Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1891-01-25

racket was pretty we'll exposed by the Ham
merstein trouble in Harlem last summer. 1t
showed that the police officials levied q
pretty heavy tribute in seats and boxes for
themselves and their friends, and when the
manager kicked they closed his house on the
first technical opportunity. The Harlem
episode showed species Of blackmail
that ended in general sympathy fof the man.
ager and condemnation for the precinct cap
tain.
Deadheads in the Profession.
The professional deadhead is abundant
and omnipresent in New York. In fact,
this Is the home of the profession in
America. The actor and actress out Of a
job is vision of every minute for any
Broadway saunterer. In summer they can
be seen in swarms by hundreds and thou
sands. 1t is the waiting -or-an-engagement
kind that for the most part make up the
professional deadheads. The others are
usually too busy at their own performances
to bother any other box Office than their
own.
The "profesh" means anybody who ever
appeared in paid organization, which is a
very wide sweep. The reluctance with
which professional parts from the theatre
ency with which they stick to the deadhead
privilege. Some managers here re use ad-
mission to the profession except where the
applicant for the favor at present belongs to
some organization. or limit them to nights
when there are plenty OF empty seats, or
give them standing room. DAILY does not
admit them at all, unless they pay. He
SAYS "other schools cost money. What bet
ter school of the dramatic art than that
auorded by my artists could these learners
attend. Let them pay. It is worth any
body's money. 1t is worth most to members
OF the profession.
DAILY Enforces His Belief.
And MIR. DAILY believes what be says. he
does not permit a member OF his company to
solicit or accept such courtesies from other
houses. Doubtless he would consider their
attendance elsewhere as a pernicious waste
of time. Daily is rather severe on the whole
deadhead class. Tony Pastors manager,
Harry Sanderson, and Pastor himself, are
kind to professionals. If the professionals
would only confne their requests to them
selves-but they want TO run all their rela-
tions and chums in free. They are often
great frauds.
Managers and ticket agents, press agent.
and other theatrical officials encourage thi.
fraud often by giving out certificates of pro-
fessional character in the shape of request.
on other houses to recognize all sorts Of
people. They run in all sorts of women on
unsuspecting doormen and box officials.
Press agents and others keep pocket tabs on
which are printed orders for seats, and they
are not always careful how they use the
privilege. They pay good many private
scores with these orders. Speaking of these
orders, most of the New York theaters ex.
tend their courtes,es in orders requiring ap
plication at the box Office the evening OF the
performance in order to get seats. This en-
ables the manager to get look at the dead.
head and the ticket seller to balance the
house.
Giving Away Complimentaries.
The manager may personally know the
deadhead, and this gives him the chance to
see whether the man comes personally OF
whether he has given the seats away to
other people. This latter is the meanesi
ofense in the managerial eve. 1t is usually
concession enough to hand over So to the
deadhead, but when that favored individual
passes the money over to people who would
otherwise pay the theater So, it is rather
tough. Yet that is what is done every day.
The deadhead thinks that is all right. Mari
Hanley, Harrigan's manager, says the dead
head craze is on the increase in New York
"a good many men like to appear to have
the run of the theaters," he says, ''thougt
they don't mind the expense. 1t is the i'm.
portance it gives them. They will open 9
bottle of wine between every act rather thar
pay Tor a seat. l remember one day when
was treasurer at the old theater fellow
came in and bought two seats for 81.
showed the tickets out, but he requested m,
| to keep them till he called at night. Wher
l. A. L L
with him. He stepped up to the box ofici
and sung out breezily. Hello, old man
Can you let me have couple OF seats?' H,
| winked at me and passed out his two tick
cts. Thanks, said he, and proudly walked
in. You see, he wanted to give her the i'm
preston that he had the run of the house. p
Specializing in Privileges.
"About the cutest thing in the deadhead
line know about" says another manager
sis that racket of first nighter dramatic
critic. There was tremendous rush 70,
seats, and but one could be given him wher
he wanted two. He sold the single seat iol
$40. and came the next night and bought two
for So, having q cleans balance of 81 in hil
clothes"
Mr.. E. G. Gilmore, at Niblo's, is bitter
enemy of deadheads, and the lat little
cherub, Reeves, who fills up the box office
transfxes an applicant with his baby stare
Palmer requires all applications to be made
by letter, and ii it is favorably received
responds with gilt-edged admission ticket
j. NJ. Hill is the newspaper mans friend
and brother. He is very liberal to the boy.
and don't mind the champagne and cracker
between the acts. Barton, of the Casino, il
suave and full OF theatrical anecdotes, pro.
fesslonal stories, etc. He is the godsend Of
the gossip writers. Barton tells good
story of a newspaper man who brought f ve
ladies and presented a card bearing the
names of six papers he represented, and
demanded six seats. one for each paper.
To the professional eye paper house, '
as the deadheads in bulk are styled. is a,
once apparent. John Stetson once walked
into a theater and remarked to the manager
Good house-good house - pretty good
house."
Thousand dollar house." replied the
manager.
"Indeed!" said Stetson, where is the man
who has S999 in his clothes?'
People who once get into theaters free hate
ever afterward to buy tickets. There is an
axiom in managerial circles: "Once dead.
head, always a deadhesd."
CHARLES T. MURRAY.
CARS GONE AsTRAY.