Exhibitor's Trade Review (Sep-Nov 1921)

October 1, 1921 EXHIBITORS TRADE REVIEW Baker on Women 1232a He Gives His Opinion on Their Place in Business with Particular Regard to the Exhibiting End of the Motion Picture Business BAKER stood in the plaster and mudsmeared lobby of what was soon to be his newest theatre, The Springfield. His shoes were splotched with concrete and his clothes were covered with the various stains and smudges that drive contractors to overalls. But Bill was happy. Everything was going smoothly and within a month he would be able to open. He was making notes on a small pocket pad when a cheery voice greeted him from the sidewalk. Baker looked up. "Well, well," said he, "How's the motion picture cricket?" "Rotten," was the reply, but the face of the speaker wore a broad grin as he climbed over a pile of wire and conduit and approached Baker. The theatre owner liked newspaper men. He went out of his way to please them, and of all of Springfield's clan Sammy Norwood was in greatest favor. "And why do you feel so rotten in such a joyful voice?" asked Baker, stuffing pad and pencil into his pocket. "How do y'get that way?" Norwood continued to grin. "The reason I feel bad and good to onct is I'm a father for the first time since becoming a husband, at half past three this morning; I haven't been out of my clothes all night, and there's in me one-third of two quarts of eighteen-year-old rye." Baker thrust out a hearty hand and gripped the speaker. "Great stuff," he said. "A he or a she?" "My Gawd!" replied Norwood, "but you must be a sound sleeper. Didn't you hear him yell?" Baker laughed. "I'm congratulating you about as hearty as it's been done," said he, "and when I get back to my office I'll send him a box of cigars." "That'll wait for a couple of years," said Norwood. "I didn't begin to smoke till I was three, at least. But you needn't wait. Send 'em to me. I'll smoke them." Then, abruptly changing the subject: "I hear you've fired all the lady ushers at the Grand. May I, as a staff member of the Chronicle, inquire as to the cause?" "I don't know that I want anything published about it, Sammy," Baker answered. "Your wife?" asked Norwood, with a knowing smile. "You know better than that. No. It's simply that women ushers just don't fit with my ideas of management. "They have many good points. In lots of respects they're much better than men, but their disadvantages far outweigh their advantages." \ Norwood sat on a convenient keg of nails. "Shoot," said he. By MONTE W. SOHN Baker picked a seat on a concrete sack nearby. "First of all, there's the matter of personal neatness. 1 admit that naturally women are seventeen miles ahead of men. But that's out because it takes women so long to get neat and a lot more time to stay neat. I've checked up on 'em and I find that the neating process took an average of one hour a day. Get that? At least an hour average for every one of them." "I don't have any such trouble with men ushers. I have a full staff working in each house almost every minute of the time." "How about smoking?" put in Norwood. "I'm way ahead of you," Baker replied. "I figured out the cigarette nuisance. I had to beat that a long time ago. There isn't one of the ushers that's working for me to-day that smokes 'em. I see that they don't or they ain't hired. That is, my managers are instructed — and they, in turn, warn the ushers — that anyone caught smoking in the theatre either in the lavatories or other places, gets fired. "Another thing about women ushers: I wanted them attractive because I felt that they were somewhat my contact with patrons, and I wanted a good impression. But the attractive ones were more inclined to talk to men and the more attractive they were the more time they spent fixing up. "Furthermore, most women patrons don't like it. They prefer men ushers. It may be because of a kind of petty jealousy, or only because they prefer the opposite sex in such a job. Whatever the reason, women make up at least 80 per cent of my Grand audiences, and they don't like women ushers. "There aren't many men shoppers and the Grand, as you know, is in the middle of the department store district. "Then take the sick list. In the four months I tried the plan I had five times as many days lost by women ushers than my records show for men absentees at The Baker. That's a matter of fact. I don't know what is the reason. It might be that being constantly on their feet for hours on a stretch is too much for the frailer constitution of a woman. Maybe they're more susceptible to coughs and colds that draughts might cause. Anyway, those are my records." "You certainly make a case against the females," observed Norwood. "I had plenty of time to do it and plenty of reason not to want men, if I could do without them," Baker rejoined. "As which?" "They cost 30 per cent less than men. A lot of them are young married women and young daughters who don't have to work. They work for a lot less than men. But the more I tried 'em the surer I got that I didn't want them. "I couldn't teach them to handle a flashlight so it wouldn't bother audiences. They'd swing their lamps like a lantern when they led the way to seats. I guess I got a thousand complaints. "They scrapped among themselves over everything, from the use of somebody's powder puff to which aisles got the most work. And there was a crying spell about something almost every day. "Another trouble I had was keeping the right kind of women. It's darned hard to keep out the element that, while not loose, is at least inclined to skid. And they hurt your prestige a lot. "I'm through," he concluded, "all through." "But, Bill," said Norwood, "aren't there lots of cases where the tact of a woman is better than a man's? Aren't women more loyal and more considerate of an employer's interests than men?" "Partly," replied Baker, "you're right. But there's a something else I forgot to mention. The most loyal of women haven't got one quality that ushers ought to have, and that thing is fundamental. Courage and nerve in the pinches is what I mean. "Somebody throwing a fit or getting sick in the audience. Give me men ushers to handle cases like that. And in case of fire, taking the average man and the average woman, there's nothing to it. "I had a sample of it three years ago, when two men started a knockdown fight in the aisle because one of them tried to flirt with the other man's wife. That wasn't a fire, but it was a good sample of panic. Women screamed, men shouted and everybody started for the exits at the same time. "I'd 'a been in a nice mess that night with women ushers. They trampled on each other and climbed over the seats. It was fierce for twenty minutes. But the six ushers I had were drilled to take care of such an emergency, and they came through exactly as I drilled them. "Nix! Not for Bill Baker. I'm for safety, even if the premium comes a little higher." Norwood arose and brushed some plaster from his coat. "Well, I won't use this against you because this is the birthday of my son and heir, but I do think I ought to be bribed," he added, in a low voice. "If I must, I must," said Baker. "What's the price?" "A half page ad in next Sunday's Chronicle," replied Norwood. "That's easy," conceded Baker. "Also I'll send the newcomer a season pass to all my theatres — and maybe I'll throw in a pair of military brushes."