The Theatre: Caged Byrd

Last week the deranged festival called Hellzapoppin (TIME, Oct. 3, 1938) had passed its 1,009th performance. More than 2,000,000 people have seen Hellzapoppin, paid $3,450,000 for the privilege. During its lunatic history 3,000 panes of glass have been shattered (the noise accompanies the waggling of a chorus girl doing the bumps), 150,000 pounds of ice have been dumped in the laps of the audience, 150,000 rounds of blank ammunition have been fired from 22 revolvers, Hellzapoppers Olsen & Johnson have changed costumes 60,000 times, a laughmeter has recorded 510,000 gales of laughter. The attendance record is held by Radio Announcer Graham McNamee, who has seen the funnybusiness 17 times.

Last week, after the 1,009th performance, Stage magazine gave a party for Olsen & Johnson on the stage of Manhattan’s Winter Garden. The proceedings had the scrambled, incredible tone of Hellzapoppin itself. Olsen & Johnson approached a large birthday cake with a pair of fire axes. From the ceiling fell hundreds of balloons filled with capsules to be exchanged for boxes of candy, miniature radios, other favors. During an absurd game of Truth or Consequences, Heavyweight Lou Nova ran a foot race, impeded by a hastily donned corset. The most implausible feature of the entertainment came when, as another Consequence, bland, dinner-jacketed Admiral Richard Evelyn Byrd (in front of 1,500 invitees) was prevailed upon to thrust his head into a golden canary cage and allow himself to be fed crackers while he quavered “I’m Only A Bird In A Gilded Cage.”