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| Edna May (1878-1948) |
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In Press and Literature |
(Syracuse Post-Standard, 20th August, 1904)
Famous Actress and Her Dog As They Appear in an "At Home"
Nosey, the Blue-blooded Blenheim Spaniel, Refuses to Be Polite and Talks Back at Her Celebrated Mistress, Edna May, When a Scolding Is Administered.
Syracuse folk have read of Miss Edna May professionally and how she appears in her home city at functions given in her honor, but only her closest friends know how exceedingly democratic she is in her strictly private life.
When a Post-Standard representative called yesterday at her parents home in university avenue to photograph Nosey primarily and the celebrated actress secondarily, she found the Blenheim spaniel just ready for her bath, and after a short wait Miss Edna May appeared with Nosey spick, spack and dainty in her toilet of brown, white and azure blue, the latter a ribbon tied in the most stunning bow, which peeked up just, behind her tiny, aristocratic head.
"Isn't this a bore," she whispered politely to her charming mistress, who held her in her arms, "to be on parade the minute one gets out of one's bath? It's up to the country, when abroad and down to London; then across the pond and nearly smothered while riding from New York to Syracuse so as not to be put into a baggage car. Just think of it! A blueblooded Blenheim made to ride, in a plebian baggage car. But my mistress was too clever for that. Then I've been on parade every minute since, excepting when asleep. So I'll hope you'll excuse my yawning," and Nosey snuggled down in the arms of her celebrated mistress to be taken especially for The Post-Standard little folk.
No Respect for Gowns
"Really. Nosey has been the 'star' of this visit, and if I didn't love her so dearly I'm afraid there would be cause for jealousy," Miss May said jokingly as she pulled Nosey's ear and then cuddled the mite against her cheek. Just at this turn of the conversation Nosey bounded out of her mistress' arms and gave chase to an English sparrow.
Nosey is about nine inches long, with a head that would easily fit into an ordinary, coffee cup. The big brown eyes, are flanked by a pair of ears, the wavy hair of which hangs down so as to drag on the ground as she noses and roots into everything, and the snubbiest nose imaginable. Her mouth is just not any mouth at all, and the silky coat is of brown and white and wavy. She wags her tail most approvingly when she tells one in tiny barks that she wants to go downtown right away.
She has no regard for gowns and the one worn by Miss May was romped over and the ruffles caught roguishly in her mouth as Miss May walked in and out of the house on errands or chased helterskelter after Miss May's sisters, Miss Jane May and Miss Marguerite Pettie, as they appeared on the scene. Then when Miss May picked her up as she made a flying rush to pass by and tried to impress her that this was a very serious occasion, she impishly threw up her head, poked her cold little nose into her mistress' cheek and gave it a lap with her tiny tongue; then quietly but reluctantly settled down to be "took" after a few disapproving barks of the whole proceedings.
Miss May and Nosey Receive
A charming picture they made. Miss May, ready to receive the many friends who spent the afternoon with her, donned a dainty hat for the occasion, and Nosey and her mistress were photographed. Miss May was gowned in a Paris confection of silky white lawn with voluminous flounce of Valenciennes lace. The bodice was cut rounding at the neck, where a string of choice pearls added a girlish appearance to the graceful throat. A fine gold-linked chain, marked at intervals with oddly shaped pearls, was wound twice about her neck and fell far below her waist line, and frills of lace fell away at the elbows, revealing arms well rounded and dimpled wrists, on which she wore a latticed pearl bracelet and a heavy gold band studded with several large sapphires. A girdle of azure-blue silk matched the trimmings of her hat and Nosey's tie.
On her fingers were a few of her many jewels which have been presented to Miss May by royalty of England, Germany and India. In fact, nearly all of the contents of this celebrated young woman's jewel box are gifts from her many admirers.
When Miss May greets the callers at her home she welcomes them with a hearty grasp of the hand which conveys the impression that she is your hostess and her guest is welcome, whether professionally or socially. There is nothing insipid about Miss May's welcome. She is charmingly natural, and, with her two sisters, composed a lesson in unostentation and girlish simplicity as they chatted and laughed at the antics of Nosey.
"It is marvelous to us that Edna's head has never been turned," remarked a lifelong acquaintance to the reporter. "But all the attention that royalty and money could give has not spoiled the little woman one whit. She is Just the some generous Edna as when we were schoolmates.
(Atlanta Constitution, 2nd June, 1907)
Goodbye Dear Public
Goodbye dear public. It hurts me more grievously than I can possibly express in mere words, to have to say goodbye to the hundreds and perhaps thousands of my friends on both sides of the theater curtain. I love my work and my audiences on both sides of the water. Perhaps my fondest adieus must go to my English audiences, for I know them better. In my ten years of active life, practically nine years have been spent in England. I know I have been a success, for in all that time I have only had two failures. But I have worked hard — the public will never know how hard — and I have earned a rest, which now I hope to take for life.
My favorite play is "The Belle of New York" of courae, for it was in that I graduated to stardom. But "La Poupee" is a very close second. In my stage career I have but two little regrets — one that I did not appear in La Poupee in the United States, the other that I never played in legitimate comedy.
It is the public I must really thank for much of my success. But for its kindness, its encouragement, its generous applause I might have been a miserable failure. Now that I have said forever farewell to the stage, I can afford to make a confession. My temperament is a sensitive nervous one. I suffered from stage fright throughout my career. Not the ordinary stage fright common on first nights of new pieces, but an absolutely continuous stage fright — a nightly affair - almost a fear of each act. It has been momentary in nearly every instance, but there have been many occasions when, after leaving the stage I could not restrain my tears.
Criticisms have in like manner affected me. I have wept and suffered for hours over the occasional harsh words of the journalistic critics, many of whom are my very good friends. The public and the critics do not realize, I feel sure, what their praise or condemnation means, to those of the stage.
England will be our permanent home, though neither of us will abandon our citizenship of the United States. I have more friends in England than in America, for here I have spent the last nine years, and when I left the United States I was barely 19. There is a woman's confession of age for you. As a mere girl, one scarcely makes the friends one does in the years following the teens.
I will not abandon the theater in its entirety, for I expect to become a regular first-nighter and continue in constant attendance, though in the stalls as a mere spectator. I will also continue my connection with the various charitable institutions of the theatrical world.
And now farewell to my dear public on both sides of the Atlantic. I have made my last exit from the stage of the theater. The curtain is just going up on the happiest part of my life, I have deepest regrets yes, tears, at ending my stage career. These are still with me even in the gladness of the sunshine of my future. To my critics my heartfelt thanks. I am passing from the light of publicity, but, there are others coming into it. Let the critics be merciful to them.
Goodbye dear stage, goodbye, dear public.
EDNA MAY.