Show World (May 1909)

6 THE SHOW WORLD May 29, 1909. SANS SOUCI THEATER KEEPS ITS PROMISES Sans Souci Park opened last Sun¬ day and incidentally Virginia Harned dedicated the new theater of . the re¬ sort to Thespis, aided by a company of remarkably clever players. Such in brief are the facts of a story concerning a modern miracle in the matter of showdom. The theater at Sans Souci used to be a roller rink—indeed it might still be laboring under that title had not one' Max Anderson by name, discov¬ ered its possibilities and developed it into a theater—and not a toy theater by any means, but a theater seating about twelve hundred persons, com¬ paring in seating capacity with half a dozen of the “legitimate” houses of Chicago. Anderson, however, was not satis¬ fied with the mere manufacturing of a playhouse out of seemingly impos¬ sible material—he insisted on having real actors and actresses for his ven¬ ture. He engaged Harned at two thousand dollars a week—at least,. so his press agent states, and the writer is privileged to admit that the figures are not exaggerated more than three hundred dollars at the outside. He engaged Henry Miller and Wilton Lackaye and others of their ilk, ap¬ parently determined to make the pub¬ lic sit up and take notice of his ven¬ ture. On the opening day the public was wide awake. It came and saw and was satisfied that Anderson was in earnest, despite the fact that the theater was wet with undried plaster and smelled of a carpenter’s shop and was otherwise almost too fresh from the factory to be thoroughly present¬ able. A Crowd at Opening. Before eight o’clock on the opening night the S. R. O. sign was tacked on the front of the showshop by H. E. Rice, manager, with a proud stroke of his little hammer and an air which seemed to say, “Well, we’re open, anyway.” And the “anyway” was significant. Even the scenery was so wet that the players had to dodge contact with it. There were shavings here and there in the corners of the auditorium which betrayed the fact that the official sweeper had not quite time to finish his delerious duty. There were voices behind the curtain —hurried, profane voices, indicative of haste and dust and that sort of hades familiar to the “first night” of a show—somewhat magnified in this instance. Now and then the hubbub in the audience was interrupted by the banging of the carpenter’s ham¬ mer on a necessary nail or the sawing of a piece of wood by a stage me¬ chanic. The wings behind the fire curtain were heard to flap together innumerable times—and then, up went the lights, to announce that all was ready. Manager Rice passed through the auditorium mopping his brow. His step was still quick and steady, de¬ spite the fact that he had worked twenty hours a day for nearly a week and had once fallen asleep on his feet while directing the force of carpen¬ ters. He was smiling. It wasn’t a “have-you-used-Pear’s-soap-this-morn- ing” kind of smile, it wasn’t as cheer¬ ful as that sort of smile generally is, hut it was a smile of contented tri¬ umph. Men had told him that he couldn’t do it. He had been warned that the fire or police department would prohihit the opening of his house; that his star was likely to turn him down at the eleventh hour and all that sort of nonsense which is in¬ digenous to a premiere. Rice had mastered all that sort of vexing detail and more. Therefore, Rice was smil¬ ing. The Little Nervous Man. Rice looked the crowd over as he passed along the aisle on his way to the box office. Here and there he nodded to friends. In an odd moment it could be seen that he was estimate ing the receipts. Then he disap- A Realy Truly High Priced Show is Given at Popular Prices After House is Rushed to Completion. peared behind an exit door and prob¬ ably went out to “count up” and verify his estimate. While the orchestra, which, by the way, is of high quality, was discours¬ ing the final strains of the overture a small, smooth-faced man came from “behind the rag.” He walked half way down the aisle with quick, ner¬ vous step. He ran his hand through his hair, fumbled nervously with his derby hat and turned his eyes toward the stage, expectantly. He paid little heed to the audience. But his inq>a- tience to see the curtain up was evi¬ dent. At last the house lights were turned out. The orchestra played a few strains of “curtain music,” the steel fire curtain arose and in turn was followed by the regular curtain of the house. The music was drowned in applause for the beauty of the stage setting. The little, light haired man, standing in the aisle, appeared to make some private comment. The actors began to speak. To those in the audience who had expected that so great a star as Virginia Harned would be surrounded by a “cheap” company, a great disappointment was in store. Her support had been re¬ cruited from as good as could be had. To those who had expected that the scenic effects would be of the com¬ mon or garden variety, the splendid settings of the first act were a suffi¬ cient reassurance. The Master Hand. As the act proceeded it became plainly evident that there was a mas¬ ter hand behind the production of Iris; that Harned felt entirely in her element; that the claim of the man¬ agement that the patrons would see a genuine dollar and a half show at popular prices would be fully sus- The nervousness generally coinci¬ dent to a first performance seemed utterly lacking. The waits between the acts were short. The perform¬ ance moved with the smoothness of a “long run” show. The little man in the aisle had “gone behind”—seem¬ ingly satisfied. Later he reappeared to note the effect of a scene upon which he had been particularly care¬ ful. He nodded a*ecret approval as the curtain arose and then, with char¬ acteristic nervous step, he went back to the regions of artificiality—the place in which illusions are born— the land of flies and wings and drops and bunch-lights and grips and all that curious collection of queer things which go to make up stagedom. He was happy, this little man. He had accomplished an almost hopeless task. He had built and rehearsed and pro¬ duced a trying play under handicaps at which many another stage director would have hesitated. But why should he not? This man was no novice. He had been accustomed perhaps, to pro¬ ducing plays under handicaps less se¬ vere than those which confronted him at Sans Souci, but past experience, aside from equipping him with an en¬ viable knowledge of stagecraft had also made him master of difficult sit¬ uations. He was tired, maybe, but happy, when the curtain fell upon the initial performance of the company which he had recruited in New York city. His dynamo had run down for the night and he was ready for bed. As he passed out of the stage door the carpenter asked him to sign a receipt for some hardware. He took the slip and wrote in a bold, but legi¬ ble hand “Harry McRae Webster.” Webster, the Whirlwind. Webster, the Whirlwind, he might be called, for his habit of concentrat¬ ing details and scattering them in whatsoever direction he wills, savors much of the cyclonic. Therein lies his capability. It is doubtful if any other stage director in a thousand would have undertaken to stage Iris in the time in which Webster did. Its a heavy production at best. The acting requires a thorough knowledge of finesse. Webster knew the “book” backward as well as forward, just as he knows a hundred other plays, and what is more to his advantage—he knows no personality. Virginia Har¬ ned was equal in his eyes to the as¬ sistant property ’man. Harned com¬ plimented him for this, and the as¬ sistant property man gave him gen¬ uine respect. Thus does Webster rule his province. The entire production of Iris was fit to be placed upon any high class stage. Miss Harned is at her best in the title role while her support, which included Herman Lieb, May McCabe, Alice Leal Pollock, Cath- rine Calhoun, Richard Lyle, Miss Moreland, Geo. Loan Tucker, Wm. D. Corbett, Wilson Melrose (late star of the Catspaw), W. H. Bailey (stage manager), Grace Francis and Miss HAVE YOU VOTED YET ? If you have not yet voted, do it now. The Actors’ Society of Amer¬ ica is offering a handsome loving cup to the theater in the United States and Canada which receives the greatest number of votes for having the cleanest stage and finest dressing rooms. The contest will close June 26, 1909 at 6 p. m., and the cup will be awarded as soon thereafter as possible. If you have not voted sign the attached coupon and forward it at once. Any reader of the SHOW WORLD is entitled to a vote. (Date) . SANITATION COMMITTEE, Actors’ Society of America, 133 West 45th street, New York City. In my opinion the (name of theater) . at (name of city and state) . which is managed by (name of manager) . has the cleanest stage and the finest dressing rooms of any theater in the United States or Canada. (Signed) . (Address) ..’. THE SHOW WORLD Coupon. . Irwin could not well have been im¬ proved. Rain spoiled some of the scenery on Monday, while on Tuesday night when other parks closed on account of heavy rain, a good sized crowd came to the Sans Souci theater and enjoyed a splendid performance of the Pinero play.—W. M.. THE PROMPT BELL. (Williard Holcomb in Washington Post.) Silk stockings were recently, dis¬ tributed at the Chicago opera house. Chicago, in honor of the long run of Mary Jane’s Pa. That one is funny enough as it stands—think it over. Anna Held, with Dr. and Mrs. F. Ziegfeld, Sr., of Chicago, sailed , for Europe last week. Miss Held will go direct to Vichy, France, where she will remain for three weeks. Vichy ought to be a snappy little watering place. Frankie Drew scored a pronounced hit this season as successor to Ma¬ bel Barrison in The Flower of > the Ranch, in which attraction she played the Flower. Most all Drews draw. _ Cecil Lean, is featuring a song, en- | titled “Me for Michigan,” but a jump t to New York, after six successive and successful years as near the Wol¬ verine state as Chicago, would seem to indicate that he doesn’t sing it from the heart. W. A. Brady produced a new play, My Boy, at Powers theater, Chicago, May 9, with Tim Murphy in the stel¬ lar role. Having a vague idea of Mr. Murphy’s age, it is presumed that it fell to his lot to call some one else by the name that serves as title to the | play, rather than the reverse, although the pronounced hit he scored is not a surprise, regardless of who "my boy” was. MORT. SINGER AND HIS J POSTAL CARD SCHEME. Milwaukee, Wis., May 28. Manager Mort Singer, who directs the destinies of The Prince of To- j night, the big musical comedy which will return to the Alhambra May 30 j for one week, hit on a novel plan of I testing public sentiment regarding the attraction during its successful run of ( five months at the Princess theater, Chicago. He distributed among his audiences postcards bearing an in¬ quiry as to what the recipient thought of the piece. Several thousand re¬ plies were received, and some of the criticisms were amusing, while many showed remarkable discriminatiojiand | judgment. Mr. Singer caused a large number of the replies to be framed and they have been a conspicuous feature of the front of the Princess | theater. Next week these framed crit¬ icisms will be sent to Milwaukee and i placed on exhibition. They make un- I usually interesting reading, and, if the , Chicago experience is duplicated, a I crowd will be congregated about'the frame every day.—SMITH. An Early Stage Debut. Jessie, Jr., the six months-old daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Jesse Hale, made her stage debut on May 19 at the Elyria theater, Elyria, Ohio, in The Little Partner, a western playlet by Mr. Hale. Baby Hale appears in an especially written prologue as The Little Partner, the part played by Lit¬ tle Estelle, eight years of age. jg Says Actress Robbed Him. Denver, Colo., May 22. A farmer, forty-five years old, claims that Belle Raymond, a vaude- villian, relieved him of a wad of $762. She was arrested at Rock Sp^B| Wyo., at the Star theater, where she was playing with her husband, Roy Raymond. It is said that $650 ■was found on her person. She will he tried here.