The Bowery (United Artists) (1933)

WHEN IHE BOM WAS LIVEST MILE 20th Century Inaugurates Its Program with Drama of Naughty ’90’s The Bowery — The Bowery They do such things And they say such things — On the Bowery — I’ll never go there any more. By KARL KRUG Certain authorities on the subject hold that the song quoted above robbed the once “livest mile on the face of the globe” of its glamor; there are others just as certain the advent of prohibition turned the Bowery into the drab and bedraggled street it is today. Leaving such disputes to those who delve into the archives of forgotten glory, if glory it can be called, it must be admitted that the wicked old eighties and the naughty nineties are jammed with as colorful accounts of breezy goings-on as can be found in any period of American history. In casting about for a story to set their new 20th Century company in motion, Joseph M. Schenck and Dar¬ ryl Zanuck came across a yarn called “The Bowery,” written by Michael Simmons and B. R. Solomon, and im¬ mediately ceased their quest for a getaway vehicle. Rich in comedy and dramatic high spots, ‘‘The Bow¬ ery,” laid in the day of Chuck Con¬ nors, alias the Mayor of Chinatown, and Steve Brodie, who either did or didn’t jump off the Brooklyn Bridge, also evokes memories of such sport¬ ing world and theatrical celebrities as John L. Sullivan, Carrie Nation, Frankie Bailey, Maggie Cline, Bill Muldoon, Buffalo Bill and Jake Kil- rain. To the lot of Wallace Beery, who can do more with a smirk or a silly grin than most leading men can do with an entire film of acting, falls the task of bringing to the screen one of the most picturesque characters of the time when the Bowery was in full flower. He has now added to his overflowing gallery of silent and talking screen portraits the charac¬ terization of Chuck Connors, as will be seen when ‘‘The Bowery” opens as a United Artists release at the . Theatre. With all due respect to the rich color of George Raft’s Steve Brodie and Jackie Cooper’s Swipes, the news¬ boy, in ‘‘The Bowery,” the charac¬ terization of Beery as Connors is more striking. If ever a part was tailored to the talent of Wallace Beery, that part is Chuck Connors, guide and friend of celebrities and humble Ori¬ entals, and a fancy dresser according to his own notions of flashy elegance. That was George Washington Con¬ nors, the Bowery leader whom it is Wallace Beery’s privilege to intro¬ duce to the cinema public. Not only is Beery a natural for the important job of reincarnating the wit and man¬ nerisms of Connors for the screen, but he also bears a striking physical resemblance to the former Mayor of Chinatown. One of the most famous stories about Chuck, and which is shown in ‘‘The Bowery,” deals with the time Carrie Nation invaded a ball of the Chuck Connors Association and was hit on the head with a bottle in the hand of one of the red-haired beau¬ ties in attendance. The excitement ended when the police answered a riot call. That Beery is in his element amidst such hullabaloo can well be imagined by all who have followed his varied and extensive type of roles. Slim Fay Wray Buried ’Neath Undies of ’90’s Lovely, slim, graceful Fay Wray is padded with bustles and ruffles, and wears corsets and corset covers and long ruffled panties and high-top button shoes in ‘‘The Bowery,” United Artists’ comedy drama of the bad old eighties and naughty nineties showing.at the. Theatre. And that isn’t all! When she goes on a picnic to Brighton Beach with George Raft and Wallace Beery, who is also in love with the girl, nearly finds them spooning under an umbrella, she wears a bathing suit of the style designed to drown rather than swim jn. Happy with Pal Jackie Cooper in The Bowery" 4 —One Col. Player Head (Mat .05; Cut .20) Jackie Cooper lists Wallace Beery as one of his best friends in real life. This friendship has existed ever since they were pals on the screen in ‘‘The Champ.” That was two years ago. ‘‘The Bowery” is the first time they’ve palled together for the camera since that memorable occasion, and, oh boy, were they happy! In ‘‘The Bowery” Jackie plays a newsie of the ’90’s — a character from real life who was the protege of Chuck Connors, leading light of New York’s famous East Side. ‘‘The Bowery,” a United Artists release, is showing.at the .... . Theatre. Only Plump Beauties Attracted Bowery Boys (ADVANCE STORY) That styles change in regard to what is desirable in feminine beauty is evidenced in ‘‘The Bowery,” com¬ edy drama of the bad old days on New York’s East Side, showing . . . .at the . Theatre. Ziegfeld liked his chorus girls tall, svelte and with just a suggestion of plumpness. But Chuck Connors, Steve Brodie, John L. Sullivan and the boys of the eighties and nineties liked their chorus girls most pleas¬ ingly plump, if you know what we are trying to get at. The difference four decades can make is amply illustrated in ‘‘The Bowery,” 20th Century Picture star¬ ring Wallace Beery, George Raft and Jackie Cooper, with Fay Wray, Pert Kelton and scores of other girls in the feminine roles. It’s a United Artists release directed by Raoul Walsh. GEORGE RAFI TARES IT AS STEVE BRODIE Clothes of the Gay Nineties Cause Actor Woe In “Bowery” (ADVANCE FEATURE) ‘‘Steve Brodie could take it—so can I!” Every part of George Raft’s body writhed in agony as he stood on the set of ‘‘The Bowery,” in which he is co-starred with Wallace Beery and Jackie Cooper and which will be the attraction .at the .Theatre. Raft was made up to portray Steve Brodie, famous jumper of the Brook¬ lyn Bridge in this story of the hey- dey of New York’s once-noted ten¬ derloin which Raoul Walsh directed for 20th Century Pictures and United Artists release. The term “make-up” fitted the situation literally in this instance. And therein lay the source of Raft’s sufferings. “Listen to this,” he said. He moved his foot and a loud squeak issued from his shoes. He moved his hip and there came a creak. He hunched his shoulder and it brought forth a shriek. “I can feel it clear in my bones,” he complained. “But you’ve got to take it to be a character actor.” In previous pictures Raft has mere¬ ly been obliged to play himself. In “The Bowery” he is an actual char¬ acter out of history. “These shoes are a whole size too small and have two inch heels,” Raft explained, protruding a foot encased in a pair of knobby-toed, button shoes such as were worn in the Gay 90’s. “That’s to give me the swagger walk of a ‘dese an’ dose’ guy. “This,” slapping his sides, “is a steel corset. It’s to give me a Bow¬ ery shape. And these shoulders are padded inside my shirt instead of the coat. It’s to make me pose like an old-time fighter, but actually it keeps me from raising my arms high enough to defend my chin. “And I have to stand under the hot lights in these instruments of torture for an hour at a time!” Over those physical contrivances went a costume which was pictur¬ esque, to say the least. A double- breasted suit with shrieking stripes, and. a. pink-blue-and-white shirt which was even noisier, a pearl gray derby with low brim and narrow crown— Raft was the exact coun¬ terpart of a tintype from the days when John L. Sullivan was the heavyweight champ and Carrie Na¬ tion was wrecking saloons with her trusty hatchet. “This is my first real character part, and I like it, even though it’s what you call suffering for your art,” Raft conceded. Bowery Leader 3 —One Col. Player Head (Mat .05; Cut .20) To Wallace Beery falls the honor of portraying one of the most color¬ ful personalities of the social history of New York. That is Chuck Con¬ nors, saloon owner and leader of the Bowery in its heydey. Many living today remember Chuck and his honky tonk and the jealousy his leadership inspired in Steve Brodie. This rivalry, resulting in Brodie’s famous Brooklyn Bridge leap, is the motif of “The Bowery,” United Artists release at the . Theatre. Ex-Fighter George Raft Lively Scrapper in Film (ADVANCE STORY) George Raft, once a bantam weight, fought in the leading clubs of New York without particular success. In twenty-five bouts he was knocked out seven times, and after his last beating he quit the game to avoid permanent mutilation. However, in a scene for “The Bowery,” 20th Century Picture show¬ ing .at the. Theatre, he had to take some terrific punishment under the direction of Raoul Walsh. George Raft as Steve Brodie and Wallace Beery as Chuck Connors are rivals for leadership of the Bowery. Their enmity culminates in a fight to the finish. Being a story of the days of John L. Sullivan, the fight is bare-knuckles. Walsh is a director who doesn’t believe in pulling his actor’s punches, having been a professional pug him¬ self in his early youth. So it is re¬ ported there is some lively scrapping in “The Bowery.” QUESTION BRODIE’S GREAT BRIDGE LEAP “The Bowery,” 20th Century Film, Revives Ancient Argument (ADVANCE FEATURE) Did Steve Brodie jump off the Brooklyn Bridge? The argument is revived by the 20th Century production of “The Bowery,” starring Wallace Beery, George Raft and Jackie Cooper at the .Theatre. Among the 200 players and extras on “The Bowery” set while Raoul Walsh was directing the scene in which Beery, as Chuck Connors, dares Raft, as Brodie, and bets his saloon on the outcome of the leap, were a score of old-timers who, as children, lived on the Bowery when Steve Bro¬ die’s jump was a cause celebre for many a fist fight. Most of the old Boweryites believe that Brodie made the jump. George Raft, though portraying the famous bridge-jumper, is inclined to raise a skeptical eyebrow. Jackie Cooper is willing to wager the twenty-five cents of his daily allowance that it’s all a myth. That is the attitude of most of Hollywood’s younger generation. According to New York’s chron¬ iclers of that day, there was no def¬ inite proof of the jump, though Brodie’s claim to it made him the idol of -the metropolis and brought New York’s “big shots” flocking to his saloon to toast him. Records show that one R. E. Odium, of Brooklyn, in 1885, had made the jump and lost his life in the attempt. The bridge, completed in 1883, was the “Eighth Wonder of the World” at the time. It was 135 feet high at low tide, and wind currents combined with the height to add to the hazards of hitting the water below the bridge. Isaac Myers, who ran a curio shop on the Bowery, claims to have given Brodie the idea for the jump. Myers’ version is that Brodie, then in his early twenties, had asked a few months after Odium’s fatal publicity attempt, what he could do to win fame. “Jump off the Brooklyn Bridge,” Myers jestingly suggested. Steve hesitated briefly, then: “I’ll do it!” To stimulate public interest a fake bet of $100 was made that Brodie would not dare go through with it. For dramatic purposes in the film story of “The Bowery,” the wager is represented as the out¬ come of a feud between Connors and Brodie. From that point on, the historical record is vague. On July 23, 1886, it was announced that the jump had been made. The only evidence, how¬ ever, was the attestation of Brodie’s friends and backers, who claimed to have been present. Because of the danger the police had frowned on the jump, so there was no advance publicity of the time it was to be made. This much was certain—the crew of a barge passing beneath the bridge pulled a young man out of the river who was legitimately identified as Steve Brodie. But the doubters main¬ tained that a dummy must have been tossed overboard and that Steve dived from a nearby dock, swam underwater and came up near the barge. Brodie died in 1901, less than 38 years old, from diabetes brought on from drinking with customers who flocked to his saloon, flattered to “treat” the man who had jumped the Brooklyn Bridge. “The Bowery,” a United Artists re¬ lease, is adapted by Howard Estabrook and James Gleason from the novel by Michael L. Simmons and B. R. Solo¬ mon. Fay Wray and Pert Kelton pro¬ vide the feminine interest. Old Timers Came to See (CURRENT STORY) Old-time fight champions, stage celebrities, bartenders, chorus girls, politicians and other famous charac¬ ters of the real old New York Bowery, frequented the sets at the United Artists studios while “The Bowery” was being filmed by 20th Century. Three stars — Wallace Beery and Jackie Cooper from M-G-M. and George Raft from Paramount — have the leading roles, with Fay Wray and Pert Kelton appearing in the lead¬ ing feminine roles. “The Bowery” is the attraction current at the . Theatre, 20th Century Pictures, Inc., Joseph M. Schenck and Darryl Zanuck WALLACE BEERY GEORGE RAFT JACKIE COOPER in “THE BOWERY” SYNOPSIS Chuck Connors, saloon owner and “big shot'’ of the Bowery, and Steve Brodie, who never took a dare, are rivals. Brodie, envying Chuck his leadership, delights in playing tricks on his slower-witted rival. The deviltry of Swipes, newsboy pal of Chuck’s, starts a fire in a Chinese laundry. Chuck bets a hundred bucks his volunteer brigade will get to the hydrant ahead of Steve’s. The result is a battle between the two brigades while the building burns to the ground. One of Steve’s best jokes on Chuck is when he bets $500 h* has a fighter who can wipe the floor with Chuck’s ring protege. “Bloody Butch.” Steve’s battler steps into the ring wearing a mask. Butch quickly takes the count in the bare-fisted fight and the winner is unmasked as John L. Sullivan, the Boston Strong Boy. Steve is a “lady killer,” but Chuck says “skoits is nutty like fruit cake, a guy shouldn’t trust ’em.” However, he trusts Lucy Calhoun, whom he rescues from white slavers. She becomes his housekeeper, to the disgust of Swipes, who persecutes Lucy, hoping she’ll leave. Instead he exasper¬ ates Chuck into spanking the boy in front of Lucy. Humiliated, Swipes leaves Chuck’s home and switches his allegiance to Brodie. A love affair develops secretly between Steve and Lucy. She is grateful for Chuck’s kindness and regrets the stealthy nature of their love. Beneath his ruthless ribbing of Chuck, Steve is fond of his rival for, when the white slavers from whom Chuck saved Lucy offer to put him “under the daisies” if Steve will hire them. Steve gives them a terrific beating. Steve realizes a gambler gets nowhere. If he only had a saloon he believes he could outrival Chuck in popularity. When brewers offer to put him in business if he can become famous, Steve proposes to jump off Brooklyn Bridge, a feat inviting death. Chuck is so confident it can’t be done, he bets his saloon that Brodie—the man who never took a dare-can’t do it. Steve plans to fake the dangerous jump with a dummy. Steve gets past the police guard by a ruse and, though at the last minute the dummy is discovered stolen, Steve “takes a chance.” The jump makes him the idol of the Bowery. He takes over Chuck’s saloon and has it rebuilt after Carrie Nation and her ax-slinging followers have wrecked it. Chuck is forgotten, neglected and poor. The white slavers show him Steve’s dummy, which they had stolen, and tell him he was framed by Steve. Chuck takes Steve out on a barge for a fight and gives him a beating that puts him in the hospital in bad shape. When Steve refuses to identify Chuck as his assailant Swipes takes advantage of Chuck’s embarrassment at Steve’s generosity to make them shake hands. Friends at last, they march off together to war—the Maine has been blown up! Swipes stows away in an army wagon and Lucy waves good-bye with tears in her eyes for both.