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The art of acting
is sometimes called a profession, more often a
"business." Rarely is it perceived as a
life-long devotion to the presentation of an
ideal, a vision for the uplift of man. Every
glimpse we get into the intangible realm that is
the ultimate of all the arts contributes just
that much toward the betterment of the world.
The actor must, by the nature of his art, bend
every experience of his life to the reproduction
of his vision for the joy and entertainment of
his public. There is no room for self-interest,
for indulgence in pain, for the luxury of
illness, nor for the giving way to personal
sorrow. The "Overture" plays and, leaden-hearted
or winged with joy, the actor plays his part
behind the footlights that separate him from
ordinary things. He keeps his contract with the
human race.
To some actors is
given the great power of a moving and universal
art, beyond the barriers of language. He
traffics in eternal verities, he is a being
apart. His are the material rewards of success,
the adulation of the multitude, the thundering
plaudits of the crowd. Who can estimate the good
he does, the lives he mends, the shattered hopes
he rescues from the Despond with his dynamic and
unforgettable performances?
But there is a
vast, unsung army whose efforts have faltered,
whose strength failed before they reached the
distant goal. Upon them Misfortune has laid his
bony finger, and Time has left his eradicable
mark. In their ears echoes the ringing applause
of a public enraptured for a moment, and then
dissolved into a mist. These ill-starred ones
know in their hearts the living joy of having
given themselves -- the finest in themselves --
to the art they served with unswerving devotion.
These know the bitterness of night-long tears in
the lonely dark, the gnawing pangs of hunger,
the shame of poverty, the hot barrage of pain,
the ashes of pride in the Citadel of
Accomplishment now reduced to dust. They
understand too well the agonies of fear and
sickness and frustration.
The Ladies'
Welfare League was founded to pay free and
glorious tribute to these lonely, valiant ones.
Without regard to race or creed we endeavor to
minister to their present needs. We cannot call
the service that we render to this courageous
army by the odious appellation of "Charity,"
rather we prefer to crown it with the name of
"mercy." We respectfully recommend this great
work to those whose hearts are kind as a
privilege which we all may share, a tribute to
the actors whose inspiration still shines in our
memories' portals. Life is their Dress
Rehearsal. We give them the tools and they
finish their heroic play alone, "God divided man
into men, that they might help each other," said
Seneca. The sun never shone on a cause of
greater worth. |
