Photograph by Byron. Belasco’s Collection.
THE CROWNING ROOM,—BELASCO’S PRODUCTION OF “ADREA”
partners! Why should not Belasco go to Erlanger and smilingly consent to be fleeced? His venture was ruined unless Erlanger would furnish ‘bookings’ on any terms Erlanger chose to extort. Should the King go to the Beggar? Or was it meet that Belasco the Beggar for a chance to pay for the use of theatres in which to produce his own play with his own company, should go humbly to Erlanger, the King of the Syndicate that controlled the theatres?
“No such despotism has ever been known or dreamed of in this country and none so fatal to the development of art as the evidence discloses this Theatrical Syndicate. Every monopoly that has been dragged into the court pales into insignificance and seems almost harmless beside it. Every owner of a theatre contracted with throughout the country was required to agree not to permit his theatre to be used for any performance not under the direction [of] or assented to by the Syndicate even during the times it was not in use or being paid for by the Syndicate!...”
CONVERTING CONVENTION HALL:—“ADREA” IN WASHINGTON.
Using the despotory power alluded to by Mr. Untermyer, the Syndicate closed all the theatres of Washington against Belasco when he attempted to arrange for the presentment of his tragedy. “My penchant for giving the first performances of my plays before the Washington public, because I got the real start of my independent career there,” Belasco remarked to me, “may be, as some unfriendly critics have declared it, a ‘sentimental folly,’ but it pleases me to do so, and it seems to me to be a matter for me to decide. The less likely it became that I could get into Washington with ‘Adrea’ the more determined I became to do so.” The result of his determination was that Belasco suddenly and privately hired Convention Hall, a vast, barn-like place in Washington, inconvenient of access, situated over a market, with seating capacity for more than 5,000 persons. It contained no stage and was in every way unfit for theatrical use: in brief, what Belasco did was, first, to hire a roofed space, and then build a theatre beneath it,—incidentally complying with all the mysteriously sudden and preternaturally exacting requirements of various administrative departments of the District of Columbia. “In all my experience,” he remarked to me, “I never knew such vigilance to be exercised about a theatrical performance, and I should never have been able to meet the almost incessant and sometimes most unreasonable demands upon me if it had not been for the kindly advice, guidance, and assistance of Senator Gallinger and of Speaker Cannon, who had been interested in my fight by a protégé of his, Mr. Sidney Bieber; but, one way or another, every demand was met.” About one-third of the hall was partitioned from the rest of it by a temporary wall and a proscenium arch. Behind this a commodious stage was erected,—all the labor of building being performed by a company of mechanics brought by Belasco from his New York theatre. The iron girders supporting the roof and also the exposed parts of the ceiling were draped and covered with fire-proof cloth and gauze, dark green in color. Several carloads of rich hangings and furniture which Belasco had originally purchased for use in “Du Barry” and “The Darling of the Gods” were taken to Washington and used to decorate the interior of this improvised theatre. Seats were arranged, the aisles were carpeted, “boxes” were built, a gallery was erected at the rear; a chill and barren loft was converted into a spacious, warm, and handsome playhouse, and on Christmas Eve all seemed to be in readiness for the opening—and then the Fire Department condemned the electric-lighting system. “For a little while,” said Belasco, in relating the story of this enterprise, “I thought they had me beaten, and after I had spent thousands of dollars. But I put my case before the Edison Electric Company—and between Saturday and the following Monday evening the Edison people tore out the condemned system of wiring, put in a new one, laid a special main for the supply of current, got it all inspected and passed, and we opened as advertised on Monday night! I wanted to get out on the footlights and crow! As to safety—everything had been done and we had, for an audience of 1,400, the spaces, exits, and stairways previously considered safe for crowds of from 5,000 to 6,000.”
Belasco’s conversion of Convention Hall into a theatre, for the production of “Adrea,” and the difficulties encountered by him in doing so caused much comment in the newspapers of the capital, and shortly before the first performance he published the following letter in “The Washington Post”: