came to New York to see me. About this time the girl was taken ill,
suffering with acute indigestion and finally the mumps. On my advice
her father took her home. Lately I have heard from the young lady, and
she wants to re-enter the school. If I decide to take her back, she
will have to keep strictly to her diet and attend regularly, which I
believe she is now ready to do, as she has gained much weight since
leaving here.
Lillian Russell was a beautiful woman, with a personality and a stage
presence. She was fond of the good things in life, and was obliged to
watch carefully a tendency to embonpoint. She has gone on record as
saying that lots of walking, lots of dancing, and two meals a day was
all the reducing exercise she ever employed. She advised a light
breakfast, no luncheon, and a good dinner, with no between-meals, no
"piecing," no candy. The chief trouble with this plan is, that one is
apt to become ravenous by dinnertime and over eat at that meal, and
thus undo what you are attempting. The best way is to follow the Ned
Wayburn diet faithfully, and take three meals each day, just as I have
suggested.
DANCING AND GOOD HEALTH
[Illustration]
The dance is its own justification. It needs no excuse, nor do the
many millions who share its delights need to be told how beneficial it
is to them. They know that they are healthier and happier men and
women, and therefore get more out of life and give more to others,
because they dance. If the purpose of life is, in the words of an
immortal document, the pursuit of happiness, surely those who train
their bodies to move in harmony with natural laws are fitting
themselves for capacity to enjoy all that life brings. To live well
requires good physical health, for which a prime requisite is an
abundance of pleasant exercise. Not alone to those who are free from
the necessity of the various forms of exertion that are termed "work,"
but to every human being, exercise is as necessary as food. To those
whose daily callings involve substantial physical labor, the need for
exercise is just as great as for those of lighter employments. And
nowhere can there be found so satisfactory a bodily exercise as in the
dance. Sports, outdoor games, horseback riding, etc., have their
place, but are available to a comparatively small percentage of all
the people. Now that the introduction of the automobile has turned
America into a nation of riders on soft cushions, the need for proper
exercise has become more important than ever.
To live well, breathe well, sleep well, the body demands activities
that will develop and strengthen it. The most delightful form in which
this want can be supplied is in the dance.
The universal desire of mankind is for enjoyment; the qualification of
physical, mental and aesthetic needs. To enjoy requires the possession
of the Roman prime essential; a sound mind in a sound body. So closely
are physical and mental health related, so complex the reactions of a
disordered nervous system on bodily health, or the effect on the mind
of physical weakness, that the wisest doctors do not pretend to say
this illness is either wholly mental or physical. They do know that
some violation of the laws of right living, some neglect to follow
natural impulses, is chiefly responsible for the long list of ills
that afflict mankind. And they are unanimously agreed that proper
diets and an abundance of exercise are far better than cures; they
prevent disease.
It is not necessary to go into physiological details to explain why
the well-nourished body demands suitable exercise. That it does is an
admitted fact. The question that confronts the millions who know that
their bodily condition is not what it should be is: "What must I do to
make myself stronger, and capable of enjoying life better?" The
obvious answer is: "Dance."
In dancing there is found a form of exercise that stimulates
circulation of the blood to the remotest finger tip; that develops,
under proper training, every muscle; that aids digestion to perform
its functions of supplying nourishment to every tissue of the body,
and brings to the dancers the glow of vigor and animation. These
effects of the dance have long been proved by the experience of
millions of men and women. Other millions who have not yet tried it
will sooner or later make the experiment. They will find that life
takes on a new outlook, that instead of listless indifference they are
actively interested in many things that they formerly ignored; that
with restored bodily vigor they have quickened minds and better
appreciation of all their daily contacts with their fellows, and that
they are enjoying each day's existence with a zest never known before.
The dance is a physical, mental and moral upbuilding. It brings a
greater capacity for success in the daily tasks and duties. It
stimulates and restores. It shows the door to the glooms and welcomes
gladness. It brings self-confidence in undertaking new enterprises,
and banishes the mental depressions that result from bodily ills. It
forms new circles of agreeable companions, and affords opportunities
for congenial friendships. It avoids wasted expenditures for nauseous
drugs and doctor's bills. It puts humanity in harmony with fundamental
natural laws, and makes of all who resort to it healthier, happier and
better men and women.
[Illustration: NW]
SHOWMANSHIP
[Illustration]
Do you know what "repeaters" are in the language of the stage?
They are people who like a show well enough to patronize it more than
once--well enough to spend their money to see it a second or a third
time, perhaps many times, and bring their friends to enjoy it with
them. There are many more "repeaters" on occasions when attractions
have real merit of one kind or another than the casual public dreams
of. The show manager watches for them and spots them, and rejoices
greatly when he finds them abundantly in evidence, night after night,
for he knows then that he has displayed real showmanship in his
selection of a cast, a play, and in its rendition. The frequent return
of a pleased patron accompanied by his companions attests the success
of a show in stronger terms than any other one thing could possibly
do. I go on record as saying that no show was ever a real financial
success without it produced "repeaters." It is a real test of genuine
showmanship, recognized as such the world over by every shrewd
theatrical manager.
Good showmanship consists of the ability to anticipate the verdict of
the playgoing public. The successful showman must have his fingers on
the public pulse in matters that concern entertainment. He cannot
afford to guess. It is too expensive. He must correctly diagnose the
case in advance of prescribing for its needs if he expects to be
successful.
The wise showman always plans his play to have the very widest
possible appeal, for the public is many sided, and a single narrow
idea will fail to touch it at all points, as it must do if it is to
have a popular acceptance. He knows, being a wise showman, that people
come to his playhouse for entertainment, pleasure, laughter and
relaxation, and not for a learned discourse on some abstract or
wearisome theme. There are proper places for the lecture and the "big
wind," but that place is not in the theatre of the wise showman. It is
his business to create his proffered entertainment into a valuable
piece of property that shall declare actual cash dividends at the box
office. That is being a successful showman, and he who does this
exhibits real showmanship.
The successful stage dancer must possess showmanship. That is why the
subject is brought into this book on stage dancing--that dancers may
be made to realize a need of which they may be wholly uninformed.
It takes showmanship on the part of the dancer to get fully in touch
with the audience, get down to their level, if you like to say it that
way, and never go over their heads. Successful dancers always use good
judgment in their offerings. The same kind of dance does not do for
vaudeville, musical comedy, revue and opera. Each requires its own
kind of dance. The revue has its own audience, the musical comedy one
of another character, vaudeville still a third kind, and opera still
another. Here is where the dancer's showmanship comes in--to
recognize this difference and adapt the offering to the audience
before whom he or she appears.
Dancers who would profit to the fullest extent in their profession
must learn how to absorb this essential element known as showmanship,
in the various ways in which it may be done.
Reading along right lines is very important. Read the dramatic reviews
and criticisms in the daily press, and read regularly the leading
theatrical weeklies. Identify yourself with your profession in this
way; read "shop" and talk "shop." Make it a point to see and study
other dancers, in vaudeville, musical comedy, opera and revue. Meet
your fellow dancers in their own habitat, behind the scenes. The
actual experiences that you are recommended to undertake in your own
behalf in the chapter I have called "Making a Name" will be invaluable
aids to you in harvesting a lot of the best grade of showmanship.
Travel will help you learn a lot. The traveled and successful
theatrical person is always alert, quick, bright, posted in all
important matters that concern the profession and all who are
connected with it.
Those who take my courses as students of dancing are given a wide
mental as well as physical training, to prepare them to cultivate
showmanship that shall complement their skill as dancers when they
become professionals. I call my lectures "inspirational talks," for I
do want what I say about their future careers to be inspiring to them,
and encouraging and beneficial. I speak to my pupils from many years
of stage experience, and I know if what I say is heeded and given full
consideration they will be better dancers and secure better
engagements, and do so in less time, as a result.
[Illustration: HELEN FABLES]
Good showmanship in dancing consists also in being able to "sell"
one's own personality in a dance. Select your offerings to suit your
public. Put in the effective "tricks" in your exits that are so
important in inviting applause. And learn to leave your audience
"hungry" for more of you. Let them go away with a wish that they might
see more of your dancing. That is your cue in successful showmanship,
my dancers. Let the audience come back to see the same show again in
order to once more enjoy your pretty work. That means "repeaters," and
repeaters, as I told you, mean successful showmanship, and both
artistic and financial success.
It is never good showmanship on the part of the dancer, or of an actor
or actress in any part, to let the audience know that you know they
are out there. The way you handle an audience will have much to do
with the opinion of your work that will be held by the big men in the
theatrical world, who may be among those present at any performance,
you never can tell when--and they, remember, are hiring good dancers
now and then. Their judgment of how you handle an audience is worth
consideration.
And bear in mind, too, that the most important part of your dance is
the very end of it, the finish, upon which always depends the applause
and the recall. You like to earn your bow, and that is right. Take
your bow in front of the audience gracefully and quickly. Don't milk
the audience dry by your bows. Never do that. Get general applause,
but don't work up a lot of bows. Come right back, bow modestly and do
a short dance, to acknowledge the applause. Such good work as that
will stand the inspection and secure the approval of every theatrical
manager whose approbation you value. An audience does not want to see
you take bows. Bows simply gratify the vanity of the artist.
So, you see, there is quite a bit of showmanship for the dancer to
study and acquire, and it is very much worth while for all stage
dancers to put it into practice, early in their career.
There are entertainment values that the showman himself must be able
to create from his available material, which he will find and develop
in dialogue, lyrics, tuneful music, voice, singing, dancing,
characterization, costumes, settings, scenery, properties, lighting,
and everything else connected in any way with the stage picture or the
presentation of his offering. The publicity and exploitation of the
show will tax his showmanship from another angle and is of great
importance to the success of the play or the artist. The selection of
proper music also has much to do with the appeal to the auditors. No
musical show can ever be made a success without beautiful, appealing
melodies, or "song hits," as we call them.
And now one final word of advice to my dancers: Three minutes is long
enough for your solo dance. Concentrate your efforts. Do not present a
long-drawn-out and padded dance that will weary everyone. Brevity is
the soul of good dancing as well as of wit, and you will be wise to
heed this from the very start of your professional stage career. Never
show a dance to any prospective employer unless your dance has been
thoroughly set and properly rehearsed with whoever is to play the
music, pianist or orchestra. Never offer any excuses at such a time.
Be sure of yourself, and only do one dance, your very best one.
"WHO'S WHO" IN THE SHOW
[Illustration]
To the members of an audience attending a theatrical performance it
may appear as though the actors were the entire show and the only
principals concerned with the carrying on of the affair. Of course the
man in the box office, the ticket taker, and the ushers have been in
evidence, and there is the orchestra and its leader. Others than these
have not been seen or heard, and so perhaps are given no
consideration. Who the "others" may be, or if there are any others,
and of what their services to and interests in the show may consist,
would puzzle many theatre-goers to determine with any degree of
accuracy.
Let me take you "behind the scenes," as you may call it, but
"back-stage," as we say in the theatre-world, in this matter and
disclose the forces that move the puppets on the stage; the powerhouse
that generates the current that moves the whole machinery of
production. The intricacies of theatre management may come as a
surprise to you.
Chief of all comes the owner, the promoter, known to the profession as
the Theatrical Manager. He it is who selects the author of his
contemplated production, and also the writer of the lyrics and the
composer of the musical score. He engages the producer, the creative
genius who realizes the possibilities of the production and directs
and rehearses it, and the principal actors and singers, and some of
the members of the chorus as well, but the producing director usually
recruits his own chorus and dancers. A most important step is the
choice the manager is to make of a producer, or production director,
on whom is to devolve the entire handling of all matters back of the
curtain line from the day of his selection to the rising of the
curtain on the initial public performance. He is well aware of the
importance of this choice, and places his reliance only on a man known
to be thoroughly experienced and competent in this line of work.
Having selected him, the theatrical manager steps out of the picture
and the producing director assumes control. And this control is
absolute in his domain. Not even the power behind the throne, the man
who placed him in his position, is allowed to interfere in any way
whatsoever with his orders or plans. The wise theatrical manager
possesses full knowledge of this and keeps hands off. Should he
venture to countermand a single order of his producer, the latter
would be certain to say "Take your show and direct it yourself," and
walk out.
And the reason why no producer of the first magnitude will brook
interference, opposition or disobedience from any source is, that he
is held strictly responsible to the owner for the form that the show
takes and for the manner in which it is performed. His own reputation
is always at stake in every production of which he accepts control. He
makes the show a success, if he is that kind of a producer, and is
entitled to the credit of successful accomplishment. If, on the other
hand, he gains a reputation of "breaking" rather than of "making" the
show, his career is abbreviated in short order. His job depends upon
making good; he is the "realizer," the dominating and master-mind of
the show.
Let us name some of the duties that devolve upon the ubiquitous
producer:
He must know by heart the book, lyrics and music of the entire play,
and bring out to the full, in all of the actors, principals and
chorus, every possibility that their parts, acts, songs, dances and
groupings permit or demand. All the comedy must be developed and
emphasized, and the personality of the cast studied and properly
brought to the fore. The principal artists engaged for the production
are under his sole direction. He creates all solo and ensemble dances;
gives all readings of the dialogue, sets the dialogue syllable by
syllable, devises nearly all the entrances and exits for everyone on
the stage, indicates the tempo for all songs and dances.
He must be capable of inspiring the lyric writer and composer, the
costume designer and the scenic artist. He must possess imagination,
suggest the locale, color and architecture--the atmosphere--of all
scenes, select the color schemes for all costumes and scenery. He
makes up all orders for scenery, costumes and properties, and must, to
that end, know both qualities and costs; prices per yard of silks,
satins, and every kind of material required in the production, whether
for wardrobe or in the scenic effects. He must order the correct
number and size of shoes, stockings, tights, wigs--everything, in
short, that the company supplies to the players, which is usually all
save the street clothes which they wear into the theatre. The orders
for properties include all furniture, rugs, bric-a-brac, draperies,
and everything else that serves to dress the stage or the performers.
If period furniture is called for, the producer must be competent to
say what is correct for the locale and the period.
He must furthermore make out a plot for the switchboard, to control
every lighting "cue." There will be a front light plot for the
"floods" and "spot-lights" as well as separate plots for side-lights,
overhead lights, and all the rest, to be thrown on or off at a certain
cue. This necessitates his knowing how many and what colors he
requires in front of each lamp for his many different lighting
effects.
For each act the location on the stage of all scenery and furniture
must be definitely determined, as well as the exact place for each
performance, and the producer determines the location of the same, and
the different heads of the mechanical staff mark the stage
ground-cloth in colored crayons or water-colors for the guidance of
the stage carpenter, property man, and electricians, upon whom
devolves the duty of setting the stage, props and electrical
equipment. The producer is absolute monarch behind the curtain line,
his dominion extending not only over the actors, singers and
dancers--the entire company--but also over all members of the
mechanical staff and the orchestra. He alone is responsible to the
owner for the successful presentation of the performance. His is a
man's size job.
How many American producers of the supreme type, capable of the bigger
things, are there in the United States?
I know five. And I know them all. Five out of 110,000,000 people. How
many do you know of?
[Illustration: W.C. FIELDS]
The Stage Manager takes the show from the Producer after the opening
performance and is thereafter responsible for everything connected
with the show back of the curtain line. He it is who presses the
buttons that run the curtain up and down, and gets the performance
under way and keeps it moving, changing the scenery and lights exactly
as arranged by the Producer. He is accountable to the Company Manager
for the way every performance is given, and maintains a close
supervision over the principal artists and the chorus, sees to it that
they stick to their script and do not interpolate matter of their own
or "guy" each other or the audience. Actors or actresses who are
insincere in the parts assigned to them should be barred from the
professional stage. There is evidence of "guying" an audience at times
in some of the best companies on the part of some players of
established reputations who should be ashamed of themselves, and who
certainly should be punished for such offenses. I have known some star
comedians to go on the stage intoxicated, which is an unpardonable
offense, and for which such persons should be driven out of the show
business. If an actor would dare do such a thing in a company directed
by me, I would go before the curtain and denounce him to the audience
and refund the price of admission. An actor who would do a thing like
that is called a "ham," which means a common person with no mentality
or breeding,--a type that is practically extinct now in the theatre.
The Stage Manager is responsible for every facial makeup, and will
personally pass upon each individual's appearance. He is usually an
actor of long experience, and knows makeup thoroughly, but not the
straight makeup for youth as taught in the Ned Wayburn Studios which
is the makeup I perfected when glorifying the celebrated "Follies"
beauties. He is capable of maintaining discipline, and is the watch
dog behind the curtain. He commands respect by reason of his
knowledge, experience and good judgment. He has presence of mind and
is able to handle any emergency that comes up. He must thoroughly know
his business. He is versatile. Like the several instructors in my
studios, who have had long stage experiences and specialized training
for their jobs, the Stage Manager is able to answer any question that
can come up concerning stage matters, and he is able to understudy and
play most any part in an emergency.
The Assistant Stage Manager is under the Stage Manager. In the larger
productions there are often two assistants. He has charge of the
chorus, male and female, and is required to make all calls, to get the
principals and chorus to the stage. He calls "half hour," thirty
minutes before the overture time, "fifteen minutes," fifteen minutes
before the overture time, and "overture," and when the overture is
called everybody in the opening of the first act must come to the
stage. He does the clerical work for his department and keeps the
record of attendance, etc.
The Musical Director, who is the leader of the orchestra, is
responsible to the Stage Manager for the way in which all music is
played at every performance, as well as for the correct rendition of
all vocal numbers on the stage. Every tempo throughout the play is his
personal responsibility, and the composer exacts of him the most
careful and effective execution of the score as written. It is he,
too, who conducts all music rehearsals. He and his entire orchestra
are members in good standing of the American Federation of Musicians,
and the amount and time of their service in the theatre are definitely
agreed upon and duly set forth in a signed contract in established
legal form and binding upon both parties.
All shows carrying scenery require the services of a Stage Carpenter,
who is the custodian of all scenery and scenic effects, drops, solid
drops, cut drops, leg drops, gauze drops, borders, exteriors,
interiors, ceilings--all flat stuff and set stuff. (I am using the
usual stage nomenclature for these, assuming that you will know the
meanings of most of them, can guess at others, and won't care
especially if one or two are not in your vocabulary. Stage jargon has
crept pretty well into the understanding of the general public, till
now most theatrical terms are matters of common knowledge.) The
scenery is set for each scene on the exact floor marking indicated by
the producer. Stage-hands, known as "Grips" in stage parlance, set the
scenes.
There is usually a second stage carpenter, or second-hand assigned to
work at the side of the stage opposite the stage carpenter, and a boss
flyman, whose station is up above in the fly-gallery. He gives the
"flymen" the cues to lower and raise the scenery as required, upon
receiving signals by "buzzer" or "light-flashes" from the stage.