Evening Star Newspaper, January 19, 1930, Page 82

v 'z . THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C, "IAN'UARY 19, 1930. e — L. — 5 2 e S Famous Washington: Theaters Make Final Bow Belasco Rings Down Final Curtain and Poli’s Will Be Next to Join the Shadowy Cara- wan of Historic Playhouses That Have Disappeared From the City’s Theatrical Panorama Stnce 1800. BY HAROLD PHILLIPS. —Y HE everdimming glow suffused by the ' Z Belasco Theater the last several years was snuffed into blackness recently — permanently, many be- lieve. 3 Thus an edifice historic in every associa- tion that enriches the past joins that shadowy caravan distinguished by the Garricks, the Kernans, the Bijous, the Empires and the dozens of others that have shimmered, flick- ered and disappeared from the theatrical pano- rama that has been Washington's since 1800. There may be sporadic, independent exhibi- tions at the Belasco before it is razed. It is doubtful’ whether it will ever again experience a continuity of existence. The Shuberts, oper- ating it under a 99-year lease, cannot in these days of the predatory talkie, command enough The President Theater, on the site of Kernan’s old Lyceum on Pennsylvania @venue near Eleventh street, is in the path of the Federal triangle building program and, like Poli's, is slated for the wrecking crew. @ttractions to keep both the Belasco and Poli's bpen, and the latter, being more modern and considerably larger, survives, though this house, , is docketed for destruction before 1930 $nds. ’ ide from its atmosphere of Thespic mem- ®ries and the distinction of its patronage, com=- g:xloned by Presidents, princes and the like, Belasco is quite unlike any other theater $n the city. Its inception was unique, its cone Btruction is unique and it stands on ground fertilized by memories both hallowed and other- Wise. N 1894 Uriah Painter, who was the Shearer of his day—or the Grundy, if you like—con- feived the idea of an opera house that would bhigher the then existing standards. Ironically enough, Mr. Painter lived to see his Lafayette PBguare Opera House housing burlesque. ' Mr. Painter was a civil engineer, but made hhis money lobbying. He was hardly the Brum- Imelesque figure of his present-day prototypes. never wore an overcoat, and further faunted the harsh Winters of the nineties by foregoing collar or cravat. \ ‘The theater was built on the site of the old PBlaine mansion, and some of the doors in the $iressing rooms today, along with other ap- rtenciices, are from the Blaine manse. The laine structure supplanted “an elegant house,” built in 1831 by John Rodgers. It was in this house on April 14, 1865, that the Lincoln con- spirators attempted to assassinate W, H. Beward, then Secretary of State. James G. Blaine died there. Collectors of Lincolniana might rescue these historic woodworkings if &nd when the theater is leveled. ‘The opera house opened in 1895 with a dedi- ieatory performance by Lilllan Russell in “The Wrzigane” (“The Gypsy”). John W. Albaugh, long identified with Washington’s early the- ater history, was the house manager.- Later Mr. Painter himself essayed the management, and for 10 years it experienced the amiable and bitter vicissitudes that beset the intruder in any field. The gifted Painter could manage recalcitrant legislators, but his ineptness at managing a theater was reflected by an ever- increasing decline in tone. “Under the aegis of David Belasco the house was taken over, refurbished, the name changed to the Belasco Theater (later it was to be- come the Shubert-Belasco), and on October 23, 1905. reopened for an uninterrupted span of nearly a quarter century. Blanche Bates, in “The Girl of the Golden West,” supplied the opening bill—an opening gun, it really was— for Mr. Belasco was then warring on the Klaw- Erlanger combine, which he termed “the the- atrical trust.” Those of us who have been educated by Belasco himself to believe that his stage ap- pearances are unchnngeably confined to a fingering of his forelock and a shy, shy bow would have been amazed at his militaney had we been present that night. THEN. as now, attired in what Heywood Broun once called “his Catholic collar and Presbyterian vest,” Mr. Belasco delivered himself of the following, after the second act: “T hope the good people of Washington will be good to this little theater. We need your support. We are a handful of men fighting a great trust. We want to give back to our country a decent, clean stage. The stage is a place for the growth of art, not for sweatshop meth- ods in gommercialism. The stage can- not prosper under a syndicate. Help us, then. Help us get back the stage that Lester Wallack and Augustin Daly left us. Help us win, ladies and gentlemen, help us win, that other managers may assert their manhood and the artists of our stage their courage, their indepen- dence. You have given so much in the- past and from tonight I shall ever be your loyal and faithful servant.” Mr. Belasco still holds a material interest in this theater, but declines any voice in its affairs. The Belasco is an exemplar of theater con- struction in the nineties. It has three bal- conies and heaven will never frown on the poor wights who sat in the top one in days agone. True, those were the days of shotgun drama and if one missed the nuances of the drawing room, there was compensation in the “Boom, booms!” heard adequately in the top- most tier, if, indeed, not in the adjoining square. There are but two other theaters of like construction in the country, one at Portland, Me., and the other at Memphis, Tenn. All were designed by the same architect, an op- timist, surely, else why that top gallery when two would suffice? The Belasco Theater, formerly the old Lafayette Square Opera House, on Madison place between Pennsylvania avenue and H street, now dark after @ brilliant thespic career. Except on rare occasions the top gallery has not been opened for years. Several years ago, however, an overwhelming patronage swoop- ing from all directions for one attraction, it was reopened to accommodate the overflow. This writer, then purging the drama of its sins by daily comment, facetiously said that a skeleton, clutching a 1912 program, was dis- covered in the front row. An ill attempt at humor, re-echoed the following day by a phone call from a parent informing me his son had disappeared in 1912 and was there & chance—? When Pennsylvania avenue was a mud-bog, lighted by sparsely spaced gas jets, when hack fares were $10 to and from the theater, and when the pit was the gallery, instead of what it is now, Washington knew its theaters. That was in 1800 and since that time the theater has endured here in some form or another, with few breaches. Auditoriums, tents and lodge halls have been requisitioned when fire or other untoward events closed the regular stands; but, even under leaky roofs or in un- heated emergency halls, the curtains rose and descended as they were intended to do. E exception must be noted. The National Theater, rebuilt three times, and now the unylelding sentinel of the spoken drama in Washington, was first opened in 1834. In 1845 the inaugural reception to President Polk was held in this theater. The following night fire completely destroyed the edifice, fortunately at the time unoccupied. Thus from that date until November, 1846, when the National was rebuilt, Washington was without a theater of Albaugh’s Grand Opera House, now Poli’s Theater, on Pennsylvania avenue near Fifteenth street, soon to be razed to make way for the Federal building program. (From an old print.) any kind. Such a condition has never been repeated. To list the theaters that have strutted their heyday in Washington over a century and a quarter is not the function of such an article as this. Such a task must be reflected be- tween book covers, and widely spaced covers, surely. The Mudd collection of Washington lore interestingly covers the Washington thee ater up to 1850, but whether any one has ate tempted a later symposium the writer knows not. Cotemporary with the National Theater in its earliest days were the American Theater, near Sixth street and Louisiana avenue, known also as the Washington Assembly and Ward’'s New Olympic Saloon; the Odeon, whose address is lost in obscurity, and the Adelphi, at- Penne sylvania avenue and Four-and-one-half street. The National, then as now, was the premier stand of the city. Its boards felt the tread of the stage elite and of congenital vagabonds, tracing a gamut beginning with the Booths, Davenports and Ellslers and ending with troops of wild Arabs and dog and pony shows. Of Fanny Elisler, it is said, her first appear~ ance in Washington drove woman auditors into such ecstatic frenzies that they tore off their rings and necklaces and hurled them toe ward her on the stage. The Garrick, Kernan's (now the President), the Bijou (also the Empire) the Strand, (then the Academy) and the Columbia, are theaters operating 25 years ago as inspired fountains of the spoken word which have passed beyond range of the calcium light. The Columbia, of course, is now a picture house, reeking of a _prosperity it never could know in the old days. The Garrick was a cradle for sunken hopes from its beginning. It was built at Seventh and F streets 21 years ago by an idealistic group. The land alone cost $90,000, and before the theater reared its first timbers the buyers were offered $150,000 for the site by a gentle- man who wanted to block possible expansion of the Hecht Co. through to F street. These very uncommercial gentlemen declined the offer and went through with their plans. The theater never made money and some years later was bought in at foreclosure by Julius Peyser for $66,000, who in turn sold the house to the Shuberts, who changed its original name of Casino to the Shubert-Garrick. The Garrick’s palmiest days were during war time, though for several years after it con< tinued to play stellar attractions, and through the artifices of L. Stoddard Taylor, then man- ager, was made a cozy refuge for those who liked their amusement in intimate and ate tractive surroundings. It may be said here in passing that wherever Mr. Taylor has tarried he has left an indi- vidual impression. An artist at heart and in practice, he has never been content to inhabit “merely an office” or a theater. His fair for the personal and unusual touch has made his second-floor office in the Belasco Theater & subject for comment and admiration throughe out the theatrical world. His desks, his fire- place, are made to order from his own designs; the walls are reflectors of the great stage figures of the past half century. The atmosphere as & whole conduces to reflection and a quiet, easy tempo in getting things done. N the last several years of uneasily resting beneath its mortal coil the ' Garriek housed stock successfully under George Mar- shall and unsuccessfully under the late Garry McGarry. The structure was razed in 1924 to accommodate the ever-extending walls of the Hecht Co. ‘The Bijou, also known as the Empire, down on Wholesale Row, near Center Market, was & rendezvous for youngsters and oldsters. Offer a vaudeville performer the opening of Continued on Thirteenth Page.