Judge — August 31, 1929 — page 18: what you’re looking at

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

JUDGE NTLEMAN appropriately christened Brash A took upon himself, with the aid of some of Old Bill Brady's rhino, the function of opening the new theatrical season. His tool was a slice of collegiate boloney called “Now ys,” the nature of which may best be indicated in the fact that the hero, a Phi Beta Kappa man, employed such locutions s “If you only drove like I told you to,” while the boozy manager of the football team went in for such hot King’s English as “egomania,” ete. The Mons. Brash who, my gumshoe squad informs me, is in the advertising ket, is evidently much worked up about the younger generation. His play was apparently designed to prove to us that unless something is done pretty quick about our girls and boys we may fear the worst. As his character, the great detective, ululated at the, final curtain—after one of the girls had killed a bootlegger and then taken cyanide of potassium—"My God, what's this country coming to! The dramatic critics in the audience agreed with him. The Rev. Brash’s preachment began with the spec- tacle of several co-eds discussing their amorous pec- cadillos with the boy It appeared that one of the sweet ones was a little mama whose shoes were soled with banana skins and who currently had a yen for the noble footballer whom the pure heroine craved for her own, “I'll bet you fifty I can get him!" cried Banana Bess—and the show was on, After the likker was passed around, the banana baby. slyly hocus-pocused herself into the footballer’s graces and the curtain fell upon the picture of her leading him off to a notorious boudoirhouse. Once in the latter, the siren proceeded to exercise her wiles and it seemed to be all over with the footballer when, sud- denly, came a knocking on the door. Enter a boot- legger, stewed. Words. A fight. The bootlegger pulled a gun. Whereupon Banana Bess, fearful for her boy friend's well-being, cracked him on the head By GEORGE JEAN NATHAN with a bottle. “He's dead, he’s dead!" she moaned. But the boy friend was by this time too, plastered to hear. Another act. The Phi Beta Kappa footballer, duc for an Oxford scholarship, was cused of the murder. Things looked simply terrible. The vir- tuous heroine, his true love, was about to get her name in the Graphic. But no. Banana Bess to the rescue. “I did i confessed Bess. “Give me a whiskey.” A scream. The great detective put his nose into the glass. “My God, poison!” he whis- pered. In fewer words, Licderkranz. Mayo Methot wasted a very good performance on the réle of the banana baby. . * * night following the opening of the Rev. ash’s fromage, David Belasco proffered still another piece dealing with the impudent youth of the land but, leaving indignation to the stage of the Forrest Theatre, issued the Mons. Brash a loud horselaugh, in which the audience joined. The title of the exhibit: “It’s a Wise Child”; the author: Laurence E. Johnson. Our friend Johnson may, like Brash’s great detec- tive, believe that the country is going to the dogs because of the looseness of its young folk, but he happily gives no inkling of his view in his show. His idea is to let the country look out for itself and go to hell if necessary in the cause of some good laughs. His play is pretty crude stuff; it has no more polish than a hiker’s shoes; but it is often salubriously funny. Its laughs are bred from a species of humor removed from that of the morg re- fined Sunday schools, it is true, but I am surely not one to criticize them on that score. After such face- pul as Brash’s, they find in me an eager radio. (Continued on page 27) Theatre Digest “Mow-a-Days” (Forrest) — Stopping “Bird fa Hand™ (Morcsco) — As droll “Ah Might in Venice” (Shubert)—The “ty Giet Friday” (Repusblic)—A heavy over briefly in New York on its way to the talkie plants of Hollywood. Tripe. “t's @ Wise Child” (Belaseo)—Some comical rough stuff “Het Chocolates” (Hutson)—A Sambo and dance show with “Jasalips” Rickanisoa and ether leorice taleet “Let Us Be Gay” (Little)—Humorous comedy involving a quarrelscme married pair on ita way baek to the boudoir. “The Little Show” (Music Bot) —Pred Allen is a comique who will entertain you. a comedy as has beea imported fron England io some time. “Journey's End” (Miller}—One of the better war plays acted as proficiently bere as in London. “Steet Scene” (Playhouse) — Bill Beady Jia forgiven for having put oo ‘Now-e-Days.” “Almanse” (Erlanger)—Jobn Murray Anderson's pew revue, to be commented on next week. M. Healy and his erew of clowns, “The Camel Through the Needie's Eye" (Guild) — Who would have ex- pected it of the Theatre Guild? “Fellow Thru” (46th Street) — Good tunes and some swift leg-work. “Sketch Book™ (Carroll)—Some pre- sentable maidens and some naughty cracks. “Broadway Nights (54th Street) — Odette Myrtil partly offset by Dr. Rocke “—e to be dirty. Claptrap, (Broadburst) — Still Pivrtenttes fast clip. seThe Mew Moen” (Imperial) —Suill warbling it duleetly, “Wiheegee” (New Amsterdam) — Dr. Cantor cuts up gayly, interrupted peri- eslically by entrance and exit of Ziegfeld cuties. “Jerry tor Short” (Waldorf) — Fiske (O'Hara risks the hazards of Broadway. comicbooks.com a