The Washington times. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1902-1939, 1937-08-16

same time the trailer finishes
if you're lucky.
You listen to your second
trumpet player tear off a sizz.
ling hot chorus Of "Dinah,'
knowing he is a deep and sin
cere student Of the Bible. talks
and writes with authority on re
ligious subjects, conducts a
small church out In Maryland
of which he is the preacher, and
wonder how he manages to mix
two such totally different voca.
tionS.
WHAT THEY'LL DO
You know one Of your violin,
lists will rush for one Of the
other downtown theaterS as
soon as the stage show is over
to see a picture, as the guest
of the management, Of course,
while another will Immediately
try to pick the best losers from
the scratch sheet.
The first sax-player will pro
duce a dictionary and go to
work on last Sundays biggest
crossword puzzle, as the drum
mer hastens to the phone and
calls home, to sort Of check in.
as it were.
You may, If you are in a rem
iniscent mood, recall the front
row of tuxedos and lorgnettes
Of 10 years ago in the two-a-day
when you played for Nora
Bayes. Pat Room ey, Emma
earns, Eva Tanguay, Elsie Janis,
Ethel Barrymore, ETC., and when
those front row seats were re-
served two weeks in advance
at 81.
CONTENT WITH TODAY
But not being quite old
enough, yet, to live entirely in
the past (some reports to the
contrary not withstanding) you
realize you are perfectly con-
tent to play today's vaudeville,
Swing" "Hi-de-Ho" and all;
glad there is an Earle Theater
to play today'S vaudeville in;
happy to have a boss than
whom there is no better-John-
ny Payette; gratified that you
have finally gotten all four
brass players to use the same
make of instrument. thereby
getting better information and
balance; and when the head.
liner thanks you and your band
for playing that new number
splendidly without a rehearsal.
you're just a bit glad you are a
vaudeville leader, after all, eS.
pecially as you have a sneaking
suspicion that you couldn't earn
one-half the salary at anything
else, certainly not at writing
guest columns for your friend
Andy Kelley.
LIKES FRONT ROW
So you start out for a little
F. Street stroll and just outside
the stage-door meet the little
old lady who tells you frankly
and firmly she likes to sit in the
front row but your band plays
so loud she can't do it. You try
to explain to her that the acts
insist you should play certain
parts of their music loud as a
sort Of cue to the audience that
this is the place to applaud long
and vigorously and if you don't
do so you are besieged with re-
quests for more "build-up" at
the finish, and more "build-up"
means loud, louder and loud as
possible.
Also. that If you played only
for the first row, the rest Of
the theater probably wouldn't
know there was a band in the
pit, but you see that she is far
from convinced, is still of the
opinion that all theater orches-
tras should have no brass in
strumentS, so that's that.
THE OPENING LINE
Whereupon you light a cigar.
turn down four hardened pam
handlers between Thirteenth
and E. and Twelfth and F, and
meander on your way while
you try to think up a bright
snappy opening line for that
guest column you're supposed to
write.
And, Andy, If you have to
write one of these things every
day, you sure need a vacation.
p. Shave finally decided
there amt no good opening
lines for guest columns.