The Waterbury Democrat., 1933-10-26
I1s- Mezc York;
nx rAur. HARRIsoN

By PAUL HAA<k<knUN
 New York.-Backstnge enoop- inc: Tho theatrical eating and drinkinr situation is becoming ncl,te again. Not that the custom ers are pulling at fiasls or shelling peanuts: they haven't brought their lunches since strange ln- terlude." It's the actors themselves. There's scarcely a show but has its grooming board and its brim- ming decanter. and night after night and two matinees q week the performers have. to eat the same thnigs, and sip the same in- sipid potions, and simuiate en- 5oyment ..
 There's a certain amount of drinking done in all-well, all but oneor two--of the plays and mu- sical comedies. Water colored with caramel, most of it, but oc- cast of the operetta, Champagne Sec" is fairly swimming in the quarts of fake fizz that have to be consumed all through the show and every one of them constant ly apprehensive lest he choke on a mouthful.
 Joe Cooks handsomely
 makes martyrs of its players too, for it's laid about Rcc- tors and Nigger Mikes sa- loon. Mir Cook himself has to down Q S2-ounce stein of bcer--and go right on talk ing. As for eatinf, when Mrs Pat rick Campbell and her merry crew pretended to gorge on bacon and eggs, they really ate canned peaches and sliced tongue. VI. However, the best stage meal served hereabouts is at Eugene O'NeilTs "Ah, Wilderness" The Theater Guild has gone in for real- ism to the extent of actually pro- viding soup, bluefish and lobster, for George M. Cohan and com pany. An arrangement has been made with an Eighth avenue res- | taurant to have seven portions of | fish and soup, and four Holsters, brought to the stage door right on the dot of the dinner scene. The actors will tell you that lobster is not a dish to enjoy while trying to remember one's lines. And the restaurant man, who gets s60 l. week for the catering, is worrying himself into frenzy for fear his waiter will be late some night, or go to the wrong theater or somc- thing. Dressing Room Informality
 The average playgoer might be l disappointed by the dearth of luxury, and formality about the average star dressing room after a successful show has been launch- ed. A mirror; Q couple of lights, often unshaded; a few letters and telegrams, grease-paint and cigar. cts on the table; costumes and street clothes hung together on a rod; newspapers about; people strolling in and out leisurely chat ting. Sometimes there's n, surprise, though. In Dave Chasen's dressing room there's cozy bar. Tn Joe Cooks you try to hang your on a chair that bounces violently when he presses a button.
 {:
 One melodrama. "Doubie
 Door," is holding tryouts for
 poodle dogs. Seems 1t can't | find one willing to trOt across.
 saee sne s.sfs . Eow. w''hon. ss1Hp%af Ana aEoiS iG
 Your Horses" will soon be
 needing . new Miss Fpothing- ham, which is the name of the kitten produced each night X from . cocktail shaker, The present Miss Buckingham is | growing up.
 Youthful Veteran
 Going back to the dressing rooms again. Seeing Marilyn Mil- Ter in or out of makeup, it's al- most impossible to believe that she made her Broadway bow in the Passing Show of 1914. And it's curious fact that George M. Cohan, head man of the American stage, uses no makeup at all. (. Consider the Stagchands!
 | This is probably just theatri- cal folk-tale, but it's being told now about a certain acidulous producer and fiery young actress recently in rehearsal. Seems that the actress had done, over and over again some throbbing lines in a saccharlne love scene. Sudden : ly she broke off in the middle of them and swore-bitteriy and ex. pressively. Said the producer, sitting far back in the darkened
 orchestra: Please - my dear! Remember there are stagehands present."