The Week of a Dramatic Critic

The Creature's Daily Routine as Seen from Without and from Within

ALEXANDER WOOLLCOTT

AS IT IS IMAGINED BY THE HARVARD SENIOR WHO WANTS THE JOB

Sunday

LAY late this morning and thought a lot about Racine. Went out for a brisk canter along the bridle path and thence to Laurette Taylor's for a few rubbers of bridge. Dear Laurette—always so amusing, and such an excellent cellar. When she was my partner, she held no end of Aces and Kings and things. A fine actress. Supper with Ann Pennington. Welsh rabbit.

Monday

Percy Hammond and Stark Young arrived this morning for the regular weekly conference. It really was Hammond's turn to hold it but they are housecleaning at his apartment. There was not much important business to attend to. It was decided to accept the Erlanger note of apology about the late curtain business and then Hammond broached the question of Walter Hampden. Personally I feel that the time has come for us to recognize his ability. He has done a lot of Shakespeare; and, whereas it bores Hammond terribly, we are supposed to approve that sort of thing, I always say. But Hammond is simply determined that we shan't go any further than "adequate", at least until after Christmas.

In the evening to see the new Roland Young comedy at the Hudson. It is rather sweetish, but at least we have got him to the point where he scarcely uses his feet at all except for locomotion and kicking. I remember the time when he would play whole scenes from the ankle down.

Tuesday

A charming note from Roland, thanking me for my review of his performance and asking me how I think he could improve the love scene in the second act. I started to dictate a reply but it is almost impossible to write about acting, except in a quite general way. It is an awful bore, but I suppose I shall have to have him and Lotus Robb up here some afternoon and show them how the scene should go. Supper with Ann Pennington. Chicken a la King.

Wednesday

Four marked copies of Nathan's article in The American Mercury sent me by different friends. Called at his office but he was out. Supper with Ann Pennington. Bar le due and cream cheese.

Thursday

Irving Berlin dropped in to let me hear the new song he is writing for Al Jolson. I toned it up with one or two grace notes and one really good figure. He calls it Terrible, Terrible Blue. I corrected the grammar in the title and the second verse. He was so grateful.

Eugene O'Neill came over at cocktail time. Arthur Hopkins is fretting about the new third act and poor Gene is all upset. I was able to suggest that he transfer the streetwalker fight to the third act, dropping out the entire scene between the degenerate longshoreman and the cripple and letting the curtain fall abruptly on the moment where the old paralytic slips off the lifebuoy.

Supper with Ann Pennington.

Friday

Ran into Nathan on Forty-fourth Street. I was all in afterwards, but I feel fine now and anyway the Mercury will be better with Mencken editing it alone for a few months.

Saturday

Came to the conclusion that it would be better, all told, to have Jack Barrymore do my comedy. There is some risk about it, but after all I doubt if he would venture to run off to Europe in the middle of the engagement of a play by me.

Decided to marry Madge Kennedy either Tuesday or Wednesday of next week.

Supper with Ann Pennington. Buckwheats.

AS IT IS IMAGINED BY ALMOST ANY ACTOR, PLAYWRIGHT OR MANAGER

Sunday

Worked all day with the thesaurus and jotted down at least eight new words to use in the reviews this week. "Eldritch" is a fine adjective which will just knock Hammond cold. Then "epicene" is one I have not used this season and "atrabiliar" is a good one, but what I really need are some strong, mean synonyms for "punk". Then I'll be ready for the new Hodge play.

Checked up the fresh manuscript of my play and sent it around by messenger to Belasco. It's been weeks since I've sold a scenario to Woods.

Monday

The new Roland Young comedy is due at the Hudson tonight. Now that he sits at our table, 1 suppose I'll have to give him a good notice. But that management hasn't quoted me in the ads since January, so the play will have to be pretty good. Still, it's one of those French adaptations, which will give me a chance to make fun of the translation and to just sort of mention that I was in Paris last Summer.

Asked Ann Pennington to take me to supper after the play, but she said she had another engagement. I'll leave her name out of the next article I write about the Follies.

Tuesday

I'm afraid that piece which opened at the Hudson last night is likely to do good business. I looked around and frowned several times, but the audience kept right on laughing and applauding just the same.

Wednesday

Belasco sent back the play today. His note was polite enough, explaining that he was already rehearsing another play on' the same subject and had bought the sets and costumes and everything. I was a good deal put out, but I felt better after I had written a magazine article saying Hopkins was the foremost American producer.

Called up Lee Shubert and asked him to lend me a thousand. It was almost an hour before the money reached the house.

Thursday

Promised Maisie Temple that I'd get her into the new Hopkins show.

Friday

Went over my diary for the past six weeks and find that in that time only eight girls have come to me for help in getting on the stage. And one of those must have been all of twenty-six years old. Sent a sharp note to the circulation manager.

Saturday

Received the Barrymore check for the last six Hamlet articles. He deducted $1 0 for that paragraph where I forgot and said that Booth was pretty good too. Mrs. Fiske's September check arrived yesterday. Must remember to call up the Theatre Guild and ask them what's the matter.

Hear that three of the shows which opened last week will close tonight. As the farmer with the apoplectic wife said when she finally died, "That's more like it."

AS IT REALLY IS

Sunday

THE poker game lasted until five this afternoon. I'm a fool. But then, so is Broun.

Monday

Cribbage with F. P. A. until it was time to go to the show. Lost $ 18.50.

Tuesday

Found a new place to have my shoes half-soled. Dinner with Aunt Hattie.

Wednesday

Played croquet all afternoon at Great Neck. Dinner in town with Cousin Matilda. If it works out that I have to pay an income tax after all this year, Kelsey Allen tells me I can charge off fifty dollars for deterioration of my evening clothes. At that rate I'd be making money on them.

Thursday

Counted up my United Cigar Store Coupons. I ought to be able to get that shaving mirror by Christmas. Reread The Moonstone. Played anagrams with Mrs. Parker. Got only eight words but one of them was "phthisis", which certainly knocked her for a loop.

Friday

Have decided to cut out poker, potatoes, cribbage, sugar and white bread. Am overdrawn at the bank so it's time to write another article on the need of a repertory theatre in New York. Dinner again at the Automat. Saturday

Started in early on the article. Got as far as the paragraph where I usually take up the question of the deleterious effect of the long run on the art of acting when they telephoned that the poker game would begin at four instead of waiting until after dinner.