“The editorial in this morning’s ‘Post,’ under the title, ‘Theatre Regulations in Washington,’ conveys several erroneous impressions, and I ask this intrusion on your space to state certain facts with which the Washington public has not hitherto been made familiar. When I conceived the idea of using Convention Hall for Mrs. Leslie Carter, my very first step was to come to Washington personally, to learn directly from the heads of the building, fire, and electrical engineering departments what changes or safeguards would be required by each to enable me to use Convention Hall with their entire approval and in conformity with the law. During a series of subsequent conferences plans were made and submitted, embodying not only all the requirements of each department, but several additional improvements—such as wider aisles, more exits, broader exit space, etc. These plans were fully approved by the necessary officials of the District.
“Having thus secured the proper indorsement, and having placed myself right with the municipal departments, I proceeded at great expense to make these extensive alterations, seeking, above all, in the interest of the public, to fulfil not only the letter but also the spirit of the law. I already have done more than I was asked to do, and no obstacle was raised until after the work was completed. The structural changes have been made in strict and ready compliance with the requirements of the District officials, and under their supervision. My one thought, first, last, and all the time, was to comply with the law and protect the public. I fully believe that I have done so.”
The representation of “Adrea” was received with extraordinary enthusiasm by a large and brilliant audience, not a single member of which left before the close of the performance, long after midnight. During the Fourth Act a violent rainfall, beating on the iron roof of the hall, rendered much of the dialogue inaudible, and soon, the roof leaking in many places, water poured down through the cloth and gauze hangings, deluging the audience with green rain. “I saw Admiral Dewey, in one of the boxes,” said Belasco, “holding an umbrella over a lady whose beautiful white gown was ruined with green blotches; and in another Secretary Morton and Admiral Schley with the green water splashing down on them. But, even though they had to sit under umbrellas or be soaked, my audience stayed to the very end! Is it any wonder I love the Washington public?”
In the local newspapers, on Christmas Day, Belasco published the following notice “To the Washington Public”:
“Mr. Belasco begs to state that his occupancy of Convention Hall for Mrs. Leslie Carter’s initial performances of her new play is because of the opposition of the Theatrical Trust, through whose dictation no theatre in Washington is permitted to book his attractions. Unwilling, however, to surrender his custom of making his productions first in this city, he has rebuilt the interior of Convention Hall, in strict observance of the legal requirements of the District departments, and with every regard for the comfort and safety of his patrons. He begs also to thank the people of Washington for the friendship and most liberal support which already assure the success of his independent enterprise.”
When called upon the stage during the opening performance of “Adrea” Belasco made a brief speech of thanks, the first sentence of which brought an outburst of applause that lasted for more than two minutes:
“Well, ladies and gentlemen, they did not prevent my opening in Washington. And as long as this is a free country and I am able to fight for independence in theatrical management, I will open my companies in Washington, or in any other city that I elect to visit. It is very late: I won’t detain you but a moment, just to thank you in words that can’t convey my thanks for your approval, your sympathy and support. Mrs. Carter, Mr. Long, all my company, my staff—my loyal, splendid staff, carpenters and mechanics who have worked here, ladies and gentlemen, for as much as forty-eight hours at a stretch to make this opening possible—they all are grateful to you, and I thank you, and thank them, again and again. It would be strange indeed if we were not willing to fight for the chance to play before you when you are all so kind to us and when the man who fought the Battle of Manila Bay and the man who fought the Battle of Santiago are willing to sit in a sort of green shower-bath to watch us!”
Belasco gave seven performances of “Adrea” during his week in Washington, the gross receipts from which were more than $15,000. And when that engagement was over and the accounts had all been made up and paid he had suffered a loss of a little more than $25,000.—On the first night in New York he made a significant speech in which he said:
“...Nobody could ask—nobody could wish—for any more splendid loyalty, support, and encouragement than I have received from you, from the people of New York, from the people of every place in America where I have presented my companies, and I am grateful, very, very deeply and lastingly grateful, ladies and gentlemen. But conditions in the American Theatre are bad, ladies and gentlemen,—very bad indeed—and they ought to be remedied. The institution we all love should not be left at the mercy of high-handed, brow-beating, un-American hucksters. We are not afraid of anyone, ladies and gentlemen: we—all of us; my associates, my business staff, my splendid, loyal mechanical staffs, my actors—have had a long, a hard and bitter struggle and have suffered very serious annoyances and loss. I have just paid more than $25,000 for the privilege of presenting this tragedy for one week in the City of Washington. We do not ask or expect that life should be made easy for us; we can fight, just as you can, for our rights. But I say, ladies and gentlemen, that it is a crying outrage and a burning shame that men and women who simply want to go about their own business in their own way should be forced, in this day and country, to undergo what we (all of us here behind the curtain and in the offices of my theatre) have to undergo from week to week. And, ladies and gentlemen, it is you, the public all over this great country, who are most injured by it all—because we cannot give you what you are entitled to get from us when you pay your money to see our plays and what we want to give you,—that is, the very best there is in us: we cannot give you that, ladies and gentlemen, when we have to give so much of our time and strength and energy and enterprise and courage to fighting a criminal monopoly when we ought to be giving it and want to be giving it to writing and producing plays and acting in them, for your entertainment and pleasure.”