Exhibitor's Trade Review (Sep-Nov 1921)

October 22, 1921 EXHIBITORS TRADE REVIEW 1431 Baker on Appearances He Points Out That Clean Theatres Cut Down the Fire Hazard and Increase Box Office Receipts, Because You Can't Hide Cleanliness from the Appreciative Patron JERRY SNYDER flicked a bit of dust from Baker's coat and observed, 'That's the first time since I've known you, Bill, that I had anything on you." "What was it?" asked Baker; "a blond hair?" "No. Wasn't a hair at all — just a little dust. You must be a great little nuisance around the house, Bill. I bet you have your pajamas pressed every day." Baker threw a curious glance at the speaker. "How do y'get that way?" "Just watching a guy that makes cleanliness kinda like a religion," replied Snyder. "If you were running the street cleaning department you'd try to get an ordinance passed making it a misdemeanor to chuck matches into the street. Honest, Bill, you're the fussiest guy I know when it comes to appearances. Last Sunday I thought you were going to wallop young Rubens when he leaned against the side of your car. How do you get that way?" he concluded. Baker did not reply at first. He was watching a stout man mounting a bicycle across the street, and when he did reply, he seemed to be thinking of something entirely else. "Well, I tell you, Jerry. That car had just been painted about twentyfour hours before, and Rubens had a tweed suit on, and anyway, cars are made to ride in and not to lean against. And if I was running the Health Department there's about six exhibitors in this burg I'd fine once a week — all on account of what you call appearances." Snyder laughed. "And I suppose the tax rate'd go up because every motion picture theatre would be supplied with free paint." "Not paint," was Baker's reply. "Soap and water, maybe. "I refer, my sarcastic brother," he continued, "to the sidewalks and alleys and lobbies, particularly. "Have you ever visited the theatres of Springfield?" His listener admitted he had not. "I have," said Baker, "and if you ever want a sermon on soap as an investment, or rubbish as an aid to fire, that's what you ought to do. During the Hoover drive I did a lot of traveling among my exhibitor brethren. And in the interests of Clean Up Week I recently did a lot more of it. "Among other things recently I saw a heap of junk and papers in an alley back By MONTE W. SOHN of a pretty big picture house that must've been there at least a year." Snyder was incredulous. "How could you tell it was a year?" he asked. "Because there was circular matter about several pictures that were released almost two years ago. And I saw some letters — circular letters that had dates on em. "There's another theatre that has a store room in its basement. That store room consists of a couple of partitions and a door. The door is locked most of the time. But the furnace is exactly 8 ft. away. Now I'm not crazy, or anything like that. I don't think that furnace is ever going to set fire to the store room, but that store room and its partitions and everything burnable about it is as dry as tinder, thanks to the heat. And I also happen to know that it is in this store room that the ushers sneak for a cozy smoke in the winter. Some day-^-blooie," and Baker motioned with his hand to gesture what might happen. "You think I'm a nut on efficiency, Jerry. But you never caught me doing anything that didn't represent protection or profit. "As for appearances, one exhibitor, and I'd tell you his name, only it's none of your business, told me that he was having the glass in his ticket booth frosted because his porter kicked about the trouble of cleaning it. "As for soap and water, there's one guy whose house I visit frequently who ought never permit his lobby floor to be washed." "What're you talking about?" queried Snyder, with a puzzled look of wonder as to whether Baker was in earnest. "I mean that the walls of the lobby haven't been washed in so long that the whiteness of the floor is kind of a shock," said Baker. "Yes, appearances mean a lot to me," he added. "Young people who have dates to meet in front of any of my theatres are welcome to wait in the lobby. But my house managers watch pretty carefully and the young loafers who hang around and annoy young girls get the gate. They interfere with that appearance bug of mine. "Tell you something else about appearances, Jerry. I renovated all of my houses in August. You may not know or you may have forgotten. Patrons came in to tell me how much better the houses looked since I changed them. "Of course, I had painted a lot, but you might be interested to know how the changing was done. "I had all the electric lamps changed from amber, which they were last year, to a very delicate old rose. It took some experimenting to get the color just right, but we got it. That was the first change. Then I put old rose shades on all lighting brackets inside the houses. "I took down all the brass railings in the lobbies and packed them in the basement and switched the ticket booths to different theatres. I added to the effect of changing by picking new colors when they were painted and setting them further back in the lobbies. "The railings that were inside the houses I changed from their bright brass to a smoky gray. And when the panels on the walls were repainted I had 'em made gray. They had been blue. "You mightn't think so, but those simple changes, which didn't cost me but a few dollars more than the whole renovating job, made my people feel they'd walked into new houses in September. "My solution of the rubbish problem is a paper baler in each of my houses. There isn't a chance for waste paper to get into my alleys. The porters get a percentage when we sell our waste paper and believe me they don't overlook any of it. It represents dollars and cents to them. "Nobody can tell me that it doesn't pay to watch appearances. I can show it to you in profits. If a man in all conscience goes after the fire hazard and his staff is instructed to tackle dirt in the same way that the little Dutch woman on the package of scouring powder is supposed to, he can't fail to see the results at the box office. "The vacuum cleaners in my houses earn their investment. People don't see cleanness. They feel it. The other night a stranger came up to me, after inquiring for the owier. He told me I had done more than entertain him. Said I'd given him a comfortable evening. "'Just how do you mean that?' I asked him. " 'I mean,' he said, 'that this house just feels like home. Feels as though somebody had been sweeping in the corners. Smells clean.' ,"I never saw the man before and may never see him again. But this statement, which might never come from a regular patron of mine is part of the reason I'm making money. Regular visitors to this house or any other house of mine don't have to say a darn thing for me to know that they like my way of running a house. All they have to do is keep coming. Nothing they could say would show their appreciation better."