“You will pauperize the people!” the banker objected. That, he urged, was the trouble with so many humanitarian movements; they deprived the poor people of the joys of competition. The point passed, however, after a feeble discussion. That was a detail evidently to be settled later when the exigencies of deficits would doubtless force a more practical view upon this enthusiast. But a chorus of objections rose when Brainard said that the theaters were to have no reserved seats and no boxes.
“No boxes!” Mrs. Pearmain murmured, as if personally affronted. “But where shall we sit?”
“Where the others do,” Brainard replied promptly.
Significant glances were exchanged about the table. Was this a socialist who had slipped in among them in disguise?
“Think what the opera would be without the boxes!” a large bejeweled woman whispered to her neighbor.
“These are to be the people’s theaters!” Brainard remarked somewhat sharply.
“Oh, I hadn’t understood!”
“Where will your theater be in New York?” some one asked.
“That is yet to be decided. I am looking into the matter to determine where the largest number of people can most easily reach a theater by the transportation system of the city. Somewhere on the lower West Side, I suspect.”
“Nobody will ever go down there!” several protested. “Everything is going up town all the time. . . . The Opera is too far away. . . .”