New-York Tribune from New York, New York • 64

WHEN IS GRANT'S TOMB NOT A TOMB? She thought it was a library JOHN NER went to Grant's Tomb in 3897 and got a job. They gave him a polishing cloth and some cleaning rags and told him that he'd have to see to it that the tomb was kept epic and span. At that time Buck ner had given but little thought to the disturbing problem of picking a life's vocation, and the imposing Riverside Drive structure, with its magnificent view of a broad sweep of the Hud son, struck him as being a pretty nice place to go to work. He took an instant liking to the. job, and his opinion of it has never changed.

Buckner, his polishing cloth and his cleaning rags, is still busy at Grant's Tomb, and its day-in and-day-out spic and spanness gives eloquent testimony to Buckner's industry and his fitness for the work. Bestow any title that you will upon Buckner or janitor or what has been and still his contention that his job is the most interesting of its kind in the world. As a janitor or cleaner or polisher anywhere else, the notables of the universe, he reasons, would be to him what they are to nearly everyone in the daily newspapers or in the Sunday pictorial sections or faces on the motion-picture screen. But as janitor and cleaner and man-about-the-place of the struc-, ture designed by John H. Duncan, Buckner has rubbed elbows, literally, with kings, princes, heavyweight champions, presidents, cabinet members and theatrical celebrities of this and other countries.

He has had during twenty-five years close-ups of about all the famous people this side of from King Albert to Buffalo Bill and from Theodore Roosevelt to Lily Langtry. To him they have been actual persons. Taft, the Prince of Wales, Jim Jeffries, Lillian Russell, Joffre, Benny Leonard, Li Hung-chang, Mayor Ole all passed up the broad steps into the tomb and from the gal? lery floor gazed down into the crypt upon the gleaming sarcophagus of General Grant and that of his wife. And John Buckner, cleaner and polisher and janitor, has been right there when they came and when fhey departed. He hasn't had to go to a motion-picture show ox dig up last Sunday's rotogravure' to get glimpse of the smiling countenance of some notable in the public eye because he has always been possessed of the- knowledge that sooner or later that notable would come in the flesh to the tomb on the Drive.

Where is there another janitor's job just like that? Grant's Tomb, -one of the wonders of Man? hattan and postcarded and bookleted such to the four corners of the earth, is still merely some-building-or-other to many pass it. It will have to flaunt an electric sign as big as any to be found on Broadway to cease being mistaken for something other than a Many persons who find themselves at the tomb site without having been lured there by, the tomb itself, engage in prolonged specula? tion as to what the structure really is. If their curiosity gets the better of them they ask, and often they have asked John Buckner. The tomb, during the twenty-five yeaife that Buckner has worked there, and he came about the time of the dedication of the corner? stone, has been a church to some and to others a bank, a library, a postoffice, the residence of some New York millionaire and the sub treasury of the United States government. "i found a Jewish girl and her mother praying on the steps.

They thought it was a synagogue" An old man carrying an umbrella once walked up to Buckner, nodded toward the steps, and asked what chance a fellow would have of getting a $50 bill changed on the inside. A woman was once hurrying up the steps when When Ifs a Banke a Library, a Postoffice, a Church, or the Home oV'SomeMillionairee" All These It's Mistaken for, Says the Janitor By WARD MOREHOUSE Drawings by Jefferson Machamer A winter view of Grant's Tomb from the winding paths of Riverside Park. On the stormiest days the tomb has its visitors she encountered Buckner. She wanted a money order and wanted it quick. Last winter a child came to the tomb with a book in hand.

She wanted to exchange it. Her mother had sent her. The tomb looked more like a library than anything else in sight. This building, designed years ago by John H. Duncan, has caused many foreigners to do some guessing, but the list of those who have failed in an attempt to make a proper designation of it has included folk from this city and this state, people from all the East? ern states, visitors from Sioux City, San Fran? cisco, Batt'e Creek, Devil's Gap, Idaho, Fort Worth and New Orleans.

An average of 300,000 persons visit Grant's Tomb yearry. Out-of-town folk flock to Riverside Drive during the summer months. The tomb has visitors on the coldest and nastiest days of winter, but the number is naturally small in severe weather. George Burnside, custodian at the tomb since its opening and superintendent of construction during the six years consumed In the building of it, said early last summer that he had com? pared yearly attendance records with those of the Metropolitan Museum and that the tomb was always in the lead. During his twenty-five years of service at the structure on the Drive John Buckner has found it peculiarly fascinating to study the various types of people who come to gaze into the crypt.

The job never grows dull. One day it is the colored Elks, another day the Knights of Pythias from middle Georgia, th? next day school children from Brooklyn and Queens and the next day a group of distin? guished Britishers. "Funny thing about this said Buck? ner the other day, "is that you're always run? ning up against new types of people and run? ning up against people who ask you new kinds of questions. I guess folks have called the tomb everything except a theater and a hospital. I can't say just how many times it'Sxbeen thought to bo a church.

One morn? ing when I got to work I found a Jewish girl and her mother praying on the steps. They thought it was a synagogue. "So far as I can remember there's never been a disturbance of any kind at the tomb and I have never had to call the po? lice. From the extent my own observa? tion I can say that it seems that no matter how much of a rowdy a man might be before he gets here he is a gentleman once he gets on the inside and looks up at those purple windows, I remember when a fellow came up one day who had been drinking quite a bit more than was good for him. He got to the bottom of the steps, looked up at the monu? ment and then straight? ened up like a man.

His steps had been pretty uncertain on the sidewalk, but when he took his hat off and went through the doorway he was straight and erect as anybody. When he j-eached the outside again he returned to his zigzagging ways and seemed to keep his feet with great difficulty. 'The remove your hat' sign has been up about ten years now, and it's pretty She a money order well obeyed. Whenever a man doesn't remove his hat it's just because he missed seeing the sign and he always does so quite willingly when spoken to about it. I remember only one man who smoked while inside the tomb The man with the umbrella asked wkat chance a fellow would have of getting a $50 bill changed inside Many people have cried while gazing at the caskets.

Nearly everybody talks in whisper when he does talk. Just like he would in a church. No one as far as I know has ever fallen over into the crypt, though many chil? dren have leaned far over. It scents to me that women usually stay inside longer than men. One woman that I remember came it; singing and went out singing.

"I believe that between 3 and 5 o'clock in the afternoon is the time of our biggest rush. The tomb opens at 10 o'clock in the and closes at 6 in the afternoon. My work is lots harder in winter than in summer, be? cause there's generally snow to be shoveled away. I will never forget the winter of 1919-'20. "You sometimes find people waiting to get in when you get down in the morning, ant! there's generally some people on hand at clos? ing time every day." Buckner gets his mail at Grant's Tomb.

The structure has no space for beds and the cus? todian and his assistant leave at closing time every afternoon. Grant's Tomb, as is gen? erally known, was built by the Grant Monu? ment Association, and by this association it is kept up. Its cornerstone was laid in 1892. Architects of the world were invited to sub? mit designs for the tomb, John H. Duncan winning the competition.

ORCHESTRA musicians in the more sumptuous "movie" theaters and fur? nished with festive coats by the man? agement But the pants are on the men. This demarcation is symbolic. The musi? cians arc tne theater, in the coats, but not of them. They and their trousers are irre concilables. Art condescends for eix hours a day, but remains unconquered.

Even in the smaller "movie" houses the musi? cians are beings apart, scorning the screen that is to them a mere that the audience may casually glance at while listening to their playing. The manager of one of these middle-class theaters when questioned as to the practition? ers of sweet music in his filmery sighed heav? ily as only a fat man can. Then he unbur? dened himself in words. You could see he was a man who had suffered. Especially in warm weather.

my orchestra leader I am just a worm. You should see that bird lord it around the theater. Half the time when he's supposed to be in the pit leading the music he's out front in my office, sitting in my chair while I stand and listen to my cigar? ettes and telling me how the business end ought to be the box-office man how to sell tickets. "And I'm not speaking of this one leader in particular. They're all that way.

In any mo? tion-picture house the leader thinks he's the Hm knows it's easy to drive 'em crazy ART CONDESCENDS SIX HOURS A DAY By LAWTON MACKALL Illustrations by Franklin Abbott whole works. He's an authority on every? thing from stage lighting to lobby displays. The people just come hear his music. He's made the theater what it is to-day. "As a matter of fact he's not even a regu? lar conductor.

He leads six or eight down and playing first violin along with 'em. Only he's so important that most of the time he's out smoking, while his assist? ant, the second violinist, leads in his place. "This gives the drummer just the chance he has been looking for. He starts hitting it up and getting louder and louder, and the poor Becond violinist is obliged to speed up the time after him. Pretty soon the whole bunch of foreign highbrows are being hounded along by this hard-boiled jazz fiend.

"You see, the drummer is, usually an American, whereas the string and wind in? strument players are French and Italian, with lots of temperament, but no sense of humor, He knows how easy it is to drive 'em crazy, and he knows the substitute conductor can't keep the lid on but is ashamed to admit it to the leader. So the drummer, to have his little joke, lets go with all the stuff he's got and runs these ginks into a panic. That' fixes them for all the time, knocking popular music as compared with classical. "By the tiitfe the leader strolls back from giving valuable advice to the ushers and cashier, his men are a wreck. But he's apt not to notice a little thing like that, as he's probably come in to play a solo, and he's too busy thinking how much better he plays 'Song of India' than Kreisler does." "How is it?" we inquired, "that sometimes the orchestra is playing and sometimes the organist?" "They change off.

The orcheltra men are union members and can play six hours, so they and the organist divide up into re? lays. He starts the show, playing through the news reel. Then they come in to start the comedy two-reeler, but quit half way through; coming back tv start the feature, and so on. Always coming and going. "Sometimes they don't keep schedule.

The organist will stay out for an extra cigarette and wander in three minutes late, whicl. makes 'em wild. And witl him by staying out next time for two extra cigarettes. But it's worse on them than or him, because he just improvises somehow whereas they play set music that's writter out for them, so all they can do in a like that is to repeat and stall along foolishlj till he finally comes and saves 'em. "This organist fella is the second biggesi mogul in the theater.

He's generally pretty well a college He feels superior.to the leader because he knows more about music he feels superior to the leader because he knows more about music. But the leader is toploftier still, being an executive and higher paid. The leader even imagines he hires the organist, though this is actually done by the manager. "One thing they have in common and that is complete scorn for the music cue sheet sup? plied Joy the company that puts out the film. You know, these big concerns employ the best experts they can get, to work out a musical guide for each picture, telling just what tunes are most appropriate to go with the picture and when to work them in.

But would an orchestra leader go by that chart? Not on your life. He makes up his-own. And when the organist looks on the cue sheet and reads 'Mendelssohn's Spring Song' he passes up Mr. Mendelssohn on principle and gives us some? thing just as good. "Another thing that brings the organist and the leader together is the fact that the organ? ist is generally a composer.

When he's got a new 'March' or 'Barcarolle' on his chest, he'll come in from his smokes a minute early for a whole week to get the leader in a good humor. Then the leader will be kind to his and try the piece out, to show what a generouc natron of genius is." "But doesn't the leader himself compose?" "Not apt to. His genius is in rounding up his men in time for them to come in and debase their art. He even herds 'em in to play he won't play it him? self." "Considers it beneath him?" "Yes. And too much work.

Ragtime takes a lot more energy than a serenade. So they all dislike it, except the drummer, who suddenly comes life. His time to welch is when the action of the film calis for pistol shots or gunfire. The drummer is supposed to these shots by snapping his slacks in a certain way against the drumhead. But half the time he forgets.

The leader, although considering himself a master director, is above tak? ing interest in a trivial detail like that So I generally have to sit. down front myself and jog the drummer when the shots are due. "But when everything on the screen is peace? ful and there is no excitement called for, the leader will suddenly start things of his own accord and begin swearing at his men 'Car and other foreign cuss words, so you can hear him ten rows back. "What puts him off his nut is when the operator gets ambitious and speeds up the ma? chine. You see, the leader has cued his music on the basis of a reel lasting twelve minutes; and if the operator takes it upon himself to run off the film at a ten-minute pace the music no longer fits the action of the the leader won't change his tempo.

Instead he turns and shakes his fist up at the balcony. The operator knows he can get a rise out of him that way, and can't resist the temptation. "The fellow who's a bug on fancy effects is the organist. Being a highbrow, he of course wants to be a comedian. His passion in life is imitations.

He is happiest when making the organ snore, bark like a dog, cry like a baby, blow locomotive whistles and auto horns. He's got three perfectly good banks of keys and his idea of using 'em is to play tricks. If he isn't tinkling chimes or whispering the vox humana, he's growling the biggest pipes so that the whole building shakes like when the subway goes past. And he never finishes a tune. Starts with the first seven notes that everybody knows and then wanders off into something he makes up as he goes along.

"No organist is ever satisfied with the in? strument. He has played on better ones; The new man we have now complains not only that our organ isn't as good on tone as the one he played on last, but his real grievance is that it doesn't get out of order the way that one did. Where he was before the fuse would blow out or the driving belt would break most every day, giving him ten minutes' extra smoke while it was being fixed. "Our previous organist got so erratic that we had to let him go. But did that feaze him? Not much.

That guy was resourceful. Next week he came out with an ad in one of the musical papers. MR. JOHN K. announces that hi? aummor classes are completely filled, but the a are still vacan? cies for a few advanced pupis In the fall.

The leader pointed out the ad to me duhv founded. 'But he hasn't any he splut? tered, 'summer "I couldn't make him understand that friend pipe-hitter was practicing the art of advertis? the hoax humana. "I think I got this organist's merry idea, ne said, the ways of the orchestra men are beyond They live in a world of their own. After the show they go down to some spaghetti joint in Mulberry Street and don't get to bed till about 3 o'clock. Next day they get up at 11 and come to work at 2.

The only fun they get outside of the spaghetti dis? pensaries is in feeling superior to us lowbrows. "You'd think the men in the orchestra would be jealous of the leader and wish they had his job. But they don't. They are grown-up children, anxious to duck all the responsibility they can. "But in musical matters they are authori? ties.

Any suggestions from me are distinctly out of place. If I hint that it might be a good plan to play an overture that people know like instead of some totally unfamiliar piece, they think I'm an ignorant roughneck. But if I can put the suggestion up to the leader in such a way that he thinks he got the notion himself, and he goes ahead and plays the pop? ular favorite and people give him a hand? then the applause is due entirely to his mag performance. But it isn't safe to make too many suggestions: he gets insulted and wants to fight me, all 95 pounds of him. "So I generally leave him be, and he serves up his musical table in his own way.

You know the standard Rubinstein's 'Melody in 'Tales of 'Moonlight 'Kiss Me 'Madame 'Alice Blue 'Blue 'Light overture, 'Stars and Stripes and that forget the name of it but it goes te dum te dada turn turn tee tee tee. "Elgar's "Saiut d'Amour'? "Very likely. Well, those are the tunes, and there are about a dozen others They are used in 'movie' houses all over the world. But to know how to work 'em in differently from the way the cue sheet says is a gift Here comes the great man now. He'll my chair while he gives me my orders for tbfl evening." So we gave way before Napoleon.

But some day we hope to learn the straight goods about "movie" managers from the musicians. Bet they could do an "Anvil Chorus" fortis? simo furioso The leader thinks he's the worte.