Chapter X: Part 10

Blaise Cendrars, poet, responsible for the _Anthologie Nègre_, is the author of _La Fin du Monde_ and of _La Perle Fièvreuse_; the second of these is running as a serial in a Belgian magazine, _Signaux_. Both are called Novels; the third instalment of _The Pearl_ adding the word cinematographic. _The End of the World_ is a cosmic cinema-novel in fifty-five swift, concisely told scenes.

It deals with a sort of deity, resident on a planet accessible to all the mechanical comforts of this earth, who is induced to travel to Mars as a propagandist for his own religion. Like many propagandists he errs in his psychology and, in a Billy Sunday frenzy of the imagination, shows the Martians all the cruelties his religion is capable of. Too late he learns that “the Martians are disillusioned and confirmed pacifists, iodophages living on the peptonic vapours of human blood, but incapable of bearing the sight of the least cruelty.” The mission failing, he decides to make good on certain prophecies uttered in his name. The following scenes are left a little in the air; continuity is lacking. One begins again with the sculptured angel on Notre Dame blowing a blast on her trumpet and the whole world rushing towards Paris and crumbling into dust. Thereafter, with the aid of retarded and accelerated projection, we see the world slowly dissolving into its elements, through those stages so graphically presented to us by H. G. Wells. There is chaos, and then annihilation.

And then, by an accident in the projection room, the film begins to reverse and so, naturally, one gropes upward out of the slime and returns to the first scene--to which is added the single phrase “It’s bankruptcy.” It opens with the deity “at his American (roll-top) desk. He hastily signs innumerable letters. He is in his shirt sleeves with a green eye-shade on his forehead. He rises, lights a big cigar, looks at his watch, strides nervously up and down the room.... He makes notes on his pad and blows away the ash which falls from his cigar between the leaves. Suddenly he snatches the telephone and begins to ’phone furiously....”

That is American movie technique which M Cendrars has evidently learned all too well, because he uses it, in all its tedious detail, in _La Perle Fièvreuse_, for which he is publishing not a scenario but a director’s script, with the cutbacks and visions and close-ups all numbered and marked. It is in the manner of the old Biograph movies with what may turn out to be not such innocent fun at the expense of the detective film. Among its characters are Max Trick, director of Trick’s Criminal Courier, the great daily which specializes in criminal news. He is marked “Type: le President Taft” and is first shown in his office with twenty-five telephones in front of him; among his collaborators are Nick Carter and Arsène Lupin, Conan Doyle and Maurice Leblanc.

What Jules Romains has accomplished is much more remarkable, for he has pushed the method of the cinema forward a long and significant step, and, while using everything it can give, he has produced a first class work of fiction. The plot of _Donogoo-Tonka_ you will see at once, is entirely suitable to filming; it is not perhaps suitable to commercial success, but that can be, if it isn’t, another matter.

It begins in Paris with the unfortunate Lamendin, who is about to commit suicide. A friend gives him a card with the legend: “Before committing suicide ... don’t fail to read the other side,” and on the reverse is the advertisement of Professor Miguel Rufisque, director of the Institute of Biometric Psychotherapy, who guarantees to give you, within seven days, a violent love of life. Lamendin goes to the consulting room and after a fantastic examination is given certain instructions which eventually land him in the library of Prof. Yves Trouhadec, a geographer. Trouhadec would be certain of election to the Geographic Institute if he hadn’t, many years before, placed on a map of South America the wholly imaginary town of Donogoo-Tonka, in the gold-mining area. Lamendin now proposes to float a company, start an expedition, and insure the Professor’s election by actually creating the place.

In the second reel Donogoo-Tonka is launched; in the third we have adventurers in all parts of the world preparing to rush the gold fields, while Lamendin tarries at home making fake moving pictures of the place. At the end of the reel the adventurers have penetrated into the heart of the South American desert and, too wearied to go forward, aware of the deception practised upon them, encamp where they are. Derisively they call the place Donogoo-Tonka.

Later, a second group of adventurers comes. They are disappointed in the look of the place. But they are interested to hear that gold is being found; and while Lamendin at last sets sail, the Donogoo-Tonka Central Bar and the London & Donogoo-Tonka’s Splendid Hotel are going up; it is obviously the intention of the earlier arrivals to mulct the later.

And then, of course, gold really is found in the river bed and the price of all provisions goes up fifty per cent.

Regrettably, _en voyage_, Lamendin tells his pioneers that Donogoo does not exist. On his arrival at Rio de Janeiro he receives a cable from the Professor, demanding immediate results; and as he turns in despair he reads the announcement by Agence Meyer-Kohn, of the next caravan to the gold fields of Donogoo-Tonka. He arrives; he takes possession; he founds an empire, in which the religion of Scientific Error is established. Trouhadec, still living, is deified; he becomes Trouhadec, Father of his Country. The utility of geography is one of the prescribed subjects for public lectures.

That is a slightly more intelligent plot than most of the adventure things one sees in the movies. It is in the detail and in the presentation of an _idea_, the idea of scientific error, that M Romains has pressed beyond the professional technique of the moving picture without once exceeding its natural limitations. For instance in the waiting room where Lamendin sits with the other would-be suicides:

“Absurdity, given off by so many brains, becomes palpable. One begins to distinguish a sort of very subtle exhalation which disengages itself from the human bodies and little by little charges the atmosphere.” The settings in this scene are very much in the manner of _Caligari_. Or there is the debate in the soul of Professor Trouhadec who knows that he will profit by a fraud. From the beginning the spectator must realize that the debate is only on the surface; that in his heart Trouhadec is going to accept; the spectator is to see him thinking of truth with a capital T and, much deeper down, of himself as a member of the Institute. Just as in the exploitation of Donogoo-Tonka we see a man coming up the steps of a subway station with the words Donogoo-Tonka written on every step; until, as he emerges, his skull ceases to be opaque, and we see the twelve little letters dancing in his brain. M Romains has even carried the thing over into Keystone farce, so sure is he of his medium. During one of the lectures “his eloquence is so persuasive, his thought opens such penetrating channels into human nature that, little by little, little by little, a soft down begins to sprout on the bald head” of a man in the audience. _Ça c’est du Cinema_, as M Cendrars says.

M Romains has also a complete understanding of projection. He protests, in a preface, against the monotonous speeding-up of pictures and urges that this one be taken and shown in the rhythm of ordinary life, with a shading toward slow, especially in the scenes “where the only events which pass before us are the thoughts of the characters” (required reading for Mr Griffith and Mr de Mille for one year is in those words). In the scenes which exploit the shares in Donogoo-Tonka we enter into the minds of individuals, of groups, of crowds; at the end the very framework of a building succumbs to the madness of the idea. And then, with a technical mastery not yet put into practise, M Romains directs that the various scenes just projected be shown again, side by side, with a gradually accelerated rhythm. In the scenes of the adventurers we get glimpses at Marseilles, London, Naples, Porto, Singapore, San Francisco; then we see the groups starting out; the lines of their voyage converge. These scenes are projected first in succession and then _simultaneously_. Each time we see them we recognize some of the individuals we have seen before. “And when by chance the faces are turned towards us, we have a feeling that they, too, recognize us.” The cinema has not yet accomplished that; chiefly, I fancy, because it never has been asked to.

M Romains is the prophet of _unanisme_, and it would be remarkable if he did not use the moving picture to push his point. The end of Donogoo-Tonka is pure poetry.

The horizon has receded before the Palace and the chief figures look out into a light which has its own laws. Paris appears deep in the background. “But so close, perhaps, that we are troubled to see it and would like to fall back a step.

“As if, yielding to friendly pressure, the world has renounced for one evening its concept of space and all its habits.”

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I owe so much to others in connexion with this book that if I were to set down the names and the reasons it would appear, quite properly, that I have done little except collect and theorize about material presented to me; it might also appear that I wish to make others responsible. Virtually everyone I know has contributed something--and in many cases they did so before I had thought of writing this book. I can therefore make only specific acknowledgments. Above all to two managing editors, John Peale Bishop and Edmund Wilson, Jr., of _Vanity Fair_ and to their editor, Frank Crowninshield; they published several essays which later served as the raw material for chapters here, published portions of other chapters written expressly for this book, and otherwise encouraged and prospered me--to such an extent that I owe to them and to my fellow-editors of the _Dial_ the holiday which made it possible for me to write at all. Except as otherwise acknowledged, the illustrations are reproduced with the permission of the artists; in addition, I have to thank the editors of the two journals mentioned for joining their permission in the case of work they originally reproduced, the firm of Albert and Charles Boni for the liberal use of Frueh’s Stage Folk, and H. T. Parker of the Boston _Transcript_ for letting me reprint _A Conversation in Old Athens_. For technical information and exceptionally painstaking criticism I am indebted to Sara and Gerald Murphy, Martin Brown, Alexander Steinert, Deems Taylor, Lewis Galantière, H. K. Moderwell, and Dorothy Butler; for the material in the appendix to Charles Chaplin, Irving Berlin, Bushnell Dimond, Walter Hoban, and Sophie Wittenberg. My indebtedness to those whom I do not know--those I have written about--is too apparent to need emphasis, and too great to be adequately acknowledged.

FOOTNOTES

[1] Except that supplied by the professional journals--often excellent.

[2] But there is more to say; a little of it occurs on page 41.

[3] Scenario by the adroit Anita Loos.

[4] Seven years ago, when this imaginary conversation was published, I wanted to be fair to Mr Eaton and to persuade Mr Griffith to do Helen of Troy. I succeeded in neither, and the document has only historical interest. I do not know Mr Eaton’s present stand on the movies, and I apologize to him for retaining his name here. What I do know is Mr Griffith’s position. It will be entertaining to compare it with the imaginary future outlined for him above. See page 323.

G. S.

[5] See Appendix.

[6] It appeared in _The New Republic_ and will probably be found in _The Flower in Drama_ (Scribners).

[7] See page 92.

[8] My indebtedness, and, I suppose, the indebtedness of everyone who cares at all for negro music, is apparent--to Afro-American Folksongs, by Henry Edward Krehbiel (Schirmer).

[9] It has been clairvoyantly pointed out to me by another composer that Berlin’s preëminence in ragtime and jazz may be traced to his solitary devotion to melody and rhythm; in the jazz sense there remains something always pure in his work. This supports the suggestion made in the next paragraph.

[10] Internal, off-beat rhyme occurred as long ago as _Waiting for the Robert E. Lee_. Bud de Sylva has used it intelligently, but not expertly enough in _Where is the Man of My Dreams?_ and Brian Hooker and William Le Baron make it a great factor in their highly sophisticated lyrics. So also Cole Porter.

[11] In “The Spice of Variety,” which he conducts for _Saucy Stories_.

[12] Since writing this I am informed that the Winter Garden has changed, at least structurally. But even if the type of show at that house also changes, _The Passing Show_ as a type will be seen elsewhere, so I leave what I have written. In 1913 or 1914 Mr H. K. Moderwell wrote of the worst show in years, “They call it _The Passing Show_. Let it pass.” Apparently they did.

[13] This review appeared in _Vanity Fair_ sometime in the summer of 1922. I allow it to stand with nothing more than verbal corrections in spite of my dislike of books which collect articles expressly written for magazine publication, because I feel that the negro show is extraordinarily transient and that a transient criticism of it is adequate. The permanent qualities are touched on elsewhere; especially in the essay entitled “Toujours Jazz.” Since this was written there have been other negro shows, and I have heard that one was better than _Shuffle Along_. What has interested me more is the report that there is a “nigger show by white men” which is standing them up every night. This verifies a prediction made below--that the negro show would have an effect on the white man’s. I am not at all sure that there will not continue to be negro shows for a long time--why in Heaven’s name shouldn’t there be? They have their qualities and their great virtues. It is only in relation to the sophisticated Broadway piece that I find them lacking; and have perhaps not been fair enough to them.

[14] For da Ponte’s share in the work, cf. Edgar Istel: Das Libretto, which analyzes the changes made in Beaumarchais’ play.

[15] All this was written before Bert Savoy died. I haven’t changed the verbs to the past tense. “How well could we have spared for him....”

[16] R. C. Benchley has written a just and sympathetic account of Jackson. It appeared in a magazine and is not, so far as I know, available in book form.

[17] A number of comic-strip artists, on achieving fame, stop drawing, leaving that work to copyists of exceptional skill. I do not know whether this is the case in the _Happy Hooligan_ strip.

[18] I must hasten to correct an erroneous impression which may have caused pain to many of Krazy’s admirers. The three children, Milton, Marshall, and Irving, are of Ignatz, not, as Mr Stark Young says, of Krazy. Krazy is not an unmarried mother. For the sake of the record I may as well note here the names of the other principals: Offisa Bull Pupp; Mrs Ignatz Mice; Kristofer Kamel; Joe Bark the moon hater; Don Kiyoti, that inconsequential heterodox; Joe Stork, alias Jose Cigueno; Mock Duck; Kolin Kelly the brick merchant; Walter Cephus Austridge; and the Kat Klan: Aunt Tabby, Uncle Tom, Krazy Katbird, Osker Wildcat, Alec Kat, and the Krazy Katfish.

[19] See Appendix.

[20] Heywood Broun has discovered that everybody in vaudeville is an “artist” except the trained seal.

[21] I do not know enough of Carl Hyson and Dorothy Dickson or of the Astaires to judge their place.

[22] For example: “Ours is a sincere doubt as to whether the question ‘And what did _you_ do during the Great War?’ might not embarrass, among others, God.”

[23] He said of Firpo that when he came up after the sixth or seventh knock-down, his face looked like a slateful of wrong answers.

[24] A footnote to a footnote is preposterous. Perhaps the very excess of its obscurity will give it prominence and render faint justice to the old New York _Hippodrome_. It is a fine example of handling of material, and of adjustment, spoiled occasionally by too much very loud singing and a bit of art. It is part of New York’s small-townness; but it is so vast in its proportions that it can never acquire the personal following of a small one-ring circus like the Medrano in Paris. I adore the _Hippodrome_ when it is a succession of acts: the trained crow and Ferry who plays music on a fence and the amazing mechanical and electrical effects. Joe Jackson, one of the greatest of clowns, played there, too, and had ample scope. I like also the complete annihilation of personality in the chorus. When you see three hundred girls doing the same thing it becomes a problem in mass--I recall one instance when it was a mass of white backs with black lines indicating the probable existence of clothes--the whole thing was quite unhuman. And one great scene in which, I believe, the whole of the personnel participated: there were, it seemed, hundreds of tumblers and scores of clowns, and a whole toy shop in excited action. Oddly enough, one finds that the weakness of the _Hip_ is in its humour; there is plenty of it, but it is not concentrated, and there is no specific _Hippodrome_ “style.” What it will become under the new Keith régime remains to be seen.

[25] I have seen them since in another entrance, the most brilliant of all. See Appendix.

[26] They nevertheless played exquisitely, I am told, in the Cocteau-Milhaud _Bœuf sur le Toit_.

[27] _Quanto più, un’ arte porta seco fatica di corpo, tanto più è vile!_ Pater, who quotes this of Leonardo, calls it “princely.”

[28] It is not too late for you to film Mr D. Taylor’s _Should a Brother-in-Law Give a Damn?_

[29] I haven’t seen _The Covered Wagon_. Its theme returns to the legendary history of America. There is no reason why it should not have been highly imaginative. But I wonder whether the thousands of prairie schooners one hears about are the film or the image. In the latter case there is no objection.

[30] They have done so. See “The Cinema Novel.”

[31] I wrote once, and was properly rapped over the knuckles for writing, that it wasn’t to escape Bach, but to escape Puccini, that one played Berlin. Mr Haviland, whom I have quoted frequently, replied that those who really cared for jazz cared for it, not as an escape from any other art. I had not intended to write an apology; only, since I was replying to the usual attack on the jazz arts, I wanted to indicate that in addition to their primary virtues they have this great secondary one, that when we are too fed up with bad drawing, bad music, bad acting, and second-rate sentiment, we can be sure of consolation in the lively arts.

_Index of Principal Names_

INDEX OF PRINCIPAL NAMES

(_Numerals enclosed in =equals signs= indicate the chief references_)

Adams, F. P., 120, =279–282=

Ade, George, 119, 120, 166

Aiken, Spottiswood, 329

Alder, Else, 170

Anderson, John Murray, 131, 134, =143–145=, 153, 371

Anderson, Sherwood, 123, 341

Arbuckle, Fatty, 12, 18, 19

Astaires, The, 272 f

Bach, Johann Sebastian, 310, 350

Baer, Arthur “Bugs,” 278, =285–287=

Baker, Belle, 196, 256

Balieff, Nikita, =260–262=

Bara, Theda, 338

Barnes, Helen, 186

Barton, Jimmy, 172, 206, 207

Barrymore, John, 330

Bayes, Nora, 172

Beggar’s Opera, 169, 173, 188

Bell, Clive, 104, 108, 150

Benchley, R. C., 208, 316

Berlin, Irving, =57–66=, =69–80=, =83–108=, 131, 139, 141–143, 145,
170, =186–188=, 216, 242, 273, 318, 348, 353, =369–371=

Bernard, Sam, 142

Bernie, Barney, 100

Bierce, Ambrose, 120

Bitzer, George, 333

Blake, Sissle and, 94, 96, =149–158=

Bolton, Guy, 165, 166

Braham, Philip, 74

Brian, Donald, 172, 272

Briants, The Two, 251, 257

Brice, Fanny, 135, 145, =191–200=, =208=, 251, 252, 309

Briggs, Clare, 216, =218–220=

Brisbane, Arthur, 234

Brooks, Shelton, 156

Brooks, Van Wyck, 111

Broun, Heywood, 113, 129, 136, 250 f, 281, 283, =284–285=

Brown Brothers, The Six, 251, 256

Brown, Jessica, 272

Busch, Wilhelm, 215

Cabinet of Dr Caligari, The, 8, 325, 331, 335, 339

Cæsar, Irving, 371

Cantor, Eddie, 129, 139, =178–180=, 184, 196, 304

Carpenter, John Alden, 144, 217, 236, =240–242=, 377–379

Carter, Frank, 146

Carter, Nick, 328

Caryll, Ivan, 65, 165, 170

Castle, Irene, 186, 309, 318

Castle, Vernon and Irene, 156, =273–274=

Cendrars, Blaise, =384–386=

Chaliapin, Feodor, 204, 313

Chalif, Louis H., 318

Chaplin, Charlie, =3–24=, =41–54=, 144, 213, 232, 238, 241, 259, 301,
309, 319, 334, 347, 348, 352, 353, =361–366=

Cimarosa, Domenico, 164

Claire, Ina, 146, 185

Clark, Bobby, 134, 207

Cocteau, Jean, 304

Cohan, George M., 70, 78, =137–139=, 154, 171, 260, 271

Collier, Willie, 138, 142

Confrey, Zez, 84, 90, 92

Conklin, Chester, 12, 17

Conrad, Joseph, 327, 337

Cook, Clyde, 18

Cook, Joe, 178, 251, =258–260=

Coogan, Jackie, 50

Crawford, Clifton, 172

Creamer and Layton, 94, 96, =149–158=

Crowley, Aleister, =374–376=

D’Annunzio, Gabriele, 325

DeBeck, Billy, 224, 225

De Mille, Cecil, 6, 309, 338

Deslys, Gaby, 185, 186, 187, =209–210=

Dickson, Dorothy, 272 f

Dillingham, Charles B., 145–146, 169, 170

Dimond, Bushnell, 9

Dixon, Harland, 169, 186, 187, 273

Donahue, Jack, 256

Donaldson, Walter, 84, 91

Doner, Kitty, 179

Dooley, Johnny, 172, 241, 251, 255, 256, 271

Dooley, Mr (Martin), =111–126=, 309

Dooley, Ray, 178, 241

Doyle and Dixon, 186, 187, =273=

Drew, Sidney, Mr & Mrs, 19–20

Dryden, Helen, 145, 172, 186

Duffy and Sweeney, 251, 257

Duncan, Isadora, 317

Eaton, Walter Pritchard, =27–38=

Eliot, T. S., 104, 106, 361

Ellis, Havelock, 345

Emerson, John, 339

Errol, Leon, 146, =206=, 260, 271

Europe, Jim, 100, 103, =156–158=

Fairbanks, Douglas, 20

Fall, Leo, 64, 65

Fazenda, Louise, 12

Ferry, 294

Fisher, Bud, 216

Fisher, Fred, 84, 91

Fortunello and Cirillino, 144, 209, 294, 297

Forty-niners, =260–261=, 316

Fox, Fontaine, 225

Fox, Harry, 186, 187

Fox, William, 334

France, Anatole, 118, 231

Fratellini, The Three, 209, =297–305=, =380–382=

Friml, Rudolf, 165

Frisco, 271

Frueh, Alfred, 217, =227–228=

Geddes, Norman-Bel, 172, 313

George, Yvonne, 144, 145, 197, 198

Gershwin, George, 73, 74, 75, 89, 91, =92–93=, 195

Gibbs, A. Harrington, =94–95=

Gilbert and Sullivan, 161, 162, 163, 164

Glass, Montague, 119, 120, 121

Glyn, Elinor, 324

Goldberg, Rube, 224, 227

Gourmont, Remy de, 203

Granville, Bernard, 181

Greenwich Village Follies, =143–145=

Greenwood, Charlotte, 272

Grey, Gilda, 95, 135, 141, 154, 209

Griffith, D. W., 4, 6, 13, 23, =27–38=, 323, 325, 327, 329, =331–335=

Grock, 294, 297

Guilbert, Yvette, 197

Ham & Bud, 22, 352

Hammond, Percy, 249

Handy, 97

Harris, Charles K., 58

Haviland, Walter, 100–102, 255, 353

Hazzard, John, 144, 372

Held, Anna, 135

held, j., 226

Herbert, Victor, 135, =171–172=, 199

Herriman, George, 50, 144, 214, 217, 228, =231–245=, 309, 377, 379

Hershfield, 218, =224–225=

Hirsch, Louis, 66, 72, 89–90, 171

Hitchcock, Raymond, 178

Hoban, Walter, 144, 220, =225=

Hooker, Brian, 89, 172

Houdini, Harry, 256

Howard, Eugene and Willie, 208

Hughes, Rupert, 324

Hyson, Carl, 272 f

Ince, Thomas H., 4, 6, 13, 334

Irwin, Wallace, 119, 120

Jackson, Joe, =208–209=, 294 f

James, Henry, 310, 314

Janis, Elsie, =185–186=

Johnston, Justine, 186, 187

Jolson, Al, 62, 74, 91, 139, 177, 178, 179, 184, =191–200=, 309, 347

Joyce, James, 104, 106, 117

Kalman, Emmerich, 65

Katterjohn, Monte, 339

Keaton, Buster, 6, 17, 18

Keith, B. F., Vaudeville, =249–263=, =294=

Kelly, Harry, 145, 207

Kern, Jerome, 66, 72–73, 92, 161, =165–170=, 273, 348

Ketten, M., 221

Keystone Comedy, =3–24=

Knight, Percival, 172

Kraus, Werner, 331

Krehbiel, H. E., 86–88

Kreisler, Fritz, 170

Lardner, Ring, =111–126=, 135, 309

Layton, Creamer and, 94, 96, =149–158=

LeBaron, William, 170

Lehar, Franz, 65, 161, 163, 164

Leonard, Baird, 279, =282=

Leonardo da Vinci, 319

Levey, Ethel, =254–255=, 258

Lewis, Ada, 169, 209

Lloyd, Harold, 6, 15, 49

Loos, Anita, 20 f, 339

Lopez, Vincent, 100, =102–103=

Lorraine, Lillian, 135, 146

Lubitsch, E., 13, 335

MacNamara, Tom, 222

McIntyre and Heath, 152

McQuinn, Robert, 145, 186

Mann, Hank, 12, 15

Mansfield, Richard, 249

Marceline, 294

Marquis, Don, =282–283=

Marsh, Mae, 329, 330, 331, 333

Marx Brothers, The Four, 251, 256

Maurice, 169, =273=

Mencken, H. L., 278

Merrill, Blanche, 197

Milhaud, Darius, 85, 100, 304 f

Mills, Florence, 62, 99, =154–155=

Milton, Robert, 165

Mistinguett, 185

Moderwell, H. K., 131 f

Moeller, Helen, 318

Molnar, Ferencz, 314, 315, 337

Monckton, L., 65, 165

Monroe, George, 205

Moore, Florence, 142, 209

Moran, Polly, 12

Moret, Neil, 62

Morgan, Marion, 318

Morley, Christopher, =283=

Moss and Frye, 252

Mozart, W. A., 161, 163, 164

Muck, Karl, 157

Music Box Revue, =141–143=

Nathan, George Jean, 60, 129

Nijinsky, Waslaw, 318, 353

Normand, Mabel, 11, 19

Norris, Frank, =331=

Parker, Sir Gilbert, 324

Pater, Walter, Title page, 108, 203, 319

Pennington, Ann, 272

Phillips, H. I., =277–278=

Picasso, Pablo, 104, 107, 310, =345–347=

Pilcer, Harry, 187

Piquer, Conchita, 140

Porter, Cole, 73, =92–94=

Powers, T. E., 226

Preston, Keith, 284

Puccini, Giacomo, 312, 313, 345, 353

Purviance, Edna, 12

Randall, Carl, 270, 271

Rath Brothers, 140, 251, 257, 351–352

Ray, Charles, 16, 21

Ring, Blanche, 139, 208

Riq, 279

Rogers, Will, 129, 135

Romains, Jules, =386–390=

Rubens, Paul, 165

Ruth, George H. (Babe), 351

Sale, Chic, 257, 258

Sanderson, Julia, 172, 272

Santayana, George, 140, 249

Savoy, Bert, 134, 144, 145, =205–206=

Savoy Operetta, =161–173=

Schaeffer, Sylvester, 258

Semon, Larry, 18

Sennett, Mack, =4–24=, 42, 309

Shaw, Bernard, 314

Sissle and Blake, 94, 96, =149–158=

Sloane, A. Baldwin, 372

Smith, Edgar, 372

Smith, Syd, 221

St. John, Al, 17

Stone, Fred, =182–183=, 249

Stearns, Harold E., 214, 215

Straus, Oscar, 163, 164, 168

Strauss, Johann, 64

Strawinsky, Igor, 99, 104, 106, 346

Sullivan, C. Gardner, 14

Swain, Mack, 17

Sweet, Blanche, 329, 330

Swift, Jonathan, 111, 121, 123

Swinnerton, Jimmy, 215

Symons, Arthur, 250

Tad, 218, =220=, 227, 367

Tanguay, Eva, =374–376=

Taylor, Bert Leston, =278–279=

Taylor, Deems, 242, 328 f

Tempest, Marie, 154

Tempest and Sunshine, 186

Thomas, Augustus, 314

Tiller Girls, 270

Tinney, Frank, =180–182=, 196

Turpin, Ben, 11–12, 16–17, 44–45

Twain, Mark, 111, 112

Urban, Joseph, 130, 151, 170, 313, 334

Van Hoven, Frank, 257, 258, 259

Van and Schenck, 251, 256

Veidt, Conrad, 204, 331

Viennese Operetta, =161–173=

Wagner, Richard, 312, 313

Walthall, Henry, 329, 333

Ward, Artemas, 120

Warner, H. B., 331

Watson, Harry, Jr., 134, 251, 257

Wayburn, Ned, 151

Weaver, J. V. A., 124

Webster, H. T., 221

White, Pearl, 327, 328

Whiteman, Paul, 70, 89, 93, 99, 100, =103–104=, 106

Williams, Bert, 135, 146, 208

Williams, Herbert and Wolfus, 251, 257

Williams and Walker, 152

Wilson, Edmund, 136

Winninger, Charles, 138, 139, 208

Winter Garden, =139–141=

Withers, Charles, 257, 258

Wodehouse, P. G., =165–169=

Woollcott, Alexander, 181

Wynn, Ed, 181, =183–185=, 196

Young, Stark, 52, 53, 234 f, 235

Ziegfeld, Florenz, =129–146=, 151, 153, 170, 309

Transcriber’s Notes

Punctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made consistent when a predominant preference was found in the original book; otherwise they were not changed.

Simple typographical errors were corrected; unbalanced quotation marks were remedied when the change was obvious, and otherwise left unbalanced.

Illustrations in this eBook have been positioned between paragraphs and outside quotations. In versions of this eBook that support hyperlinks, the page references in the List of Illustrations lead to the corresponding illustrations.

Halftone patterns in some illustrations could not be entirely obscured.

Footnotes, originally at the bottoms of pages, have been collected, renumbered, and placed just before the Index.

The index was not checked for proper alphabetization or correct page references. It was not always possible to determine whether or not some references were in boldface.

“Strawinsky” is spelled that way throughout this book.

Page 209: “surexcess” was printed that way.

Page 219: “gettings” was printed that way.

Page 379: “Indominatable” was printed that way.

Page 395: “Cæsar, Irving” was mispelled here, but spelled correctly on the referenced page.