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28 Star Maker
he walked, mounted those steps. In an instant he was in a disordered world. There was the sound of pounding and sawing and of people shouting at each other and no one, seemingly, paying the slightest attention to anyone else. People in strange costumes rushed by, threading in and out among each other— so eager were they to get no place; at least it seemed that way. Some of the people had white smeared on their faces. Some of the men had on beards that wouldn't deceive a baby. Strange bluish vapor lamps blazed overhead, giving everybody a sickly, ghastly color. An old woman was sitting on a packing crate with a misshapen hat on her head and over her shoulders was a tattered shawl. When David passed in front of her, he saw that she was a girl made up to look like an old hag. The shoddy pretense sickened the sensitive man who had acted with Nance O'Neil. How unspeakably crude everything was! How cheap! How preposterous!
"Can you tell me where I can find Wallace McCutcheon?,,
"In his office. He's making out the blue slips."
He found Mr. McCutcheon working at a disordered desk.
He was a short man whose face had the appearance of having
too many teeth. "What do you want?" Mr. McCutcheon was
not a man to beat about the bush.
"Mr. McCutcheon, I'm the playwright David Wark Griffith. Maybe you've heard of my Play A Fool and a Girl." Mr. McCutcheon said he hadn't had the pleasure. "Mr. Hackett produced it." How much more impressive it sounded to say "Mr. Hackett" than to say "James K. Hackett." This showed one was of the theater. "It played in Washington." Without quite saying so, David gave the impression that the play had swept Washington off its feet. "I also write for Leslie's Weekly ."