Motography (Apr-Dec 1911)

May, 1911. MOTOGRAPHY 89 'Great Train Robbery, one of the best and most elaborate of our native films, cost $10,000 to make. "The film manufacturers have secured the services of the best actors and actresses that money can buy, the most competent stage managers and the cleverest authors. The moving picture company is rehearsed even more carefully than the regular dramatic company. Every line in the play is spoken at these rehearsals, just as if a big audience was present, and there is no salary too high for the film-makers to pay to get the actor or actress thev want for the work." "Who deserves the most credit for the development of the moving pictures?" "The manufacturers ; they have taken all kinds of chances and have invested large sums of money on speculation. Of course they have made money, and it has come fast, but they accepted great risks, and the glory of the achievements in the moving picture field belongs to them. "It is strange, but when the lines of moving picture plays are spoken the artistic effect is invariably spoiled. The pictures without words are always more effective." "Do the actors like moving picture work?" "Of course they do. They miss the presence of an audience and instantaneous applause, but they are consoled by the knowledge that, while the actor in a regular theater has these inspirations, they have an infinitely greater audience to appeal to in the future. I have come to the conclusion, however, that we must give more vaudeville and less moving pictures on our programs to keep the splendid patronage our theaters have built up. We have solved the problem of providing a theatrical entertainment which is in reach of everyone's purse, and which will draw the best element of people. "You may be surprised when I tell you that the class of people who go to the Lincoln Square, the Majestic Theater and the Royal now are much better in every way than the class of people who attend the high-priced vaudeville on Broadway. Our patrons represent the best elements in the community, our trade is a family trade, and we want to keep it that way. "I insisted that patrons be treated with even more courtesy and politeness than they receive at first-class theaters by our employes. I made it a rule that all undesirable patrons be excluded from the theaters and that girls who did not behave themselves must be told the next time they applied for admission that the house was 'sold out.' Our auditoriums have always been well lighted and everything possible has been done to safeguard the morals of children. The result has been we hive been wonderfully popular with nice people, and the bulk of our patronage consists of families, from baby to grandmother. "When I took the lease of the Royal theater in Brooklyn I installed an Italian dramatic company there to build up a new reputation for the house, and lost considerable money the first five months. Every theater I have bought or leased has been a failure and given up by other managers, and let me tell you it takes some nerve to go into a theater that has cost some other man a fortune to run. "The Royal used to be called Watson's Cozy Corner, and it had a bad name then. When the public had forgotten all about the old management and the tough burlesque shows that were given there, I put in vaudeville and moving pictures, four acts and seven pictures. The total receipts for the first day that I opened the doors amounted to 10 cents. "I went to the one man in the audience and gave him back his dime. I was so ashamed and told him it was a dress rehearsal, but that he could stay if he chose to. He stayed and was so delighted with the show that he brought back a big crowd of people to see the performance the next day. My receipts for the second day were $17. At the end of the first year I found that I had made a clean profit of $60,000 out of the Royal theater. Most of our theaters are now making more money than this, but the Royal was our first big winner, and it proved that the majority of people want 10, 15 and 25-cent vaudeville, which is what we are giving them todav. "I had one price for all my acts when I first started in to give them vaudeville. I paid $40 for a double act and $20 for a single one. Then I reduced those prices to $30 and $15, but I found that if I were to maintain the standard maintained by the patrons I must pay more money for the acts, and we have gradually been paying more and more. We pay just as much for our acts today as any of the managers affiliated with the United States Booking Office do, and we often pay more. There is no price limit now for us, no salary too high. The act that receives $1,000 a week is common these days." "And business justifies these salaries?" "Say, you don't think we would pay those prices if it didn't, do you ?" "What are the old performers doing?" "Well, there is Sophie Tucker, who used to do sixteen turns a day for us. She did not have a chance to leave the theater to eat, and we had to buy her meals and send them in to her. That was charged to extraordinary expenses, but you can bet we did not stand for many items like that." "Any graft in the Loew Consolidated Enterprises?" "Any graft? I should say so, but we do all we can to prevent it. We employ the Pinkertons to do our secret service work. Want to see a report? I get one of these every day " He handed me a typewritten sheet which had the appearance of an affidavit in a law suit. The gum shoe man began by telling how he had gone to a certain theater and after looking around in front of the playhouse he approached the box office. This Sherlock Holmes, after satisfying himself that the lady in the box office was all to the good, entered the theater and sized up the manager-ticket taker, as follows : "He was talking to another young man standing nearby when I entered, but he did not make any attempt to put his hand over the box and grab my tickets." The Pinkerton detective seemed to be greatly disappointed that the1 doorman did. not try to steal. He wrote about the matter as if he was decidedly aggrieved and had expected to find that the doorman was a thief. He almost apologized for not proving him a thief. It was interesting, this report, but it furnished much food for reflection. "With thirty detached theaters scattered all over the city our secret service is absolutely necessary," explained Mr. Loew. "Of course, I am always glad to know that our employes are honest, but we take no chances. One of the reasons why I have succeeded in this business is because I have never thought that I knew all about it. I am always willing to learn, always trying to." — New York Review.