance to the right as you go out. Good day, sir."

He was not permitted to make any obser-

vations this time, for Mr. Harold Whitt-

ingham, dramatist, was elbowed by a plump little brunette in whose every limb soubrette was written.

"I'd like to have two seats for this after-

noon," she began in a business-like way.

"And please give'em to me in the orches-

tra. House good to-day? I'm going to take a friend who's a stranger in town.

Poor girl! she's been on the road all the time. I think she'll enjoy it very much.

Now please don't give'em to me behind a post."

This breezy onslaught was accompanied by so many blushes and smiles and dim-

ples, that the ticket seller must have lost his head. He passed over two tickets rather dazedly, and was rewarded with an-

other smile.

"Oh, thank you ever so much!"

There was silence for some little time after this, until he was again called to the window.

Another youth had devel-

oped.

"Could you oblige me with two tickets for this evening?" he asked, exhaling carelessly at the same time some cigarette smoke. "I would reciprocate—"

"Two tickets? On what, sir?"

"On what? Why—why, you see—well, you see—well, I believe you recognize the press at this theater, don't you?"

"What paper?"

"Well, you see I'm a correspondent. But I also do special work on several of the city papers. I—"

"You'll have to get a note from your city editor."

The young man was inclined to argue, but the ticket seller had turned his back. And immediately another applicant had come into line. This time it was a large, stout man with a dyed mustache, loud clothing and diamonds galore.

"Howdy, brother," was his greeting.

Just had a chance to run in and see some of the boys. Company playing to magnifi-

cent business up in Connecticut. S. K. O. is the order of the day. Fact, I assure you. Never saw such stupendous success. Say, my star's going to be on top this time sure. How's the old man? By the bye, I wish you would just let me have a couple of parquet boards for the mat.

Maybe won't be able to be here, but—"

"Certainly, sir. If you'll just leave your card I'll give it to Mr. Halligan."

The card proving satisfactory—or, rather proving that the owner of it was running a barn-storming company out on the road the tickets were forthcoming.

"Don't like to do it," said the ticket seller afterward, "but what're you going to do about it? Professional courtesy, y'know. Have to do it."

A face of which chin, cheeks and lips were blue after a clean shave now came into view in the window frame. Before the lips were opened any one might know, without being especially knowing, that the owner of them was a Rialto tramp.

"Ha! me boy!" was the salutation, "I'm come to pay thee me respects. And, be the same token, I'm solicitous of pulling thy leg for two moderately good seats for to-night. What be the prospects of success, me good fellow?"

"Very little, my friend."

"Marry, go to! And tellest me that bra-

zenly? Come, open thy heart and thy strongbox, and do not bid me nay."

"Can't do it to-day, sir."

"Nay? Thou mockest me. Well, so long, me good fellow." And without fur-

ther parley the tragedian was gone.

"Hello! here comes somebody that looks like a genuine customer."

A young lady stepped up briskly, and wanted to know if he had any tickets for the matinee. She was informed that he had.

"You have reduced prices for matinees?" she added.

"Yes, madam."

"Please give me two in the parquet."

When she got them she asked: "Are these on the center aisle?"

"No, madam. All the seats in the center aisle are sold."

"Then give me two on the side aisle, please."

The ticket seller handed her two tickets, pointing out on the diagram where they were.

"Why!" she cried instantly, "they're right in front of that post."

"Yes madame. And being in front of course, the post can't interfere with the view of the stage.

Oh, to be sure! H'm—are these the very best you have?"

"Yes, madam."

The young lady gazed at the tickets ab-

stractedly for a moment, then, opening her purse, asked how much they were.

"Two dollars, madam."

"Two dollars! Why, I thought you said you had reduced prices at matinees?"

The price of these seats for the evening performance is $1.50 each, madam."

"Why, never heard of such a thing! I'm sure I never paid that much in Philadelphia."

"That is the price at this theater, madam."

"I'm sure you must be mistaken. I've bought lots of tickets for matinees, and I never paid so much as that. Don't you think you're mistaken?"

"I'm quite sure that I'm not, madam."

"Well, I think it's an imposition to charge so much," she said. Then, taking a $5 bill from her purse and pushing it over, she added: "Now, please don't give me any silver."

When she had got her tickets and change, the ticket-seller turned once more.

"Well, I was beginning to think," he said, "that I wasn't going to do any busi-

ness to-day. It's really remarkable when you come to think of it, how dense-headedness appeals to some people. And you'd be sur-

prised to know the different classes of peo-

ple that come trying to get something for nothing. And the excuses they invent! Really, it would be laughable if it wasn't so tiresome. This is the way it is every morning. And I suppose I may consider myself lucky that I have scooped in $2 of bona fide—"

Once more he was interrupted. The young lady had returned for something. And now she had a young lady friend with her.

"Oh," she exclaimed sweetly, "would you mind taking these tickets back? I just met my friend turning the corner, and find that somebody has given her tickets for this afternoon. So, of course, I will go with her. I should be very much obliged."