Theater: Good Old Follies

Florenz Ziegfeld, whose slick grey hair is growing thinner as his piquant, 44-year-old second wife (Billie Burke) passes on to join his svelte first (Anna Held) in Broadway’s legend of beauty, knows what nostalgia is. He is one of the few gentlemen of his race and profession who can capitalize nostalgia with finesse and good taste.

When, after an interim of three years, he put together another Follies (his 23rd) and sent it out to Pittsburgh last fortnight for a tryout, he knew he had no breathtakingly new ideas or humor. He knew the music was only cheerfully dependable, not intoxicating, and during the trial he bustled Composer Johnny Green (“Body & Soul”) out to try and brush up the songs. But he had followed his old formula: really beautiful girls, the best tap and ballet dancing that money can buy, principals who are currently at top popularity, and the most perfect mounting, dressing, laundering, discipline. To all this he had added his priceless ingredient, that dash of nostalgia to make people say “Good old New York, good old Broadway, good old Follies.” And as he stood in the back of the darkened theatre, tired but happy in his working clothes (grey suit, blue shirt), he heard his opening night audience say just that. Next day he heard the critics say it, unanimously, vociferously. And then the paying audiences began saying it every night, with burst after burst of glad applause, clink after clink of hard dollars.

Greater than usual must have been Producer Ziegfeld’s sense of relief to know this show was “over.” He has a profit sharing contract with William Randolph Hearst, owner of the Ziegfeld theatre. Publisher Kobler of the Mirror is supposed to have a “slice” of the production; so is Ticket Broker Joe Leblang’s widow. Working for others, Ziggy felt he must be surer than ever of success. Accordingly he aimed pointblank at the middle-aged male who is the basic support of all girl shows, by having shapely Faith Bacon open the proceedings with nothing on at all. Gladys Glad, still rated as the most perfect “Zig” ever discovered, was paraded after Miss Bacon, led out by handsome, hard-working Harry Richman, to whom few tired businessmen’s wives are indifferent. Richman’s duty was to pace the evening and loosen up laugh muscles, stimulate the tune appetite.

Now it was time for a sketch—”Grand Hotel” by Gladys Glad’s smart husband Mark Hellinger, a fairly disorderly sequence with Harry Richman as Baron Al Capone of Chicago, sputteringly Semitic Jack Pearl as Cecil B. Goldwarner of Hollywood, Milton LeRoy as Alphonso Smith, late King of Gibraltar, and deep curved Helen Morgan as Polly Adlervitch, the Russian danseuse who visits all their rooms in a business-like way, leaving green carnations as receipts.

Ready for insertion whenever the program needed them were first-rate Albertina Rasch numbers; the Britton & Gang orchestra which smashes peanut brittle violins with acrobatic abandon; dusky, soft-hipped little Reri from Tahiti, native star of the film Tabu; Miss Universe and the next two prizewinners fresh from Galveston’s beauty contest; mincing Albert Carroll (without makeup) and his impersonations. Better than any of these, the gangling 17-year-old named Hal LeRoy is a new loose-leg hoofer with the appeal of a playful, intelligent puppydog. The show was his whenever he danced.

High point of humor was Harry Richman’s scene after the intermission, selling a broom to a housewife by radio advertising technique (including quartet). But the main box office insurance, besides frequent and generous glimpses of lovely Zigs, remained the injections of nostalgia. These were administered in two ways, for contrast. Under a sidewalk perspective of the Empire State Building, industrious Mr. Richman sang while the company pranced a stagger-jazz cacophony called “Doing the New York,” sure to make out-of-towners feel well away from home. And out of a hard-drinking penthouse party scene were developed two scenes of New York night life, new and old. In the new, placed after the old to clear lumpy throats, a gangster gunfight broke up the proceedings in an ultrasmart night-box run by a pansy. In the old-style scene, an evening at Rector’s before Prohibition was reproduced to the last sparkle on Diamond Jim Brady’s shirtfront and Lillian Russell’s dog-collar.

Nora Bayes, Sam Bernard, Hazel Dawn, Al Jolson and some others are sitting with Diamond Jim and Lillian, a quiet, friendly supper party with wit and wine. Miss Russell asks Miss Bayes to sing. Miss Bayes, reincarnated in electric yet mellow Ruth Etting, arises simply and simply sings “Shine on Harvest Moon.” Hardened revue-goers call it the smash song of this summer on Broadway, all Little Shows and Band Wagons notwithstanding.

Other Follies songs that will be heard: “I’m With You,” “Sunny Southern Smile.” Flesh fashion note: Mr. Ziegfeld has en dorsed the return of larger busts. False rumor: that the elephants who carry the undressed girls are real.