Rosario Tells Betty Martin of Her Dancing Life
By Betty Martin
Began as a Child to Help a Deserted Mother, and Has Since Appeared Before the Crowned Heads of Europe
She Likes to Dance at Night, Because Then Her Audiences Are More Free With Their Applause and Favors
The editor advanced the idea, the business man fostered it and the theatrical manager gave it his endorsement.
Followed the interview with Rosario Guerrero – she of the flashing eyes and telling gestures – now at the Oakland Orpheum.
Speaking strictly under the rose, it came about something like this It is customary in newspaper offices to confer with the editor.
The editor is the man with ideas. If your own grey matter refuses to work, the rule is – go to the editor.
Come rain, come shine, come weal, come woe, he is there with the goods.
It was he who said, “Talk with that Spanish dancer at the Orpheum.”
Then – an unusual occurance – he turned to confidently to the business man who happened in, saying: “She's worth while, isn't she?”
“Of course she's worth while,” came the endorsement, accompanied by a far-away look in the speaker's eyes.
A look which seemingly visioned glimpses of dainty slippers, high heeled and low-vamped, tinkling guitars, musical voices, flashing eyes, tresses of raven blackness, roses red as blood and lips like the heart of them. But the veil fell again, as with a laugh the business man gave attention to more prosaic affairs.
Said the theatrical manager, over the phone, “Dandy! But bring along an interpreter she doesn't speak a word of English.”
Interpreters of any sort proved to be a scare quantity on the evening selected so, armed with the conviction that Rosario, who gives whole scenes in pantomime, would not fail to make herself under-stood. The artist and I went behind the scenes.
We were just a trifle early. The lady was in the hands of her maid, so said the stage manager, politely placing a chair directly in line with one of the wings that I might view the performance of Montrell the juggler. It was great, and particularly exciting, when the gentleman with a swift turn of his wrist, sent through mid-air, right into the open, a shower of cups, plates and other table accessories.
No Need to Be Afraid of Anything
They landed in a heap on the floor perilously near my feet. Naturally I started.
Don't be alarmed counciled the stage managere from his station nearby. They won't hurt you.
No interposed a passing stage hand they won't. Only four people have been hit by them this week.
Whereupon I got up just in time to see a red-headed tallish individual appear from one of the dressing rooms below. The jugglers came off with a rush [unreadable] and on went Murray and Mack when {unreadable] hooded and cloaked [unreadable] the lady of our quest.
[unreadable]
Nor had I gone wrong in my estimate of Rosario herself
Has the Heartiest Kind of Handshake
She spoke English a little. Her vocabulary is small, but to the point. Said she, upon introduction:
“I'm very glad to meet you” and the words were accompanied by a handclasp so hearty as to almost lead to the conviction that she meant it.
“And Monsieur, ” she continued, fixing her bright glance upon the man of the pencil.
“Shields” explained I “makes the picture ”
“Ah,” returned she, uplifting her eyebrows, “donnez-une chaise a monsieur. ”
The white-aproned one complied with alacrity and monsieur, who in office of free-masonry responds to the name of “Jerry”, sat down directly opposite the trio formed by the fascniating Rosario at my left, with the white-aproned one flanking the right.
We began.
“Parlez vous Francaise ” enquired Rosario.
“Je le parle assez pour me faire comprende,” returned I, and then we went at it in earnest.
Rosario told me that she was sorry of so sorry that I didn't speak Spanish for then, then – she would tell me all of her “histoire”
However, of that I had heard something. It was not so much that I wanted to learn the dancer's story as to gain an inkling as to her point of view.
Rosario Has Always Danced
“I” said she “am a native of Seville ” And when I aksed her how long she had danced she clapped her hands and ejacualted enthusiastically, “Always”
“When I was little,” she explained, half in French half in English, aided by comprehensive gestures, “I used to see great dancers. Then I would go home and imitate them. I never had to take lessons. When I would go to the famous instructor, as I did later it was always this 'You don't need to be taught. You know how already.”
“Votre Mere,” questioned I, “she also dances? ”
The White-aproned one rose to the occassion.
“None of Rosario's people” – “none” – so Rosario herself emphasized, with a shrug of her shapely shoulders and a deprecating movement of her upraised hands – “had been my dancer. Only myself.”
“I like to tell you all – all,” she continued, “but that ees impossible parsque you do not comprehende.”
Tells Her Story Through the Maid.
Followed a rapid fire in French between mistress and maid
“She would like to tell you how it all came about ” translated the latter, bubbling with sympathy – “how, when she was a little girl, her father left her mother, alone, with no money and a family of children. How she, Rosario, went to Paris, how she danced, one night in the theater, for forty francs – which seemedto her a fortune, and how, marvelous to relate the director of one of the famous theaters saw her and immediately engaged her for a period of six months.”
“That,” concluded Rosario, “was ten years ago.”
Since then, the dancer has appeared in every city of note in Europe and the United States, but in South America, “Nevaire!” she told me, adding “Mais, hier, came one manager from the Citie of Mexico”
With this enterprising manager, so it appears, a bargain was cinched, and soon “La Belle Rosario” – that is what the Spanish writers call her – will have new fields to conquer.
Likes the Writers For Newspapers
“I like beaucoup the journals,” declared she, bidding the maid fetch her book of clippings. A peep therein convinced me that she skope truly. And that she also looked with favor upon journalists, as she termed them, for there were pictures of dozens of them – all with Rosario – at banquets – the theater – at home – even at a bullfight, where, so explained the maid, Rosario fainted at sight of the Toreador horned by an infuriated bull.
From Seville, from “old Madrid, from Barcelona, from gay Paris, Vienna, St PEtersburg, even from staid London journals, came clippings.
“In London,” so said Rosario, “I was for six months, doing Carmen – the entire opera – in pantomime. The King,” she added proudly “and the Queen came to see me.”
Has Danced Before The Czar of Russia
“Ah, you have met many people of Royal blood”
“In Spain, the King, yes. At St Petersburg I danced before the Czar”
“No. I nevaire met him, but – some of the Princes – yes.”
Rosario loves to dance.
“I could dance all the time,” declared she, adding that she like best to dance at night, “for then,” said she, naively, “there is more enthusiasm among the audience.”
It is six years ago that the dancer first appeared in San Francisco.
Does she like that city? Her rapturous expression was enough. Very fond of San Francisco was she. “There” always “they encore, once, twice! They like the dance in San Francisco.”
“Et ici?”
“Oui. I think they understand,” explained Rosario, weighing every word, “but they not so much applaud. Next week,” she continued “I will dance the 'Tango garrotia'.”
Bohemian Dance Next on Repertoire
This is a Bohemian dance. And right at this point came an explanation impossible to tranfer to paper. It may be that Monsieur Shields, who had been all this while industriously wielding the lead, caught a characteristic motion. Otherwise, I'm sure that my pen is inadequate.
Rosario, to talk to, is animation itself. Moreover, she is delightfully responsive – anticipating even. Close at hand, her make up is even more effective than from the front of the house. She prefaced her description of the Bohemian dance by: “The Spanish people like much the movements of the dancer.”
“Yes?”
“Oui” Jeweled hands flashed into the air, fluttering about throat and waist-line. Backward was thrown the garb of brown, revealing the low-corsaged, heavily embroidered gown of the dancer, who placed a hand on each hip, preparatory to an illustration of the “movements” beloved of the Spaniards. Truth to tell, they were compelling, particularly so, accompanied by significant glances and withering smiles.
“But” – heed well the “but,” and no longer let us be crowded over and taunted for our prudery.
“In San Francisco, the Prefect of Police, he say I not to make much movement when I dance.”
“So!” ejaculated I, “the people do not like it.”
People as Rule Like Body Dancing
“Oh oui,” returned Rosario, earnestly, “the people like very much the movement but” – again the naive little smile hovered about the carmined lips, “the Prefect, he say not to make much movement.” So be it.
Next week, then, we are to witness this famous dance of Bohemia. Whether Oakland's “Prefect” will give his sanction remains to be seen.
And once – only once – “pour vous ” promised Rosario, “will I dance next week with the castinets.”
Reprinted from TheOakland Tribune , October 10, 1909