The Puppetmaster's Regime

## The Puppetmaster's Regime by Hagenisnotacat

Have you ever heard of the musical "The Puppetmaster's Regime"? Most likely, you haven't. In fact, most die-hard theatre lovers are often unfamiliar with this little production. It was a 1934 stage musical written by anonymous authors of the music, lyrics, and book. It starred upcoming performers such as Timmy "cutie-pie" Wright, Sally Wilkes, Henry Gregory, as well as many others. At the time, it was the most expensive show to date. It was said to be the biggest, most spectacular stage show to San Francisco and back.

**From the testament of Tyler Warwick (1901-1983)**

"I went to see the show about a week after I turned thirty-three. The ticket was a gift from my sister, who knew how much I loved the theatre. I remember the signs, they were huge and rather gaudy. Oh, and the playbill--it was just a single red dot with a doll-like face on it. It seemed a bit melancholy for what I assumed was to be a musical-comedy, but I didn’t pay much attention. I was going to see a Broadway show."

**From the testament of Georgina Long (1911-1984)**

"The cast was made completely of 'new' people. Young children and adults alike who were longing to get back on stage after Vaudeville became old news--it was quite charming really. But I did take a bit of notice to that odd little playbill...all the playwrights and lyricists and everyone were all unnamed, and that design...it was a little red drop with a peculiar little face in it. Not even a title, just that little red dot. I had come to New York with my parents on an impromptu vacation after my grandmother had died...a Broadway musical seemed just like what we needed. (…)"

**From the testament of Carl Hannigan (1920-1993)**

"I do recall most of the first act. Then again, who could forget? The story was a little hard to follow at first. There was a little boy who lived in a puppet shop, or maybe he lived down the street--no, no, he worked in the puppet shop, but he was homeless, so they provided him with a home there. The kid's name was Mori..Mortim...something weird...oh yes, it was Morietum...no, Morietur. Morietur, yes.

Anyways, Morietur's employer was this old man named Mr. Obcisor. I remember his name because his character was unimaginably unsettling--bouncing all around and getting angry and the little boy, all while keeping this nasal, gigglish voice. Anyhow, the production opened to Morietur and the odd fellow getting into an argument over the boy not doing his work, then two of them sang this peculiar number about puppets...it wasn't a normal song...or at least, the musicality wasn't normal. The lyrics were very enchanting, and the music did this odd flowing thing about the room…instruments would get very quiet without losing any power to it; maybe it was just the acoustics--I'm most likely explaining it all wrong. Oh well. But...in time, we got used to it, and the show progressed..."

**From the testament of Gabriel Johnston (1919-1976)**

"This youngster, Mori- Morietur, something like that, was quite insecure about his stay in the puppet shop--very paranoid that his boss would throw him out. I was an aspiring lyricist at the time, and I'd done the lyrics to a few original community theater projects, so I was fascinated with the wording in these songs. I scribbled down a few lyrics after I’d went home. Unless I'm remembering wrong, the little puppet-shop-boy and Mr. Obi-something had a introductory duet, and then Morietur went off and had a short lament in a different, much more somber tune:

*If I stay, and do everything right I can live in the day, and steer* (stay?) *clear of the night*

Out there in the night, in the dark, there’s a world of why’s (lies?)…

I can hear them whisper…

And sometimes I can see their eyes…*If I stay, and do everything right I can live in the day, and steer*

The ‘eyes’ comment confused me for a moment, but then I assumed that he was meaning the stars.*If I stay, and do everything right I can live in the day, and steer* It seemed as though the number was unnecessarily tragic and poorly situ*If I stay, and do everything right I can live in the day, and steer*ated within the show, but *If I stay, and do everything right I can live in the day, and steer*it was a minor quibble.

Now, Morietur had a girl friend named Trahunt and a boy friend named Adolebit. After interrupting the final note in his lament, they all gushed about how much they loved puppets...but they couldn’t afford one from Morietur’s guardian’s shop, and so they transitioned into this vibrant little song about joining forces to raise money so they could afford to build their own puppet. After this, the three all headed for school, and the story took a sharp turn in a different direction.

(After several attempts to begin again) Now...they had this really nasty teacher or headmistress named Madame Reperio, or something like that. They had a reprise of the song from before and she overheard them, and at first her remarks about the children's fantasies were somewhat comical...but then the light fixed on her and she sang this heartbreaking little song. What the song was about was up for interpretation. It was somewhat about love, but it had all these strange puppet metaphors. The only lyric that’s stayed with me is ‘*Stroll through the wood-cracks, show them your pains/The hole in your throat and the strings in your veins*’

Then, she just went on this little breakdown--I assumed it was a poorly-conceived character trait. She started singing off key and went to beat one of the kids. The curtain fell, and there was a scuffle heard onstage. People whispered to each other, but a rising new orchestra piece silenced us. The curtain rose again, and we were right outside the puppet shop."

**From the testament of Louis Roberts (1905-1967)**

"Morietur and his friends went into the town and sang a song about selling...dolls, I think it was. Because the little girl made dolls in her spare time, and she had to sell them. I remember those strange background characters. The company was so absolutely monotonous...they all wore some form of dark clothing, and each of them were very, very tall. I can remember how they all had their faces covered up by hair or hats or veils...none of them spoke. None of them even sang during the course of the show. They just walked in perfectly straight lines, as if they weren't even part of the production. Anyways, this strange song about buying dolls...it had absolutely no life. But for some reason, these children were putting their all into it. I could see the pain in their faces as they hit those high notes. And something else...as the lyrics went on...they seemed to...get...a little...it is so hard to explain. They all looked like they were...hurting a little. They looked so pale and nervous all of a sudden. Coming from a stage family, I convinced myself it was only stage-fright, but it still made me just a tiny bit anxious."

**From the testament of Carrie Laurie (1921-1995)**

"The kids all got their money from this strange man in cloak who sang a simple little tune...I still remember the lyrics:

*Despite the fall of rain, little kiddies,*

Everyone needs a little song-

Wooden dolls give you pain, little kiddies,

Go on, little kiddies, run along...*If I stay, and do everything right I can live in the day, and steer*

His character was never really explained.*If I stay, and do everything right I can live in the day, and steer* But I remember how truly gripp*If I stay, and do everything right I can live in the day, and steer*ing the melody was...so haunting, it got you *If I stay, and do everything right I can live in the day, and steer*right there in the gut. Even the little kid actors seemed a bit unsettled by the new turn of the show. They all kept stuttering over their lines as they spoke and sang, and then a light bulb over the stage went out. Everyone kind of gasped and one man I think even laughed. The noise it made really spooked the little girl, little miss whatshername. All the names were so very strange. All I know is that light bulb had gone out, an the actors were stumbling across the stage...and the whole thing looked like a terrible flop.

When the children reentered the puppet shop, they presented Mr. Obcisor with the puppet pieces they’d acquired when the audience wasn’t looking, singing a braggedy sort of chant, ‘*we done/we done/diddy-diddy done-done did it!'*. It was obnoxious, but thankfully brief. After that, the light fixed on Morietur, and he began another tune. The song was a dud, and all I remember was that he flubbed the last line. The lyric had something to do with 'the final stroke of light', or some sort of long-winded moon-based metaphor. All I know is that he forgot the words, and all that could be heard in that theater was the sounds of car horns outside the building. The boy...he didn't seemed shocked or embarrassed or nothing, but his posture improved out of the blue, and the orchestra stopped. He projected half of the word ‘sorry”, then suddenly he burst forth in wordless vocalization. The music resumed, and the other characters began to join him.”

**From the testament of Marcus Edger (1918-1968)**

"...So After that bulb went out, the whole set started falling apart. We, the audience, tried our best to ignore it. But it was near impossible. I saw two sets of very angry attendees get up and leave. The set piece for the puppet shop screeched its way onto the stage, and we could see in the far back the paper sky background falling down. The lights went dim in what we assumed was an attempt to hide the malfunctioning set pieces. The kids, with the help of an oddly monotonous Mr. Obcisor, constructed the puppet...and this strange song played. To this day I don't know what they were saying. It sounded vaguely like Latin, but I went on to study Latin in college the next year, and found that guess to come out flat. I remember how it enchanted me, though. It enchanted all of us. We all began to feel this...thing...course through us. I remember a few people around us who were humming in an attempt to rid themselves of the sound, and I could hear people in the front rows crying out in what sounded like pain.

The actors themselves sounded as though they were about to pass out at any moment. They were doing this odd sort of ballet and they were tripping all over themselves, and a few more lights started flashing and breaking. We all sat and waited for the song to end, when...when...I'm sorry. (pause) I'm so sorry...I can't..."

**From the testament of George Frank (1899-1999)**

"...The lights were going on and off at random, and we were all praying the damn song would end soon. It had this force going with it...it was sucking us in. We could feel it. The little kids and the puppet man were dancing all around when...well, you see...(pause)...I really thought I could do it. I thought I could do it...I was right there in the fifth row, so I saw…but I can't..."

**From the testament of Carolyn Mark (1901-1949)**

"...The lighting was completely out of control. It was a mess. And that song...it was awful. But something about it...it was powerful. It had a force. I watched intently as the dancers began to skip around and...and...we...I thought they were...the lights..."

**Conclusion**

*The actual events of the final scene of Act I of "The Puppetmaster's Regime" has been up for debate for many years. Not many people are willing to speak out about what happened on stage during those final moments. Many believe that there is no actual record of an interview with somebody who was willing the tell the story…this is not true, as one testament survives from a Billy Prescott, who was only six at the time of the show. At such a young age, one might assume he was less affected by what he recalls happening:*

"...I was just a kid, so I don't remember much. All I can vaguely recall is that song...it was giving me a headache. I turned to my father to ask him if we could leave, when suddenly I saw the stage illuminate with this bright red light. The music stopped as one instrument after another died out, and swear I heard pounding underneath the stage. Everyone was questioning what was happening...even the actors. I remember that teacher lady being pushed through the door of the shop...and then everyone else came flying in from offstage, toppling on top of each other like rag dolls. There were people there who didn’t fit the design scheme of the production--stagehands and technical workers, I assume now. I remember the little girl screamed at the audience, then ran behind the shopkeeper while other actors continued singing. A few people started crying right there on the stage when suddenly this...curtain...came forward.

It's hard to describe what it looked like. It was a clear plastic wall, and it came down from above. Several years later I saw "Carrie: The Musical" on Broadway during one of its few runs...that thing that came down on the promgoers when Carrie was using laser lights to kill everyone? It was just like that. A bunch of set pieces from earlier scenes came down on the sides of the stage, trapping all of the actors in the center. Then chaos erupted.

The actors stopped singing, and were pounding on the plastic wall. Then, for some reason, they began to back away. As if some unseen assailants were coming towards them, they fled to the back of the stage--all except the little boy. The little boy who hadn’t stopped singing. Then, amid all that screaming and crying and shooting, the curtain flew out, and everything was in silence.

Due to that odd abruptness, the audience thought it was just a horrible ending to a terrible musical. We were about to get up when suddenly the curtain opened up again, revealing the stationary plastic wall upon which was a single light fixed on the little boy, Morietur. He had clawed his way through the plastic wall...we could see the blood on his hands...but…(pause)…the way he looked was…(…)

There were strings attached to every part of his body. We could all see his stomach...or lack of, anyway. It was like somebody had put a huge ice cream scooper in his belly. He was sobbing all over the stage, twitching and swinging around. It was a sight so unnatural looking, so painful and twisted and wrong...even now, I can't seem to wrap my head around how, but...(pause)...and so...and so everyone looked at him, not knowing what to do...and then he spoke...

"Help me...please...help me..." was all I could make out, and then he vomited and suddenly collapsed. The plastic wall lifted, and lights all came on. We saw the rest of them.

They were all dead. Every one of them looked exactly like the little boy. Everyone had those strings attached...and we watched as all of them, even the little boy...as their strings were pulled on. Their lifeless bodies rose on cue, and they bowed."

However, we cannot be certain that this a credible account...but unfortunately, it's all we have to work with. "The Puppetmaster's Regime" sparked horrible debate among the theatre companies. Several audience members had to be treated to special therapy for years to come...and the show itself was covered up by the police. For years to come the theatre company, as well as the police department, who had never managed to solve the gruesome murders of the cast and crew of the show, denied that the play ever existed. However, in recent years the story has resurfaced...sparking much new debate on the subject.

The theater that housed the musical still refuses to acknowledge the show's existence, and most theatre historians know nothing about the show in general. To this day, the identities of the anonymous lyric and music writers are unknown, and (to our knowledge) all recordings of the songs and police reports have been destroyed. However, through certain pieces of historical documentation, we can gather a bit of information on the production: The show itself had its first workshop in London in 1928. One of the songs, "Get A Puppet" was recorded with vocals by twelve-year-old Garris Creely. However, this recording has been lost, but is supposedly available in the black market of the internet. Other than that, no official records were ever made. Some ancient accounts say that an illegal audio taping of the final scene of Act I was recorded from backstage, but we cannot be certain that this is anything but a rumor.

As for any official memorabilia, very little of anything has survived. Until her death in 1994, theatrical historian Gladys Masters kept two large-scale posters, which she displayed at charity events--but these have since disappeared. Early costumes by Alice Lively, who had been the costume designer on Puppetmaster until she quit after payment disputes, are on display at the Pickett-Dahny Theatrical Museum in Dover, England. Other than that, playbills from its premiere night were given out, but most audience members destroyed their copies after seeing the show. Legend has it, around ten to twenty survive.

On another note, over the years the show has grown a small cult fan base, and here recently, an off-Broadway revival has been scheduled to premiere soon.

## Act II

When I last broached the topic of the 1934 musical “The Puppetmaster’s Regime”, my knowledge was apparently very limited. I had originally believed that all of the audience members who entered the theater on that fateful night were deceased, but I was incorrect.

One lone audience member, Alice Corley-James, who was nine years old when her grandparents took her to see the show, lives in Connecticut with her grandchildren. I gathered this information after my long investigation as to the theater which housed the unfortunate events of 1934.

I found myself on a wild goose chase after a long line of theater owners shoved me in different directions via emails or the rare private meeting. I was eventually given the home address of a little old man who shall go unnamed. This man had worked in several theaters over the past fifty or so years, and had collected many “borrowed” theater items.

One of these items was a box labeled “34-Creely/Wright”. The gentlemen claimed that he found it in the vaults of the August Wilson Theatre, but I’m not sure if he can be trusted, as his eggs seemed to be in quite a few baskets, if you understand me.

The oddly numbered box contained several sloppily organized papers, all of which detailed the long-awaited production of “The Puppetmaster’s Regime.

The most interesting of these files was a bulky folder that detailed the 1928 workshop in London, where the title of the show was originally “Morietur’s Friends”, which was later changed to “Morietur’s Puppet”. As music was refined, however, the title became “The Puppet Dressed In Black”, and was finally changed to “Puppetmaster”, which was the title they used during the actual staged readings.

The folder also contained a partial script for the show, although many pages appeared to be missing. None of the song lyrics were shown on the script, although the song titles were printed in their place, along with notes for the young actor playing the part of Morietur. Most of the notes are from the director, a man named Richard Webber…but one particular note seems a bit ominous:

“A little less vibrato on this one, Garris. Make me proud. Make us both proud. ~Mr. Sheridan”

This ‘Mr. Sheridan’ never showed up on any of the other files. He may have been an unaccredited assistant director, but something about his handwriting didn’t sit right with me.

Anyhow, some of the song titles are rather fascinating. Tunes with such titles as “*Never mind me, Mister*”, “*Morietur was an Orphan*”, and “*Get A Puppet*” make the production seem like any other. The characters don’t seem to be written in any strange way, much to my disappointment. It seems like a harmless little kiddie show, cutesy and upbeat. However, as the script progresses, the notes from this ‘Mr. Sheridan’ become more evident, and his messages become increasingly disturbing:

“We loved it the way you used to do it. Stop doing what we never told you to try.”

“Your cheeks puff at the end of this number, Garris. I love it. He loves it. We both love it. They love it.”

“Meet me backstage after the reading, Garris. He has a gift for you.”

“Meet us backstage again, Garris. They love to look at you.”

“Never leave us, Garris. You’re too important to Puppetmaster.”

After reading up to the scene where Morietur and his friends try to sell dolls (creatively titled “The Doll-Selling Song”), I decided to stop reading and do a bit of research on Garris Creely. I was not prepared for the sickening results:

Garris Creely was born on November 3, 1916. His mother had been a vaudeville stripteaser who lacked the funds necessary to support a child. As a result, he was taken in as a three-year-old by a man whose last name was Sheridan (His first name is recorded differently in many documents. Most people believe it to be either Carmichael or Charles.)

Sheridan was apparently a Coney Island architect, who designed elaborate funhouses and carnival freakhouses. He was also a private composer, having written many vaudeville numbers and Coney Island themes. Garris Creely-Sheridan was a semi-popular vaudeville performer from 1921 to 1923, upon which he was removed from the Sheridan home after Garris claimed to have been sexually abused by his adoptive father.

Garris was taken to live with Annabel and Henry McGregor, a middle class family living in upper Manhattan. Annabel and Henry, in an attempt to rid him of his childhood trauma, relocated to Worchester, England, with Henry McGregor’s relatives.

Coincidentally, “Puppetmaster” began rehearsals for the workshop a year after Garris Creely moved to England. The music and lyrics were still accredited with ‘anonymous’.

Now, one might assume that this is just another depressing backstory to a child performer from the early nineteen-hundreds…but it gets worse:

(unknown) Sheridan, along with being an architect and composer, was also a great patron of child pornography. He was the leader of a small group of individuals who specialized in the production of such articles. What makes this more revolting, is that from 1921 to 1923 (the years that Creely was his legal son), Sheridan housed a child-centered burlesque theatre/brothel underneath his estate. In 1924, he was placed in the Danvers State Lunatic Asylum in Massachusetts and escaped in 1926—a year before rehearsals began for “Puppetmaster”.

Now, returning to the script for “Puppetmaster”, we actually have a tangible record for both the end of Act I, as well as most of Act II.

The actual ending for Act I (as it was written), was as such:

Morietur and his friends design a puppet exactly like the one that Morietur has seen in his dreams (This was explained in a song entitled “*The Puppet Dressed In Black*”, which I assume was cut in the Broadway production). This puppet then comes to life and calls upon his magical powers to send Morietur and his friends into a parallel universe.

Act II begins with Morietur finding his friends (as well as Mr. Obciser), to be ‘asleep’, and dangling from puppet strings. The musical takes a more operatic theme, as we have six songs that are played one after the other, without a single interval of speech.

(The song titles being “*Never mind Me, Mister (Reprise)*”, “*I Can Hear Them Sing*”, “*What Is This Place?*”, “*Morietur’s Soliloquy*”, “*Wooden Dolls*”, and “*The Wind and the Whisperings*”.)

After this, Morietur is confronted by the odd man in black from the first act, who, in a long monologue, explains Morietur’s deep, passionate, sexual longings. Morietur realizes his clandestine emotions in a song entitled “*Beautiful Music*”, in which the man and Morietur apparently fall spontaneously in love, and right before they allude to the thought of intercourse, the Puppet Dressed In Black appears, jealous of Morietur’s affections. Morietur strips naked in front of the puppet, allowing for the wooden demon to seduce him. Morietur offers his soul in return for the Puppet releasing the ones closest to him.

When the children and Mr. Obciser are returned, the Puppet Dressed In Black and the old man reveal their sole motivations: to punish little children who repress the nature of their sexual responsibilities. They explain this in what would eventually become the show’s title song; “*The Puppetmaster’s Regime*”. Then, in a spout of randomness, the Puppet’s face turns bright red, and he shoves Morietur onto a bed shaped like a hand, apparently raping him.

In the epilogue, we see that Morietur’s friends have all been returned to the Puppet Shop, but none of them remember anything about him.

As you would assume, the workshop didn’t do well at all. Anybody with half a brain could understand why a musical about why children are obligated to have sex with adults and puppets wouldn’t work now—let alone in 1928. It was met with such a terrible response that the authorities forced the workshop to shut down, classifying it as child sex tourism. Garris Creely was temporarily removed from the McGregor household, for their approval for allowing him to participate in the production (when in reality, the cast members were contractually obligated to never speak about the show to anyone outside the production.

A week after Garris returned to the McGregors, he was kidnapped from his bedroom. This all happened the day before his birthday. After two days, the authorities found Garris at the theater that had been holding the workshops. He was found in the basement of the theater, tied to a bed, being violently raped by Sheridan. Sheridan, of course, was taken into police custody, where he died two days later of a lung infection. However, the most disturbing part about the crime scene was described by Officer James Cartwright:

“We broke through the door, and we were all fumbling down the stairs. We could hear him [Creely] screaming…we charged into the basement and saw…puppets. Puppets everywhere. All of them made to look exactly like the little Creely fella. There had to be dozens of them all over the room. Some of them were neatly dressed, like little dolls…others didn’t have any clothes on at all. It was so disgusting. I feel sick just thinking about it.”

Along with the recorded seventy-six Garris Creely-esque puppets that were found underneath the theater, authorities also found several articles of the occult in Sheridan’s makeshift apartment. He had apparently begun to worship an ancient god he called “Podominus”, a dark spirit who controlled all of life with invisible puppet strings.

Most of the investigators believed that Sheridan had created this God himself using the surplus of insanity he had retained by the time of his death. They also found a 5,023-page novel that Sheridan had written over the course of the past nine years, entitled “Puppets”. It was an extended manuscript version of “Puppetmaster” that was centered around the character of Morietur Abinces, a character obviously based on Garris Creely.

Following the events of “Puppetmaster”, the McGregors admitted Garris Creely to the West Riding Mental Hospital (now known as the High Royds Hospital) in order to repair his obvious mental damages. He was supervised by his adoptive uncle; Doctor Gregory McGregor, who personally documented his progression from 1928 to 1932, when he was released.

Other than the folder containing information for the 1928 workshop, most of the documents present in box “34-Creely/Wright” are mass jumbles of different documentations. Everything from vague police reports to scathing reviews of the workshop, and none of them are in any particular order.

The only valuable document I’ve managed to find is a list containing the names of all the audience members who attended the 1934 Broadway premiere. Seeing as how Alice Corley-James is still alive—and was seated in the fourth row of the theater—I hope to contact her soon in order to continue my investigation.