Judge — August 1938 — page 28: what you’re looking at

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

THE THEATRE By Carroll Case F YOU are one of the two dozen per- sons who did not travel to New York this past year you may, perhaps, be un- aware of the robe of sanctimony which has recently clothed Broadway. This stained-glass-tinged light was cast by a lot of lads who drew from their inkpots such productions as Father Malachy's Miracle, Shadow and Substance, Many Mansions, Murder in the Cathedral and Susan and God. No one seems to know where this parade of saints and surplices will stop. This, we hold, has been a good thing not only for the theatre, but for the gen- eral toning up of the glittering gutter. If you do not think so, harken back to the era of Earl Carroll and Jes fréres Minsky. There was a time, and that not so long ago, when it began to look as if the local populace would have to ferry over to Hoboken and look at The Drunkard if they wanted to see shortly after a celebrated party during which Earl Carroll thought it might be a lot of fun and swell publicity to have Miss Joyce Hawley take a bath in champagne. The authorities did not think it was any fun at all. The result was that the pub- licity backfired and got very unpleasant, the guests got red faces, and Old Squire Carroll got slapped into Leavenworth pen. We don’t remember exactly why —probably’ for calling the bath water champagne. Broadway and the theatre were pretty well besmirched by these happenings; and the condition was not eased by those sterling entrepreneurs and flesh-peddlers, the Brothers Minsky. Under their Roman-like reign affairs progressed rap- idly to the point where sideshows had to move off the main stem to keep from be- ing contaminated. The Minskys, during their short era, HOTEL ST. FRANCIS $4 single: $6 double. Management DAN E. LONDON Overlooking Union Square LARGEST IN SAN FRANCISCO presented inspiring attractions based on the more noisome side of the news. For example, about that time, a lower-strata punk named Legs Diamond, you should have no business recalling, was sleeping off a binge occasioned by his beating an extortion rap, when some of his friends caught up with him and spread him over the landscape. This, in that happily defunct era, was considered an event worthy of signal commemoration. The Minskys went to town. They dusted off special outsize letters for their marquees and made these letters scream to an eager world that Kiki Roberts, (the public rat’s cur- rent lady love at the time he checked out) would soon be brought forth for their delectation. Following her the very next week would be the legal Mrs. Legs Diamond. “IT Can't Loox!" There then ensued a box office battle between girl friend and wife. The gents who had gazed soulfully upon Kiki's histrionics (which consisted of doffing as many clothes as possible as quickly as possible) came the following week to gaze no less hungrily upon Mr. Dia- mond’s ever-loving wife who told the boys a thing or three about love and life as gangster’s wife and widow. Appar- ently she sounded as if she could tell more than she should because the boys also caught up with her and she was found lying quite still on the floor of her flat one cold, gray dawn. They wrapped a wooden kimono around Mrs. Legs Diamond and, at the same time, around the idea of present- ing gangsters’ ladies legal or otherwise; for when gloryifying a dame results in murder it's apt to make even the bur- lesque tycoons think. Perhaps this was one of the reasons why, when the new administration came into office, one of the first things it did was to clamp down on the burlesque bowers. While burlecue is still feebly trying to carry on without them, one “GuESS WHO?” seems to hear the death rattle as it fast flounders toward oblivion. All this would seem to argue that re. ligion is not so decadent as the atheists and agnostics insist. This seems to be borne out by the very plays mentioned above, and whether your cleric be as severe and inflexible as Cedric Hard. wicke, or as benign and humble as Al Shean, you know that he is a man after your own heart, and vexed by much the same problems as are vexing you. Whether or not you approve of this current crop of ecclesiastical doings on Broadway, you will doubtless admit that plays concerning church and churchmen give you a great deal more to think about than the lurid exposures and ex- poses of gangsters’ relicts. If for no other reason than this, it’s been a swell year on and for Broadway. Here's to another. TOCSIN “Anyone at home?” they say, Opening the front door all the way. Or “Coming over, now don't go out,” Into the telephone they shout. “Leaving today on one-week flier, Hope be no trouble to you,” they wire. Arise, ye unexpectant hosts, Awake and yell with loud ripostes! Thumbs down, I say, on leniency For callers at their own conveniency! —Dow RICHARDSON. comicbooks.com