Part 48

I am going to tell you how some have tried to do this, and then tell you the best, surest and safest way. And do not for a moment think that I am guessing about what I tell you. I know the theatrical world and theatrical ways and methods, and I know the managers, the producers, and all the principals connected with our profession, and they know me. So I am not guessing when I say that your personal interests in all matters connected with the stage will be best conserved by entrusting them to me.

In our classes here in the studio there is apt to be one or more dominating spirits who become anxious to go around the booking offices and seek for a tryout and an engagement.

It is true that to go to any office and say that you are a recent or prospective graduate of the Ned Wayburn Studios is a good recommendation, and you may get a hearing and a tryout on the strength of it. But please be advised by me and let me give you the tryout first when I am sure you are ready for it. Your teacher should first be given a chance to see what you can do individually. His advice is invaluable and impartial. When he reports that you are advanced sufficiently to deserve consideration for a solo role, then come and dance for me. I am glad to have you do this, and shall always give you my decision honestly and fairly, and let me add, freely--no charge whatever. If I see that you are deficient in any way, I will be frank and tell you so, and will also suggest what you should do to correct your fault. In other words, you will get constructive criticism, and kindly advice, in my office, whereas anything short of perfection shown to a booking agent or possible employer would be apt to insure abrupt dismissal. They would give you no helpful advice, and you would prejudice yourself, for your effrontery, in their eyes for any future engagement you might seek.

So be advised by me. I respect an ambition that prompts you to go out and hunt an engagement, but, believe me, yours is not the best way. There are agents and agents. Some would do right by you, and perhaps some would be unscrupulous. I am not going on record in this book with any details that would seem to reflect in the least on anyone, so I'll not enlarge upon this subject here. But I will tell you more about this if you come to my office and ask me to.

Now if any pupil in the school asks you to go around the theatrical agencies, please don't do it, but come and tell me. Perhaps some day you both will come to me and say "Thank you."

Oftentimes we send out groups of our students, two, four, six or eight, to go on the professional stage for something special. Sometimes they are paid; sometimes it is done gratuitously; but the experience alone is worth money to them.

The regular theatrical season opens about Labor Day and lasts till around Decoration Day. Summer engagements begin about the first Monday in June and end about the last Saturday in August. Calls are sent out about the middle of April for summer work, and about the middle of July for the winter or regular season. If you are able to qualify, you will get the benefit of these calls for dancers, and when you go with my recommendation, it will be only to the best managers.

I will inform you fully as to the best forms of contract for you to sign in every case, and make no charge for this. You know, when you engage to go with a show, you do not simply take the manager's word for it that he will employ you for so many weeks at so much a week, nor does the manager simply take your "Yes, I'll come," and let it go at that. This matter of entering his employ is a business affair, a transaction of importance to you both, and calls for a signed agreement that binds him, the manager, as to his responsibility to you, and binds you as to your duties to him. It is a legal document, binding on both parties, the manager and you--and let me tell you right here, you feel mighty big with your first stage contract duly signed and delivered, and in your pocket, and while you may in future seasons get contracts that specify much larger salaries than your first one does, no contract will ever seem so big and important to you as this first one, the start, the goal of your ambition. I love to see my pupils with their first professional contracts! They are so happy and hopeful; the world opens up new delights for them; they have arrived. The reward of their untiring exertions here in the courses is at hand, and they have earned it and deserved it. "Good for you!" I feel like saying; and I am truly happy to think that I have been in some degree instrumental in bringing this about.

My experience has been paid for. I have learned to profit by my own mistakes, and I can and will save you all the risk in closing deals that involve so much--perhaps your entire future stage career. I can and will do this, if you let me.

STAGE-CRAFT

When my pupils become professional dancers and "sign up" for their first stage engagement they will wish not to be or appear ignorant of the marvelous mechanism that is the modern theatrical stage. Not that they will learn it all from any book, but my knowledge of things back stage will be of help, and I have jotted down here some of them for that purpose. The rest of it the new entrant upon the real stage will absorb in time, but with the help of my condensed explanation herein no one who reads need appear lost or totally bewildered in the new environment back of the curtain line.

Let me tell you some of the important things that every pupil of mine who contemplates a professional career should know about the theatre, the building itself and the stage upon which you expect to present your offerings to the public.

In the first place, the theatre building is divided into two parts, the auditorium and the stage. The dividing line is known as the curtain line. In stage parlance the auditorium side of the dividing line is the "front of the house," or "out front," and the stage side is always "back stage."

The proscenium arch of the stage makes the frame for the pictures on the stage. "The opening" means to the professional the width across stage at the proscenium arch, and varies according to the size of the auditorium and the line of sight of the auditors. It may be thirty feet, forty, or even more, as is the case in the New York Hippodrome and other large city theatres. The height is sometimes the same as the width, or slightly less, the complete frame of the arch being usually of an oblong shape, possibly thirty-five feet wide and twenty-five feet high.

The fire laws require a fireproof curtain, which is on the outer or audience side of the two or more curtains that hang on the stage side of the proscenium arch. Next to this asbestos affair is the "act curtain," that raises and lowers, and is usually painted on fire-proofed or heavy duck canvas. There may be used instead or in addition to the act curtain, what is known as a tableau curtain, that works in a traveler above, which can be drawn straight off stage, both ways, parting in the middle, or be pulled to a drape at each side. This is always made of material and sometimes painted in aniline dye; if painted in water color or oil it would crack.

There is never any curtain in front of "the arch" or proscenium. The footlights and the apron are in front of the fireproof curtain. The apron may be deep or shallow, and at its front edge is the footlight trough and a masking piece, fireproof always, to shield the eyes of the audience and reflect the footlights onto the stage. The footlights follow the front curvature of the apron, when it is curved, as is usually the case, although many of the modern stages have no apron at all, the footlights running in a straight line across, sometimes within a foot of the fire curtain.

The stage itself extends from the curtain line to the back wall of the theatre, and from left wall to right wall. Under the roof of the stage, anywhere from sixty-five to ninety feet above the floor, there is a horizontal lattice work of steel or iron covering the entire spread of the stage, and known as the gridiron. The space on top of the gridiron is called the rigging loft. The roof of the stage over the rigging loft is a huge skylight, opened or closed from the stage. The skylight is made light-proof for matinee performances. On the gridiron are rigged the blocks and pulleys through which pass the lines attached to all the scenery that goes up in the air, or "up in the flies," which is the name given the space between the top of the proscenium arch and the gridiron. To take scenery up, is "flying it," in stage language, leaving the sight of the audience; whatever goes up "flies," and whatever is carried off to one side or back is "struck." The stage manager, when he wants the scene taken away, gives the order "strike" to the stage hands, or "grips," as they are called, who are on the stage level, and he pushes a button for the head-flyman in the "fly-gallery" to fly whatever scenery goes up.

There is a "fly-gallery," as it is called, usually ten to fifteen feet wide, some twenty-five to thirty-five feet above the stage level and extending from the front to the back walls of the stage on one side, against the side wall, usually of steel and concrete. Then there is the "paint-bridge," perhaps five feet wide, extending across the stage at the back wall from side to side, on a line with the "fly-gallery." Sometimes there is a "paint-frame" attached to the back wall on which scenery is painted. It is movable up and down. Sometimes twenty to twenty-five feet above the stage level is a light-gallery, on each side of the stage running parallel to the fly-gallery, but under it. These galleries are for the purpose of holding calcium lights and operators. Running from the back wall of the stage to the proscenium wall all the way of the fly-gallery on the front edge nearest the stage is the pin-rail, very strong and imbedded in the wall front and back of the stage; it holds all the scenery that goes aloft. When the scenery is raised, the "lines," as the ropes or cables are called in stage language, are pulled down and tied off to this "pin-rail." These lines attached to the scenery are usually in sets of three, sometimes four, and extend straight up through the blocks in the gridiron and across the gridiron down to the pin-rail in the fly-gallery. As they are usually fastened to three or four different points on each piece of scenery they are necessarily of three or four different lengths, but the lines are tied and handled as one at the pin-rail, and pulled all together. In a set of three lines, the line nearest the pin-rail is called the "short line," the next one the middle line, the far one the long line. "Trim it," you hear the order given. This means to "level" whatever piece of scenery it is. "Tie it off" is the way they direct that the lines be made fast to the pin-rail. In rainy or damp weather the ropes get longer; in dry they shrink; then it is necessary to "trim the drops," letting out the lines and tying them over before the performance. This is done under the direction of the master mechanic or stage carpenter. Often there is a counterweight or bag attached to the lines above the fly-gallery to help carry the weight of the heavy scenery as it is sent aloft to its resting place in the flies, out of sight of the audience and out of the way of everybody on stage.

The various drops are known on the stage as "solid," "cut" or "leg" drops. Borders about forty feet long by twelve feet deep, hung horizontally, mask in the top of all scenery, and hide the "flies" from the audience on the lower floor, and may be interior, exterior, foliage, straight, arched, or sky borders (plain blue). In troughs hung across the stage by steel cables from the gridiron, their height regulated from the fly-gallery, are the various border lights, each usually in three circuits, red, white and blue. These are hung at intervals of about six feet, the first being about that distance back of the act curtain and the others spaced about every six feet to the back wall of the stage. On the average practical modern stage there will be anywhere from four to seven border lights. On the stage, between the curtain line and first border light, are the first entrances, known as left first entrance and right first entrance. The right and left of the stage are always the dancer's right and left as she or he faces the audience. About six feet back of this is located the second entrance, and about each six feet interval is a successively numbered entrance, as "third entrance," etc. In a "full-stage" setting the last entrance to the rear is called "upper entrance." A scene in the space covering the entire first entrance is spoken of as being "in one"; in the second entrance, "in two." When one passes out of sight of the audience he is "off stage." The various entrances and exits are designated in writing and print by characters that carry their meaning plainly, as RUE (right upper entrance), L2E (left second entrance). So, too, with spoken directions on the stage. When you are told to "exit LUE," for instance, you are supposed to know that you are to go off stage at the left upper entrance. No one in the theatre ever speaks of standing "in the wings"; always it is "in the entrance."

The prompt side in a theatre is usually the left first entrance, though sometimes it is on the other side, where are located the electric switchboard controlling every light in the building, under the personal direction of the chief electrician, and a series of buttons above a shelf or prompt desk attached to the wall about the height of a bookkeeper's desk, where the stage manager makes his headquarters during each performance, the stage manager being like the captain or skipper of the ship. All signals are given by the stage manager, the buttons usually placed immediately above or at one side of the prompt desk, within easy reach controlling buzzers, lights or bells that tell as plainly as shouted words could do what is to be done and who is to do it. Sometimes lights flash to give directions and warnings, instead of the buzzer sounding. Every action of the stage hands below and aloft is directed in this manner from one central point of control by one master mind, the stage manager of the show.

The orchestra usually has a music room of its own somewhere under the stage or in the cellar of the theatre, where the musicians congregate before the performance and during their "waits." A buzzer or bell warning to them is said to "ring the orchestra in," and they are usually allowed about three minutes to get into their places in the orchestra pit after it sounds. There is also a "drop" signal buzzer or light to give the head flyman in the fly-gallery the signals that indicate when to raise and lower certain "drops," or hanging pieces. A bell would be heard by the audience and detract from the performance. A curtain buzzer or light gives the "warning" and "go" signals to the stage hands in the fly-gallery who are called "flymen," for raising and lowering the curtains or other scenery, like "drops," "borders," and any other pieces of scenery that have been "hung" to fly. In some modern theatres the switchboard and its operator are raised some ten feet above the stage. In such a case a buzzer signal from the stage manager's prompt desk directs the manipulation of the lights for the guidance of the chief electrician in his elevated perch, these signals being given at a certain "cue" in the performance, and he knows from his cue sheet, always before him, just what lights are required on each succeeding cue.

Stage dressing rooms are by law required to be separated from the stage proper by a permanent wall. Access to them is usually found near the front wall of the stage, seldom along the back wall. In modern city theatres dressing rooms are in tiers, as in the New Amsterdam Theatre, New York, where there are seven floors of dressing rooms reached by a private elevator used for no other purpose. The modern stage dressing rooms in city theatres have every known arrangement for comfort, sanitation and convenience.

Stage artists have no business in the front of the house, nor, conversely, have those whose employment is in the front of the house any business on the stage. Both keep their separate places at all times. Artists are always required to enter and leave the theatre through the stage door. All first-class managers forbid the artists to be seen in "the front of the house." Members of the company usually are required to report for matinee performances about 1:30 P.M. and for evening shows about 7:30 P.M., but always before the "half hour" is called, which is thirty minutes before the overture is played. The stage watchman, known as the stage door tender, is always at the stage door before and during a performance and permits none to pass in who are not directly connected with the stage end of the theatre, the day stage door tender being on duty usually from 7 A.M. to 7 P.M., and the night stage door tender from 7 P.M. to 7 A.M. The night watchman goes his rounds regularly throughout the night at required intervals, registering on a time-clock from different stations throughout the theatre building; all outer doors and windows are locked about one-half hour after the evening performance.

No messages, calls, telegrams or information of any character from outside is permitted to enter the theatre for any actor or actress who is inside and hence secluded from all outside contact and purely in the realm of the playhouse. This and absolute exclusion of all interlopers is one of the strictest rules of the theatre, and woe to him who attempts its violations, or to the doorkeeper who permits it. Any messages received are given to the artist after the performance. No person who is not a member of the company should ever be permitted to visit a dressing room during a performance, only afterwards; such a contact takes the mind of the artist off her or his work.

Men who have obtained wrong ideas about members of the theatrical profession and have boldly sought to force their presence onto the stage have been summarily dealt with before now--and in some cases I have helped in the good work myself. Sometimes, after the performance, relatives, friends or escorts are permitted to enter the stage door and there await the street-clad and departing performers. But strangers and would-be "stage-door Johnnies" are always barred out.

There is no "green room" in the modern American theatre. We have all read about a meeting place in the rear of the stage that went by this title in the old English novels and biographies. They may exist still in some foreign theatres, I am not sure--but I doubt it. What I am sure of is that the American stage is sacred to its artists, principals and subordinates alike, and to its stage manager and the stage hands who keep things moving behind the curtain line.

It is a business and not a game. A theatrical life is taken seriously by all who wish to succeed in it. No triflers need apply nowadays.

After every performance the stage is cleared of all obstacles, scenery and everything else. The last member of the company out of each dressing room is required to put the light out, lock the dressing-room door and leave the key to the room with the stage door tender who is held responsible for the contents of the rooms. The act curtain and the asbestos curtain are raised. A single electric bulb or pilot light on a portable iron stand about three feet high is placed centre of the stage near the footlights, and casts its beam across the stage and throughout the auditorium. The show is over and the fire-laws are obeyed.