The Billboard 1913-03-22: Vol 25 Iss 12 (1913-03-22)

« or i wer ~ hen = ae. ane > . at ps Se ° ' SJ 2 BRB BP “47 GH AB CE MARCH 22, 1973. pittineees. Ee Two thirds of the present vaudevil season has gone the way from which there is no return. The vaudevil performer, as a whole, has found this season to be the worst ever experienct, and a number of them, who, in former years, never dreamed of working during the heated months, will find it necessary to look for work at summer salaries this year in an effort to keep the wolf from the door. There is no good reason why this condition should exist. There has been more vaudevil work this year than ever before; but as a matter of fact, on the big time, the work has been scattered over such a period of time that the salary of one week had to pay the living expenses of three, that being about the average of lay-offs. Practically no routes at all have been issued from the United Booking Offices, even to performers, who, in former years have had their season’s work laid out for them while yet enjoying themselves in their summer homes. Just why the U. B. O. should book in this manner only those on the inside are in a position to state. In regard to the acts which are demanding a raise of salary—whether or not such raise is justifiable—it is understandable why no routes are forthcoming; but no distinction has been made between the acts which are willing to work for the same amount as last season and those which demanded a raise. It is the steady work that adds to the bank balance. When an act is compelled to lay off the fruits of labor are rapidly gotten away with— and that does not necessarily mean that they are thrown away. Any actor will tell yqu that it costs more to lay off than it does to work. The actor has to pay more in railroad fares when work is so arranged that he works one week and lays off one. He rightly feels that he is better off near the base of booking operations and if he is in striking distance of New York when the lay-off comes, he takes the first train in. Then after a week's lay-off he will probably take the train back to within a few miles of the place he has last played. This state of affairs on the big time has driven a great many acts to the playing of popular-price houses and has done more to popularize that form of vaudevil with the public than any other one thing. The small time wants as many good acts as it can get, and holds out an inducement of steady work that is not to be found in the booking offices of higher grade vaudevil. A case in point: A well-know man and woman team—one of the standard big-time vaudevil acts—found that’ things were not coming so easy for them and this, despite the fact that they were seemingly working as often as their confreres. The pinch of necessity made the woman member of the team do a great deal of thinking. The season had nearly reacht its close until she found herself with less money than at its beginning and she was sure she had been guilty of no extravagance. After a protracted lay-off she suggested to her partner that they assume a different name and play some of the small time in order to replenish the shrunken bank roll. The man wouldn't listen to it. If they should do it and get caught they would be forever damned as far as the big time was concerned. Five weeks lay-off and the money of the pair was quite gone. The woman had diamonds she had bought from the proceeds of former successful seasons and with the pawning of the first one a great light came to her. She insisted on working and that brought about a split between the two. The team had been getting two hundred dollars on the big time. The woman engaged a forty-dollar man, whose acting was equally as good as her former partner's, altho he was not at all known, and set sail on the small time at a weekly salary of one hundred and fifty dollars. She put the act on in New York where it was seen by the small-timers who were interested. She started working the first week in September of the current season and has not yet had one week’s layoff. Her railroad fares have averaged one dollar and ninety cents per capita per week. On the other hand, her partner, who did not want to be killed with the big-time people, got himself another partner, equally as good as his former one, and went to work immediately—for one week. A two-week lay-off and then another week followed by three weeks of idleness. He has hung around all season, working a week ocecasionally ani finally being driven to the expedient of visiting the pawn broker at frequent and more frequent intervals. To be sure he was playing the big time—when he played—but that wasn’t paying many hotel bills. A very short while ago he evidently saw his error, for now his name can be found on the roster of acts playing the smaller time. It will take him all the balance of this season and part of next to get out of debt, and his name may be lost to big time; but the crinkles will be taken out of his stomach and with that part of the anatomy well cared for, he will be able to do a better act on the small time than he could, under the circumstances, on the big. The big-time powers are responsible for the fact that the popular-price theaters are now getting a large percentage of the vaudevil public who would pay top prices for their vaudevil if they found it necessary in order to be well entertained. But when the public can see standard vaudevil for one-fourth the amount they would have to pay to see the same grade of entertainment, with the possible exception of a headliner of doubtful merit thrown in for good measure— they are naturally going to save the seventy-five per cent. That’s human nature. An actor, like every human, is vain. No actor plays the small time from choice. They take the certainty of work on the small time rather than the uncertainty of big-time bookings. There was a time when the actor would stick around, hoping against hope, that he would land a route. That time has passed. The trail has been blazed by hardy pioneers—driven by stern necessity—and now when the route is not forthcoming at the proper time, the actor gets immediately in touch with the small-time bookers. The small-time bookers, keenly alive to the situation, as they have been for some time past, realize that the big-time powers are playing right into their hands. They use as many of the disgruntied ones as possible. “Class” and that intangible thing called “personality,” is added to the small-time bill. The public sees that they are getting something, at the worst, better than half as good for one-quarter of the money thiat they would have to pay in the higher-priced houses. They flock to the popular-price houses in droves, making it possible for the theater to offer more and more of the better-grade acts to the bill, and soon the small-timer is making more money, with a much costlier bill, than when he was keeping the cost of his bill away down. That has been the evolution of small time. In the beginning the small-time house was forced to play the riff-raff of the profession. Small salaries was the rule. A bill costing over three hundred dollars on the week was an exception. Gradually,as the big-time act was forced to accept cheap work in order to live, better shows were put in. There was no immediate increase in the cost of the bill. The big-time act had to work for the same salary received by the riff-raff. It was generally that, or starvation, and as the riff-raff salary would at least allow the eking out of an existence, they went to it. To the small-time men who had their fingers on the pulse of the situation, it was noticeable that when the better grade of accs were played the box-office receipts jumpt up after the Monday matinee. When the better-grade acts began to get scarce—and at that time an actor who could possibly refrain from playing the time and live. did so—the small-time managers had found out that they could afford to pay more money for the show, and the box-office increase taking care of the advance cost and leaving a nice surplus besides. Then things began to hum and the possibilities of the small time as a big money maker wer first seen. The small-time manager had found out that he needed the actor—the good actor. with the real act—and whenever a case of dissatisfaction of the big-time actor was heard of the small-timer went hot foot after the dissatisfied one and in a number of cases got his signature to a contract calling for his appearance in the popular-price theaters. And business stil! increast in the popular-price houses. The more money spent on the show—the bigger profits for the house. About the only limit recognized was that which had to take into consideration the capacity of the theater and the scale of admission Better and better acts were sought and better and better acts were obtained. The situation has now reachr the point where the small-timer doesn’t have to be so much on th: job as formerly. Now when an act has a grievance, the first thought is for the small time, and the small-time booking man finds himself in the position of being sought by those whom he formerly ran after. This state of things will eventually kill big time, or high-price vaudevil. In the case of an act of exceptional drawing power the big-time houses can get the top prices; but the cases of acts with this exceptional power are mighty few and far between. There are today, in New York, ten popularprice vaudevil theaters to every one of the higher grade. And the popular-price theaters are the ones which are getting the patronage of the vaudevil-going public. Never has business been at such a low ebb in the higher-price vaudevi! theaters, and next season it will be worse and the following season worse yet. Then will come the end of high-price vaudevi! as we know it today. The real headliner of drawing power will take to the road with a company of vaudevillians and they will get the top admission price. A real headliner will then be in the same position now occupied by a star in the legitimate end of the profession, and a rout: will be mapt out for them in just about the sam: way as a route is now mapt out for any road attraction. That will be the happy solution of the thing from the standpoint of the actor, Salaries will be smaller but they will be surer and fora greater number of weeks during the season. There wil! be just as many road companies as there are healiners capable of headine them. This will give steady work to the actor with a freedom from worry, which can never be enjoyed under the present system.