Boxoffice (Jan-Mar 1939)

By Gordon H. Simmons* RECENT letter from the editor disturbed my equanimity. It was full of suggestions. He makes suggestions just like Hitler does, so I have no recourse but to salute smartly and goosestep to the suggestive tune he plays. Among other tilings, says he, “I wonder if you would have the time to scratch off another 1,500 word article in the nature of an actual fireside chat.” When he knows full well I write my articles while astride a steam radiator. Further along in this same ukase, he opines that “in this particular article frankness should be the dominant motive.” I am wondering just a little about this “suggestion” of his because while writing all of my articles to you I have really felt that my first name should be Frank. Franklin D. Simmons, if you want to be playful about it. Quoting further, ye Chief Scribe states that “a candid picture of you would work in swell with the article, provided it is clean.” Still quoting, “my original reference to cleanliness (he had made a previous request for a ‘clean’ picture) referred only to the quality of photography. However, since receiving that highly sug First, the guy asks for postage stamps; next it’s cheroots and now, of all things, he’s developed a yen for champagne. The while, cultivating an impression that his is purely a labor of love. In a scientific way, we sometimes think he is overtrained. However, ice must concede his sincerity, his knowledge of the subject, as well as his ability to mix metaphors and split infinitives. Haling from the Deep South, he probably also knows how to mix high-balls scientifically and split magnums of champagne. Aside from personal admiration, his use to us and to our readers lies essentially in his ability to make plain a much, but needlessly, involved technical subject. — The Editor. gestive ‘A Century of Progress’ postcard of yours, I am inclined to let the word ‘clean’ stand on all counts.” Just the same, I get the general idea that the Old Man is in rare good humor with me at the moment. So I can afford to be charitable with him about his aspersions on my postcard. Expositions de The author and his gang having a go at contract when interrupted by the photographer. A jug of “something” loithin easy reach, the trusty L. C, Smith on a table nearby and nothing to do but answer fan mail. Mrs. Simmons (extreme right) plays the hand ivhich friend hubby apparently has over-bid. Note air conditioner in window. The candid camera catches Simmons at work in his air conditioned atelier and at the precise point where he dictated his demands for more gratitude — and gasoline. noting progress are highly successful and since I wish to be too, what more natural than for me to make an Exposition of Progress on a postcard! The natural inference is that after a Century of Progress, I now ought to know what constitutes modern air conditioning. But continuing with a recital of the “suggestions” made by our Editor. He says, “You can mention what you are trying to accomplish, what you have accomplished, and you can inject some of your corny wisecracks if you want to.” Now, I don’t intentionally wisecrack. Many times I am not aware of so doing. Several months ago when one Ansel Moore wrote me up in these pages and stated that I “riddled my readers with wisecracks until it became a crime,” I felt highly abused and certainly not amused. But in regard to what I am trying to accomplish and what I have accomplished. Ah! There’s a suggestion indeed! Common Sense Safe Cure I don’t feel I’ve accomplished anything or can accomplish anything all by myself. You people who have been reading me, or I might say “studying me,” have been apt pupils. It is for this reason that theatre air conditioning as a practical science is becoming better understood by you, thus enabling you to more effectively apply common-sense corrective measures to your air conditioning mal-adjustments. So let’s talk about what we are accomplishing, in true fireside chat style, while I sit by my radiator and dictate. I will try to have a “clean” picture taken of me and my radiator while we both try to warm up the subject of air conditioning. Nobody knows like I do the troubles you have. You must consider me something like a weeping willow tree for some you figuratively shed tears of exasperation and despair in your letters to me. And this is as it should be. I am honored by your confidence, which usually enables me to rip your problems, wide open by mail so *Air Conditioning Engineer, Milwaukee, Wis. The MODERN THEATRE SECTION