Wife:
Josephine Davies (married 18 Oct 1904, San Francisco, CA)
~ ~ obit provided by Stefanie Walzinger ~ ~
"Ferris Hartman Dies on Eve of His Benefit Show.
Ferris Hartman died last night. Died as every actor, worthy of the name, aspires to die – “packing ‘em in,” with his name on San Francisco’s lips, the all-time idol of his public. “Teddy”, as he was known to San Francisco in the old Tivoli days, took his last curtain at 6:25 o’clock as a grateful San Francisco poured her dollar out for the big benefit show which was to have put him back on his feet again. He was seized with a heart attack at 6:15 in St. Francis Hospital and ten minutes later he was dead. But even, as Hartman would have wished, the show will go on. Tonight, at the Orpheum Theater, San Francisco will once more pay tribute to her old “funny man” of forty years ago. There will be funeral expenses to meet and “other hungry men and women to feed.” Those are Teddy Hartman’s word. And it was his last wish. “No matter what happens to me,” he told his friend and advisor Tom Girton a few hours before he died, “the show must go on. I’m not the only hungry old man in San Francisco. And so the committee in charge of the big benefit last night voted unanimously to carry out the actor’s wish and turn the money over to San Francisco’s unemployment fund. The veteran comedian took his “last call” as he had lived, with a smile on his lips. He had been unusually happy yesterday. All day he talked and chatted with his nurse and physicians about the coming show, and what he was going to do when he got behind the footlights again. “I haven’t felt so well in a long time,” he told Dr. John Gallwey and Dr. J. H. Graves, who have been battling for his life at the St. Francis Hospital. “I’m satisfied I’ll be out here before long, making the public laugh again.” That was just before 6 o’clock. At 6:15 he raised up in his bed. “It’s hurting in my chest,” he said and tried to laugh if off. Dr. Gallwey, who was still at the hospital, hastened to his side and administered restoratives. Dr. Graves was summoned from his home. But the old actor’s heart – the heart that had thrilled for years to San Francisco’s applause- was beyond the aid of medicines. The months of privation that had sent him a broken-down old man to the hospital ten days ago, had taken too great a toll of his warning strength. Before Dr. Graves could reach his side he died. Thus ended a career that San Francisco will treasure in her memories. Hartman was not old as years go. He was only 69. But he was an old man for the stage, which demands much and gives so little to most of its servants. He first began making people laugh in 1885. “Started out with Della Fox in the old Conried Opera Company back in the Middlewest,” he said, in recounting the early days of his career. “We played the country. But the minute I saw San Francisco, I knew she was to be my home. And home San Francisco has been to Ferris Hartman since. It was here he won his name as a comedian. For years he was the favorite at the old Tivoli. He toured the country time after time, but he always came back to San Francisco, and San Francisco always greeted him with open arms. But the modern trend of entertainment – the movies and the talkies – and his increasing years left the old actor in the wings. He staged a brief come-back in 1922 when he opened at the Tivoli with his light opera company. And then ill luck set on his trail. He slipped entirely from public notice. Older San Francisco never forgot him, but Hartman was not a man to ask for help.
And so it was with a shock that San Francisco read ten days ago that her beloved old comedian had been taken to the San Francisco Hospital, weakened from diseases and privation.
San Francisco sprang forward spontaneously, and opened up her purse. Money flowed in to care for him. The big benefit was organized. And then Death, the Master Stage Hand, stepped in to ring Ferris Hartman’s curtain down for good."
(source: "The San Francisco Chronicle, CA, 1 Sept 1931 issue).
Josephine Davies (married 18 Oct 1904, San Francisco, CA)
~ ~ obit provided by Stefanie Walzinger ~ ~
"Ferris Hartman Dies on Eve of His Benefit Show.
Ferris Hartman died last night. Died as every actor, worthy of the name, aspires to die – “packing ‘em in,” with his name on San Francisco’s lips, the all-time idol of his public. “Teddy”, as he was known to San Francisco in the old Tivoli days, took his last curtain at 6:25 o’clock as a grateful San Francisco poured her dollar out for the big benefit show which was to have put him back on his feet again. He was seized with a heart attack at 6:15 in St. Francis Hospital and ten minutes later he was dead. But even, as Hartman would have wished, the show will go on. Tonight, at the Orpheum Theater, San Francisco will once more pay tribute to her old “funny man” of forty years ago. There will be funeral expenses to meet and “other hungry men and women to feed.” Those are Teddy Hartman’s word. And it was his last wish. “No matter what happens to me,” he told his friend and advisor Tom Girton a few hours before he died, “the show must go on. I’m not the only hungry old man in San Francisco. And so the committee in charge of the big benefit last night voted unanimously to carry out the actor’s wish and turn the money over to San Francisco’s unemployment fund. The veteran comedian took his “last call” as he had lived, with a smile on his lips. He had been unusually happy yesterday. All day he talked and chatted with his nurse and physicians about the coming show, and what he was going to do when he got behind the footlights again. “I haven’t felt so well in a long time,” he told Dr. John Gallwey and Dr. J. H. Graves, who have been battling for his life at the St. Francis Hospital. “I’m satisfied I’ll be out here before long, making the public laugh again.” That was just before 6 o’clock. At 6:15 he raised up in his bed. “It’s hurting in my chest,” he said and tried to laugh if off. Dr. Gallwey, who was still at the hospital, hastened to his side and administered restoratives. Dr. Graves was summoned from his home. But the old actor’s heart – the heart that had thrilled for years to San Francisco’s applause- was beyond the aid of medicines. The months of privation that had sent him a broken-down old man to the hospital ten days ago, had taken too great a toll of his warning strength. Before Dr. Graves could reach his side he died. Thus ended a career that San Francisco will treasure in her memories. Hartman was not old as years go. He was only 69. But he was an old man for the stage, which demands much and gives so little to most of its servants. He first began making people laugh in 1885. “Started out with Della Fox in the old Conried Opera Company back in the Middlewest,” he said, in recounting the early days of his career. “We played the country. But the minute I saw San Francisco, I knew she was to be my home. And home San Francisco has been to Ferris Hartman since. It was here he won his name as a comedian. For years he was the favorite at the old Tivoli. He toured the country time after time, but he always came back to San Francisco, and San Francisco always greeted him with open arms. But the modern trend of entertainment – the movies and the talkies – and his increasing years left the old actor in the wings. He staged a brief come-back in 1922 when he opened at the Tivoli with his light opera company. And then ill luck set on his trail. He slipped entirely from public notice. Older San Francisco never forgot him, but Hartman was not a man to ask for help.
And so it was with a shock that San Francisco read ten days ago that her beloved old comedian had been taken to the San Francisco Hospital, weakened from diseases and privation.
San Francisco sprang forward spontaneously, and opened up her purse. Money flowed in to care for him. The big benefit was organized. And then Death, the Master Stage Hand, stepped in to ring Ferris Hartman’s curtain down for good."
(source: "The San Francisco Chronicle, CA, 1 Sept 1931 issue).
Wife:
Josephine Davies (married 18 Oct 1904, San Francisco, CA)
~ ~ obit provided by Stefanie Walzinger ~ ~
"Ferris Hartman Dies on Eve of His Benefit Show.
Ferris Hartman died last night. Died as every actor, worthy of the name, aspires to die – “packing ‘em in,” with his name on San Francisco’s lips, the all-time idol of his public. “Teddy”, as he was known to San Francisco in the old Tivoli days, took his last curtain at 6:25 o’clock as a grateful San Francisco poured her dollar out for the big benefit show which was to have put him back on his feet again. He was seized with a heart attack at 6:15 in St. Francis Hospital and ten minutes later he was dead. But even, as Hartman would have wished, the show will go on. Tonight, at the Orpheum Theater, San Francisco will once more pay tribute to her old “funny man” of forty years ago. There will be funeral expenses to meet and “other hungry men and women to feed.” Those are Teddy Hartman’s word. And it was his last wish. “No matter what happens to me,” he told his friend and advisor Tom Girton a few hours before he died, “the show must go on. I’m not the only hungry old man in San Francisco. And so the committee in charge of the big benefit last night voted unanimously to carry out the actor’s wish and turn the money over to San Francisco’s unemployment fund. The veteran comedian took his “last call” as he had lived, with a smile on his lips. He had been unusually happy yesterday. All day he talked and chatted with his nurse and physicians about the coming show, and what he was going to do when he got behind the footlights again. “I haven’t felt so well in a long time,” he told Dr. John Gallwey and Dr. J. H. Graves, who have been battling for his life at the St. Francis Hospital. “I’m satisfied I’ll be out here before long, making the public laugh again.” That was just before 6 o’clock. At 6:15 he raised up in his bed. “It’s hurting in my chest,” he said and tried to laugh if off. Dr. Gallwey, who was still at the hospital, hastened to his side and administered restoratives. Dr. Graves was summoned from his home. But the old actor’s heart – the heart that had thrilled for years to San Francisco’s applause- was beyond the aid of medicines. The months of privation that had sent him a broken-down old man to the hospital ten days ago, had taken too great a toll of his warning strength. Before Dr. Graves could reach his side he died. Thus ended a career that San Francisco will treasure in her memories. Hartman was not old as years go. He was only 69. But he was an old man for the stage, which demands much and gives so little to most of its servants. He first began making people laugh in 1885. “Started out with Della Fox in the old Conried Opera Company back in the Middlewest,” he said, in recounting the early days of his career. “We played the country. But the minute I saw San Francisco, I knew she was to be my home. And home San Francisco has been to Ferris Hartman since. It was here he won his name as a comedian. For years he was the favorite at the old Tivoli. He toured the country time after time, but he always came back to San Francisco, and San Francisco always greeted him with open arms. But the modern trend of entertainment – the movies and the talkies – and his increasing years left the old actor in the wings. He staged a brief come-back in 1922 when he opened at the Tivoli with his light opera company. And then ill luck set on his trail. He slipped entirely from public notice. Older San Francisco never forgot him, but Hartman was not a man to ask for help.
And so it was with a shock that San Francisco read ten days ago that her beloved old comedian had been taken to the San Francisco Hospital, weakened from diseases and privation.
San Francisco sprang forward spontaneously, and opened up her purse. Money flowed in to care for him. The big benefit was organized. And then Death, the Master Stage Hand, stepped in to ring Ferris Hartman’s curtain down for good."
(source: "The San Francisco Chronicle, CA, 1 Sept 1931 issue).
Josephine Davies (married 18 Oct 1904, San Francisco, CA)
~ ~ obit provided by Stefanie Walzinger ~ ~
"Ferris Hartman Dies on Eve of His Benefit Show.
Ferris Hartman died last night. Died as every actor, worthy of the name, aspires to die – “packing ‘em in,” with his name on San Francisco’s lips, the all-time idol of his public. “Teddy”, as he was known to San Francisco in the old Tivoli days, took his last curtain at 6:25 o’clock as a grateful San Francisco poured her dollar out for the big benefit show which was to have put him back on his feet again. He was seized with a heart attack at 6:15 in St. Francis Hospital and ten minutes later he was dead. But even, as Hartman would have wished, the show will go on. Tonight, at the Orpheum Theater, San Francisco will once more pay tribute to her old “funny man” of forty years ago. There will be funeral expenses to meet and “other hungry men and women to feed.” Those are Teddy Hartman’s word. And it was his last wish. “No matter what happens to me,” he told his friend and advisor Tom Girton a few hours before he died, “the show must go on. I’m not the only hungry old man in San Francisco. And so the committee in charge of the big benefit last night voted unanimously to carry out the actor’s wish and turn the money over to San Francisco’s unemployment fund. The veteran comedian took his “last call” as he had lived, with a smile on his lips. He had been unusually happy yesterday. All day he talked and chatted with his nurse and physicians about the coming show, and what he was going to do when he got behind the footlights again. “I haven’t felt so well in a long time,” he told Dr. John Gallwey and Dr. J. H. Graves, who have been battling for his life at the St. Francis Hospital. “I’m satisfied I’ll be out here before long, making the public laugh again.” That was just before 6 o’clock. At 6:15 he raised up in his bed. “It’s hurting in my chest,” he said and tried to laugh if off. Dr. Gallwey, who was still at the hospital, hastened to his side and administered restoratives. Dr. Graves was summoned from his home. But the old actor’s heart – the heart that had thrilled for years to San Francisco’s applause- was beyond the aid of medicines. The months of privation that had sent him a broken-down old man to the hospital ten days ago, had taken too great a toll of his warning strength. Before Dr. Graves could reach his side he died. Thus ended a career that San Francisco will treasure in her memories. Hartman was not old as years go. He was only 69. But he was an old man for the stage, which demands much and gives so little to most of its servants. He first began making people laugh in 1885. “Started out with Della Fox in the old Conried Opera Company back in the Middlewest,” he said, in recounting the early days of his career. “We played the country. But the minute I saw San Francisco, I knew she was to be my home. And home San Francisco has been to Ferris Hartman since. It was here he won his name as a comedian. For years he was the favorite at the old Tivoli. He toured the country time after time, but he always came back to San Francisco, and San Francisco always greeted him with open arms. But the modern trend of entertainment – the movies and the talkies – and his increasing years left the old actor in the wings. He staged a brief come-back in 1922 when he opened at the Tivoli with his light opera company. And then ill luck set on his trail. He slipped entirely from public notice. Older San Francisco never forgot him, but Hartman was not a man to ask for help.
And so it was with a shock that San Francisco read ten days ago that her beloved old comedian had been taken to the San Francisco Hospital, weakened from diseases and privation.
San Francisco sprang forward spontaneously, and opened up her purse. Money flowed in to care for him. The big benefit was organized. And then Death, the Master Stage Hand, stepped in to ring Ferris Hartman’s curtain down for good."
(source: "The San Francisco Chronicle, CA, 1 Sept 1931 issue).
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