Variety (January 1956)

LEGITIMATE Golden Jubilee PfoRlETY 50th Anniversary Wednesday, January 4, 1956 FALL AND DECLINE OF THESPIS IN DODGERLAND ; By JO RANSONs Brooklyn, N. Y. Social historians ancl antiquarian knights, looking down their trifocals, have frequently pontificated that the sprawling borough of Brooklyn never did possess a con¬ genial soil for the nourishment of the drama. Brooklyn’s inhabitants are insensi¬ tive to the alchemy of the theatre and, alas, a handful of its more cul¬ tural residents, it appears, succumb to the lure of the music and drama boxoffice. Moreover, this has been lamentably true since the dim days of the Walloons and the Hollanders in Wall-boght, Breuckelen, Midwout and Amersfort, the old settlements of the stuffy cemetery city. Let it be noted here that for long periods the more circumspect and highly moral burghers of the old City of Brooklyn fought the inroads of the theatre with a ferocity typical of all religious zealots. During the 19th century in what is now, undeniably, the crumbling dormitory of New York, there was violent oppo¬ sition to any form of the theatre save for such apparently harmless diversions as monologs or ballads by itinerant performers, the display of fireworks, the staging of cotil¬ lion parties 'by the more fashionable elements of society and the infrequent showing of a melodrama. On the whole, Brooklyn was served up a dish of theatrical bilge. Purists of the day maintained that a play might be con¬ sidered literary between the covers of a book but defi¬ nitely to be shunned when brought to life behind the foot¬ lights. The theatre in its very nature had always been and must necessarily be a morally degrading institution, was the way a spokesman of the day put it. To which the pious population heartily agreed. Alden Spooner, one of Brooklyn's early editors, joining the conservative church¬ goers and lyceum adherents, editorialized as follows: “Brooklyn has a character for morals, if New York has not.” New York evidently paid scant attention to these fulminations from the Brooklyn press and pulpit and went on its sinful way to entice the few hardy Brooklyn infidels who craved the sight of living actors on the boards. Aided and abetted by a good ferry service, those who did not fear the damnation of their souls, skipped across the East River in order to catch the melodramas at the Park, the Chatham Garden, the Lafayette and in the more livid haunts of the Bowery. ]_ _ Brooklyn’s 15 Playhouses _ [ Brooklyn at the turn of the 20th century, with a popula¬ tion of slightly over 1,000,000, had 15 theatres presenting live attractions and doing reasonably well in spite of the ranting of the moralists. The scoreboard of the Brooklyn theatres as it existed in 1902 follows: Academy of Music, Rafael Navaro, man¬ ager; Amphion, Bijou, Columbia, Grand Opera House, Folly, Park and Star, all under Hyde & Behman manage¬ ment; the Hyde & Behman Theatre, natural under H&B management; Montauk, Isabel Sinn Hecht, manager; Orpheum and Brooklyn Music Hall, Percy G. Williams, manager; Payton’s Lee Avenue and Payton’s Fulton St., Corse Payton, manager. Brooklyn, by this time swallowed up in the consolida¬ tion of the city, also boasted four local dailies, The Eagle, The Citizen, The Standard-Union, The Times; also Brook¬ lyn sections of the N. Y. World and the N. Y. Herald. Today all the Brooklyn dailies are gone and callously unlamented by the majority of the borough’s residents. Of the 15 principal theatres in existence 50 years ago, the Academy of Music, the Orpheum and the Folly remain, none of which now presents full-blown Broadway attrac¬ tions. This also applies to the old downtown Majestic and . one or two other houses currently dark or converted to motion pictures, Baptist temples, synagogues or super¬ markets. The sorry plight of the legitimate theatre in Brooklyn also was aggravated this year by the demise of the Brighton Theatre on the edge of the Atlantic Ocean. Hardly a Brooklyn resident appeared on the ocean front to vent his indignation at the wreckers who were in the midst of knocking the stuffings out of the one-time sum¬ mer citadel of vaudeville and legit in order to make way for a din-filled apartment house atop of which would, no doubt, sprout 160 television antennae. With the tum¬ bling of the Brighton went an almost. half-century of rich show biz lore smacked down by a huge swinging ball of the highly-efficient demolition crew. Wistfully, one should pause and say a Prayer for the Dead for the opening bill at the Brighton nearly five decades ago when Variety first saw the light of publica¬ tion day. The opening bill (June 14. 1909) at the Brighton, in competition with the Brighton Beach Music Hall a few steps away, offered Joseph Hart’s “Bathing Girls,” Montgomery Moore, Valerie Bergere. Raymond & Clavcrly, the Rooney Sisters. Stuart Barnes aiid, oh yes, the Vitagraph at the conclusion of the show. The local citizenry derived pleasure from the Palace headliners who played the “new” Brighton for the next few decades or, at least, until such terrible evils as radio, the talkers and the automobile unceremoniously drove the live performer from his accustomed spot on the Brooklyn stage. ] _ Jolson’s First | K Tlie Brighton, like the all-year round theatrical houses f scattered throughout the borough, tried to give the masses the finest talent available. The seaside house pre¬ sented A1 Jolson in his first single appearance after quit¬ ting Lew Dockstader’s Minstrels, and Ethel Barrymore did J. M. Barrie’s “Twelve Pound Look,” George White and Earl Carroll hoofed ..and danced and Eddie Cantor sang. The vaudeville intelligentsia watched Willie & Eu¬ gene Howard, Lillian Russell, Olsen & Johnson. Nora Bayes, Florence Mills, Gallagher & Shean, Clark & McCul¬ lough, Gus Edwards, George Jesscl, Weber & Fields, Moran & Mack, Frank Fay, Eddie Foy, Elsie Janis and vir¬ tually every other performer of note. The house wreckers, some months ago, also tore down Jo Ranson another historic structure in Kings County. They razed the venerable Brooklyn Eagle Bldg., the scene of many a journalistic accomplishment, including the heroic efforts of many of its -staffers to keep alive the spark of the theatre. It was on the site of this building that the first Brook¬ lyn Theatre went up in flames on the night of Dec. 5, 1876, during a showing of “The Two Orphans.” In one of the worst tragedies in the history of the theatre more than 200 persons lost their lives in the conflagration. On this site a new Brooklyn Theatre arose, only to be i-azed in the summer of 1890. Subsequently the site was used for the Brooklyn Eagle Bldg, and it too was demolished in 1955 to make way for the new and gleaming approach to the Brooklyn Bridge, one of the poetic engineering feats of all time. Yes, many areas of Brooklyn are full of sad theatrical ghosts stalking through the night murmuring the words of Shakespeare, Giroudouv, Shaw, O’Casey and Boucicault. | CiilUire-oii-tlie-Gowanus _ | When the swelldom of Brooklyn dictated the cultural habits of its inhabitants a century ago only such accepted attractions as William Makepeace Thackeray or Charles Dickens could pass muster. Thackeray had to take the Catherine Street Ferry to get to Brooklyn, as did Charles Dickens. Dickens read from his works at the Plymouth Church while Thackeray sounded off at the Polytechnic, but when Lola Montez, then a fading star, did her stuff at the Atheneum there was considerable consternation and eyebrow-raising among the silverhaired grand dames on Brooklyn Heights. Brooklyn, perhaps more than any other community in the country, was a fountainhead of religion and its worldfamous ministers and evangelists continually warned their parishioners to have no truck with strolling histriones. Brooklyn’s churchgoing masses were told that all actors were bounders and members of the “Church of the Devil.” The first regularly established theatre to open in the downtown area of the City of Brooklyn was the Park, named after the old Park Theatre in New York. Opened in 1863, it continued to provide Brooklynites with firstclass fare for more than four decades. Fire destroyed the edifice in 1908 but, in-between, it was a showplace for such luminaries at Nat C. Goodwin, in “The Black Flag”; Edwin Booth, in “Julius Caesar”; Lawrence Barrett and Frederick Warde, in “The Fall of Tarquin” and “Galba, the Gladiator”; Louis James, in “Francesca di Rimini”; George C. Miln, in “Julius Caesar”; Robert Downing, in “The Gladiator”; Mr. and Mrs. William Florence, in “No Thoroughfare”; Joseph Jefferson and Mrs. John Drew in “The Rivals”; Helen Modjeska, in “The Chouans”; Clara Morris, in “Camille”; Richard Mansfield, in “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde”; James A. Herne, in “Shore Acres”; Creston Clarke, in “Hamlet,” and Denman Thompson, in “Old . Homestead,” with. Chauncey Olcott. The Park Theatre’s first actor-manager, Gabriel Harri¬ son, was an inventive showman who was not averse to experimenting from week to week. He presented every¬ thing from short sketches and melodramas to English and Italian opera, the latter of which proved to be his financial downfall. Harrison is credited with inventing and introducing the sunken footlights that are now a basic item in all theatres. Other managers of this one-time showplace included Conways, Carrol & McClusky, Ed¬ ward Lamb and Col. William E. Sinn, one of the -town’s most energetic impresarios. J _ A Fightm’ Poet Laureate _ | Walt Whitman, the highly unconventional poet from Brooklyn and editor of the Brooklyn Eagle and Brooklyn Times, inveighed against the bluenoses. He told Brook¬ lynites to rise up against New York and frequent its own theatres and opera and insisted that streetcars be allowed to run on the Sabbath. “That some place of amusement is badly needed in our city is a fact that none will feel disposed to deny, and if any attempt is made to supply the want, of course it is for our interest to do it in a right shape, and furnish our citizens with firstclass attractions, that may safely be placed in competition with any which New York can offer,” WThitman editorialized in the Brooklyn Times upon learning that an opera house was to be constructed in Brooklyn. “All attempts that have been previously made to establish a theatre in Brooklyn have proved signal failure simply because at no time did the inducements hold out more than rival those offered in any thirdrate house across the river. It is vain to expect pleasureseekers to patronize secondratc performances here, when, within a short distance, superior attractions are offered for the same money. Let the movement be prosecuted with energy by those who have the matter in hand and let one more effort be made before a final confession is rendered that we are wholly dependant on New York for an evening's recreation.” This realistic editorial way penned Nov. 10, 1858. The story hasn’t changed much. True, there’s an Academy of Music, but no other significant live theatre. The legit theatre in Brooklyn is desiccated and the subway cir¬ cuit has suffered a short. Brooklyn now stands for bingo, bottle beer — and Dem Bums and B flickers. It is plain to see that the more sagacious of the thickly populated Brooklyn must of neces¬ sity cross the bridges of Williamsburgh, Manhattan and Brooklyn and squeeze into the subway tunnels of antibrotherly love if they are to seek out the better mimes, jongleurs and other animated laborers in the vineyard of the theatre. One thing is certain, there is hardly a trace of the living theatre in Brooklyn unless one regards rock ’n’ roll at the Brooklyn Paramount as an ennobling expression of the arts. Maybe, that huge morass commonly known as Brooklyn, well deserves what it is getting. But hope constantly springs eternal in this observer’s fluttering heart. If the Brooklyn Dodgers, after 50 years of trying, finally managed to attain a world championship, perhaps it is not too much to wish for the eventual pres¬ ence of a profound theatrical movement on the banks of the Gowanus. Vienna. Austria, now a republic of 7,000,000, has been much slower in recovery from World War II than from World War I when it won most of the battles except the final important ones. Today’s lethargy is not to be explained by bombing damage or four-power occupation. Vienna has changed in many ways. Between the end of World War I and the end of World War II, the famous Viennese operetta, and the talents necessary to its production, faded away. The Cafe Dobner on Naschmart, where in pre-war days more operetta deals were made than in publishers’ offices, exists no more. On the famous Esplanade in Bad Isold in Upper Austria one hardly ever hears the word — operetta. The great figures of the operetta were Franz Lehar, Emmerich Kalman, Oscar Strauss, Robert Stolz (still here) and Bruno Granischstaeden. Less publicized but not less vital to the health of operetta were the librettists and the operetta actors with their special dash. It stands now as a symbol of the old clays to picture Ferenc Molnar with his monocle outlining new r'ays on the menu card at the old Cafe de l’Europe. [ Subsidy for Grand Opera [ Not operetta but grand opera is now to the fore, thanks to the restoration of Statopera and the ambition of Karl Boehm, general manager and conductor, to make it the finest in Europe. It should be noted that this Vienna opera enjoys the revenues from taxation upon all Aus¬ trians, most of whom will never enter the house. Such is the “art mentality” here — and upon this foundation the hopes of a new time of glory are based. Meantime there is a second institution, newly restored, too, which figures in all calculations, namely the Burg Theatre, Europe’s leading shrine of the classic German language drama. Here, too, there are public funds to draw upon. Privately-run Austrian legit has progressed consider¬ ably in the decade since the war. Happily, very few were bombed out here. Since then the theatres have been mod¬ ernized mainly in the provincial capitals of Graz, Linz, Innsbruck, Klagenfurt and Salzburg. Most recently, with occupation ended, the city of Baden near Vienna ear¬ marked considerable sums for the reconstruction of the only existing open-air arena theatre under Fritz Koechel. Two privately-operated legits, Volks Theatre under Leo Epp and Josefstadt Theatre under dual managership Stoss-Haeussermann, range from light comedy to heavy drama. Kammerspiele, a Josefstadt branch, brings mostly boulevard comedies. Longhair Oulgrosses Baseball ■ — Continued from page 467 — the 20th century. Anna Pavlova and Mikhail Mordkin came over in 1910, for a sensational reception, and Miss Pavlova returned for annual sock tours until 1925. The highly-touted Diaghilev Go. came over in 1916 for cne season, with the renowned Nijinsky — and cost its American backers, the Metropolitan Opera, through its ballet subsidiary, about $400,000. Michael Fokine visited in 1921. Commercially, ballet in America starts with 1933. It wasn’t immediately profitable or popular. The art-form was regarded as sissy, chichi, exotic or strange, planned for a limited, highbrow audience. The dancers were foreign. They (and their managements) were also tem¬ peramental. The late ’30s found the Ballet Russe splitting up into two companies. Then came the first great American company, Ballet Theatre, organized in 1940 by Lucia Chase. J _ A Native A rt Form _ | By that time there were also some smaller American groups touring as dance attractions, both classical and modern. As the decade moved on. ballet became in¬ creasingly popular, while beginning to emerge as a mass entertainment medium. Today ballet has become Ameri¬ can, with its dancers and choreographers native. What was exotic and strange 20 years ago is now commonplace. Ballet Theatre plays Las Vegas. Mia Slavenska & Co. tours the strawhats. Offbeat attractions like the Dancers of Bali find their audiences; rack up a sock seven weeks on Broadway to a $140,000 take, and even play the Thunderbird in Las Vegas. Openings of a Sadler’s Wells or Ballet Theatre at. the Met Opera House, N. Y., are as lush and toney as the opera season opener itself, with tariff as high as $i0or$12; Foreign troupes have continued to invade the U. S., in Sadler’s Wells Ballet and its sister troupe, Sadler’s Wells Theatre Ballet; in Ballets de Paris, Paris Opera Ballet, Cuevas Grand Ballet and London Festival Ballet. Even the Canadians have sent the Canadian National Ballet. Bal¬ lets de Paris averaged $35,000 weekly during a run on Broadway; Sadler’s Wells went over $100,000. Hurok imported Sadler’s Wells Ballet of London for the first time in the ’49-’50 season. On a nine-week tour it grossed $500,000. The next season, the troupe was back for a longer trek, and in 20 weeks racked up $2,500,000. Two seasons later Sadler’s was back again, for a 19-week trek that took in $2,000,000. Four weeks of that was in New York, where the troupe grossed $458,000 for an alltime record ballet take. The troupe is back again in the fall of ’55, with the same bullish outlook. The N. Y. City Ballet, organized in 1948, shot up in five years to become America’s top terp troupe, and one of the world’s finest. Actually, the troupe is final develop-* ment in a 20-year tradition nurtured by Lincoln Kirstein and' George Balanchine, an evolution from American Ballet of 1935, through .Ballet, Caravan, then Ballet So¬ ciety, into the NYCB. Unfortunately, ballet, like opera, isn’t self-supporting, running up annual deficits. Fortunately, though, there are angels here to take up the slack. (Overseas, the govern¬ ments help out.) In America, private angels have in¬ vested $7,000,000 in ballet since the modern era started in ’33.