My Life in Vaudeville: The Autobiography of Ed Lowry

Whereas

133 Whereas When our car reached the Missouri state line on the Free Bridge, which joined St. Louis to East St. Louis [Illinois], we saw a tremendous crowd. Drawing closer, we heard music. Through the din, above the cheers, and in spite of the bedlam, we recognized “Muddy Waters.” Practically every member of Musicians’ Local Number 2 was on hand. We were joined by six motorcycle cops, who acted as escorts. A motor cavalcade headed toward us, then stopped. From the first car, heading a long parade, stepped His Honor, Mayor Victor Miller. After the usual salutations, the mayor presented me with a scroll. Radio station KMOX had made arrangements to pick up the mayor’s speech. Over the public-address system, you could hear his honor orate, “Ed Lowry, we welcome you back to the City of St. Louis, and we present you with this scroll as a civic recognition. As mayor of this city, I issue the following proclamation: “Whereas, you have established a world’s record of over four thousand performances in one theater; whereas, you have contributed your talent, time, and energy to every worthy civic cause and charity; whereas, you have won the admiration of all St. Louis for your charm and entertainment ; and whereas, you have caused many visitors to come to this city, I, Victor J. Miller, proclaim this Ed Lowry Happiness Week and urge the citizens of St. Louis to honor you, Ed Lowry, for your creation of such an enviable record.” The mayor then handed me the microphone. “Your Honor, Mayor Miller, and ladies and gentlemen,” I responded. “Whereas, I am overcome with emotion, and whereas, if I don’t sit down I fear my knees will buckle, I hereby proclaim this to be Ed Lowry Gratitude 134 wh e r e A s Week. I extend my deepest thanks and gratitude to the entire populace. I will always cherish the memory of this occasion. Thanks!” Again, the band played “Muddy Waters,” and the parade proceeded along Washington Boulevard. Many of our Rockettes were back in their old majorette costumes and swinging their batons and adding pageantry to the demonstration. Along the way, the people shouted all kinds of warm greetings. It was like a hero’s welcome. I said to Teddy, “Look at those crazy kids carrying that huge dummy. Ha! That’s me in effigy. Thank heavens, they’re not burning or hanging me. On the dummy it says, ‘Our Eddie,’ and on the back it says ‘The ELFs.’ That’s a cute title—ELFs—Ed Lowry Fans.” Various fan clubs turned out with signs of greetings. The Lowrians. The ELCs, the Ambassadorables, Ed’s Co-eds. My goodness, they even had “Welcome Home” banners flying from the department stores. “There’s Stix, Baer, and Fuller’s,” I exclaimed. “Golly, look who’s hanging out of the window waving—Sidney Baer. Hi, Sidney! There’s Arthur Baer, too. Oh, gee, there’s Famous-Barr. Never realized that store was so big. Doctor Probstein is there for an hour every day. Golly, I’ll want to see him. I’ll need a sedative after all this excitement.” There were more intimate salutations backstage, where the whole organization , including the Skourases, the staff, the musicians, and the stagehands, had a buffet lunch in my honor. Next morning, ice water was piddled over my exultation when I picked up a copy of the Post-Dispatch and read an editorial by Harry Niemeyer describing and ridiculing the homecoming celebration. “The humble followers,” wrote “Nile,” “lined along the curb while the conquering hero rode by in his golden chariot tossing coins to the peasants as was the wont of his race.” Nile had always been most complimentary and on many occasions had editorialized on how modestly and wisely I had behaved myself during these record-breaking years. His writings were often brilliant, and he was a fine juggler of words. Now, however, in baring his journalistic teeth, it seemed that his rational intelligence had snapped. Whatever possessed him to drag his typewriter into a sewer to spew up his malignant religious comments is beyond me. The parade was no brainchild of mine. Reeves Espy or Thornton Sargent engineered the idea, and both were merely following the dictates of good showmanship, one of the countless exploitation stunts that stamped them 135 wh e r e A s as great showmen. It was smart...