The first Belasco Theatre was opened on Monday night, September 29, 1902, with a revival of “Du Barry.” The night was sultry, but the house was crowded, in every part, far beyond its normal capacity; the performance was one of remarkable fluency, vigor, and intensity, and it was received by the audience with well-nigh frantic manifestations of enthusiasm. After the Third Act there were more than twenty curtain calls, and finally, in response to vociferous crying for him by name, Belasco came upon the stage, dishevelled, pale, and weary, but very happy, and addressed the audience, saying:
“Ladies and Gentlemen: It is so hard for me to speak to you as I would wish. There is so much to say, yet so little that I can say. It is your kind sympathy and approval that have made this little playhouse possible. I owe you—the public—far, far more than I can tell. You all know that it has been my life-work, my greatest ambition, to give you the best I could. In this I can honestly say I have not faltered since I first knocked at your door,
DAVID BELASCO
Photograph by the Misses Selby.
Author’s Collection.
many years ago. And in that endeavor I stand firm to-night. I thank the friends who have upheld me so loyally all these many years. I thank the press for the encouragement I have received. There are some very beautiful things in the lives of those I have followed, and one of these is the fellowship of brother workers. I am always inspired, I always shall be inspired, by the memory and example of three inimitable comrades of the Theatre,—one the late Lester Wallack, another the late, lamented Augustin Daly, and yet another who is still with us, who has given the best years of his life to advance the art which both you and I love so well: I refer to Mr. A. M. Palmer. They fought the good fight, these three; they kept the faith. They gave us glorious traditions to remember and live up to. They gave all to advance the highest. This is something we must never forget.
“Ladies and gentlemen, there is another of whom I must make some mention—one whose sympathy and help have contributed to my being here to-night. I mean my friend and companion in work, Mrs. Leslie Carter. Here and now I wish gratefully to acknowledge the debt of her services, her unselfishness and loyalty in time of many struggles.
“I have many plans for this little theatre, ladies and gentlemen. Let me say just a word to you about the managerial policy. I am anxious to make my patrons feel at home when they honor me by coming, and so I have tried to make your surroundings in front of the curtain those of a comfortable, home-like drawing-room. I intend that the productions and casts shall be the best that work and care can provide. In all ways I desire to make this new dramatic home of ours a dwelling of refinement, good taste, good entertainment, and good art. No stone shall be left unturned, no effort unmade, to accomplish that end. You cannot know what it means to me to speak to you, at last, after thirty years of labor in the dramatic calling, from the stage of my own theatre. Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you—I thank you—I can say no more.”