Actorviews (1923)

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244 Actorviews “Forty-five, forty-eight, fifty a yard,” he mumbles, and almost angrily adds, “What of it? They’re real." “Yes, but who’s going to know they’re real?” you basely say. White shows in his large eyes, and his plastic Russian mouth is white with teeth, and he beats the breast of his worn black coat with two tight fists as he cries: “/ know it! I know it! Isn’t that enough?” He walks you from stage to theater — packed to the highest reaches — to foyer, and you glimpse the unbroken line at the box office. “How does the prosperity feel?” you ask him. “How does it feel not to have the sheriff just one jump behind?” “ ’Bout eighteen years ago, when they were nominating a President,” he says dreamily, “I stood on this very spot with ‘Bim the Button Man.’ They said he never failed to pick the winner with his election buttons — and he didn’t because he always had two sets made. I stood here with just a dollar ten cents in the world. And who can say Morris Gest wasn’t happier then than he is today ? Not a note was due — I wasn’t good for a note. My only worry was my own fare back to New York — now I’ve got a thousand fares to figure. I wonder if I wasn’t happier when I stood on this spot with just a dollar ten in my clothes?” “Same suit of clothes you’ve got on now?” I ask in the interests of archeology. “I wouldn’t be surprised,” says Gest, “if this is the same hat, too.” He takes off and regards with shame-faced affection the old velours lid that, I’ll swear, was an ancient one when he brought the first Russian ballet to our shores. “Seriously,” says I, “when are you going to get yourself a new suit?”