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SHOWMAN
Davies, slammed it galley west in their variously pompous or nasty styles. To a man fresh from the rough and tumble methods of the prize-ring, that kind of treatment meant fight. I took big ads in the papers quoting the worst reviews— an embarrassment of riches —and daring the public to come and see for themselves what a raw deal a splendid play had got— money back if not satisfied. But nobody bothered to take advantage of what I still think was a highly sporting offer. The theater was costing me $3000 a week and it was a good night when we took in over a hundred at the box-office. But I kept "The New South" running till the loss was over $30,000 just to make sure the critics realized what I thought of them.
But I didn't even get that satisfaction for my money. They paid no attention whatever. This business of critic-baiting is one of the surest signs of a tenderfoot theatrical producer. Some never do get over it, and we've recently had the spectacle of United States congressmen swatting newspaper reviewers over the head with a stuffed club as a way of getting into the headlines. Everybody does it when he starts. I learned my lesson after some ten years of trying to sweep back the sea, which is a pretty good record for the event. For there's really no more point in hollering about bad notices than there is in firing a shotgun at a Kansas tornado.
Among the plays I bought during this period of playing the theater like a roulette wheel was a contri
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