“Exchange of the different companies in the organization—a college of dramatic art—cafés in the theaters—libraries of dramatic literature—open-air theaters in the suburbs and city parks, etc.”
“But,” the actor inquired sententiously, “what do you propose to give the people in your theaters?”
“Plays, of course!” Brainard replied. “All sorts of plays that are worth while, old and new!”
“Shakespeare, Ibsen, and Hauptmann,” the actor remarked voluptuously. “Sophocles, Molière—”
“Hold on!” Farson put in. “Where will you get the people to sit through that?”
“My dear young sir,” the actor retorted paternally, “the people love the best. I have played the classics in every State in the Union to enthusiastic audiences,—sometimes small.”
“You bet!” Farson murmured.
“But always enthusiastic!”
“We must have modern plays, too,” Brainard added.
“But all the modern plays are copyrighted, and the dramatists are under contract to Einstein & Flukeheimer, and their brethren.”