Variety (Jan 1949)

S30 VAWEVILUS Fmrty^tkied PS^ffFf AmdverMwy Wrilni^day, January 5, I949 THEY LA UGHE D AT US! Excerpts From The Memoirs of Smith and Dale (Ayou Comedy Four) on The Occasion of Their 50 Years As Partners in Sho^ Business ' Jackie Osterman—Hero At the Fox theatre in Detroit, Jacltie Osterman was on the stage doing his act. The stagehands were setting our .ct behind him. We carried scenery which represented the railing and upper^decK o.^an -a-^--^^ ^e dui laria" and Uad a company of five. . We were made up aiid standing in the first entfance watching and laugh- ing at Jackie's iact. Jackie Osterman was a wit oil and oft the stage. We had known Jackie's mother and father: and watched Jackie groVf up so to; speak—he was one of the Jftest ypuiigj stets to d& a -^'hot, last single,, ' his material was ahiead of the tiines, though not over the heads of the au-; dience. Jackie was what we called "a performer's performer." Joe Smith There he was, standing before the drop in one. Our scenery and deck chairs were all set. In a few more minutes Jackie's act would be finished and our act would follow. , While we were standing in the entrance we heard a sound like a pistol shot. Charlie and 1 looked at each other then we looked up toward the border lights behind the front curtain where the sound , of the shot came from. We saw that one of the electric light bulbs had exploded and as we watched we saw the light, silken drapes that hung close to the border lights catch on fire. There was a hissing sound. We called the electrician's attention to it, and he immediately turned off the border lights, hut it was too late. The drapes were on fire and the fire was spreading rapidly. The asbestos curtain was immediately lowered and as It was coming down Jackie stepped close to the footlights giving him only a foot between the curtain and the foots. Digressing from His act he told the audience, "Smith & Dale's act which is supposed to be on the deck of a steamer takes up so much room that the asbestos curtain has to be lowered." Jackie, of course, knew that the only ' time they lower the asbestos curtain is when there s trouble, and what the nature of the trouble was he could guess and hope that it would not be what he guessed it was. Putting on his famous grin he continued with his ■ ■ «ct..... Charlie and I were standing there transfixed. We could see two of our own drops on fire, and the flames spreading to other hanging drops. We were closing the show so that all the other acts were already out of the theatre. We sent the people in our act out of the building. A still alarm was sent in. When the firemen arrived they took one look and started to work fast. They didn't bother to tell Charlie and me to get out ot their way. There was only one thing to do, Charlie and I told the By JOE SMITH (& CHARLES DALE) (In Collaboration With AARON FISHIVUN) stage manager that we were going out in .the front ot the house to join Jackie Osterman ''holding the house.'' Outside of the theatre-^a crowd had gafliered; Acrdss the street the police kept them in prder jriotloniiig thein . to stay quiet lest their noise cause a pflhic. ;■. Charlie and I quickly walked to tbe froiit Of the theatre. As we were about to enter the cops tried to sioi! uis unitil we put them wise to our plan... ■ In the theatre we walked down the aisle. -'^Look,'' I saiid ■ to Charlie, "I gotta go back to the office. I forgot to lock the'safe.'' "What are vou worrying about," Charlie answered. ■''We're,both^-here!" . That handed the audience a laugh and wr<>. could sep the smile on Jackie's face. ■' "Well if it ain't uncles Smith and Bale,'' Jackie jsaldi and by that time we walked up the side Stipps from the or- chestra .to the stage; - We shook: hands with Jackie and for the next 35 minutes we were doing parts of the School Act, and the Hungarian Rhapsody. Jackie gave an imitation of Rudy Vallee, and the insui:- ance routine, keeping the audience laughing :all the tinie. During a long laugh at a piece Of business that Charlie was doing,; Jackie turned to me. ; V ::1.' i, ■ ' ^ v "Does it look bad backstage?" he whispered; ; '*So far two of our.drops- went up hLflame,'': I ahswere^^ The water was seeping in from Uiider the asbestos just ■ where we were standing and reached-the fpotilghts- form- .: ing a puddle around us. We could smell the smoke and we could see some of the people in the front rbW whq. seemed to smell it too, and they looked alarmed. The t^ree of us kept on with whatever routines or gags we could think of. We were happy that the avnUeiicei ilie house that seated - over 3,000 people . Vvas hot asf^ire ' that;,. a fire was being foaghfc. hack stage,; 'W^ manager's voice coming from behind the asbestos piirtaiSni ■ "OK, boys," he said. - We did the routine of the ''dollar bit'' ahd^ stepped over the footlights and down the steps to the orchestra :and while walking up the aisle to the applause of the peoiple. the house lights were lowered, the asbestos curtain raised, and there stood, the picture ^reen with the spot from the' picture machine booth flashing the bpenihg.music 'fp^ feature film. ,■■: ■.::.. ■.' ■, < .The audience never moved, and hadn't known what had happened until they saw the engines outside of the theatre when they left. The firemen's heroic work backstage and our comedy in front>af ttj averted what could h^ve been a. catastroi>he. :'Fhe next day Jackie came into our dressihg room raving mad. "Can you imagine, boys.'V he said, "I happened to ' talk to one of the district managers , and tOld him what We did last night while the-fire was going ohV aind instead of expressing his gratitude, that'Jdumb, ungrateful, addle- oated, buttonhole-maker of a district manager said to me; 'I stood in the back of the theatre last night and saw what you fellers did, and I want to tell you I didn't like the act ; at'all';"v.. ^^■^r■■^r^■:r■^■..:•^ Charles - Dale. *He Thitiks He's Napoleon!' ■ ■ Chicago. A painful series of circumstances found me sitting in the pine-pannelled lounge of the Ambassador East hotel, dressed up as Beau Nash in his scarlet coat, wig and make- up. X exhuded an odor of patcliouli and mothballs and was- otherwise unhappy. The circumstances included a socialite charitv function at which Elsa Maxwell appeared, for a fee. and for which I helped sell tickets. There was also Miss Maxwell's refusal to appear in the Pump Room as prenously agreed unless paid a second fee. My exasperation over the whole matter was not due., to the non-appearance of Miss Maxwell. What vexed me was that I ordered a complete Beau Nash costume, up to the tri-cornered hat, to welcome Miss Maxwell to the Pump Room. It was an idea of Howie Mayer's. I have yet to for- give him for it. . , , The costume set me back 150 years and the bankers wouldn't O.K. the voucher. So it dangled in my closet for nearly 10 years and whenever I saw it I had a slight thrombosis; When Jim FitzPatrick was getting ready to shoot the Pump Room bit of "Chicago By Night," I told him the slory. "Marvelous," he said. "We'll take a shot of the Beau Nash portrait and then dub you in, alive and grin- ning.?' 1 rejected the suggestion with violence, but Jim is a persuasive and forceful fellow, so there I was in the lobby, made up as aforesaid and very wretched. Mrs. Byfield paid me a compliment: "Vou look exactly like Marie Dressier!" she said. "Like a younger Marie Dressier," she qualified hastily, noting my scowl, A few minutes later Sgt. Foley and Ofi^icer Swee were making their rounds of the area and walked through our lobby. I was silting in a large Georgian chair, appropri- ately hameflia.v "drinking chair," but parts of me pro- truded; Swee Caught sight of me first. He blinked. Se must have thought he was seeing a trailer for "The Snake pit." "Foley., for the love of God, come here!" he said. •There's a nut here who thinks he's Napoleon!" *rhe two of tliem tiptoed up to get a closer look and recognized me just in time. "Good God! It's the boss!" they said, and tiptoed out, shaking their heads. To this day they look at me strangely, I can almost hear them saf to one another, "Well, it got him at last." And I can't help but feel that MGM's delay in releasing "Chicago By Night" has something to do with that shot. When Jim FitzPatrick convinced me to agree to the stunt, he saldi "It will make the picture." I don't know whether It made the picture, but it certainly un-made me. —Ernest Biifield. WilUe Hammerstem^ In the early days of vaudeville, in New York City, the Sunday performances were called Sunday concerts and vaudeville acts that did sketches, danced, or did acrobatics were not allowed to perform. Sunday concerts consisted mostly of story telling and singing.. When the curtain went up at tiie opening of a. performance; tt stayed up until the closing of the performance; The Sunday'-show was referred to as a "sacred concert-'V . We were doing our School Act at Ham'merstein's Vic- - toria; Willie Hammerstein, son of Oscar the Great, came to our dressing room after we finished the Sunday after- noon performance. Gathering the four of us around him, he said, "Boys, I'm going to make a test case of you fel- lows tonight to finfl out if we can put on regular vaude- ville shows Sundays instead of just doing 'concerts.' NoWi tonight, instead of you boys doing a; straight'singing act as you did this afternoon, I want you to do your regular Schoolroom Act with your school desks, comedy makeup, and your singing and comedy dancing." We nodded our agreement and he left the room, but a few seconds later _ the door was opened and he stuck his head in. "Oh. I' forgot," he said, "toniglit, right after your act, a detective will arrest the four of you. But don't worry boys, I'll bail you out." As planned, that night after we finished our acti a de- tective came backstage and.ordered us- to- 'get out^ol our makeup and to hurry up and get our street clothes on. "You'se hams are arrested," he said. We acted surprised. And, as planned, .Willie Hammerstein. bailed us out and we were to appear in court Monday raorning -at: 10 o'clock. The courtroom had most every theatrical manager in New York city present, since this was going to be an important test cast to determine whether regular vaude- vVille shows could be given on Sunday. The judge called out, "The City of New York against the Avon Comedy Four." There was a loud laugh from the spectators. The judge rapped lor silence. He then called the detective who arrested us and had him explain the charge. The detective 'took out a notebook, glanced at it, closed it and. proceeded to explain. "Your Honor," he began, "on the stage there wa^ three school desks, three chairs and a teacher's desk. Out comes a feller supposed to be a schoolteacher, with a Dutchman's chin piece and a red wig, then he rings a cowbell and out on the stage trots a sissy boy with bicycle pants and red stockings. Then the ham—I mean the guy with the chin- piece—asks him, 'Where's the rest of the gang?', and he's told that the boys are down in the yard playing pinochle. The 'chinpiece' walks out and the red stocking feller sings. Then three fellers come rushing «n the stage and slaps one another around. The teacher asks one of the school- boys who wears a beard to name two of the principal oceans in the world, and the bearded schoolboy says 'the Atlantic and Pacific' Then the teacher says, 'You're wrong, that's a tea company,' and he makes the boy hold Coiriedy (?) of Errors I like to think of this as my bloody debut, or who's afraid of the big bad Palace? I was 16 at the time and after a three-day, break-in at the RKO Fordham was on the thre.<;hold of the ultimate aim of evervi ' performer, egad! the Palace. • .When one is fresh outi of high school (and I was very fresh) it takes a bit of' doing to'impress one. My mother [Grace Hayes, vet vaude headliner—Ed.] was terribly nervous about my debut and also about my apparent. lack of inier- est; as a matter of fact, from time to time she' calted me unflattering names that actually reflected- ' on her. But the great day finally arrived and there we were—waiting—waiting to get.on. The year was 1932 and the act we were to follow was on and killing the people. It was a great brother and sister team, Fritz & Jean Hubert. You will recall that near the finish of their act, Fritz does a comical fall all the way across the stage. The stagehands had pushed our piano a little too far downstage aUd as Fritz fell into the curtain, with a resounding whack* he knocked himself comnletely out. He cut his head pretty badl.v and at the first sign of blood his si.ster . tore off her male wig and frantically screamed, "My ' brother! My brother! You've killed my brother!" Two stagehands stepped, "gingerly into the spotlight, grabbed poor Fritz by the heels and pulled him offa •'V stage. At this moment several things started-happen-- ing. The audience started mumbling. Jean Hubert, in a high falsetto voice, started ■ ' threatening the entire executive stalf of RKO, and my mother started parading, and singing "Lovable," the hit song of the year. She crossed the stage twice and her dress, which was white, suddenly turned crimson up to the knees. At long last the audience settled down anc^ decided to watch the rest of our act. ' By this time we had arrived at my entrance. I was hidden in back of a big papier mache; dummy wliich was meant to represent the spirit of radio. I controlle'd the operation of the dummy's mouth by means of a - • shark cord, vvhicli I had wrapped securely around my index finger; At the finish of the dummy bit, I ran for the first entrance in one. to' take my: bow; In the excitement I forgot to unwind the cord and naturally cut my finger to the bone. It hurt so that' I put my linnd.'in my coat pocket. Next, my mother explained that 1 would do my impression of Cab Calloway. As I started "truckin" to the microphone— uh huh! more blood—mine! ■ and splashing happily all over my beautiful white suit. In spite.jOf^ all.thi'i, ■ . we were a big hit and Jis we stepped down to make a . "thank you" speech, Lynne Cantor (Mrs. John Schultz) a very clo-se friend of my mother's, stood up in that little box at the Palace, and with mascara streaming, : ■■ shrieked, "I knew you'd do if'^and promptly fell out of the box. As they carried her from the theatre we retired to our dressing room and started a partnership 'that did pretty well. Now, thai I think back about it, I'm in the same position my mother was. My wife is starting-to steal our act right from under my nose. She often Complains - that I talk into her laughts. Hummmm!!!? . —Peter Ltwd Hayes. out his hand but hits him on his brown derby hat with 1 rattan cane, and then . . ." "Stop! That's enough!" shouted the judge as he rapped hiS' gavel.. .'■■■■,■•.■■,■:. ''Case dismissed. They've got no act." And thus: was establishe'U the precedent for regular : vaudeville on Sunday. Rube Bernstein's 'Threat' Actors have always been ready to give of their services to aid worthy causes. The number of demands made on performers are so overwhelming it becomes physically im^ possible to accept them, all, hence "doing benefits" he- comes a hardship. Often when the telephone rings, a per- former will say, "Hm, I hope it's not another benefit," We were playing the Palace, New York, when we were asked to appear at a benefit for a hospital, .at ttie th<eii.: Jolson Theatne on Seventh avenue. "Let's do the False Alarm Fire Company skit," sug- gested Charlie. So we both went to the fire engine house on West 47th street and borrowed two pairs of firemen's working outfits. We arrived at the Jolson at 8:40; 'Rube Bernstein was staging his charity show. Rube, by the way, was a seasoned showman who had owned his own burlesque shows, a fast, wisecracking manager, and a gen- tleman, too. Several acts were crowding him at the switch- board, asking him the same question,"When do I go on?' The backstage of a benefit show is a particularly dif- ficult thing to handle because the timing schedule is not arranged in advance. Performers have to drop in as their professional appearances permit. Some promised appear- ances do not show up, others unexpectedly drop in. Some are in a hurry to keep other engagements. Some even aslc, for choice spots on the program. Anyway, Rube bad a long list of acts on his sheet, and after the first act went onv we asked for the approximate time of our act since 'we were due to go on at the Palace that evening. "You're on at 9:30," he answered. "Boys, give me only eight minutes. I've got a long .show." "That's all the Firehouse takes," we told him. It was warm backstage. The boots and helmets wore were getting uncomfortably warmer every niinute. It was now 9:30. Rube told us that we would follow the next act.: We had our property man set our props and «x.kfin,v. : iiuu.' uMi. ^Liuy\.in.^ 4Ji»ujia iaw.v r--*. j.. took our places at the table so that we would be reaay when the curtain rose; The m.c. 'announced some olnw act instead. I got up and walked over to Rube. "Look Rube, you know that we are playing at tne Palace." . , "Sure, everybody knows that," he smiled and wmKeo, "and I know that you're on there pretty late too.'' , "O.K.," I said, "but don't be slipping any more acts on before US. ■ ■ : ■ ■ J ■ ■ ■ Again he told us to be ready to follow the "next act and again the m,c. announced another act before us" J;?.' time Charlie hopped over to him, blazing mad, but nW' with his ingratiating Smile, stopped Charlie short. "Chariie, my pal, you and Joe will positively go on i"' lowing the act that's on now." Again we took our pia*-« at the table. This time the m.c. announced Vincent Lopw- That was the finish! We both got up and started door. Rube caught us. "Where the heU do you guys in"'" you're going?" he shouted. „ . "We're getting the hell out of here!" we yelled hacK. "If you fellows leave here," he warned, shaking a at us, "I'll see to it that you never play another beneni long as you live!"