Judge — April 12, 1924 — page 15: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

TWO NEW YORK PREMIERES by George Jean Nathan Great, dazzingly illuminated theater. The sidewalks A crowded to the curb with men and women trying to fight their way in. The air quivers with the excite ment of the dramatic event. Police are called to keep the eager mob in line and to protect the box-office from the hundreds who would pour their money into it for the privilege of seeing the great work about to be revealed inside the theater. the lobby plays the national anthem. ousine, A band in Limousine after lim- axicab after taxicab, draws up to unload men and women in gala attire. Otto Kahn, the illustrious patron of high art, arrives in a Rolls-Royce and elbows his way through the mob, finally arriving at his seat breathless, but triumphant and happy. Belasco, the celebrated entrepreneur of drama de luxe, aided by two burly gendarmes, contrives to jostle a path through the palpitant thousands and to get to his point of vantage on the aisle, there to feast his eyes upon the rich spectacle about to be disclosed. Frank A. Munsey, the great philanthropist and the greatest journalistic genius America has ever known, is in his seat twenty minutes ahe: ad of time, nt for the coming revelation. Bankers, society lumi- naries, publishers, government officials and theatrical managers crowd the house to the rear promenade, which is packed to suffocation with hur ee who are only too glad to pay a premium for the privilege of being present at so auspi and important a theatrical event. Everywhere there is the hush of tremulous expectancy, such a scene, indeed, as one might imagine in the time of Elizabeth at the premiére of some Shakespearian masterpiece. ‘The auditorium has been especially decorated for the occasion with costly lamps and handsome rugs and flags of all nations. An orchestra of fifty pieces bursts out with “God Save the King,” followed in turn by the “Mar- scillaise” and brought to a grand climax with “Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean.” There is a thunder of preliminary applause impat ious and a great anticipatory cheering. Then a sudden hush, preg- nant with awe, with wonder, with a tremendous humility before the marvel to come. reveals— A Douglas Fairbanks movie. Another theater. This one shrinking, coldly lighted and chill, A dozen or so men and women—the men in soft collars, the women in nondescript apparel—stand listlessly in the lobby. A Ford painted yellow joggles up to the entrance and lets out the police court reporter whom one of the newspapers has assigned to cover the performance, the regular reviewer having caught a cold that afternoon while watching a vaudeville show at the Palace. A five-minute lapse of time and a few more men and women arrive, some of them with delicatessen bundles under their arms to take home when the show is over. Another Ford painted yellow wheezes up and deposits on the sidewalk a Greenwich best girl. The theater itself is half empty. looks lonely, forlorn. There is no orchestra. And the curtain goes up and up a side-street. Villager and his The auditorium A damp wind blows in through the door. The people in the theater half-heartedly read their programs, and yawn. Others presently pile in, carrying more bundles, some of them fragrant with pickles and wienerwurst. One or two have brought newspapers with them. Presently, the house is three-quarters filled. And the curtain goes up and reveals— The latest play by Eugene O'Neill. the foremost American dramatist, HESE two openings, the one on a Monday night at the Thirty-ninth Street Theater, the other on the night follow- ing at the Liberty, afforded the best relative picture of the taste, culture and predilections of the New York connoisseur that (Continued on page 27) Hospital Nurse—You say you wish to see the young man who was injured in the auto accident? “Yes, I thought it’d be only fair to give him the kiss he was trying for.” comicbooks.com