The Bismarck Tribune Newspaper, October 18, 1930, Page 6

Dawid Belasco . . Belasco will ever create . . COUPLE of weeks before his recent seventy-sixth birthday, David Be- lasco, America’s dean of the drama, wandered along the narrow hall- ways of the building which houses his theater, turned slowly into a doorway and slumped thoughtfully into a chair. It was one of those staggeringly humid mid- summer Manhattan days, but Belasco had been on the job since 8:30 in the morning. A stranger, unacquainted with the Belasco habits, might have thought him a tired old man. And with good reason. For he had just gone into the last stretch of rehearsing a new show— a_ nerve-wearing business—and, according to his custom, was making himself a birthday present of a dramatic production at Atlantic City. In addition, two more plays for the 1930 season awaited his attention. Those associated with the grand old man of the theater could have told you that this was reverie, rather than fatigue. Mopping a large handkerchief over a perspiring brow, he spoke dreamily: “You know, 1 have an idea that may take me five or ten years to work out completely. It’s one of the bi gest ideas I've had. One of the biggest things te ever dot Five to ten years! You start in surpris@ That would place him somewhere between the ages of 80 and 90. And the biggest job! But’ that’s characteristic of David Belasco! LY His dozen and one varied activities, his sudden appearances here and there, his tireless doctoring of dreams and ideas—all these he carries on day after day use, in spite of everything he has done in the theater, he learns A something new every day. “Never too late to learn something” is part of his credo. ' They will tell you along Broadway that David Belasco is the greatest character that David Belasco will ever create; the greatest, the most colorful and the most incredible. The world of reality is not*allowed to touch the hem of his severe-looking coat. He puts a tremendous lot of energy and practical effort into his dreams, but will not be bothered by any cold business problems. That's for the business department. Impatiently he waves away those economic problems which might invade his_dream-world. lost people have a notion that Belasco should be rolling in wealth. Has he not had, over a period of years, such vast successes as “The Girl of the Golden West,” “The Rose of the Rancho,” “The Grand Army Man” and a dozen others? Scores of his old plays still bring royalties in one form or another. Yet, Broadway will tell you that slightly more than a year ago, in the seventy-fifth year of, his life, Belasco was “all but broke.” o-. DOUALA LULL eT David Belasco His collars do button in front, . as he looked in the days of his first successes. .. . He is the greatest character that Dgvid + the greatest, the most colorful, the most incredible. IHERE were three mortgages on the Be- lasco theater. He had tossed a fortune into one lavish production, “Mina,” a mod- ernistic spectacle, and it had flopped terribly after a few months, losing fei every night the curtain rose, but kept alive by tossing in good money after bad. Now ney have been a number of whispers going around that Belasco has been taking a vast interest in the talking “pictures. Well— maybe—but let me tell you a little “inside” story. At the time Belasco had dropped his fortune on “Mima” one of the biggest film producers called upon “the dean.” Belasco was told that he could write his own ticket; there was a blank contract lying in front of him and he could fill in the spaces to suit himself; he would have but_one picture to make. : There were! threatening mortgages on his theater, and he had taken a terrific wallop with “Mina.” In the face of which, the white-haired dean, with a magnificent gesture, chucked the picture offer in the basket. He turned around’ and produced the lightest sort of a little comedy, “It’s a Wise Child.” It cost but a few thousand and the overhead was negligible. Yet when it finally closed after a year's run, it had brought in $930,000, the biggest money attraction his house had ever staged. Belasco . . . puts a tremendous agount of energy and He supervises the smallest details of the acting and production .. . in all his plays . . . and often completely revises the script. practical effort into his dreams. . . . (Copyright, 1930. By EveryWeek Magazine—Printed in-U. 8. A.) a Tu He goes to practically all the Broadway shows .. . it unceasing hunt for new talent. Words By GILBERT SWAN ° Sketches By GEORGE CLARK CUTTS ETS he doesn’t try to look like a minister, he has not made millions of dollars, some of his plays have flopped,.and he has scorned the talkies That’s the way it’s been with David Belasco —and with Broadway, as well. me give you a few more “‘inside” slants at this colorful character. He is generally associated with a clerical garb; a priestly collar and tie. Yet Belasco makes every effort to puncture this legend. The mention of “clerical” make-up annoyed him so much that he purchased a number of the collars and cravats, such as he regularly wears, and these are to be found in the desk drawers of his advertising manager, When anyone mentions the word “‘clerical,"” a demonstration is given to show that the collar is not “clerical,” that it betinns in the front and is merely “old fash- 101 Le IKE a few side glances at some of the very little known routine habits which oc- cupy his time from early morning until, on certain occasions, late at night. If you had intimate access to one of Belasco’s private offices you would find a vast card index system. Glancing at the cards, you'd find the names and descriptions of thousands of actors and actresses gathered over a period of years. During a theatrical season, Belasco will visit almost every play presented on Broadway. erever he goes, he is at- tended by a secretary who has seen many years of service and Who Hays the producer's every peculiarity. The secretary always has a stenographic notebook, and sits beside Biles at the theater, Each aew actor is carefully surveyed and mentally regis- tered. Between acts some quick work is done. “Take this, please.” Belasco will ~ begin: “Molly Smith, about five feet four and brunet. Should be able to play juven- iles in light comedies and shows possibilities of great talent in heavier roles if properly coached. File that under new- comers and check it for future casting.” Thus it goes, week after week, with hundreds of new cards being added to old ones. Even with all the demands of editing, reading, revising afd watching new actors as they come along, this man of 76 works almost incredibly hard on the selections of his cast. _ It is one of his many prideful eaHNUHAMAO AQAA AEA AUTH UN The David Belasco of today... . His famous “clerical garb” isnot a clerical garb at all, he says ... and keeps sam- ple collars in his desk to prove that they button in front. At his country “workshop” . » « Belasco consults with his stage artists . .°. strange little stage worlds are born. boasts that he tries to sift all Broadway through his fingers in the search for definite types. “The claim that there are no actors in this day is ridiculous,” he said. ‘I've heard pro- ducers make this complaint time and time again. The players are here, but tan of the managers will not take the time and trouble to find them." OWEVER hard may have been the work of a given day, Belasco hes one set rule of relaxation. At 4 o'clock in the after- noon, whatever he may be doing-is summarily dropped. The hour of siesta has arrived. Some- times he goes immediately to a shower bath and thus relaxes; other times he lies down for a nap. Those who have been close to him for years credit this restful break in the day as a partial explanation for his seemingly tireless energy. For, once he has ended the “afternoon nap” period, he frequently labors way into the night. His day’s routine, however, starts again about 8:20 the following morning. He goes over the play manuscripts which pile on his desk. ere are the usual routine business matters, but if the dream fever burns high he is off to a workshop which few people even know about. * Back in the hills of Westchester County, more than an hour from Broadway, there is an idyllic country place hidden in the trees.’ It is rea yy a roundabout road and once it has been en- tered the world is completely shut off. There is no way of reaching it by telephone. This is the hide-away workshop of Belasco, and here it is that he consults with the stage artists. Models that no one knows about are built and destroyed; strange little stage worlds are born here only to die And be reborn. And whether it be midnight or dinner hour, the day ends at his suite in the Gladstone Hotel. OTH the living quarters of the hotel and the “back stage” office have become al- most fabulous myths of Broadway. Rare treasures have gone to ornament the most lavish theatrical office imaginable; rare tapestries and zooms within rooms; one of the country’s most famous collections of jade; a fireplace filched centuries ago from Italian royalty, for the theft of which three men paid with their lives; chairs and adornments such as only the great museums can_boast. Some day, when he has passed on, the public will probably be amazed at the revelation of what his treasure house contains. The suggestion that death might be possible is barred in these precincts. That is ohe topic the white-haired dean will not tolerate. - One motto which ever hangs before him ex- plains this attitude: “I will wait until danger teally comes. Then I will meet it face to face.” SEEN naan |