Show World (October 1910)

October 8, 1910. THE SHOW WORLD IS THE THROBBING THROTTLE ADDRESS ALL CHECKS, theat¬ rical passes, and things worth while to the Editor; all manuscripts should be sent to the office-boy. ] A WEEKLY SAFETY-VALVE REGISTER OFjTHE PULSE-STEAM OF DAILY DOIN’S THAT MAKE THE WORLD OF SHOW GO ’ROUND J. CASPER NATHAN, Editor ] THIS WEEK’S NEWS LAST WEEK OFFICE-WHEREVER THE EDITOR SEES A TYPEWRITER “BOW TO NOBODY; BOW-WOW TO EVERYBODY’ PHIL SCHWARTZ refuses bribe „o would gladly present, if n had the price of a cut and tt necessary ."" Utaaess wil 1 be recalled by seen life-size i of Sir Gallahad, __i bribe. Honestly, he dh honestly, which e\ via «■ fabulous outlay. •'The Melody Swiping Trust nearly disorganized when one of its principal members was '’Something must be done, or I’ll be done. I can’t understand why they waited so long with the exposure. But, since they are hunting us, it’s our hide or theirs. Come, me brave pirates, we must have some new ideas." At this point a young man arose and said that he was a personal friend of Mr. Schwartz. That he knew that dotmbddy had presented Schwartz with a new system for stealing melodies that could not be detected arid that required but little effort on the part of the composer. That Schwartz had learned the new system, but refused to use it. All were interested and in¬ duced the friend to invite- Mr. Schwartz to attend the next meeting. . . Mr. Schwartz came, but, when he was offered the presi¬ dent’s ,chair, if he’d disclose the‘System, he declined. Various sums of money were offered and spurned. Mr. Schwartz left the hall amid cat-calls, but maintained his manly determination to scorn the prbffered bribes. Now the question is: Did Schwartz refuse the bribes through manliness and strict integrity; or did he refuse to divulge his secret because he wants to confine the new system of ‘‘melody borrowing” o his o i compositions? RAT INSPIRES GREAT CLIMAX The story of a great climax of a greater play, yet to be written, inspired by an ordinary rodent, was disclosed by Mr. Augustus Thomas, writer of ‘‘The Member from Ozark,” in an interview with a Throbbing Throttle reporter. "while traveling in Eng¬ land," said Mr. Thomas gen¬ ially, “I was strolling through an alley, looking for a plot, when, suddenly, I saw a rat attack the contents of a gar- . ^fhstantly, I conceived of a great climax. Just picture a hero, penniless and defeated at every turn, on the eve of_UA wedding day, compelled t from a garbage car act of the play. “Just as he is about to be¬ gin his repast, a rat enters and endeavors to secure food from the garbage can. As he does so, a piece of silk drops from his mouth. The hero picks up the remnant and cries: ‘“’Tis a part of Lucy’s wedding dress, of which yon’ rodent has partaken. It brings pleasant mem’ries. I cannot eat the garbage. I’ll reform and win Lucy!’ “The curtain closes on the hero kissing the piece of silk and he and the rat take seven- n the third IT ISN’T NECESSARY To open an office just be¬ cause you’ve had a couple of song hits to your credit. To quit your job because the Shuberts have promised to pro¬ duce one of your plays. To, tell everybody your song The value of a two-thousand dollar act in vaudeville. The plot of a musical comedy. Melody in a popular song. Sympathy, when you’re a Honest competition in the music publishing business; or profit in ten-cent popular A bank open on a Jewish holiday. A rich man in the show busi¬ ness; or a really poor one out of it. A beggar on Madison street who was never ahead of a A leading lady without a past, or a chorus boy without a splendid future. ME-O-G-RAMS. By definition, a Me-O-Gram is the philosophy of a fool. Mothers, DON’T let your daughters: see plays—-write plays — in plays. Just as the paramaecla can point to the omoeba in scorn tho’ they both occupy a small space in a drop of stagnant water, so does everybody in the show business point down the ladder to his less successful brother. The producer of a tomorrow is Vie chump of today. Swagger and brains never did agree. So, young fellow, if you think you’ll amount to something, some day, clothe your brains more carefully than your body. Go in the show business right—as a stage hand. “there,"— POSITIVE ASSERTIONS. J. C. Matthews is as white as a booking agent c~~ Elsie Janis 1~ “**• ways around. “I’ll Change the Thorns to Roses” is “the” hit of the Dockstader show. Joseph E. Howard and C. P. McDonald are not lodge fel¬ lows. Max Stone, of Feist's, like his name, is a hard proposition when casually considered, but to those who know him, he’s one Prince Chap who’d go a mile to do a friend a favor. The producers will have to put on better shows if they want their share of the sea- S °H’enry°Fleckles is getting a reputation as a theatrical MAUD MILLER’S PLAY Maud Miller, on a summer’s day, sat in the hay and wrote a play. Her hero was a hand¬ some chap who never had a chance to map his life out as he thought he ought, and cheap cigars were all he bought. For what right had he to prefer the other kind on “ten bones per”? The heroine she pictured as a pretty charming girl, alas, betrothed to one wasn’t worth the space he occupied on earth. Old, mean, decrepit, oft’ times drunk, a man who’d made his coin on junk. Her father was the kind of man that plays have shown since they began, willing enough to sell his child to get the coin the villain piled. ■ Maud went ahead and wrote her play. Like playwrights do, in some strange way, she beat the Desmond to it and gave Claude Eclaire the maiden’s hand. Not only that—but fixed it so that the cold villain, in his woe at finding Claude had won the bride, went off and very quickly died. And left this note: “Dear Claude:—Your spunk prompts me to leave you all my junk.” The curtain hid a happy pair in Rosamond and Claude Eclaire. Now, in the town where Maud had writ’, there lived a judge who knew a bit ’bout plays and how they ought to be, and Maud was overjoyed to see him in his auto that fine day go tearing gaily through the hay. She stopped him and he read the dope in which Maud Miller placed her hope. AHd, as he read, Maud Miller thought how nice the auto was he’d bought; and how content she’d be with life, if she could be the judge’s wife and sit within a cushioned chair and write her plays ’bout Claude Eclaire, not with a pencil, or with ink, but just as fast as she could think, and with a good stenographer to grab her thoughts at fifty per. And, as he read, the wise judge thought that girls like Maud most surely ought to be sent up for sixty days for writing such in¬ sipid plays. For he could find no trace of plot, felt sure that Maud had written rot. “Pooh, pooh,” he murmured in despair, “A wash-rag Chap is Claude Eclaire.” They ought to find a handy pond and drown the likes of Rosa¬ mond. E’er father is the only one who seems to know just what is fun. And what she terms the villain is a man who strictly minds his biz. “Maud, dear,” declared the knowing judge, “that play you wrote is all poor fudge. Who ever told you you could write must go ‘a-seeing things’ at night.” He shoved the play in Maud’s soft hand and . to beat the band. And all that day the maiden wept and all that night she hardly slept. Next day she took the needed fare, went to New York with Claude Eclaire and all the rest in her great play and cried: “This is the only way.” She found a great producer and, when he got next to her soft hand and her brown eyes and pretty hair, he said: “Read on ’bout Claude Eclaire.” And, when she read her simple play, her sweet way carried him away. When she told of the judge, he cried: “That gosh-darned fool. I’ll show he lied.” The play, of course, was soon produced. As Rosamond, Maud Introduced real depths of feeling in the part and critics raved about her art. And soon the daily papers said: “MAUD MILLER AND PRODUCER WED.” The play ran two years in New York and in that time a welcome stork brought them a handsome baby boy that filled its parents’ hearts with joy. Maud’s written many plays since then. Tho’ all went big, none of them’s been as great, as grand, well earned success as what the judge had called a mess. But, in the country town, the judge still claims her first play was “poor fudge.” “I’m only sorry,” he would say, "that I returned her play that day; had I but torn it into bits, Fair Maud’s ambition would be quits.” But Maud is happy, you can bet, and hasn’t much cause for regret. The gladest words that she can say are these: “I wrote a dandy play that ran a year in the big town, after a wise guy ran it down.” CIRCULATION STATEMENT. With a feeling of pardonable pride, The Throbbing Throttle herewith presents its first authentic circulation state¬ ment, carefully compiled from official records, the originals of which are on file at our of¬ fices for inspection of those inclined to doubt the figures. Number of copies sold—None. Number of copies purchased by the copy or in 100 lots— None. Number of copies, called for in airship—One. (By Wal¬ ter Brookins.) Number of paid press notices— Number of passes received for favorable notices: From American Music Hall—None. From Colonial Theater— None. From Garrick Theater— None. From Lyric Theater— None. From Power’s—None. From Illinois—None. From Princess—None. From Studebaker — None. From Majestic—None. Number of copies distributed free to the victims of our slams — One Million. Number of copies used by Jan¬ itor to start fires—Five Mil- Total receipts to date, as rep¬ resented by bank statement — $.000000000000000. BETWEEN THE ACTS. If Julian Eltinge could get out in front, at the American Music Hall, he’d hear some mighty pleasant things while his act is on. Here goes for a few: “I’ll bet he’s really a girl.” “Wonder what he looks like on the street?” “Off the stage, he’s such a “You can’t tell me any man could have those shoulders and elbows.” “They say he’s married.” “I understand he’s divorced.” “I hear he gets ten thousand dollars per week.” But Julian doesn’t mind these things. While he admits that there is some truth in all these assertions, he told mg confi¬ dentially that he’s not mar¬ ried and that the only thing he has running around the house is a bulldog. , Barnes, the stage manager at the American Music Hall, tho’ one of the busiest men in one of our busiest theaters, al¬ ways finds time to talk to a Here’s a story with a moral: In the cigar store of the Oneonta Building, writers of whom, nobody has heard, out¬ side of themselves, and of whom, in all probability, no¬ body will ever hear, congre¬ gate daily in the vain endeavor to mix with boys higher up on the ladder of success. They invariably open a conversation by asking: d which the boy higher up win respond by mentioning one of his own songs. They de¬ clare that quite another song is a hit, always taking care to mention a number written by somebody outside of the group —and an interesting discussion is started. Disgustedly the boy higher up withdraws, but the craw¬ fish continue their heated dis¬ cussion for hours at a- time. Few of them buy cigars and fewer still would know how to smoke them if they did. But they talk, talk, talk about the hits. Then they go home and in¬ form their proud parents that they beat “Jenkins, the prom¬ inent writer,” to a frazzle tn a discussion regarding music and, on the strength of their declarations, get ten cents car¬ fare for another day’s discus- fellows live. Royalties L which few of them collect at any time for obvious reasons, are de¬ clared but four times a year. Or, better still, ask yourself how they would get along if their parents should suddenly leave for realms unknown. We’d like to have the for- “GIVE CHICAGO BOYS A CHANCE.” History will show that sec¬ tionalism and its petty prej¬ udices have always existed. Way back in the days of the Medes and Persians, those two nations, of the same root, within a stone’s throw of each other, were great rivals—in fact, great enemies. Today the same spirit exists between Chicago and New York. Can you blame us if we are provincial in, the belief that • our boys can write as well as the youths of New York and that all they need is a chance? Particularly, when New Yorkers who .handle the pen look upon Chicago as a sort of suburb, a good place to get royalties from, build reputations on—but that’s all. Over at Clark and Randolph streets, there are plenty of young men who can write any¬ thing from a parody to a musical comedy. Yet, whenever a new Chi¬ cago theater is opened, our pro¬ ducers rush to New York for writers. They want to be.able to put forth billing to the effect that “The Umpty-Umptdom is by Plank, Blank, . and__3ank, writers of thirty great New York productions of which one (the first one), was a great success, e' " ” Chicagoans expect great things from the great names and, when they do not get them, they quit coming. They don’t know the details of production, but the pro¬ ducers do. We’d respectfully ask that they give Chicago boys a chance. It’s simple business honesty and it’s bound to prove the best policy in the long AGAIN WE ASH. What is Jack Foley’s real vocation? Do you know whether a show is good or bad after reading the criticisms in the daily papers? Who first sang “Silver Threads Among the Gold” with great success? How do people become stars in musical comedy when they can neither sing nor dance? Bert Peters; next to your salarv what do you love? How much did Kettering and Block lose on “Are You a Mason?” Did Charles Frohman have a chance at the first American production of “Alma Wo Wohnst Du?" and turn it down for patriotic reasons? Have you left an order with your newsdealer for the Christmas issue of The Throb¬ bing Throttle? Did you re¬ serve advertising space?