Yet Another Opening Night Review

The following review of The Tik-Tok Man of Oz was published in the Los Angeles (CA) Record, April 1, 1913.

DRAMA

Majestic

The Tik-Tok Man of Oz, produced at the Majestic for the first time Monday night, has so many striking features that one is puzzled which to choose for description, since space forbids featuring them all.

As a spectacle it is beautiful and impressive, dazzling and enchanting, by turns, while the music fits skillfully into the situations. There are catchy airs enough and a few are decidedly pleasing; but it is in the descriptive passages that Louis F. Gottschalk, the composer, has scored most heavily.

So far as the lines are concerned they are the lines of an extravaganza of a Baum adaptation of fairy tales to operatic ends. The Tik-Tok Man has no plot, no brilliant lines; it has laughs aplenty, but one wonders afterward what caused them, and is compelled to admit that they were a tribute to the clever work of good comedians. Fred Woodward, as Hank, the mule; Frank F. Moore, as the Shaggy Man, and Jas. C. Morton, as Tik-Tok, did valiant service and were rewarded by laughter and much applause.

Before we proceed, be it known that there is no special story told in the Tik-Tok Man. There is a great storm, beautifully portrayed in scenic and light effects, ably seconded by the orchestra. A ship is seen to go down and shortly thereafter Betsy Bobbin and her pet mule are discovered drifting shoreward on a raft. They land in a strange country and their  adventures are as varied and as absurd as those of Alice in Wonderland. Lenora Novasio is a delightful Betsy, who flits and dances, smiles and sings, is everywhere and nowhere, and always welcome. Dolly Castles, as Polychrome, daughter of the rainbow, is a bit of beauty to make the heart glad. She contributes some of the best songs and dances as charmingly as a sunbeam.

The only really fine female voice is that of Vera Doria, Princess Ozma of Roseland. She has several solos which she sings with taste and understanding.

The wonderful deep voice of Eugene Cowles of Bostonian fame is heard to advantage in “Work, Lads, Work,” and again in the interpolated number, “Forgotten.”

In the last analysis, the extravaganza owes its success in large measure to work of Robt. Brunton, who designed and executed the eight scenes of the play. The conception and execution are the work of a true artist, and one is sadly puzzled to decide which of the lovely pictures is most beautiful.

In the enumeration of attractions we must not overlook Charlie Ruggles, the only private of the army of Ooogaboo, [sic] nor the dozens of pretty girls in multi-colored tights; but in the end it is Betsy Bobbin, Polychrome, the scenery and the comedians that stick in the memory.

As a spectacle, perhaps, the Tik-Tok Man is worth what it cost, $40,000. Most of us are still children at heart and we love the atmosphere of fairyland, flowers and music.

As for the man who enjoys tights, he is in the land of heart’s desire. 

For more about The Tik-Tok Man of Oz, read my book about the show, All Wound Up: The Making of The Tik-Tok Man of Oz.

 Copyright © 2026 Eric Shanower. All rights reserved.

Mystery of the Fragmentary Script

All Wound Up, my book on the history of The Tik-Tok Man of Oz, contains the complete script of the show, published for the first time. As I detailed in the book, I transcribed the published script from two sources: one original full script and one photocopied fragment of a slightly revised original script, both from 1913. The full script was uncovered in the British Library in 2023. The source of the fragmentary script was a mystery.

My husband, theatre historian David Maxine, obtained a photocopy of the fragmentary script in the 1990s. That's the copy I consulted in my research and used as the basis for my 2014 reconstruction of the show. On the left, you can see the first page of that copy. That photocopy had come into the possession of its previous owner in the early 1980s. But that owner could not recall where it came from. While I was researching for All Wound Up, I asked several long-time Oz and Baum collectors about the fragmentary script, but none of them knew anything. All Wound Up had to go to press without a full provenance for the fragmentary script of The Tik-Tok Man of Oz.

A few weeks ago, my husband David was looking through material he's collected for his planned book on the history of the 1903 Broadway Wizard of Oz. He ran across a letter that solves part of the mystery of the fragmentary script.

During the late 1950s, Frank Joslyn Baum, eldest son of L. Frank Baum, and Russell P. MacFall, a Chicago journalist, co-authored the first major biography of L. Frank Baum, To Please a Child. They corresponded a lot. In a letter dated 6 October 1958, Frank J. Baum wrote the following to Russell MacFall:

As to [The] Tik-Tok [Man of Oz], I was present at the opening in Los Angeles. For a time I had a script of that show, but Lou Gottschalk, the composer, asked me for it to use for a time as he thought he had a chance to get it re-produced. I loaned it to him and he soon died. I waited a few weeks to give his widow time to recover[,] then asked her for the script. She told me it was in an old trunk which she gave to the Salvation Army! When I contacted them they said all old papers had been burned! No script--except that I have about twenty of the first pages of the first act.

I have little doubt that what I call "the fragmentary script" is what Frank J. Baum's letter refers to as "about twenty of the first pages of the first act." The fragmentary script consists of the first twenty-nine pages of the first act of The Tik-Tok Man of Oz. Where Frank J. Baum's pages are now and who photocopied them for the copy I consulted remain unknown--for now. The letter doesn't establish an unbroken chain of possession. But I believe it establishes a Baum family source for the fragmentary script.

The letter also reveals why no copy of the full script of The Tik-Tok Man of Oz survived in the Baum family. What a shame Marie Gottschalk wasn't a little more conscientious about returning the full script her husband borrowed. At least a copy of the full script survived elsewhere for me to include for all to read in All Wound Up.

Copyright © 2026 Eric Shanower. All rights reserved.

Another Opening Night Review of The Tik-Tok Man of Oz

The following review of The Tik-Tok Man of Oz was published in the Los Angeles (CA) Express, April 1, 1913.

‘TIK-TOK MAN’ DELIGHTS

Great Audience at Majestic for Premiere of Extravaganza—Magnificent Stage Pictures, Good Music and Girls, Girls, Girls

“The Tik-Tok Man” will prove to be no mere eight-day mechanism; it is wound up for a long run.

It was an auspicious occasion, the premiere, last night at the Majestic theater, of a musical extravaganza that promises to take a conspicuous place among the foremost productions in the country of the lighter form of musical and theatrical entertainment; a production starting in a blaze of splendor on the last American way to be kissed by the setting sun, and likely to shine quite as effulgently on the great thespian Broadway to greet the smile of Old Sol as he gets his first morning peep at the New World.

Everything contributed to a successful premiere of the Baum-Gottschalk fantasy last night. The audience, limited only by the capacity of the theater, was representative of the wealth and culture of the city and was enthusiastically responsive; the performance was so adequately prepared that it proceeded with the smoothness of a time tried production, and the creators of and sponsors for the offering were, each and everyone of them, present to acknowledge the demonstrative manifestations of approval showered upon “The Tik-Tok Man.” After the first act, in response to these insistent marks of favor from the audience, L. Frank Baum, author of the book and lyrics, made a few apt remarks and called upon Manager Oliver Morosco, the man responsible for the unstinting elaborateness of the beautiful production. After a neat expression of thanks to the audience and paying a high tribute to the others concerned in the making of “The Tik-Tok Man,” not even forgetting the chorus or the stage carpenters, Mr. Morosco introduced the composer of the music, Louis F. Gottschalk, Frank Stammers, who staged the play, Robert Brunton, who is artistically responsible for the gorgeous scenic representations, and others concerned in the making of the attraction.

The story of “The Tik-Tok Man of Oz” is as fantastic as that of an extravaganza is expected to be—that is, it is about as far distant from pictured realities as are the realms of Dreamland, to which the Sandman takes one after a bounteous repast of Welsh rarebit.

Suffice to say, Betsy and her mule, Hank—and Hank is a wonderful mule, too—become shipwrecked on the island of Oz, where flowers and things are living beings. Here they meet the Shaggy Man, the princess of Roseland, the Rainbow’s daughter, and the Tik-Tok Man, a marvelous mechanical fellow who thinks and acts after properly being wound up. These form a party who search for the Metal Kingdom to release the Shaggy Man’s brother, imprisoned there by the Metal King.

On this hangs the string of entertaining features of the production.

“The Tik-Tok Man” is essentially a scenic production, and the magnificent scale on which it is built will figure large in its probable success. From the rise of the first curtain, on the beautifully effective shipwreck scene to that of the last curtain[,] it is a series of wonderfully attractive, artistic and gorgeous stage settings. As part of these beautiful scenes, the unusually large chorus of shapely and fine-looking young women in many changes of tasty and elaborate costumes, figures intimately in the visually delightful stage pictures.

Mr. Gottschalk’s music for this piece was written by a man thoroughly familiar with popular taste and with the ability and inclination to meet it. I say this advisedly, for the composer has written things of much more musical value than that in “The Tik-Tok Man,” but he has here consistently kept within the limits of what he knew was suitable for a vehicle of light entertainment.

Much of the music is strongly reminiscent of other things, and for that matter what music of popular character is not? Yet, the composer beautifies the work here and there with attractive bits of composition, of which the orchestral part of the rain scene in the prologue is a notable instance. The music in “The Tik-Tok Man” contains much that is “catchy” and bound to become popular.

The performance by the admirably selected cast is worthy more extended notice than well can be given here.

James Morton as the Tik-Tok Man is immense, Frank Moore is a close second as the Shaggy Man, and if anyone believes that actions do not speak louder than words, he will be quickly converted by seeing the eloquent mule, Hank, as played by Fred Woodward.

Leonora [sic] Novasio is a bewitching little Betsy, Vera Doria is a stately and vocally delightful Princess Ozma and Dolly Castles dances and sings into the favor of all.

Josie Intropidi is a capital suffragette general and Charles Ruggles a model Private Files, constituting the army of Oogaboo. Eugene Cowles shines vocally in the bass solo of the Metal King, who wants to love but can’t. Then there are girls, girls and girls, a veritable army of youthful, comely femininity to dazzle the eye by their gorgeous raiment and please the ear by their fresh, young voices. The officers of the army of Oogaboo make up a creditable male chorus.

F. H. COLBY

For more about The Tik-Tok Man of Oz, read my book about the show, All Wound Up: The Making of The Tik-Tok Man of Oz.

Copyright © 2026 Eric Shanower. All rights reserved.

Review of The Tik-Tok Man of Oz

This opening night review of The Tik-Tok Man of Oz was published April 1, 1913, in the Los Angeles Evening Herald. The "Maud" that Mr. Price, the reviewer, refers to at one point was the animal star of the then-popular comic strip And Her Name was Maud by Frederick Burr Opper.

TIK TOK [sic] SHOULD RUN LONG TIME

New Musical Play Sparkles in Gorgeous Beauty

By Guy Price 

Dolly Castles and Charles Ruggles.

Oliver Morosco’s $40,000 “Tik Tok [sic] Man of Oz” was exposed to public scrutiny at the Majestic last night. And if the approval of a first night audience counts for anything, and theatrical history tells us it does, the local manager stands a good chance to make a big fortune with this first musical comedy venture.

The Majestic was packed long before the performance began, the demand for seats being greater than the supply, resulting in hundreds being turned away. The audience not only was large and enthusiastic, but probably was the most fashionable that ever has turned out to witness the premiere of a play here. It was a beautiful foreground for the biggest event to occupy the local stage in its period of remarkable advancement. And Los Angeles should be proud.

The play, as all undoubtedly know by now, is a musical fantasy by L. Frank Baum and Louis Gottschalk. Mr. Baum wrote the book and lyrics and Mr. Gottschalk the music. The story is a continuation of the author’s famous Oz books and, although resembling in many ways “The Wizard of Oz,” it is built on entirely different lines. All the scenes are laid in fairyland and the theme as worked out is a tale of wondrous charm and beauty.

But the piece needs a lot of fixing before it will be ready for Chicago or New York, or even San Francisco. In its present embryonic form it lacks the polish and glitter that come only after the process of weeding is gone through. The comedy lines need strengthening—very few of them got over effectively last night—and Mr. Baum can greatly improve upon his book by exterminating several sections that impede rather than accelerate the action of the play. The physical and mental strain to which the players have been subjected in the past week, with rehearsals morning, noon and night, can be blamed for the lack of ginger on the part of some of the principals. Their spirits seemed to lag and at times the spirits of those sitting out in front suffered likewise; anyway, that is the way I felt. The players were trained to so fine an edge that they became “stale,” but it is to be hoped—and there is no doubt it will be done—that another rehearsal or two will eliminate the soggy defects.

The word “perfect” describes the music to an absolute nicety and Mr. Gottschalk’s direction of the orchestra proves him an artist of no uncommon ability. Here and there one discovers a familiar chord, but for the most part it is new, sparkling and melodious. The song numbers, written by Mr. Baum and set to tinkling music by Mr. Gottschalk, are the kind that send you away happy and whistling.

With due respect for the work of both author and composer, the feature of the play that attracts most is the scenic and electric effects. These never have been approached in this city before. Each scene is a picture of exquisite beauty and the color schemes are so entrancing to be beyond all description. The costumes are brilliant and delicious to the eye.

The best acting, in my opinion, is done by the mule, named Hank, played by Fred Woodward. He is working at top speed all of the time, and on no occasion does he overdue [sic] the part. Mr. Woodward came to us heralded as a wonderful portrayer of animal characters, but I will go even farther and pronounce him the “best mule in captivity,” not excepting his near kin, Maud, of funny section fame.

Speaking of Hank, naturally brings to mind Miss Lenora Novasio, who appears as Betsy, the girl from Oklahoma, who with her mule playmate is shipwrecked and rescued from a raft. Miss Novasio is, in my opinion, the real bright spot of the play. She is full of life and she rescues the performance from an almost comatose state. She sings two or three rollicking songs and, though not blessed with a strong voice, does exceedingly well. The only fault that could be found with her entire performance is the plainness of her costumes. A few more frills, I believe, would add to her attractiveness.

Morton and Moore, impersonating Tik Tok [sic] and Shaggy Man respectively, are the pricipal [sic] comedians and, of course, they are good. The former is a clever dancer, fair singer and speaks his lines so that he can be heard by those in the rear of the theater. His agility is extraordinary and his make-up and facial expressions are as funny as they are grotesque. Moore has greater opportunity for comedy and he makes the most of it. Both are clever and should be better with a few more rehearsals.

Eugene Cowles handles the role of the Metal King in his usual perfect style and in several songs further proves his ability as a basso of power and wide range. Dolly Castles is demurely sweet as Polychrome. In her duet with Charles Ruggles she is especially pleasing. Mr. Ruggles, cast as Private Files, plays his small part well. Miss Josie Intropidi gives an ingenious character portrayal of Queen Anne, [sic] while Mlle. Vera Doria sings beautifully as Princess Ozma.

The most skillful dancing seen here in some time, with the possible exception of Genee, is executed by Burns and Fulton. The dance is entitled “The Whirlwind,” and it certainly is true to its name. Their performance is lightning fast and one to marvel at.

“The Tik Tok [sic] Man of Oz” after a little repairing should make Chicago and New York jump up and gaze on in amazement, but one thing is certain—if play, music and everything else fail to impress, that chorus of beauties, some thirty girls strong, well-figured and as sprightly as birds in the light of a new morning’s sun, will command attention. A bigger, better galaxy of maidens never lent charm to a stage production. And they are mostly California product, too.

Manager Morosco, Author Baum, Composer Gottschalk, Director Frank Stammers and Artist Robert Brunton were called before the curtain between the first and second acts. The author and manager made short speeches in which they thanked the audience for their appreciation and expressions of good will.

Copyright © 2026 Eric Shanower. All rights reserved. 

Opening Night Review of The Tik-Tok Man of Oz

Exactly one hundred and thirteen years ago today, the Los Angeles, California, Daily Tribune published the following review of the premier performance of The Tik-Tok Man of Oz:

RARE BEAUTIES OF “TIK TOK MAN OF OZ” [sic] ARE REVEALED

Most Magnificent Extravaganza Ever Seen Here; Broadway, N. Y., Show, Predicted

By J. Rex James

Oliver Morosco made good his promise to give Los Angeles the most magnificent production of an extravaganza ever seen here when last night at the Majestic theater the beauties of the “Tik Tok Man of Oz” [sic] were revealed for the first time to public view.

The production was found to answer even to the word “mammoth.” In lavish use of costly costumery, gorgeous lights and brilliant products of the scene painter’s art, no production has ever been offered here that in any wise approaches it.

In “The Tik Tok Man of Oz” [sic] we have a Broadway production in the commonly accepted sense of the term, only we have reversed the Broadways and the meaning still holds good.

I do not see why New York should not advertise this piece next fall “as originally produced by Oliver Morosco in the Majestic theater, Broadway, Los Angeles,” to give tone to the press matter. But whether this is done or not, “The Tik Tok Man of Oz” [sic] ought to delight that other Broadway as much as it pleased the first night audience at the Majestic.

Fairy Story Told

Frank Baum took three incidents in his fairyland stories of Oz and wove them together to make “The Tik Tok Man” [sic]; Louis Gottschalk set the piece in ticking with music that radiates vivacity and puckers the lips into a whistle; Frank Stammers came out from New York and stage directed the production, transforming a nondescript army of young women and men into a chorus of beings artistic; and Robert Brunton, scenic artist at Morosco’s Burbank theater, looked the Baum book over and turned out a series of magnificent and lavishly-painted settings.

These big five have produced a spectacle of Hippodrome proportions. Forty thousand dollars is the sum represented in their product—a $40,000 gamble on the vagaries of the public taste.

“The Tik Tok Man” [sic] is purely an extravaganza with its scenes laid as in Baum’s earlier work, “The Wizard of Oz,” on the mythical island of Oz.

Adrift on Island

Betsy and her mule, Hank, are the only persons from the outside world on the island and they are thrown adrift there during a storm. True, the Shaggy Man comes apparently from nowhere, explaining his presence in the hothouse of the rose kingdom by saying that he fell a great distance from an apple tree, whereupon Shaggy and the rose girls sing a song about an apple being the cause of it all. But Shaggy is in search of a long lost brother, the Ugly Man, hence he must be a native of the place.

The adventures of Betsy and Hank and the Shaggy Man, who discover the Tik Tok [sic] Man at the bottom of a well and haul him out, and the Tik Tok [sic] Man, who is wound up, form the plot of the story. And though the story is entertainingly told, one is willingly diverted by the beauty and brilliancy of the scenes, the piquant charm of the music, the comeliness of the sprightly costumed chorus, the catchy song numbers and the impressive military marches.

Realistic Storm

A storm at sea serves as the prologue to introduce Betsy and Hank. This storm is realistic enough to cause seasickness, but the ship sinks hurriedly and Betsy and Hank row triumphantly across the stage to the shore of the Rose Kingdom of Oz, a land without a ruler. A lot of roses are budding here and the old gardener explains that as soon as the roses grow a little larger one is to be picked as the ruler of the kingdom, and that it must be a man. After the arrival of the Shaggy Man so unceremoniously from his apple tree, Betsy makes so bold as to pick a rose. The fair flower is the Princess Ozma, but the other roses refuse to accept her as princess and all are driven from the garden.

Rainbow Shown

This only carries one to the end of scene one. The next scene shows a cross-roads, a rainbow, with the arrival of Polychrome, who is deserted by her rainbow fairies and left on earth, the arrival of Betsy and her wanderers and the discovery of Tik Tok in the well. One is also introduced to the army of Bugaboo [sic], consisting of Private Files and sixteen officers, commanded by Queen Ann.

The wanderers now have a definite destination in view—the land of the Metal Monarch, for it is he who has imprisoned the Shaggy Man’s brother and it was he who threw Tik Tok [sic] in the well. A group of chorus girls costumed as field flowers show them the way. The Metal Monarch is conquered by the magnet of love carried by the Shaggy Man, the Ugly Man is released and, though difficulty is threatened, all ends well, with the return of Polychrome to the rainbow.

Seven scenes and two acts are required to tell the story.

Author Baum has without doubt permitted his love of the artistic scene to intrude on his sense of comedy, for, though there are many clever situations in the piece, it is lacking in bright, snappy humor. Considerable old material likewise has been used, such as the magnet of love, but this is so artistically handled as to be excusable. And though it is “The Tik Tok Man of Oz,” [sic] there is nothing explanatory of Oz, so far as I can remember.

The cast is splendid, though I think Morton as Tik Tok [sic] could be much more effective. Moore gets a good deal of comedy out of the Shaggy Man. Dolly Castles is a picture as Polychrome and sings sweetly, but the favorites of last night’s audience were Leonora [sic] Novasio as Betsy and Fred Woodward in the disguise of Hank, the mule.

Mlle. Doria sang the part of Princess Ozma acceptably and Charles Ruggles gave a real characterization to the part of Private Files. Josie Intropodi [sic] did another good piece of character work as Queen Ann. Eugene Cowles use [sic] his magnificent bass voice to advantage as the metal king. Burns and Fulton dance a whirlwind, so named on the program. Morton and Moore, with Miss Castles and Miss Novasion, [sic] introduce some clever burlesque stunts. The army of Bugaboo, [sic] well trained both as to voice and step, had more ginger than some of the principals. But all in all, it went off well for a first performance and it should be a big winner.

Manager Morosco, Author Baum, Composer Gottschalk and Frank Stammers were called on last night and made brief responses.

Copyright © 2026 Eric Shanower. All rights reserved.

Baum the Jokester

On April 4, 1913, the pseudonymous reporter "Zip," in a regular dramatic column for the Los Angeles (California) Times, related an amusing anecdote involving L. Frank Baum, which occurred shortly before Baum's new musical The Tik-Tok Man of Oz premiered in Los Angeles:

I heard a good one pulled in the Majestic lobby the other night. Somebody, I can’t tell who it was, asked Frank Baum what he was going to do if someone should stand up in the audience at the first performance and shout, “Baum, Baum, Baum.”

To which the author laughingly replied that he hoped such an event would not occur, for the reason that someone might think the kindly-inclined individual was shouting “Bum, Bum, Bum.”

Copyright © 2026 Eric Shanower. All rights reserved. 

Tik-Tok Man review from Kansas City

On September 29, 1913, this review of The Tik-Tok Man of Oz appeared in the Kansas City (Missouri) Times:

A NEW “OZ” EXTRAVAGANZA

“THE TIK-TOK MAN” AT THE SHUBERT A BIG SPECTACLE

“The Tik-Tok Man of Oz” at the Shubert Theater this week is the result of an effort to repeat the success of “The Wizard of Oz.” The latter extravaganza was written by L. Frank Baum, librettist, and Paul Tietjens, composer. In the new play Mr. Baum has had the assistance of Louis F. Gottschalk. These writers risked the danger of close imitation, with the result of some rather tame variations in lieu of original devices. The similarity marks the whole costly production, to such an extent, indeed, that the question arises as to whether a plain sequel to the original work might not have been more acceptable. For it is almost an axiom in the “show business” that imitations in characters and plot must be better than the originals if they are to win.

But at that “The Tik-Tok Man” probably is a better entertainment than was “The Wizard of Oz” when that play was first presented in this city. It was following that presentation that the last act was replaced with an enirely [sic] new section, the cast of principals strengthened and the chorus augmented for the New York engagement.

The new spectacle is introduced with a storm at sea instead of a Kansas tornado, and out of wreckage comes a girl from Oklahoma instead of Kansas. And if you have seen the first “Oz” play you can pretty nearly guess the adventures of the various characters, including the stranded girl’s donkey, the clock man, the shaggy man, a princess or two, a queen and a fierce monarch of the metal kingdom. The successive scenes are on big spectacular lines and the principal ones are exceedingly beautiful.

The real delight in this extravaganza is Miss Charlotte Greenwood, who is a whole “awkward squad” in herself, with the amusing tricks and bantering familiarity that made her success in vaudeville and later in the Winter Garden production. And next in merriment is Fred Woodward, who acts the pet mule, about the most expressive “animal” extravaganza has yet produced. Frank F. Moore as the Shaggy Man and James C. Morton as the Tik-Tok chap (the Scarecrow and Tin Man of the first play) work hard and score sometimes; but they are not sure hits.

There are two really good singers in the company—John Dunsmure, a basso of fine accomplishments and interesting career, who acts the Metal King, and Miss Dolly Castles, the Rainbow Girl. Miss Lenora Novasio, as the girl from Oklahoma, is an interesting little waif. Miss Gipsy Dale is an attractive princess.

There is not much that is distinctive about the music, although there are several very pretty numbers. The best of Mr. Gottschalk’s work is in the instrumentation.

Austin Latchaw.

Copyright © 2026 Eric Shanower. All rights reserved.

Joe Whitehead's Joke

Joe Whitehead in 1913

Joe Whitehead played the role of Tik-Tok in The Tik-Tok Man of Oz for a week in June 1913. For the 1907 Anniversary issue of the theatrical magazine Variety, Whitehead wrote a verse about the challenges of being an actor. The meter scans less than perfectly and the use of commas is liberal, to say the least, but the view of the acting business of the time is valuable, if you can parse the theatrical jargon.

The Tale of a Joke

by Joe Whitehead

Originally published in Variety (New York, NY), December 14, 1907

In the lobby of the Sherman House
In the town they call Chicago,
A critic and an agent stood,
Frank Wiesberg and Bob Fargo.
I butted in between the two,
I did the merry sneak,
They talked about Variety,
And the big page Anniversary week.
I saw that was no place for me,
I turned to duck away,
When a voice called, halt, Sir Joseph,
Have you anything to say?
I said I didn’t have a word,
I told the truth, for a wonder,
But Wiesberg said, tell me a joke,
To put in our Anniversary number.
Well, I started in to tell said joke,
I told most all I knew,
’Twas the ups and downs of show life,
And most of it was true.
I started with the Friday nights,
(That’s where most of us begin),
We get lemons there right off the reel,
And watches made of tin.
Or say we join a circus,
For “ten-a-week and cakes,”
We’ll even carry the center pole,
Or get busy driving stakes.
We get a job in the concert,
We sing and dance and play.
Gee, pal, we’re regular actors now,
And me for the “Big White Way.”
I wrote to a guy to book the act,
In vaudeville, what do you say?
I got an answer, here it is,
Can give you “three-a-day.”
I took it and was happy,
In a month saved ninety cents,
Gee, I ain’t as happy now,
As I was beneath the tents.
And speaking about your dressing rooms,
Really, say young feller,
Some big smoke got in my dressing room,
For me, poor hick, the cellar.
I registered at a hotel once,
The clerk said, Booth, skidoo,
Or you can hang out in the garret,
It’s good enough for you.
I took the room, it was a shine.
The meals they were the same,
The letters on the door spelled “dining room,”
But H–l, what’s in a name?
Now all this junk was strange to me,
With the tents all were alike,
If we didn’t like our cook tent there,
We could all get out and hike.
And speaking about expenses,
When down to the depot we’d go,
We had the same cry every week,
“How much is the excess, Bo?”
Then we used to send our photos,
In advance, nice and clean to a day,
When the week was up, we got them back,
One look, then threw ’em away.
Gee, this business is something awful,
To get what one don’t deserve,
I think I’ll do like someone else,
And collect things on my nerve.
Now our act was the hit of the bill
At the morgue and at Pike’s Peak,
And here I gets a letter,
Laying me off on Christmas week.
Well, I ain’t going to cry, old pal,
I’ve got my health, that’s all,
And I’d better get ready for that third one,
Before I get a call.
Yes, there’s trouble in every business,
Just to keep the old scout from our doors,
So don’t say I wrote this,
I can’t stand the applause.

Copyright © 2025 Eric Shanower. All rights reserved.

Men Behind Tik-Tok

 

These photographs from the Los Angeles Daily Tribune of April 1, 1913, show the principal creators of The Tik-Tok Man of Oz, the hit stage musical that opened production at the Majestic Theater in Los Angeles, California, the previous evening. Left to right, they are:

Oliver Morosco, producer

L. Frank Baum, author of the libretto and lyrics

Louis F. Gottschalk, composer

Frank M. Stammers, director

Robert A. Brunton, scenic designer

The $40,000 they appear in is the amount The Tik-Tok Man of Oz cost to produce.

Copyright © 2025 Eric Shanower. All rights reserved.

Gottschalk Discovers Tik-Tok

Louis F. Gottschalk, circa 1913

When I wrote the book All Wound Up, my history of The Tik-Tok Man of Oz stage musical, I relied on composer Louis F. Gottschalk’s version of how he became connected with the show. In an article published June 8, 1913, in the Chicago Examiner, Gottschalk told the story of how he discovered the script:

I had gone out to Los Angeles in June of last year to take a rest and see my old friends in the home town. Mr. Baum (the author of the book) makes his home in Los Angeles every winter and at this time was in Syracuse. Some one gave me his book of Tik-Tok and I became enthusiastic over its possibilities as the background for a musical setting. So I wrote him at Syracuse. The letter followed him all over the country and finally reached him at Los Angeles two months after I had mailed it. In the meantime I had gone back to New York. Mr. Baum addressed a letter to me at the Lambs Club, but I had gone when it reached there. His letter chased me about a month and finally reached me in Los Angeles. Then we were both together and we began holding conferences. This was last October.

Early in November we made our arrangements with Mr. Morosco for a production of the play and I began my work on the score last December.

After All Wound Up was published, I found a different version of Gottschalk’s encounter with the script of The Tik-Tok Man of Oz. An article from the Los Angeles Sunday Tribune on March 23, 1913, a week before the production opened in Los Angeles, provides alternate details:

Gottschalk came out here from New York about three months ago to take a vacation. He drifted into Manager Morosco’s office one day and was handed a manuscript to read.

The book looked good to him; he saw big possibilities in it, and he told Mr. Morosco he would like to write the music for the piece.

The script was of Frank Baum’s The Tik-Tok Man of Oz, and before Gottschalk left the office a tentative contract had been signed and he carried the script away with him, prepared to begin work.

Already he had had an inspiration for the “Tik-Tok Man” song, which is one of the principal numbers, and he wrote that as easily as the spring poet dashes off his verses.

Then he set to work in earnest, and in six weeks he had written practically all the music for an extravaganza that contains nineteen song numbers, in addition to the prelude and the orchestral accompaniment of the story from first to last.

Both versions contain inaccuracies. For instance, the first version claims that Baum spent only winters in California. But Baum lived permanently in the Hollywood neighborhood of Los Angeles. Gottschalk says that Baum was at that time in Syracuse, New York. He was actually visiting Chicago, not Syracuse. The second version’s inaccuracies include the claim that Gottschalk arrived in Los Angeles three months previously, which would have been about December 1912. This compresses the timeline. Actually Gottschalk had permanently moved back to Los Angeles months earlier—by the end of summer 1912.

The second version brings Los Angeles theatrical producer Oliver Morosco into the history of The Tik-Tok Man of Oz much earlier than any other version I’ve found. It claims that Gottschalk encountered Baum’s script in Morosco’s office.

This claim is by no means unlikely. I made room for the possibility in All Wound Up. When I reported that Gottschalk might have read the script Baum submitted to producer Pop Fischer, I posited the alternative that Gottschalk encountered the script “in a pile of scripts submitted to another Los Angeles theatrical producer.” Morosco could easily have been that producer. I expect, knowing Baum’s ambitions for The Tik-Tok Man of Oz, he attempted to raise the interest of every legitimate producer he could find.

The second version claims Gottschalk signed a “tentative” contract with Morosco’s office on the day he encountered the script. Is this likely? Unless Morosco had the rights to assign Gottschalk to the script, this seems premature. Does the word “tentative” indicate that if Morosco and Baum didn’t sign a contract, then the agreement between Morosco and Gottschalk would be void? Possibly. Such a speculative arrangement seems odd for Gottschalk, one of Broadway’s most acclaimed musical directors. But Gottschalk hadn’t worked professionally in Los Angeles since 1897, so maybe he was willing to take this chance while beginning a new facet of his career.

The first version, specific in its timeline, sets the arrangement with Morosco in November 1912. That date agrees with the November 6 date of Baum and Morosco’s contract for The Tik-Tok Man of Oz.

However, Gottschalk wasn’t a party to that contract, which specifies that Morosco “will commission and employ Louis F. Gottschalk to compose and orchestrate an appropriate Musical score for the lyrics and incidental requirements of said play.” That means that Morosco and Gottschalk had a separate agreement. Is that the “tentative” agreement they reportedly arranged months before? Or did Morosco and Gottschalk sign their contract in November, too?

The two versions seem to disagree about when Gottschalk composed the show’s music. In the first version, Gottschalk explains that he began composing in December 1912. The second version implies that Gottschalk completed the music during the six weeks after he encountered the script.  Neither version seems entirely accurate. I doubt that Gottschalk composed nothing for the show until December 1912. Two months earlier, in October, Baum and Gottschalk together approached Morosco with a formal proposal for the production of The Tik-Tok Man of Oz. Gottschalk would have played some sort of music for Morosco, even if that music was in a preliminary form. But I also doubt that Gottschalk composed all the show’s music within six weeks of encountering the script and with only a “tentative” contract.

Does the second version compress the timeline concerning when Gottschalk composed the score? It says, “Then he set to work in earnest, and in six weeks he had written practically all the music.” Perhaps the unspecific word “then” means December 1912, rather than the apparent implication of months earlier. If so, on that point, the second version agrees with the first.

In the end, some discrepancies between the two versions can be reconciled, while others can’t. I’m glad that All Wound Up seems accurate as far as it goes,* but I’m frustrated to realize we’ll probably never know the exact story. Anyone got a functional time machine handy?

*Except for claiming the Baums visited Syracuse rather than Chicago, which I addressed here.

Copyright © 2025 Eric Shanower. All rights reserved.

Temperamental L. Frank Baum

L. Frank Baum, playwright

As a playwright, L. Frank Baum seemed to have little patience with editorial interference. When a script doctor revised Baum’s script of the stage version of The Wizard of Oz in 1902, Baum objected strenuously. In 1905, when The Wogglebug was being staged, Baum refused to let anyone else touch his script.

So in 1913, when producer Oliver Morosco wanted to make changes to The Tik-Tok Man of Oz script early in the rehearsal period, he approached Baum carefully. Morosco spoke softly and flatteringly before suggesting the possibility of condensing Act Two.

To anyone aware of Baum’s past displays of temperament, his reply was a surprise: “Oh, you want to cut it,” said Baum. . . . “Well, then, go as far as you like.”

Oliver Morosco, producer

This may have been when the part of the Ugly Man was cut down, turning it into a minor role. Charles Ruggles, originally cast as the Ugly Man, was shifted to the role of Private Files.

Of course, following opening night, The Tik-Tok Man of Oz changed even more. Baum seems to have been content for several months to work with Morosco, tightening and sprucing up the script while the production ran in Los Angeles, San Francisco, and Chicago. Serious conflict seems to have arisen only toward the end of the 1913 summer season, when it grew evident that the show would not open the regular theatre season on Broadway and Baum relinquished creative control over the script.

For a complete history of The Tik-Tok Man of Oz, see the book All Wound Up, available here.

 

Notes

J. Rex James, “Morosco’s Invasion of New York Announced; Edison’s Kinetophone Replaces Bernhardt,” Daily Tribune (Los Angeles, CA), 15 March 1913, 13, 16; “Objects to Changes,” Syracuse (NY) Daily Journal, 3 June 1902, 6; O. L. Colburn, “Telegraphic News; Chicago,” New York (NY) Dramatic Mirror, 22 July 1905, 12; “Heard Back of the Curtains,” Los Angeles (CA) Daily Tribune, 20 March 1913, 15; “Behind the Scenes by the Genial Grouch,” Los Angeles (CA) Express, 5 May 1913, 10; Memorandum of Agreement among Oliver Morosco, L. Frank Baum, and Louis Gottschalk, Los Angeles, CA, 9 September 1913.

Copyright © 2025 Eric Shanower. All rights reserved.

Reviewed by The Baum Bugle

Reviewer Atticus Gannaway recently had nice things to say about All Wound Up in the Winter 2024 issue of The Baum Bugle, the journal of The International Wizard of Oz Club. Gannaway's discussion of various aspects of the book makes a review of some length--which makes sense, since the book's long, too--but the following choice bits summarize the reviewer's overall opinion:

All Wound Up is the indispensable Oz reference work we didn’t know we needed. . . . Shanower has now plumbed the depths of this musical’s history with the same remarkable thoroughness and tenacity he brings to all his projects. . . . The biggest surprise of All Wound Up was the perspective I gained on the significance of [The] Tik-Tok Man [of Oz], in terms of both Baum’s career and how it affected him personally. . . . Shanower is to be commended for both the yeoman’s work involved in such deep research and his careful analysis of his findings.

I appreciate Gannaway's considered opinion, since I respect the Oz and Baum research he's done. In the spirit of full disclosure, I point out that I've known Gannaway for years. He contributed to the Kickstarter campaign that raised money for the 2014 production of The Tik-Tok Man of Oz. Also, I thanked Gannaway in the acknowledgements of All Wound Up, since he contributed several images to the book and helped my research by providing me with access to some Tik-Tok Man of Oz theatrical programs in his collection.

He also roller skates much better than I do.

Copyright © 2025 Eric Shanower. All rights reserved.

Meet the Clock Girl Chorus

 

Here's another delightful photograph I turned up after All Wound Up was published. Three members of the Clock Girl Chorus pose to have their photo taken. The publication date of the photo is April 7, 1913, while the show played in Los Angeles, California, at the end of its first week of production.

The Clock Girls supported James Morton as Tik-Tok while he sang the musical number "The Clockwork Man" in Act One of The Tik-Tok Man of Oz. Their costumes were supplied by Orange of New York.

Such a nice clear photo makes identifying these women easier than usual in chorus photos. That sure looks like Willie Mai Smoller on the left, the longest surviving member of The Tik-Tok Man of Oz cast. And I'm pretty certain Gene Ward is on the right. Ward later helped introduce the Woozy toy produced by the Oz Toy Manufacturing Company. Neither Smoller nor Ward were credited during the initial Los Angeles run as members of the Clock Girl Chorus, but here they are. I'm not sure of the central woman's identity, but I'll take a guess and say that's Gladys Munson, who was credited as a Clock Girl.

Copyright © 2025 Eric Shanower. All rights reserved.

Work, Lads, Work

 

The Metal Monarch, Ruggedo, played by Eugene Cowles, on right (stage left), commands his Metal Imps in song. Flash, played by Ethel Pierce, stands center. The chorus of Metal Imps hammers at musical anvils all around the stage. The Metal Imp at left front (downstage right) looks like Fay Hartley to me.

This photograph of the Act II opening musical number, "Work, Lads, Work," of The Tik-Tok Man of Oz is unique in showing the original cast in a full stage setting from March 1913 in Los Angeles. I know of no other full stage photographs from this show before July 1913, when the White Studio took photos of the Chicago production. Other full stage photos must have been taken before opening night, but none survives to my knowledge.

Compared with later July 1913 photographs of this scene, (for instance, the upper right photo on page 148 of All Wound Up) the set of the Metal Monarch's underground throne room seems to be the same, though costuming and make-up show some differences.

I was delighted to find this photo recently in the Los Angeles Daily Tribune for April 1, 1913, the day after the show opened.

Copyright © 2025 Eric Shanower. All rights reserved.

Vera Doria Poetry

In 1913, singer Vera Doria originated the role of Ozma in L. Frank Baum's stage musical The Tik-Tok Man of Oz. Later, she appeared in motion pictures, often in features starring Constance Talmadge. Doria spent many years in Shanghai, China, before returning to the United States in 1932. She published poetry, some of it in a religious vein.

I've published some of Doria's poems on this blog, here. You can learn more about Doria in All Wound Up, my book about The Tik-Tok Man of Oz, here.

The following poem by Doria, published in the magazine Southern Farmer in 1932 (and reprinted in the Lowndes Signal, Fort Deposit, Alabama, 20 October 1932, p. 5), starts out as if it's another religious one, but the ending may be a surprise. The publication credit lists Doria's married name, Vera Eyton Wavell, though by the time of publication, she was a widow.

FRIEND

Loyal and lovely,
Tenderly blind,
Splendidly selfless,
Willing and kind,
Wistfully eager,
Swift to comply,
Loving and guarding
And ready to die.

Oh, blessed companion,
Oh, friend for all time,
Oh, servitor gracious,
And soul pure and fine!
Supremely I trust you
And render your love,
My true-hearted comrade,
My beautiful dog.

I'd like the poem better if the last line actually rhymed.

Copyright © Eric Shanower 2025. All rights reserved.

New Review on Readers' Favorite

Randy B. Lichtman's five star review of All Wound Up: The Making of The Tik-Tok Man of Oz graces the Readers' Favorite website. Here it is:

Did you know that many years before the Marvel Universe, there was a Universe of Oz, started by author Frank Baum? Baum wrote many Oz books and turned them into films, stage plays, and musicals. In bringing his creations to the early screen and stage, he was the producer/director and sometimes actor who helped create some of the special effects for the works on stage. One of the musicals he wrote was The Tik-Tok Man of Oz which he co-created with American composer and music director, Louis F. Gottschalk in 1913. The musical was later revived by Eric Shanower for a convention of Oz enthusiasts in 2014, after which he wrote All Wound Up—The Making of the Tik-Tok Man of Oz: The Complete Story of the Spectacular Stage Musical.

The book is complete with history, photos, and behind-the-scenes information about the musical, but also provides a brief biography of Frank Baum and a very extensive biography of composer Louis F. Gottschalk. It is extremely well-researched and told in a very entertaining fashion, containing many fun stories including the challenges of the mechanics behind Hank the Mule (and the actor behind it). The book takes you into the era in which Baum lived, the challenges of bringing his piece to the stage, and includes the script of The Tik-Tok Man of Oz (based on two surviving scripts). The author has done a remarkable job of bringing together a thorough history of the original production and the challenges of producing a revival today. If you enjoy reading behind-the-scenes production books and/or are a Wizard of Oz enthusiast, All Wound Up—The Making of the Tik-Tok Man of Oz by Eric Shanower is an enjoyable read.

Sounds super, doesn't it? If you want your own copy of All Wound Up, click here for the link.

Copyright © 2025 Eric Shanower. All rights reserved.

Hank Skips Out

Hank the Mule proved to be one of the biggest attractions of The Tik-Tok Man of Oz. Well-known Canadian animal impersonator Fred Woodward (real name: Frederick James Warrington, Jr.), clothed in the furs of the celebrated mule, loved to make children in the audience laugh with joy. But offstage, Fred’s relationships with his own children lacked such benevolence.

His first known child presents a sad example. After nearly five and a half years of marriage, Fred's first wife Emily divorced him on February 5, 1906. About time—Fred had deserted Emily for the New York stage nearly three years previously. A primary reason for Fred’s desertion, Emily said, was that “he got another girl in trouble and had to get away in a hurry, I guess.”

Who was that other girl? Emily Warrington claimed the girl lived on Third Street in Detroit, Michigan. I haven’t found any other clues to her identity. But in birth records from Wayne County, Michigan, I found a possible trace of the child she bore. Is this Fred’s first offspring?

Birth record in question. Click to enlarge.

On April 4, 1902, a child with the surname of Warrington was born in Detriot. The surname of the parents, both Canadian, is also Warrington, suggesting that the mother was Fred’s first wife Emily. But Emily was pregnant at the time of this birth, so I strongly doubt this child is hers.

The child’s gender and skin color are unrecorded. Also unrecorded is the possibility that it was “illegitimate.” Other births recorded on the same page bear the notation “Ill” (illegitimate), but not this birth. If this child’s mother hid her own real name, she likely would have withheld the child's illegitimate status.

Did the child survive? Nearly five months later, Fred's wife Emily gave birth to his second child, a daughter Ethel, but weeks after being born, Ethel died of starvation. Could Fred's first child have died quickly, too? Or did it grow up to have offspring of its own? Does Hank the Mule have unidentified descendants living today?

Read all about Fred Woodward's life, career, and his problematic relationships with his other children in All Wound Up: The Making of The Tik-Tok Man of Oz. Here's the link to buy a copy.

 

Notes

Hector Alliot, “For Children’s Joy; Gentle Art of Beast Portrayal,” Los Angeles (CA) Times, 8 April 1913, III 1. “Canada, Ontario, Marriages, 1869-1927,” FamilySearch (https://www.familysearch.org/ark:/61903/1:1:KZBC-F51 : Sun Mar 10 23:39:53 UTC 2024), Entry for Fred J Warrington and Fred Warrington, 23 Oct 1900. “Likes Tin Woodman,” Detroit (MI) Free Press, 6 February 1906, 10. "Wayne, Michigan, United States records," images, FamilySearch (https://www.familysearch.org/ark:/61903/3:1:S3HT-6QYS-GS?view=index : Jan 10, 2025), image 73 of 432; Michigan. Department of Vital Records; Film Number/Image Group Number: 004208780.

Copyright © 2025 Eric Shanower. All rights reserved.

You Big Fat Slob

Lenore Peters and Hazel Davis perform "Cricket Dance," 1915.

Last month I discussed Lenore Peters, chorus girl with The Tik-Tok Man of Oz in 1913-14. Lenore Peters was good friends with Hazel Davis, also a chorus girl in The Tik-Tok Man of Oz. They auditioned for the show together, joined the chorus together, and traveled North America with the show until Davis left The Tik-Tok Man of Oz, as Peters explains in her autobiography, Looking Back While Surging Forward:

“One of the girls in the show, Hazel Davis, left us in Chicago to spend some time in New York with her Aunt Lutie. While there, she took lessons from a highly recommended ballet teacher named Madame Zain. Everybody ‘took’ from Mme. Zain. When Hazel came home to San Francisco she regaled us with imitations of her teacher.

“The first day, she said, while trying hard to please at the barre, the teacher remarked aloud to the pianist, ‘She ain’t no backbender, Miss Steiner.’ When coaching Hazel in a dance accompanied by a beat and a song, she would say—you won’t believe this—‘One, two, bend your knees, you big fat slob.’ . . . And after performing in a series of difficult steps ending with an elaborate gesture, she’d say, ‘You ask for applause.’ Then with a different gesture, ‘You don’t get it.’ . . . Quite a character, no?”

Copyright © 2024 Eric Shanower. All rights reserved.

A Melody Played in a Penny Arcade

I recently re-watched the motion picture Paper Moon. Such an excellent movie. Director Peter Bogdanovich tells the story with admirable confidence and restraint. The acting of both Tatum O'Neal and Ryan O'Neal in the leading roles is superb.

What's Paper Moon got to do with The Tik-Tok Man of Oz?

Toward the end of the movie, when Tatum O'Neal's character, Addie, has at long last reached her aunt's house, clearly visible on the piano in the aunt's parlor is a copy of the sheet music of "Forgotten," a song which basso Eugene Cowles as Ruggedo the Metal Monarch interpolated into The Tik-Tok Man of Oz on opening night.

I've noticed the appearance of "Forgotten," by Flora Wulschner and Eugene Cowles, in Paper Moon before, and I associate it strongly with the end of the movie. Seeing the movie again prompted me to post about it.

The "Forgotten" sheet music visible in two Paper Moon camera shots is the standard cover seen here. Notice it first in the background when the camera enters Addie's aunt's house. And it's prominent enough during the moment Addie faces her final big decision, that the title and Eugene Cowles's name are perfectly legible.

A lot of period music can be heard in Paper Moon. But not "Forgotten." It's inappropriate, since it dates from about three decades before the time of the story. However, as an old piece of sheet music, it's appropriate for the setting of the aunt's home. And most importantly, as foreshadowing of a possible future for Addie's relationship with Ryan O'Neal's character Moze, it's spot on.

Copyright © 2024 Eric Shanower. All rights reserved.

More About Costumes for The Tik-Tok Man of Oz

In the book All Wound Up, I mentioned that the costumes for The Tik-Tok Man of Oz were supplied by Goldstein & Company of San Francisco. I didn’t discuss the creation of the costumes in detail, because I didn’t have much detail about them. But since the publication of the book, I’ve run across more information.

All the costumes for the initial Los Angeles production of the show were first designed in New York. Names of the designers are unknown, except for Edward Siedle, who designed and constructed the Hank the Mule costume. Possibly Siedle or others in his studio at the Metropolitan Opera designed other Tik-Tok Man of Oz costumes. Maybe his wife, Caroline Siedle, one of the preeminent Broadway costume designers, had a hand in the Tik-Tok Man designs, but if so, I’d expect her name would have been trumpeted in publicity. Since the actual designers of most of The Tik-Tok Man of Oz costumes aren't recorded, I suspect they weren't designers of particular note.

The designs were next sent to Los Angeles for approval by Oliver Morosco and L. Frank Baum. Approved designs went to San Francisco, where Goldstein & Company constructed the costumes based on the designs.

L. Frank Baum traveled from Los Angeles to San Francisco on February 7, 1913, to check the progress of the costumes at Goldstein & Company. Baum likely returned to Los Angeles before The Tik-Tok Man of Oz rehearsals began on February 17. Finished costumes were delivered by March 25, possibly well before that date.

In 1912, Goldstein & Company opened up a branch in Los Angeles to supply costumes to movie studios. I’d previously suspected that the Los Angeles branch also supplied costumes for The Tik-Tok Man of Oz, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. I wish I'd refrained from mentioning my suspicion in All Wound Up.

Notes

Hector Alliot, “Mendelssohn’s Scotch Motif,” Los Angeles (CA) Daily Times, 8 February 1913, II 7; “Not Down on the Program,” Los Angeles (CA) Examiner, 26 March 1913; Anthony Slide, editor, Robert Goldstein and the Spirit of ’76 (Lanham, MD: Scarecrow Press, 1993).

Copyright © 2024 Eric Shanower, All rights reserved.