U~\.o¢ \\. «’1. | C'V'": ' ' OJ \ .. .. r“, k (7 rh SOCIAL REFORM AND THE AMERICAN THEATER: 1880-1920 BY Thomas Edward Dennery AN ABSTRACT OF A DISSERTATION Submitted to Michigan State University in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY Department of History 1974 ‘. V b ‘ '- ~~ .. ~-‘. -‘~',~,-‘..+ Janvb‘ U-.a O “"‘.H ~ " "V'FN 4 V‘u-’u;n ' \d , Ira cusuu-d RAH- ‘ . ”v? 3..- vn.u...- _‘ ‘- ~'u..‘ “‘ - NA .. w- ‘n n- ‘-i .. .3. . ¥ .— r a $ _~; ‘ c It. ‘ 4 A 4 .1 t .2 C L .3. :1. t ..a red .1 r a I ‘ . r». try _. Zu ~¥ pg.» a“ E FM c s ma 3 r. r S a. T. .. . T r E n . C C L E I E t . u r O U. J fl» «w u a fin» c 5 AV .NJ‘ a A .V s . . u. , n 9 1 e 1 o h . r add 96; «D . ¢ L» A. . nn H HMU .h‘u N» m» a C M“ I .3 a t ... . It at 4.. 3. a . . ~ 1 w . .l .3 S. q . . an". a.” .v a a» .fi ‘ u u n In ‘ PM . ~\v .A. a» n... —u .3 NW. nu. ‘ ab ii .a. u. .. . «C. I ... .. . a wad. ‘11 .. H m.“ .0... ...q..m ... m. Cl... m...‘ .. a“ HIM Mn. .. U. . x a 1 n n e \‘a r (j 07 a ABSTRACT SOCIAL REFORM AND THE AMERICAN THEATER: 1880-1920 BY Thomas E. Dennery Throughout the late nineteenth century and the pro- gressive era reformers focused public attention on social and economic problems which stemmed from industrialization and urbanization. Populists, Progressives, Socialists, Single Tax advocates, and others questioned the growing con- centration of corporate economic power, while settlement house workers, urban reformers, and muckraking journalists cited inequities in American life. Widespread interest in social change exerted a sig- nificant influence on American intellectual and cultural life, and the theater as a popular art was close to the pre- vailing public mood; yet, theater historians have ignored the impact of reform ideas on the drama. In this study plays in which original reform ideas were developed and dramas which reflected reformist thought were examined. Previous scholars have categorized the period 1880- 1920 as a rather dismal interlude between the midnineteenth- century stage, which was dominated by great actors, and the modern theater which was ushered in by the dramas of Eugene O'Neill. As a result, plays written during this transition era have frequently been treated in a superficial manner, . fiao‘n . 1 ‘ < .~ av ‘V L: 3":‘IS&S CU-o---I- . . “‘7" v QF .b “D?' F‘ " L...“ ...e:.\.¢ 6‘-:\.~4- . . " ‘ .2“ ~~—6v~hu+~r-nn o- -.. »~....s;~ beatD s. "-5" :‘- n ‘- .VU C‘ veAl' - a - ' i I‘ ‘ ‘1‘ ‘-‘ n . 'I'..‘ “o¢ie..3‘3.. C . .:v-:Au- 53 :\\'fir‘“§‘ 7‘..-~..= § M“~._‘_"_~‘. O .3... . . -' ‘ '5‘ Iv a- f‘.‘ ..--u Fk‘:-, 5:: v- . -‘-~.J.,‘ - . “*"'A«- . ~.v..-..: 51:-623n :‘ . Thomas E. Dennery with analysis confined principally to aesthetic innovations which theater historians and critics have considered impor- tant contributions to the rise of the modern drama. Too often, theater historians have dealt with the social dimension of popular American drama only through com- parisons to European social dramas or the plays of Clifford Odets. Analyses of this type fail to take into account dis— tinctions between popular and elite art. Since the theater was a popular form of entertainment in America prior to WOrld War I, playwrights were confronted by technical and ideological limitations. Form restricted content; there- fore, considerable space is devoted in this study to the in- tellectual and aesthetic potential of the melodrama and the well-made play. Other restrictions were imposed by produc— ers, critics, and audiences which can best be observed when the Broadway stage is contrasted with the independent thea- ters of Europe and through the reaction of Americans to the dramas of Ibsen, Hauptmann, and Shaw. A small but articulate minority of playwrights and critics advocated an elite theater during the nineteenth century. By 1920, through the little theater movement, this group substantially transformed the American theater. Since they often advocated social reform for society as well as artistic reform within the theater, their efforts represent an important aspect of this study. Although a relatively small number of plays from the years included in this study have been published, many vaIIE a a: r. .3 S ‘._ .v - . —-V. f... .0. .3 . . 3 mu 5 a: I 4-.. vi no r. .C .3 D“ r. .n. . . .. . p n: v . n y L. .x C ...-a ‘J‘ Y'f‘r ..--~ -- I . nun—.65 .. . “J .1 - ‘1 33‘: .a o. a 4 .~ -u.-. ~._-_v_~_v-v .....¢. ' V . ~ a-I M av;--;‘\ v. (2 . -b-vu‘ .... q ‘ _ -c v t. .8 1.. “HM Q» A. ‘ ‘NH .‘u Pg «‘5 C .s C 2.4 V a we .oa ~\~ s . .2 Thomas E. Dennery others are available in typescript form in the New York Pub- lic Library's Theater Collection at Lincoln Center and else- where. Reviews from the New York Times, the New York Dra- matic Mirror, and Theatre have provided useful information on plots and themes, while clipping files have been explored to obtain national reaction to popular plays. Reviews in literary and popular magazines have also been examined, as have critical and biographical works by Walter Prichard Eaton, Brander Matthews, William Winter, James Huneker, and George Jean Nathan. Among the manuscript collections util- ized in this study are the papers of George Pierce Baker, Edward Sheldon, Van Wyck Brooks, Rose Pastor Stokes, Clayton Hamilton, and George Tyler. Biographical and secondary works both on the theater and reform movement have also been consulted. Evidence in this study suggests that American drama- tists of the late nineteenth century and the progressive era treated social issues more fully than previous scholars have suggested. Despite producers who feared plays that might alienate some theatergoers, critics who Opposed dramas of ideas, and audiences who insisted that popular plays must include a "happy ending," American playwrights did comment on social issues. During the 1880's, social issues were generally treated in incidental manner in melodramas, sketches, and well-made plays. By 1890, however, dramas by James Herne and Hamlin Garland involved realistic techniques and thorough social commentary. During the nineties a .3 S» .hu _: an r. 4. 2. Ce .5 . . V. ... . t l .l u. 3 r a ... r 3 .l e S a.” 3 a. v. a. S .J a. C. 3. .i . H .3 .u S .1 .7. S 2. W . ... E a . .3 C E E 3. ”a 3 t .1 a. a. C I P. t D. e n. I E t C .l t 3. I a. n... 3 a. L... C. a. W c. E o f. r e "h a . 2 2 E 3. e S a. E .. .4 3 ~ . E t 1.. .3 .3 3 ”J .. a 3 a. .l .. . v . A” L“ L,.. C C. 3 a I .1 e. n .n ‘ 'I‘ .n ' . N" i. a. a . C .3. 4... .«c. a . 3 I . m . 3 t. .:.C L. .e .3 a. :e c .u n . a . , N . . s. u. .Uu. . . “L “3. wk. 4 a a v w.“ w... m.“ 1.: u“ mu ..... .3 L. s. . a s a .v. u... .0" a“ ”.m a... u... u.- .‘ .ng. w... .. .u .1.. ~ . ... u .a a s . b.“ :3. Aux. .‘1 . . .. I ... . . s . ‘\~ . . z. a... \— \. .~\\w .s x. N‘s. s~.. NW...- Thomas E. Dennery number of plays reflected Populist ideas on trusts and labor problems, while others mirrored the urban reform movements of the decade. With the coming of the Spanish-American War interest in social issues dwindled and a corresponding decline in plays containing reform ideas also occurred. The rise of muckraking journalism, after the turn of the century height- ened interest in reform. As a result plays by Charles Klein and George Broadhurst were highly successful; audiences as- sumed they were based on the findings of the muckrakers. Others, such as Joseph Patterson and William Hurlbut drama- tized the results of original muckraking research. Patter- son's The Fourth Estate, a study of the influence of adver- tisers on the press, and Hurlbut's The Writing on the Wall, a critique of the tenement holdings of Trinity Church, con- stitute a neglected aspect of American theater history. The Progressive Stage Society, organized in 1904, and subsequent efforts of Julius Hopp to establish a Social- ist theater in New York, a pioneering attempt at workers' theater, were also described in this volume. After 1910, muckraking declined, as did interest in reform ideas on the popular stage. Dramas by Philip Moeller, John Reed, and Rose Pastor Stokes, produced by the Washington Square Players and the Provincetown Players, expressed the social ideas of Greenwich Village radicals who rejected re- form as impossible and advocated more fundamental change in American society. A‘s" .‘ V»-.. SOCIAL REFORM AND THE AMERICAN THEATER: 1880-1920 BY Thomas Edward Dennery A DISSERTATION Submitted to Michigan State University in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY Department of History 1974 © 1974 THOMAS EDWARD DENNERY ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 'a-..v; ‘T. ' .. U V O '..V--\lo-' 0‘ ’ .—~|[c~ H‘s-0Q“ Ffi‘.‘ ‘ .-‘ _ \‘1 , ___,!..-\-’ u...u. ‘_.-.. . .u' Copyright by THOMAS EDWARD DENNERY 1974 Q - v-x P5; "‘" L {1553. k-‘V" J"'-v 'v'nn H“ V'"‘_ "a. ‘-o:§’ .O£J “yet ' ‘3 __ u~q . \ ' .‘ :~ ~~L~n *an-v'wh ‘Uo.".(u' *.AJbe ~5I~"':A. V O ‘ 2‘ ; ‘I-gn n ,- q a ~‘v. .;;‘.o.{.b ace 6-: ‘ I ”‘5 ‘PH 7"». h "-‘ .-.--y 3..“ vbbeun {‘3‘ Q :-~ ‘ ‘ f‘ o. ‘ M‘ 'V J¢¢.Ja.l VS Yar,_; ..; .. .-. A“ “-v . :a..ler vars; a’3‘acw‘ g»; s yL‘i “a.. '- --«- .. ~__ A 1 can vf tn: ‘ - AL. ., «I» At‘y..‘ ‘ ‘IA.- - ‘9 .fl , "v. "‘I ”a YI‘H‘v- ' ~ 5..» “CAL" C‘r~.. ' § .:':'L., v "ebv‘ ¢ “*urary #1., ‘ L“: . ‘s" ‘L‘A ‘V ‘I g u y I . . ..\_ Q ‘a 2‘ '35P: -; _ :v. ~‘~~‘ 'Il’ *L‘Q o 5“ C“ n ‘ * " V CC :l .‘ULQ -.’-l ‘~ ':‘.‘I‘ 3 " wl a-» . ‘ ' Ml ‘L a La UV’E: n In Sillall y“ L :1 r P rt . :m.‘ . 1., . .‘iv ‘IVVA‘ . “"VLVE’; 1... 1 H “‘:.L“" ‘o . 'x‘ , c ‘: :‘v- “\ tv u“ ‘in . ‘ "U C511 ‘ ‘ *CI'Q" +- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS I am particularly indebted to Professors Douglas T. Miller, who supervised the writing of this study, and Norman Pollack, whose thoughtful comments invariably proved valu- able. Thanks are also due to Thomas Bushell, Frank Rut- ledge, and Joseph Waldmeir who offered helpful suggestions, and to Gilman Ostrander, Russel Nye, and Allen Schaffer who read an earlier version made perceptive observations. Grateful thanks are extended to librarians and staff members of the Michigan State University Library, as well as those of the University of Maine Library, the Princeton Uni- versity Library, the New York Public Library Theater Collec- tion, the Yale University Library, the Harvard University Library, the Columbia University Library, and the University of Pennsylvania Library. A small part of Nancy Dennery's contribution to this study involved finding time between teaching mathematics and raising two children to type the final draft. ii "v-oav . "-‘”--. ' h“ ' “““" 2. _ ‘. a«‘»-:‘.~ ‘.~. "."“IA_R"‘. - ¢.1-.\»_1u~~‘ .0 Yc‘au‘? ~.':‘ I: sol y.‘_,._. -‘.~ W ' ba- 5 . :‘k‘u ‘\~‘ . .99 ‘\"~'\-,“ ..._‘I I.“ . - . Q... .—.~.\‘»:‘. .~. . u V" R _". \ “FD. ‘ :- l.‘u._‘ ~.‘.J- 0" HR“ fi““' . o ‘.~‘-l. ‘ ‘ ‘ 'N'"\‘ ""V—~- ' I ”M IIH \ U“~~.‘.‘\y‘ .. ‘ v"-""r .Rf“ I. n A u. P ~\ \‘ “u D Infi'fihfl‘ ‘A\U\J.«-‘~S‘ u- 0‘ - I.- ~,'..L‘ f“ . n a «~&\‘\-:‘. : A.‘ \~:‘."\A‘. V"~"“Uv." v...‘ an“- I «.0 :JK-ig‘v :? ’- ou ‘. ‘ ‘ Q:A\.‘"“ ' ‘1 a U...J.5U'.‘...' My, H? yv-’ 1"— “.~ \ “‘J\J . .“.‘ l~§§ .' “.‘ ' ‘ a \J“-I ‘ Hr?” I “ ‘ \ h‘vf‘". .' h‘- U‘\L \ . 'U‘ ~ 12““ E ”a. U .\ J I J‘ . ‘\ i‘i‘ .. “a R “K. ~.J.~ '. «.‘~‘:~. ‘. TABLE OF CONTENTS Page Chapter I. SOCIAL REFORM AND THE THEATER: AN INTRODUCTION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 II. UNDER THE GASLIGHT TO UNDER THE WHEEL: FORM AND REFORM IN THE GILDED AGE . . . . . . . . 17 III. AMERICA VERSUS EUROPE: TOWARD AN INDEPENDENT THEATER . . . . . . . . . . . . 59 IV. FROM REFORM TO DISILLUSIONMENT: THE AMERICAN DRAMATIST AND THE MUCKRAKING ERA . . . . . . 116 V. A WORKERS' THEATER: JULIUS HOPP AND THE PROGRESSIVE STAGE SOCIETY O O O O O O O O O l 5 2 VI. "AMERICA'S DRAMA RENAISSANCE": FITCH, MOODY, SHELDON, AND THE PROGRESSIVE ERA . . . . . . 182 VII. SOCIAL REFORM AND THE AESTHETIC REVOLT: BROADWAY AND THE LITTLE THEATERS OF THE WILSONIAN ERA . . . . . . . . . . . . . 217 VIII. DRAMA, REFORM, AND AESTHETIC CHANGE: SOME CONCLUSIONS ON THE AMERICAN THEATER: 1880-1920 0 O I O O I O O O O O O O O O O O 276 BIBLIOGRAPHY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 290 iii CHAPTER I SOCIAL REFORM AND THE THEATER: AN INTRODUCTION Between the Civil War and 1920, industrialization and urbanization brought perplexing economic and social problems to America. The growth of large-scale corpora- tions, which seemed to promise efficient production for the consumer, intensified social tensions. A few acquired vast wealth through the expansion of corporate power, while others multipled already existing fortunes. For many, how- ever, the rationalization of basic industries simply meant further dehumanization through a system which crowded the working class into slums, where problems of health and edu- cation were compounded by the rising influx of European immigrants. Growing economic inequities and widespread social problems brought demands for reform. Some sought only the amelioration of the worst evils of capitalism, while others advocated substantial change in the economic system. Thus, reformers did not always agree; nevertheless, between 1880 and 1920 many called for social change. Among the groups which contributed to an impulse toward reform were Popu- lists, Progressives, Socialists, advocates of Henry George's l q‘ ‘.-- 3 4‘ ‘ ‘ ....'ov . n!““‘ g... ‘6‘- up-— I (I) ‘QAvQ...v.. - q .- .¢.--‘ .¢. ‘ :nqu :1 | w . "'.". “4.. Q ca... « ' t—l "'0 00" v- “‘~.. be} .‘b ~ ! -‘ i. ‘I- - -.V ‘ -..-—o — ‘Q—V.‘ ‘ A ‘u‘ \h-n . ‘wv. ‘. .\ . f n.‘ t.“ - ”v-4 ‘ “‘~.‘ N‘n m- n. ‘\ n P. ‘ . I»... . ‘. r“ N‘.‘ I a“. “ ~‘ . :‘:‘ ‘ 'h 5 v,“- ‘ s. q .... H o.“ \r g - F ‘wk ‘ V... - ‘ . I.‘ V s h "‘ " fl . .‘ l A l ‘ I 5 'y. ‘ I 2 Single Tax, and followers of Edward Bellamy's Nationalism. In addition, settlement house workers, urban reformers, and journalists focused public attention on reform. Intellectual historians and students of American literature have devoted considerable space to the impact of social and economic problems of the 1880 to 1920 period on the novel. Scholars have frequently related utOpian and muckraking novels as well as the rise of realism and natur- alism to issues raised by reformers, and they have investi- gated the influence of this literature on the reform impulse. No comparable body of scholarship exists for the drama, however. Intellectual historians have all but ig- nored American drama, while theater critics and historians of American literature have been primarily concerned with aesthetic considerations. Thus, Joseph Wood Krutch con- demned as "almost subliterary" American drama at the turn of the century. He concluded that not until well into the twentieth century was the drama "an important part of the history of American literature." Similarly, Grant Knight found "in no department was our literature from the close of the Civil War to 1900 weaker than in drama."1 1Joseph Wood Krutch, "The Theatre," America Now: An Inquiry into Civilization in the United States, ed. Harold Stearns (New York: Literary Guild, 1938), p. 72; Joseph Wood Krutch, The American Drama Since 1918 (New York: Ran- dom House, 1939), p. 16; Grant C. Knight, American Litera- ture and Culture (New York: Ray Long and Richard R. Smith, 1932), p. 310. , ;~v v:""?' .1. .v--- -‘-::._‘:V ‘ m-auv‘ b a -Av-.. 3’ fl '--.--‘- Li 0 § ‘ V :V. n:: F U 00‘- h ' . .O .n,‘ - .- 2* ..4- ‘- 4 ‘ .~' —“’A -‘ " ‘- ... .."5 ‘v- - . .. '\ _ - H -“" .u,‘ ‘ 1y . -~ A I..----:‘ ' a o. 1 "A‘ 3“ r‘ s. b‘ " ., A ~“‘ ”Q "H ~. “‘F~, " -"»" “I §._ “ “-u 3 Economic problems, social conditions, and the need for reform exerted considerable influence on the American theater throughout the 1880-1920 years. Except for the last decade of this period, the theater was almost exclusively a popular medium and, as Russel B. Nye has observed, "popular art has been an unusually sensitive and accurate reflector of the attitudes and concerns of the society for which it was produced."2 Too often, however, interpretations of popular thea- ter have been based on the standards of elite art. Because pre-O'Neill drama lacked literary merit or other aesthetic qualities, theater historians have assumed that dramatists did not effectively portray economic and social conditions. Edmund Gagey, for example, wrote: "In the years before our entry into the First World War, smugly indifferent to artis- tic and social forces threatening its own complacency, Broadway went its merry way, attempting to live up to its appelation of the Great White Way and dispensing entertain- ment to an eager public."3 The purpose of this study is to examine the impact of reform thought on the American drama and to evaluate the contribution of dramatists to reform movements between 1880 and 1920. Far more than the novelist, however, the play- wright is restricted by institutional forces. Producers, 2Russel B. Nye, The Unembarrassed Muse: The Popular Arts in America (New York: Dial Press, 1970), p. 4. 3Edmund M. Gagey, Revolution in American Drama (New York: Columbia University Press, 1947), p. 1. 4 critics, audiences, and even playwrights, themselves, im- posed limits both in form and content on the drama. Since these limitations affected both the aesthetic quality and the intellectual level of social commentary of American drama, their role is an important part of this study. The objective of this analysis, however, is not to demonstrate the artistic failures of nineteenth-century American drama- tists. These have been amply delineated by theater histori- ans, who have too often dealt with the social dimension of popular American drama only through comparison to European social dramas or the plays of Clifford Odets. Interpreta- tions based on analogies of this type do not take into ac- count differences between popular and elite art,4 a distinc- tion of considerable importance for, as Professor Nye has written: "The popular artist cannot disturb or offend any significant part of his society: though the elite artist may and should be a critic of his society, the popular art- ist cannot risk alienation."5 Therefore, this study will deal with the social commentary of American dramatists with- out imposing what might be called culturally anachronistic standards. The theater was in a state of transition during the 4Alan S. Downer, for example, concluded that "even the best of the serious plays written by Americans before the First World War are not more than superficially true to life as we understand it." Fifty Years of American Drama, 1900-1950 (Chicago: Henry Regnery, 1951), p. 39. 5 Nye, Unembarrassed Muse, p. 6. -----| 5 period analyzed in this study from the actor-dominated stage of the midnineteenth century to the dramatist-oriented the- ater of the twentieth century. Therefore, not all play- wrights and critics accepted the standards of popular art. Indeed, many who called for a theater which would produce drama of interest to an intellectual elite in the nineteenth century were also those who believed that the drama ought to deal more specifically with political and social problems. Thus, the battle for an artistic theater as an alternative to the popular stage provides a contemporary critique of the intellectual limits of a mass entertainment industry that is clearly related to reform thought. A popular play of the late nineteenth century at- tracted a nationwide audience. Between 1860 and 1880 the railroad made it possible for touring companies to replace local stock companies, which had been weakened by the star system. As booking for road companies was increasinsly cen- tralized in New York City, so too was the production of plays. Multiple companies of Broadway hits were organized to tour across the country.6 The "mass production" of popular plays stimulated the demand for American drama; this was augmented by Inter— national Copyright legislation in 1891. As he gradually was 6Jack Poggi, Theater in America: The Impact of Ec- onomic Forces, 1870-1967 (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1968), pp. 248-249. ;.~.‘b"‘ ’: . - nan-v.0 U ‘bU clue-o: G .u.-- v. \- r . " a ‘ \A‘A“ I Ibl.'l ~iy-‘ ’ ~ D. Ina‘nqvfl‘.‘ " U‘h..u.v‘ c “ . .‘.Qn ”-0....J. . . 'v. .- ‘4" :IQ "I; V““L: . ~— . ‘7‘ u. - -V‘ A .C“‘ ~r - o ‘n ‘1: a . . -“ ahfih‘ " “VI. . s .w“ ‘3‘ ‘ k-.. ‘E a A ' P ‘\.- ‘ A. 's‘ .4! \ '-'.‘ u. . h v'“: :31»- K ‘ .“ ‘Ki‘a . u- h “‘1 L}: s N :u: A . n i ~ . ‘r\~‘ ‘- d 1 “.’ ‘~ 5 .‘a §A ‘34“ \‘.. ‘1‘ .~-" 'l- u V" E’fi‘ I p U .‘a ‘ t?‘ \ ~ ~§_ ‘ ‘- ts CA U!1\A Ut.N "s r \ v .. s ‘A \\~ \ ‘- «if: Q‘- “ 1 ‘ . I I l ‘ I V“‘ § ~ ix. I ‘\‘ F . \ 6 emancipated from the status of "adaptor,"7 the American dramatist naturally drew material from political, economic, and social problems--problems which also reflected the in- terests of a mass audience. At the same time, however, the dramatist wrote with the limits of popular theater in mind. Thus, social issues were often treated as incidental humor or background, between subplots, comic relief, and contrived endings. By 1890 the forms that would dominate the popular stage until after World War I were well established. During the nineteenth century the melodrama had gradually been Americanized and reached the height of its popularity in the popular-priced theaters from 1890 to 1910, while somewhat more sophisticated melodramas were frequently offered on Broadway. Though Bronson Howard had successfully combined the well-made play with the farce by the end of the 1880's, American authors were slower to apply the techniques of Eugene Scribe to local conditions. Well-made plays from France, Germany, and Great Britain were adapted for the American stage until after the turn of the century, however, and original American plays were increasingly written in this form after 1890. Satirical comedy sketches gradually had evolved from the vaudeville stage. During the gilded age some of the most realist commentaries on American social life and values were written by Edward Harrigan, whose 7Ambrose Bierce defined an American dramatist as "one who adapts plays from the French," The Devil's Diction- ary (New York: Hill and Wang, 1957), p. 38. n'.-0Rl:: cov- :.'.:.....u v:- I .a.- ‘7' >— .v‘»-u c . Q i " I; :T“ firs -- why-“ . v“ I 0" 64...}... _ no......'. .‘ 4 :1". "‘ an..-» . ‘- .‘: flip-u a“ ‘s‘.. i I "Q. —.: fin ‘.:|~-V.. ‘. 7 .‘A’Q A: lug-“.54.: V‘ .- I! i III p. fi.‘ \.,‘sv,. d ‘ ¥ ‘ 9M“ I‘.‘H‘ ‘ ‘~. ~ OI "I :f“ \p‘ a ‘\ .‘.“A - <‘~¥“1 . u‘ 4 ‘ ‘wn‘ , c ‘\ "l . . u ‘v: {‘30. ‘wt,_‘ . ‘~ a C" ‘ .‘;.~ \l‘ Q ~Ev. \ \- . \ P \I a 9“,; "u" ‘ I . \ l “ \P‘ ‘ ' H I “A“ —.___...ul 7 sketches contributed to the development of the musical comedy. In Chapter II, specific examples of each genre will be explored to illustrate the extent to which form limited content. Thus, in the melodrama a playwright operated with- in a framework of clear moral distinctions and a certain class orientation. This alone suggested a potential social dimension in the melodrama. In the United States, however, authors of melodrama did not fully develop this possibility. As a result, Augustus Daly's Under the Gaslight illustrates the incidental mention of social issues between complex plots and subplots in order to add a touch of credibility to an otherwise unreal situation. The well-made play, as the dramas of Emile Auger and Alexandre Dumas, fils, indicated, had a greater potential for social criticism than the melodrama. In the nineteenth century, most plays of this type, produced on Broadway, were drawing-room comedies which appealed to middle-class audi- ences. Bronson Howard's The Henrietta, however, illustrated the effective use of this theatrical form to satirize the materialist values of the middle class. Probably the most realist portrayals of urban life produced on the American stage in the late nineteenth cen- tury came in the sketches of Edward Harrigan. The Mulligan Guard series contrasted the ethnic minorities of New York City and satirized urban machine politics. The need for re- form, however, was no more than faintly suggested in |_. .~: I- :‘f: I.“ . -o- ~ ‘ ..._| ‘ a. A *' .~..« 5. ‘0 .o-" ’1 .-- -. - W :3. u... _. ‘ ._-' ~-- 8", . .‘ 5". x.» - h V C. ' \- a.“ .‘V- ' “ ~ 5 N ‘s \u Q 1.. 8 Harrigan's comedies; not even his targets were offended by his plays. Hamlin Garland's Under the Wheel, written in the 1890's though not produced, demonstrated that an author ap- plying the techniques of literary realism to the drama could depict economic and social problems which were ignored in most popular theaters. It also illustrated, however, that no American producer was interested in realistic plays or dramas which advocated substantial change in the economic framework. In Europe, Garland's drama might have been produced in an independent theater. Beginning in the late 1880‘s, intellectuals, often supported by working-class organiza- tions, established art theaters as an alternative to the commercial stage. Thus, the dramatist who employed natural- istic techniques or socialist ideology to thoroughly analyze his own society, while excluded from European commercial theaters, could get a hearing at the Theatre Libre in France, the Freie Bfihne and Freie Volksbfihne in Germany, and the Independent Theatre in England. There were several attempts to organize noncommer- cial theaters in the United States during the 1890's. The most noteable of these, a production of James A. Herne's Margaret Fleming in Boston, is described in Chapter III. The failure of this venture, despite the support of Garland, William Dean Howells, and B. 0. Flower, indicated the lack of an audience for intellectual drama. The reaction of ut—H 9 critics to Herne's play and also to dramas by Ibsen and Hauptmann indicated that one influential group was hostile to sustained social criticism on the stage. William Winter, the most influential critic of the period, disliked melo- drama but reserved his most caustic invectives for dramas of ideas. Herne's subsequent success with Shore Acres in which his Single Tax philosophy was more completely spelled out illustrated that political ideas could be utilized, if that dramatist inserted enough sentimentality and romance to at- tract a wide audience. American playwrights could learn much the same lesson from the career of Augustus Thomas. His early plays dramatized the cause of labor; however, as he increasingly relegated political and economic ideas to the background, his dramas became more popular. During the 1890's it was also evident that producers in the United States were not anxious to stage serious plays. Few showed an interest in producing dramas by Ibsen or Hauptmann, even though sufficient concentrations of Scan- dinavian- and German-Americans existed to provide a natural market. After the turn of the century, however, as a result of the impact of muckraking journalism, the market for drama which clearly presented reformist ideas was greatly expand- ed. Producers abandoned their reluctance to stage plays de- picting economic and social issues; several even tried dram- atizations of muckraking novels. The first of several chapters dealing with the .u.--~~ ‘ _ .. I ”on w: .'., .IOJ H ‘ ,.- G‘Afl‘ 2' ‘ *' 5.»...48 I .‘Q " " ' e t“. a :ve‘q‘a"r~‘ ' S -.-¢‘-o‘.b \- V;v LL)“ pub. sandal . -H o. .. ‘. “‘1"~a “‘ "uu-..«: ., CI. . 1 v”. -5 ~ 3”: “bu-1“, ' ‘I .8. A.“ ‘fin‘ ..‘.~" 110%; ‘ . o. . v- p .‘- ‘1‘ '1 ‘ ..."‘at i J: C‘w "AWE“ S "h. - k .. ‘5 1?». \“ ‘jv: u... ‘--.( :,-.' “"‘:‘t'~ {F J'— ‘v ML . 7‘. ‘~::.; " ‘L . bud. .- b I . fir~r. v“: .L A ms: PF‘:‘. U u"& ‘p._. -‘_,. ‘§ 10 1900-1910 decade will examine the impact of muckraking on the popular stage. Among the most successful plays of this type were Charles Klein's The Lion and the Mouse and George Broadhurst's The Man of the Hour. Although these reflected rather than contributed to the reform movement, their popu- larity stemmed from audience association of the plays with the findings of muckraking journalists. Before the end of the decade, plays by Joseph Medill Patterson and William Hurlbut included original muckraking and a portrayal of American life far more critical than the superficialities normally seen on the Broadway stage; their plays are a gen- erally neglected aspect of reform thought. Although no muckraking drama exerted an influence comparable to that of The Jungle during the progressive era, there is considerable evidence that the drama did influence the reform movement. Thousands attended the theater weekly; continual exposure to plays which touched on social-economic conditions and criticized existing institutions may have in- fluenced some theatergoers to support reform candidates. The ideas of reformers were so frequently heard in theaters during the muckraking era that Cleveland Moffatt wrote a drama in 1908 to defend the capitalist system. Reviews in nmckraking journals revealed that dramas sometimes suggested ideas for further study. Dramatists themselves claimed at times that their plays had brought about specific reforms. Probably the producer-dramatist most concerned about the political and social influence of his plays was Julius .‘M ‘ dawn-‘3“. -.u| fl Hun-"d“ .- .. Q C 1 ~ qua: 55]“ ( ”nu. Ulbfiaa-j - ”= ‘o e"? ”ovoid I uu. ' 1 2‘)" v ngw Aaa mvuue. ubd‘CV,’ 4 u: 6““..5 A; a "‘ chu u‘ . ' A ."w:::.., \‘1 ...1._~". U». . . v .. a" :‘.A~r "I. .a .‘ ‘55:..t. . ' . \. ..~ A v» F " ”5: 39 3 \ +, 9-1. s....‘“ “v ‘ , _ ‘ :34“ .flfls W ‘ ubtw“ 3919.3 -“~ u «a ‘ . ..~..:: “g :d' VH‘ fi‘vl 'P~ . o, .,,.‘ a. “pa . “"‘¥-.D 1*. ‘;"A.3 . , .- "-.: fl 1 55‘ L.‘ t . ‘. ‘ra‘ ‘ '\ a ‘ ‘. ‘a..:' :- u“ ”A " . n NJ“ “CV15; s 5‘ { J“ . :"~ I- . ‘ "‘1: \‘ ‘Lx- ¢ g‘ w- o.‘ :l . ‘-.,:~'“,\‘“ ““Vltka .-‘v- x . ~. v 'u . “at 1:» ~ - PM ~ “‘ .P‘:‘s-,_ ‘ H~,~H v‘ 9“. A ll Hopp. A German-born immigrant, Hopp sought not reform but radical change of the economic framework. His pioneering efforts to establish a workers' theater, which constitute another neglected aspect of American theater history, are the focus of a second chapter on the muckraking era. The Progressive Stage Society, founded by Hopp, represented not only an attempt to build an American theater along the lines of the German independent theaters but also an effort to spread socialist ideas. He offered naturalistic drama at prices the lower classes could afford, and hoped that his productions would win votes for the Socialist party. Theater historians, who have generally been more in- terested in the artistic merit than the intellectual content of drama, have viewed the 1880 to 1920 period as a transi— tion period. Sculley Bradley, for example, writing in the Literary History of the United States, contrasted the new plays of the post-Civil War period, which were "ephemeral, sensational, or sentimental legerdemain envoked by the huge popular demand for entertainment or escape," with the liter- ary masterpieces of the past kept alive by the great actors of the generation. Yet, he saw a transition, "discernible after 1880," during which "American drama gradually acquired 8 Others have de- social responsibilities and seriousness." scribed the early years of the twentieth century as a water- shed period for the American drama. George Freedley and 8Robert E. Spiller, et al., Literary History of the United States (New York: Macmillan, 1957), pp. 1000, 1015. ll . paucnfl‘tb mvi'uv‘v - . . "1. “‘UV‘ .s.‘- a. v . l -.g .. ‘~ ~ .“I...‘ H' v ‘ . -:." a. ~ .‘--\. I- v N ~‘ ' ‘ ‘ o “v v" In ‘v. § h... .- ‘ |~ .n‘ . .~:~».“ _ ‘ 4“ .. . 'd T h ‘ b.- ~ ~ « ~.‘ N. l u ‘M. ‘ I . y .m- K . ‘i ‘h n \ ‘ § ‘A . d a, “A.“ V}... ~ -~ § . a ‘~.‘: . -y' . A ~. q I .\: 12 John Reeves, for instance, saw a developing national drama throughout the period, while William Vaughn Moody's The Great Divide (1906), they believed, marked the beginning of an American Renaissance in the drama. Arthur Hobson Quinn, whose work remains the most comprehensive study of late nineteenth-century American drama, concluded similarly that a significant advance in the level of drama occurred in the United States at the turn of the century.9 A third chapter on the American theater of the muck— raking era deals with the "Drama Renaissance" and its social implications. The production of Clyde Fitch's The Climbers in 1901 indicated a turning point for American drama. With this play and later with The City, the affluent author of vehicles for stars revealed his desire to write drama of lasting merit. In the case of Fitch, interest in aesthetic achievement led an author to utilize years of experience and observation in order to satirize the social aristocracy. Fitch did not, however, become an advocate of social reform; instead, he stressed individual ethics and morality. Others who sought to elevate the quality of the American drama were less concerned with realism than Fitch. They too, however, stressed individual rather than social con- flicts, because they believed only through individual strug- gles could one write drama of universal and lasting merit. 9George Freedley and John A. Reeves, A History of the Theatre (New York: Crown, 1968), p. 583; Arthur Hobson Quinn, A History of the American Drama from the Civil War to the Present Day (2 vols.; New York: Harper & Brothers, 1927), II, 1. . o A u: , a:v: VF _.vov .-.. ., ,... ."' ...< ... - u-‘ __——— ,...n .F. . '0'“: I‘M v Cn~u AA. - no‘aa Dvu . [\Q. \ -~~. sA ..- - 1-: \“'- ~-_‘. . .. c,. ..-h 3 u ‘4 I ' . - \- 6‘ u U h ‘ .“‘- o .‘ Q. .\ .‘ ‘u: a. R ‘ a N 0 0" I I 13 Therefore, although such plays as William Vaughn Moody's The Great Divide and Charles Kenyon's Kindling contain sugges- tions about the need for reform as well as a critique of urban society along Turnerian lines, their emphasis is clearly on individual rather than social conflicts. Among the others who created interestixlthe "Drama Renaissance" were a number in university positions. The most influential of these was George Pierce Baker who sought to train dramatists at Harvard and educate public taste through lectures throughout the progressive era. In time, his students would help to transform the American theater from a popular to an elite art. His earliest successful student was Edward Sheldon. When contrasted with the plays of Charles Klein and George Broadhurst, Sheldon's dramas i1— 1ustrate that advances in aesthetic quality are not neces- sarily linked to more sustained social criticism. Sheldon's The Nigger was produced at the New Theatre, an attempt by the financial elite to elevate the quality of the American theater, and his popular plays, Salvation Nell and The Boss have sometimes been cited as examples of the influence of the progressive movement on the drama. In the sense that many progressives stressed personal reform rather than in- stitutional change, Sheldon's plays like those of Klein and Broadhurst did reflect the impulse toward reform. Certain- ly, however, Sheldon had little interest in reform. By 1910, the muckraking era had virtually ended, and interest in muckraking on the stage suffered a corresponding - ‘V o‘! "‘\ _. ._...-u- ' - .«v-‘A — a'vh‘b . p.‘U-. '- '00-“). h v A --~ ..,... N- 3..-. ‘ u " -..,‘ I . I. n" an "‘" I: ...‘ _ v .3” _ . ‘-.~ . \ 'v-.--‘ . a- ~ .A -h.. " I- .‘.v o '- F‘ ~ #. “'.._ v. v.‘ s» \ ~““. V“ ‘ - \ \ '3‘». ‘ . \N K ‘L "Q .- ~- ‘~ ‘ ‘ s 14 decline. Plays of the sxnfi: written by Charles Klein and George Broadhurst could no longer attract a large audience, though plays which dealt with more sensational topics like the white slave traffic continued to attract attention. In the final chapter of this study the final phase of muckraking in the theater is examined. The most signifi- cant developments in the American theater after 1910, how- ever, occurred outside the commercial stage. Therefore, considerable space will be devoted in this part of the study to the little-theater movement and its relationship to re- form thought. By the second decade of the twentieth century many who saw the need for social change believed that reform was impossible or inadequate. The famous masthead of the Masses which proclaimed it: "A revolutionary, not a reform maga- zine," succinctly expressed the ideology of many of the art- ists and writers who came to Greenwich Village during this decade. Two widely acclaimed little-theater groups emerged from this milieu, the Washington Square Players and the Provincetown Players. While not all little-theater groups accepted the ideology of the Masses, they did represent a fulfillment of the dream long-held by intellectuals. As such, the little theaters provide a case study of an elite institution in op- eration. Historians have assumed that the little theaters were more critical than the popular stage. While noncommer- cial theaters did expand the opportunity for dramatists to . cwnfi . A ;."’_' >- £5 “L'voo-“V' . q ,. '..~ av”! Q- I' if and b- n.»- - un-«." ~nfl'.D ~-::.:§ end i 9. ~‘ ‘ “an ‘R&-\: .— .- "'-V~.Vv \. JV- ‘. uq..-~.‘ fl‘ ' :- "~u--.u. 5““ J: ‘ I ‘v-...~A'~ . H D -"'“Ilvy. . g u A! '"Vf‘V‘l ." "- ed.v.. . C ~:.>.\l Cf‘IhA‘ :‘.Au.. ”'4‘”: - on. - _ ‘:._‘r a- N“ “'V‘.V‘ ‘v ‘~. Q : 1-‘A ‘V‘N A a... pa 1 , lint~““A-‘ - u “'3 “~V . ‘ “-“:" ”Atva a... A. '... >' .h ‘$,“ 15 experiment with forms and themes, few encouraged original drama, and those that did were not receptive to dramas which openly called for social change. Some within the little- theater movement separated their radical activities carried on outside the theater from the drama which they viewed as intellectual entertainment--and their use of the word enter- tainment did not differ appreciably from that of Broadway producers. Those little-theater groups which relied primar- ily on European drama and encouraged working-class partici- pation sometimes produced plays advocating social change but the major effect of these efforts may well have been the channeling of energy into nonprotest activity. The most important contribution of the little- theater movement to American theater history was, of course, the discovery of Eugene O'Neill. For subsequent activists who hoped to use the drama to bring about social change, the little-theater movement suggested techniques--low-cost pro- ductions, shorter plays, and working-class participation. While the impact of socialism, Bohemianism, femin- ism, naturalism, and expressionism was more evident in the little theaters than on the popular stage in the years be- fOre World War I, Broadway was changing too. A production of Beulah Marie Dix's antiwar play, Moloch, in September 1915 indicated that the revolution in American values which HEnry May associated with the little theaters also affected .na " .-.|-- “l. iv P“). .0. p I A ...u 19 c ' vv .uv' V- O ‘ . .a :- FVA'V n- ‘ u .. d, H-»- ' a a '1 .~sr‘ ”an .5..-‘-\— ‘.:l Afiv‘n' Vh“. vv..ud. -, Dng c,.~‘_ “a: Mada: .— nfi"3 V. flu‘; . 6‘.“ l f‘ .‘FA 'v IC . “'Av‘ ,- n' “A, v‘ “Ivu‘ IV “V a “C':' .‘V‘u a~~ w. ..u -‘.' Ft.‘-A ‘ ', ‘(_~ ‘ '~"v‘b |: 'HA ~:‘:‘:Ynl‘ ' uw“~‘. 1?“ h 4 ‘ .' .‘.‘ ‘ ‘E \..L .. Q '0;\ fit 1 ‘ fl \J 4 :5A u ~L~ ‘fiA H b;.‘: l6 . 10 the commerCial theaters. Throughout the period included in this study, a var- iety of sources--reviews, published plays, typescripts, let- ters, biographical materials, and monographs--indicated that the American theater reflected political, economic, and so- cial conditions far more than previous works have suggested. This suggests a need to reexamine the social commentary in other areas of popular culture. A decade ago Leo Lowenthal posed several questions which might serve as the basis for such a study: Could it not be said when we talk about art, that we re- flect upon a specific product, its inner structure, its norms, and the relationship of such structure and norms to those of other individual products? And, in thinking of popular culture, do we not tend to confine our con- siderations to questions of consumption, dissemination, and the effects on large audiences?1l Obviously one must guard against exaggeration, but through research into structure, careful study of content, and com- parative techniques, as well as thoughtful inquiry and anal- ysis of both explicit and implicit assumption, one can util- ize the popular arts as a source for intellectual history. loHenry May, The End of American Innocence (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1959), pp. 288-290. llLeo Lowenthal, Literature, Popular Culture, and Society (Englewood Cliffs, N. J.: Prentice—Hall, 1961), p. Xix. v; VA .0. q. .. t Z. I s: a: ~ ‘ .‘ Z,‘ \ s Cs A. .. v. z. 2. ..~ «3 a. «J y. un .... . a ,.‘ ... .1. .. 2. . 1.. I. A; .. la ~.. 3» a. .... .5 .9. l. 2. ... . 3 L. .3 us w. 5. u... Q. 2.. .. \ 2‘ n . .:-« .. v. .. .... .. Lt .t. a. 5.. .1 .~. 5. ..m n1 .3 L. CHAPTER II UNDER THE GASLIGHT TO UNDER THE WHEEL: FORM AND REFORM IN THE GILDED AGE Augustin Daly's Under the Gaslight; or, Life and Love in These Times opened in New York in 1867. In its most memorable scene the villain ties a Civil War veteran to railroad tracks and instructs his victim: "When you hear the thunder under your head and see the lights dancing in your eyes, and feel the iron wheel a foot from your neck, remember Byke." The popularity of Daly's melodrama was based on sensational scenes, with action stemming from im- probable situations. Confronted by rent increases, wage cuts, and oppressive slum life, Julian Berge asks: "Is it nodt dime doo brotest?" in Hamlin Garland's Under the Wheel. In Garland's play, which was published in The Arena, man's degradation, unrelieved by humor, is portrayed not as the result of unlikely situations but as an everyday occurrence within the capitalistic system. Both the realistic tech- niques and the statement of political ideology included in Garland's Under the Wheel placed it outside the realm of popular theater. Under the Gaslight, in marked contrast, typified the popular melodrama of the late nineteenth cen— tury. Between these extremes were the sketch and the 17 i. ‘ ‘~ 4-. ..; Q‘ r- ,‘. .-.“~ ‘ DC A.q-p .r, ‘ . -« -.v‘..~vn o. . FQ‘A’.OQ _. .- 'Ivuvo-in- n - fir-gn I I r,- (f) w , n. sa-Au‘ . ' AQ'VAA V' .4': “0-H“iy‘. . ’ . .N""‘SV ‘ -¢--..-- . a l a V - ”u a». . ”.1 v‘uv ‘ l. ~~ '0. ‘Vd- Os- . .FA’ ‘. ‘ .. Q V-c. " :- Oil" vuv N VI Vb \ u‘,‘ . ‘\ ~F‘ ‘v&.Lf\ V \ . "id‘s. ‘-~ V- N \ “A 8““.. § \. _- 'V ‘ Q ‘.J .c. v 3&- ‘ 7 Q \. \- z”" “‘2" \- \ 18 well-made play, illustrated by dramas of Edward Harrigan and Bronson Howard, respectively. In the pages which follow the potential social dimension for each of the various forms of drama is explored, and the tendency of American critics and producers to restrict the range of social commentary even further is examined. A few critics shared Garland's conception of real- ism; the most notable of these was William Dean Howells whose reviews influenced the direction of drama criticism in the late 1880's. Many, however, throughout the nineteenth century and afterward, equated realism in the theater with background scenery. In the melodrama this meant photograph- ic reproductions of familiar surroundings or sets which du- plicated factories or mine tunnels, while well-made plays were frequently performed in drawing rooms complete down to the most minute detail. A movement toward more natural act- ing also contributed to greater theatrical realism and some- times characters spoke in regional or ethnic dialects, but realistic plots and themes were carefully avoided by most American producers. In the post-Civil War era, advances in technology made possible the rise of the combination or touring com- pany. This created a demand for plays which, in addition to copyright legislation, improved the status of the dramatist. The rationalization of booking procedures for road compan- ies, however, concentrated control of play production in a small group; thus, the position of the producer was also - .- "0-. " H a -.".-. 9‘, . q D’l. ».R~ o.——ovvu ‘ us-uon QA .uou-gh . b 'O‘v‘ bnA ~ - u , u.n.- by}. - . ." 1"fi‘n 1 I'."' A... A . .""“' "V O, P. o. .. F! ".3 8.. \- ‘ . . ‘fl-p‘ H“ “ii-.9 d ' u- . a ‘L -‘ Q -. A --- .1 : .. .. ‘ .l V . 4. -v n- n,‘ u ‘4 . "Pq‘ \ _ -,s . ‘A l9 greatly strengthened. Prior to 1870, most plays performed in America were produced by resident stock companies. Early in the nine— teenth century the star system weakened the stock companies; stars took to the road and played as the main attraction, while local actors were relegated to supporting positions. As the quality of local companies deteriorated, traveling companies began to appear.1 Dion Boucicault organized a production of The Colleen Bawn in London with American ac- tors which toured Great Britain in 1860.2 Well-known Ameri- can companies, such as Wallack's, Palmer's, and the Boston Museum Company frequently played a few weeks on the road. After 1970, however, the number of combination companies greatly increased, nearly 100 by the 1876 season; traveling companies which had formerly touched only large cities began to play the smaller towns. Moreover, cheap railroad trans- portation made it possible for companies to take along their own scenery, which further centralized production aspects of lAlfred L. Bernheim, The Business of Theatre (New York: Actors' Equity Association, 1932), pp. 26-29; Jack Poggi, Theater in America: The Impact of Economic Forces (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1968), pp. 3-4. 2Three companies were eventually sent out. In 1861, Boucicault also sent a company of The Streets of London on tour, while three companies playing his Arrah na Pogue were on the road in 1865. Dion Boucicault, "Leaves from a Drama- tist's Diary," North_American Review, CXLIX (August 1889), 232; Lynn F. Orr, "Dion Boucicault and the 19th Century American Theater" (unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Louisiana State University, 1953), p. 273. .---o ,.a .4,- ”- ,nuvuu 1 . . .., ac. uh ‘. ovu‘ h u o ‘— but: . _. I'fln‘ . ‘ a... --.\vv- .. . -': ~(:~ .' ' dye - . . _‘ '.‘\. fin .."" yo. ‘I T. 33"“v ""‘ utg‘ - .A‘.' ~~ .. . o... v. '5. ‘ >..~ ‘ \ ‘ . .5- 1.. . s ‘ 1 I“, ~. .. ‘- ~- “ 4 ‘q . ‘\ Q‘ ‘ TV 20 the theater.3 In 1871-1872 there were 50 permanent stock compan- ies; by 1880 only seven or eight remained. One of the best- known independent companies outside New York, the Walnut Street Theater Company in Philadelphia, had been forced to halt stock productions in 1879.4 There were approximately 250 road companies by 1880, performing in more than 5,000 theaters in roughly 3,500 cities.5 As a result local thea- ters began to band together into circuits in order to at- tract the best productions; those seeking to organize tours endeavored to minimize travel costs. In New York, a small group gradually brought greater efficiency in distribution to the industry and assumed control of most theatrical pro- ductions across America.6 The combination system was obviously beneficial to 3Bernheim, Business of Theater, p. 31; Poggi, Thea- ter in America, p. 3. 4Arthur Hobson Quinn, A History of the American Drama from the Civil War to the Present Day (2 vols.; New York: Harper & Brothers, 1927), I, 2; Poggi, Theater in America, p. 3. 5William Winter, The Wallet of Time (New York: Mof— fat, Yard & Co., 1913), p. 23; Bernheim suggested these fig- ures are not "more than probably reasonably reliable esti- mates." Business of Theatre, p. 35n. 6M. B. Leavitt argued that he had pioneered during the 1880's in creating a circuit from Omaha to the Pacific Coast in order to obtain better productions for his Bush Street Theatre in San Francisco. Fifty Years in Theatrical Management (New York: Broadway Publishing Co., 1912), pp. 470-471; Bernheim disputed this and cited the Misler Circuit in eastern Pennsylvania, organized in 1873, and sim- ilar groups formed in Texas (1879), Illinois (1881), and Wisconsin (1880). Business of Theatre, p. 6. “a u‘p-A 7“ ;.Je ‘aAV On: q a '. .chifllfl OI."' . .1 y. ..-_ uvo v . I Q o~hnl Oran "r ‘\ .onau o. van . . . soon-n. ." , v. a K *‘ union”... . . In' . :n “'3: :“.‘ .Ah‘v' . . . “ “\‘Vv "P§‘l .- H... may ~ . I" .II‘ ‘._- -. “‘~ 3‘...: i' .‘V- ! ~‘ 4 r“: “V‘s .. “"" v- v a 2"“o\' k, ‘_ N All .Vb-\. IV. \- ‘ \ .I'.’ L n n - Fun ”A, s... ' a. -1 “r- _ ...~ 5" ‘ - fl . "w '3“L. “‘h‘. S . h‘ . . 1 fi “a, '5 “‘ 5, In .._ ’I . N f. 5.». 21 those who organized touring companies. Dion Boucicault re- ceived fifty percent of the gross receipts of road produc- tions from The Colleen Bawn. Beginning in 1880, "duplicate companies" were organized to satisfy the demand for a new play. Three companies of Steele MacKaye's Hazel Kirke went on tour while the original was still playing on Broadway. By the time of the 1882-1883 season, fourteen companies of MacKaye‘s play were on the road.7 Although one producer, David Belasco, objected to duplicate companies because ac- tors merely imitated the original cast like "automatons,"8 artistic considerations were of little concern for those who saw the commercial advantages of "mass—produced" plays. The combination system also proved profitable for the dramatist. In the 1850's George Henry Boker had been paid royalties on his plays, but not until after the rise of touring companies did this form of compensation become com- mon in the United States. Prior to 1880, most playwrights in America, as in Great Britain, sold their plays outright.9 7Boucicault, "Leaves from a Dramatist's Diary," p. 232; Percy MacKaye, Epoch: The Life of Steele MacKaye (2 vols.; New York: Boni & fiveright, 1927), I, 386; Poggi, Theater in America, p. 6. 8David Belasco, The Theater Through Its Stage Door (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1919), pp. 71-72. 9Arthur Hobson Quinn, History of the American Drama, p. 363. In contrast, after the Revolution, French drama- tists stood firm through the Comité des Auteurs and Société des Auteurs and established royalty agreements along lines first formulated by Beaumarchais and others in the late eighteenth century. See, Frank Rahill, The World of Melo- drama (University Park, Pa.: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1967), pp. 176-177. . a. -«VIA‘ v: -‘ " ' . v. .-> -¥"' 1 ~} ' ' l .. ..,. J1, 3, Nut... , . Tw-w‘ 'Ifi‘lf‘f‘ v H. -.-uyu an. . J mun“ :IDOOU‘VAI'L ‘ A ' ‘ . "' ‘I-‘A‘ "- ~‘v..ivo. 4 ‘ ' ‘ “ ' u-n-zyfl H‘,‘ .“““V‘ v; . III‘.~“ 22 The market value of original drama was depressed in the 1840's, when theater managers in England began to utilize French melodramas, unprotected by copyright legislation, in sufficiently large quantities so as to depress the market value of original English plays. Boucicault received £300 for London Assurance in 1841; more-established dramatists, Richard Brinsley Sheridan and Bulwer-Lytton, for example, were paid £500 for a play at that time. A few years later, Boucicault was offered only £100 for a new play. When he protested, the theater manager explained: "I can go to Paris and select a first-class comedy; having seen it per- formed, I feel certain of its effect. To get this comedy translated will cost me £25. Why should I give you £300 or £500 for your comedy of the success of which I cannot feel so assured?"10 The combination system, however, emphasized the play at the expense of the actor, and the precedent of paying royalties to touring companies was easily extended to drama- 11 tists. Charles Frohman has generally been given credit for instituting the practice of royalty payments to dramatic 10Dion Boucicault, "The Decline of the Drama," North American Review, CXXV (Sept-Oct, 1877), 243. 11See, Poggi, Theater in America, p. 248. The sta- tus of the American dramatist was more fully protected by an International Copyright Agreement. Edward F. O'Meara con- tended that the impact of this agreement could be measured in terms of the number of dramatic compositions copyrighted in the United States: 1,688 between 1870 and 1891; 54,401 between 1891 and 1916. "Some Influences of the Adoption of International Copyright on the American Drama" (unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Notre Dame University, 1940), p. 40. v -'A.-‘. H“! v 4 ...-...4‘.4 .a'u ,VOQIARQ Av ‘ —\a 2“ uo-o..v~ Hw. .- ,- .-....,.‘ .. ~ I'v-IU.~. .. c Q I .";-~ n‘rn.‘ -n...‘ ~-v-. O . .... ‘ _.~_r 0n— »......, a... "on~.~ r -\ - v M .u-.‘u J J p. \— . ‘ "Q.-.;~-‘~ a. ‘ \ \ ""~ _~, nu. d‘ .Ut~‘ ~ 'v y“ .- U "‘ \u‘a.’ V‘J ‘4 Y! ~AU. I.-v'| . H. , ‘4.“ ”'4‘“: - k‘.‘i .“v. ‘ 4‘ I- Rn...’ v.» ‘9‘ I“ 2 ‘.“‘J I ‘ y :I .13 *4. ‘.'~,. ‘ ‘ .‘q I‘ . c '1 EVA _ I . "-.:"F \s.. “A . .6“ 'o a: N x “0 IL n 1‘ n . \ \ ““~¥’: .'\ I V‘ \ h.‘ vid‘ i Q ‘ Q ' ‘ \ I .lylfi‘r y n.‘ I: w '9 “" 1C % 23 authors on a wide scale in the United States.12 Ironically, Frohman and his two brothers came to New York to manage the business aspects of the Madison Square Theatre and were re- sponsible for the touring companies of Hazel Kirke which netted profits of a million dollars to the owners of the theater, while the play's author Steele MacKaye received nothing beyond his salary as a theater manager.l3 Other dramatists, however, reaped substantial benefits from the new system; Bronson Howard's royalties from Shenandoah ex- ceeded $100,000 in a single year.14 Howard's most successful well-made plays did not come until the late 1880's; the leading New York theaters were dominated by adaptations of French, German, and English plays of this type throughout most of the gilded age. How- ever, American writers had more success with the melodrama and the sketch during this era. Melodrama evolved, near the beginning of the nine- teenth century, almost simultaneously in France and England 12See, for example, Bernheim, Business of Theater, p. 23. Marvin Felheim argued that Augustin Daly's payments to Bronson Howard originated the practice in the United States. The Theatre of Augustin Daly (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1956), p. 294. Rahill, however, convincingly defended the idea that a playwright, Dion Bou- cicault, "must receive most of the credit" for changing the system from outright sale of dramatic compositions to royal- ty arrangements. World of Melodrama, p. 180. 13Steele MacKaye's contract was published in P. MacKaye, Epoch, I, 369-370. 4Harry Mawson, "A Brief Biography," In Memoriam, Bronson Howard (New York: Marion Press, 1910), P. 57. .uayaj.‘p~ - u -.n'.-‘ ‘0' - ‘ ' .ua ‘.l‘\r '- -~--.‘\. «.1 ‘ 2”':~o L n ‘v-.-. . bu - . flu.‘ Lb ""“MI I... ' 'II ‘ ‘ V ‘ ‘ V'n. . a., h‘ .a . . nu...” '3 O .M ._ . .,, ~¢. .4 v5 ~.‘.. U s .M .. h \ -:. .::r3 0 It A a V ." a ,~ 1,", A “I ~ . . ‘Q_; " ‘, ‘5 I a \I‘ V . :1" fl VI :‘5 a; k.‘ ,‘ . a .r‘ “‘ (A. v”... .a . H‘ ‘ ( Fl 24 from the eighteenth-century pantomime, as well as French, English, and German Gothic plays of the 1780's and 1790's. Increasing urbanization, the popular novel, and the French Revolution contributed to the rise of the melodrama. Work- ers, drawn by factory employment, crowded into urban slums in the late eighteenth century. Theaters which sought to attract this new audience were built on a large scale. In London, the Drury Lane, built in 1794, could accommodate 3,500, while Covent Garden expanded to seat 2,500 in 1808. Occupants of the enlarged galleries demanded vigorous action and extreme emotions on the stage. (Their former amusement had been primarily bearbaiting.) The French Revolution and the years of war that followed provided a background of vio- lence, like that of the melodrama, and a supply of readily usable material. Popular novels also contained ideas which could be converted into melodramatic plots. Guilbert de Pixérécourt, often called the father of the melodrama, util- ized plots from French novels for two of his famous plays, Victor, ou 1'Enfant de la Forét (1798) and Coelina, ou 1'Enfant de Mystere (1800). In England, the novels of Scott and Dickens were frequently important sources of ideas for authors of melodrama.15 15Michael R. Booth, English Melodrama (London: Her- bert Jenkins, 1965), pp. 45-47, 52—53; Michael R. Booth, ed. Hiss the Villain: Six English and American Melodramas (Lon- don: Eyre & Spottiswoode, 1964), pp. 13, 15-16; David Man- ning White, "Mass Culture in America: Another Point of View," Mass Culture: The Popular Arts in America, ed. Ber- nard Rosenberg and David Manning White (Glencoe, Ill.: Free Press, 1957), p. 14; Rahill, World of Melodrama, pp. 111-116; 25 The plot of the melodrama described an episodic ser- ies of conflicts between characters who are unquestionably good or evil. Throughout the melodrama a treacherous vil- lain (or villains) subjects the heroine and/or the hero to relentless persecutions and tortures. Frequently sensation- al devices added to the plot: victims made breath-taking escapes from fire, flood, or mechanical trap, only to en- counter another ruthless assault by the villain.16 Conflicts within the melodrama were artificial; the audience could safely assume that virtue would triumph over evil at the final curtain. Furthermore, of the four major characters in melodrama--the hero, the heroine, the villain, and the comic figure--only the last was somewhat flexible; he might side either with the hero or the villain, and un- like the other characters he sometimes contained elements of both good and evil.17 Theatrical productions of adaptations from novels of Scott and Dickens were listed by Ernest Reynolds in his Early Vic- torian Drama, 1830-1870 (Cambridge, England: W. Heffer & Sons, 1936), PP. 139-141, 143-144. 16Harry James Smith, "The Melodrama," Atlantic, XCIX (March 1907), 327; Maurice Willson Disher, Blood and Thun- der: Mid-Victorian Melodrama and Its Origins (London: IFrederick Muller, 1949), pp. 12-13; William Paul Steele, The Character of Melodrama (Orono, Maine: University of Maine IPress, 1968), University of Maine Studies, 2d Ser., No. 87, pp. 4-7; Booth, English Melodrama, pp. 13-39. 17T. W. Adorno links the tendency in Mass Culture toward.artificial "tension" in which the spectator is always "safe," i.e., sure of the conclusion, with a potentially "closed" society that is unreceptive to social change. "T.Vh and Patterns of Mass Culture," Quarterly of Film, Ra- dio and Television, VIII (1954), 219-220; Steele, Melodrama, pp. 17-40. n a 5n- ',.' Arm: --4 um y..u-v. \ :':'av"- m ~.v.I-L 1' LI ‘ .....1 4 9‘)". "nun. V“V VP ‘§ n ‘1 4 ’—_l 26 Incidents and situations rather than the nature of man created conflicts within melodrama. The impulse toward the sensational plot brought increasing reliance on complex scenery; both contributed to incredible situations and emo- tional excesses. As one contemporary observer noted it was necessary to add glamour to the "life of the tenements, of the lodging-houses, the dance-halls, the railroads," which was depicted in the melodrama; yet, he concluded that the authors of melodrama at least recognized, in contrast to many who employed more sophisticated forms, that "life reaches so far beyond the drawing room."18 Beginning in 1830, Thomas Hamblin, manager of the New Bowery Theatre, seeking to attract a wider audience, turned from English comedies and tragedies which appealed to the upper classes to melodrama for the masses. He encour- aged American playwrights; advertising proclaimed that the New Bowery Theatre would offer American plays performed by 19 Therefore, several decades before the American actors. Civil War, American writers began to deal with American scenes and characters within the dramatic form established by Pixérécourt. During the 1830's such Yankee types as Jonathan 18Robert Bechtold Heilman, Tragedy and Melodrama: versions of Experience (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1968), p. 79; Smith, "The Melodrama," pp. 327-328. 19Theodore J. Shank, "Theatre For the Majority: Its Influence on a Nineteenth Century American Theatre," Educa- tional Theater Journal, XI (October, 1959), 188-191. I! . at "..-pu - V .“‘va‘_ a-‘.~ .. .J um. Q o... ‘ I p 9 4 -~-.‘- L " . -q.. “’Q .“' O..u ‘ a ‘ V M" "6: 05“;‘ U‘. ‘ ;v.‘._ .L. . __ .. «1" 5:.» | , ‘u. q - . a .... .‘y‘ . I" u :‘a’fla “‘ at“... U ~ - .‘ . ',-I.,‘ a ug‘fib. u .. “a H v :‘r‘ ‘Vyn . .. d ”H .. . I t.“ «flip? 27 Ploughboy and Jebediah Homebred became familiar on the Amer- ican stage. In the 1840's urban characters became signifi- cant; "Mose" the fireman, played by F. S. Chanfrau, first appeared in Benjamin C. Baker's A Glance at New York. Mose in California, Mose in China, and Mose in a Muse soon fol- lowed.20 Contemporary events often provided a source of ma- terial for melodrama. Boucicault came upon the idea while leafing through the Illustrated Journal that "the stage might be employed in a similar manner to embody and illus- trate the moving events of the period." His application of the idea proved successful; The Poor of New York (1857), written during a year of economic uncertainty and based on a French play, Les Pauvres de Paris, dealt with a financial panic. Boucicault set his version in 1837; the prologue de- picted the closing of the Second Bank of the United States. The Poor of New York proved to be unusually popular; it was still being produced in the 1890's. Boucicault followed with several timely melodramas, including Jessie Brown; or, the Relief of Lucknow (1857) and The Octoroon (1859), which capitalized on interest in slavery, and which opened in New 20David Grimsted, Melodrama Unveiled: American The- ater and Culture, 1800-1850 (ChiCago: University of Chicago Press, 1968), pp. 192, 194; Lewin A. Goff, "The Popular Priced Melodrama in America 1890 to 1910 With Its Origins and Development to 1890" (unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Case Western Reserve University, 1948), pp. 50, 59, 115; Russel B. Nye, The Unembarrassed Muse: The Popular Arts in America (New York: Dial Press, 1970), p. 149. ‘ . u .. " 91..” .av( I _\ g.... \ 0.. a: do . - :';~;:~Ia. U'vhl‘v.b- . ‘ - '7... a at in...» U. .,.‘ q ‘V‘I““N I d "Viabvu‘ "2r" .’.°"I:« ‘ u..,“~: U ' V ..l . ‘L r... F a v ‘34-‘- V U . II“ :n .‘ h A "“"u'." I. \ «y a 28 York within a week of John Brown's execution.21 The Civil War was ideally suited to melodramatic spectacles. Charles Gayler provided a dramatization of the Battle of Bull Run (June 21, 1861) with remarkable speed; Bull Run, or the Sacking of Fairfax Courthouse opened on August 15 at the New Bowery Theatre. The same theater later produced Capture of Fort Donelson, by Harry Seymour, on Feb- ruary 22, 1862, just six days after Grant's victory. The war also contributed to the rise of the dime novel, which provided a valuable source of ideas for melodramatists in the late nineteenth century.22 Like contemporary events, social issues exerted an influence on the melodrama throughout the nineteenth century. Douglas Jerrold depicted the eviction of a peasant in The Rent Day (1832), while Boucicault included Nationalistic Irish speeches in The O'Dowd (1880). In the 1840's a So- cialist school of melodrama flourished; Felix Pyatt's Le Chittonnier de Paris, one student of melodrama has conclud- ed, "had as much to do with rallying the people of Paris to the barricades in the Revolution of '48 as any other single 23 :hmmediate factor." Similarly, Emile Souvestre so bitterly 21Boucicault, "Leaves From a Dramatist's Diary," pp. 230-231. 22Quinn, History of American Drama, II, 5; Goff, "Popular Priced Melodrama," pp. 80-81. 23Rahill, World of Melodrama, pp. xvii, 91; John Gassner, Masters of the Drama (3rd ed. rev.; New York: Dover Publications, 1954), p. 581; Orr, "Boucicault," p. 509. n h‘. n uncov:‘ 9“ .ga. v-‘- - .«IVV'rA akin-v- » .. nun, ‘u (I (I) .. ‘ .., . hr‘1 «.4 ...\. “A .1..., av (: H ‘0‘ ~ca.‘: ”b 'I '~ “My ‘5 h’...“ u a ‘V‘ “A.. ' ‘ I ~.:. ; . ,. . Ah" 3» "I: ‘ V‘.‘ A ‘7- , Pa ‘ ~ ‘. ‘x s:~.‘3. 7 u 2 ~‘ . I V "Is ‘ \ ‘7‘ 'n" ’ H“ ‘ u '1 H. . “"3 A: I d “U L - M .p- 29 contrasted the conflict between a virtuous workman and a vicious aristocrat in L'Enfant de Paris that the melodrama 24 was suppressed. Basic to melodrama was the assumption that virtue would triumph over evil. Beyond that, however, the melo- drama reflected the class attitudes of its audience. The villain was usually from the upper c1asses--a nobleman early in the nineteenth century, later an employer--because the greater the power held by the villain, the greater his ca- pacity to harm his victims. The hero and heroine were more likely to be drawn from the working class, though they might belong to, or have remote ties to, the aristocracy, provided they held working-class attitudes. The comic character usu- ally spoke in dialect, an obvious indication of lower-class origins.2 In the United States, by the 1850's, the working girl had become a significant figure on the stage. Such plays as New York or Brooklyn; or, The Poor Sewing Machine Girl, The New York Merchant and His Clerks, The Seamstress of New York, and Adelle, The New York Saleslady depicted sweatshop conditions and the exploitation of labor in urban .America. Another social theme frequently dealt with in melodrama was slavery. Ossawattomie Brown; or, The 24Rahill, World of Melodrama, p. 156. 25Alexander Lacy, Pixérécourt and the French Roman- tic Drama (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1938), pp. 20-21; Booth, English Melodrama, pp. 15-16, 33; Steele, Character of Melodrama, p. 4. ..,,Jn'ognv1 dahvhd‘vvlb ~ I I {1.9 C378 1 ““33, c‘fitv I l -:vub. Vat/a O“. . k... 1 .,. I 4-1.‘ 17:" k ~~~u -A-' f‘ ‘ ' '~ . ‘ 31“»! 0 ~ y‘~‘A ‘n. I‘ A “A .44. \ ‘ ‘ s.“ Q I :_V ~.‘ "I A-‘ . a .‘II A‘ In“ (.4 fly § I 5-“: « .__ :'* ”F. v “rd 30 Insurrection at Harper's Ferry (1859) was one such play, while there were no less than six dramatizations of Harriet Beecher Stowe's Dred; A Tale of the Dismal Swamp (1856).26 In 1933 it was estimated by the Players' Club that 362,922 separate audiences in the United States had viewed dramatized versions of Mrs. Stowe's more famous novel, Uncle Tom's Cabin. At the height of their popularity in the 1880's and afterward, "Tom Shows" advertised gimmicks: trained dogs, "tank" scenes, alligators, and retired pugi- lists (Peter Jackson and John L. Sullivan) that became more important than the original plot. During the 1850's, how- ever, millions of middle-class Americans, urged by clergymen and reformers, attended the theater for the first time to see Mrs. Stowe's abolitionist novel on stage.27 Augustin Daly's Under the Gaslight was not endorsed by either clergymen or reformers. It did reflect social issues in an incidental manner which was to typify melodrama throughout most of the 1880-1920 period. The variety of scenes--De1monico‘s, the home of a wealthy New York family, .a basement dwelling, the Tombs Police Court, and a railroad station--depicted on the stage was also typical. The complex plot of Under the Gaslight illustrated the episodic nature of melodrama. The play opens at an 26Goff, "Popular Priced Melodrama," pp. 59, 68-69; Rahill, World of Melodrama, p. 253. 27Goff, "Popular Priced Melodrama," p. 72; Nye, ge- ambarrassed Muse, pp. 154-155. '5') Inga; :.:..§.,. ”Ln-v 4 . . :4?: is re: and i s a .‘ . zuzzI HA:‘( ".5... VVu fi 0 . . . .. .’:~ D! tn I‘vvl V 5“ c ‘ I | Ill ~ " 3",). --~ bo‘.-h -. ' ‘ n“ L" '5 ‘ a ""N‘ VL ‘— I. "-34 ..:: . D "an "Wu, 5 a. . ‘ ‘ 3 V}. 'n ‘ I .“. x I. A A' w.‘ .— o u... a . o'." I D .1 I: 4.. a...“ Q .. .‘_: 4., 5‘ .‘V. 1 . ‘0 ‘v .1. . -. I... .. “a“ l I». ‘ 'vn «. ._ 4“», O :‘fiv ’ "sl r n .1 1 u - . ,_ r. h‘v ~ IA“ A ‘J g 47"- 31 elegant home, where Pearl Courtland reveals that her sister Laura is really an adopted child, a former pickpocket. Her social position destroyed, Laura's life is further compli- cated by the villain, Byke, who kidnaps her. Furthermore, his claim to be her father was upheld in the Tombs Police Court. Laura is later thrown into the North River; she is saved of course and learns that, due to the switching of ba- bies, she, not Pearl, is the real daughter of the Court- lands. She leaves, however, and arranges to spend the night at a railroad station, where she is locked in for the night. At the station she watches Byke tie Snorkey to the railroad tracks. She finds an ax and chops through the door and res- cues Snorkey as the train rushes past. Although Daly presented a generally unfavorable View of New York society, it was Snorkey, an essentially comic figure, who provided most of the incidental social commen— tary in Under the Gaslight. Snorkey is first involved in the plot as a messenger, an unemployed veteran who lost an arm at Fredericksburg. One of many forgotten by the govern- ment, he comments: "I don't blame Uncle Sam for that; he's got such a big family to look after." Furthermore, at the end of the fourth act, after being rescued by the play's Iherodne, Snorkey remarks, "Victory! Saved! Hooray! And these are the women who ain't to have a vote!"28 28Augustin Daly, Under the Gaslight: A Totally Or- iginal and Picturesque Drama of Life and Love in These Times, in Five Acts (New York: Samuel French, n.d.), pp. 6, 43. Q ' V V ”N“ 1"! 6-: ‘~ ' :n..&-. p... . . ‘7‘ A. .r a U. ‘ .‘y cg, . D ‘..3YI - ~-.~H~~ 'uu‘VI q -1 .; "h‘."lv‘ vAAQ “ .. ..‘.v'= U --.." 7 PM“ Q .~ ‘U‘.' s.‘ I a "r‘, ‘1'. ‘; w 0‘4 . a... p ‘, ‘JI I h " w . C7 32 The treatment of displaced war veterans was a sig- nificant issue during the gilded age. As portrayed in Under the Gaslight, he was resourceful, ambitious, and reliable; yet, Daly proposed no remedy for the veterans' plight. The issue merited mention, like the vote for women, because mem- bers of the audience could identify with the problem, just as they would recognize the Tombs Police Court or Delmon- ico's. Daly's Under the Gaslight typified the sort of melo- drama which continued to attract audiences in the cheaper houses. Social and economic issues were not ignored but neither were they analyzed, and they remained well in the background, somehow unreal in a theatrical world in which treacherous, scheming villains tormented heroines and eluded heroes until the final curtain, when virtue was rewarded and evil punished. In the late nineteenth century such writers as Wil- liam Gillette, David Belasco, and Augustus Thomas began to write somewhat more sophisticated melodrama. Daly's Horizon (1871) pointed in this direction; despite farfetched situa- tions and violence, social satire was more fully developed. Daly portrayed the process of government both in the East and the West in satirical fashion. Sundown Rowse was described as "a distinguished member of the Third House at Washington"; he "is interested in several railroads not yet built, and he owns immense tracts of public lands, granted lrhn by Congress to build the railroads on." Rowse goes West to speculate in lands along the route of the Union Pacific. n 0': “pt: nub '- I ,a can 3~flI ululvu 1 ,. vuv :q'uev-b " q ..a'..Av AN- x4 1 o f ‘ R ”0'3. in“. ‘L-Oyt .\v* . . ‘ _ "fin. VII-1‘ ‘I‘u- 5““; n... a a. n I “- ‘-3'u \. ‘_u.~‘ ‘ . tau... o P. \ vU “ . 9 ‘Q: “HA ., _ .4 "' t.» u h. . uz‘ 5.. i."' J. o. .1“ .' I...” a“ u‘ . _.:'H-I ‘u ~": ‘ cu a VA. VA ~." A:‘ .. .0 I o y.“ -. .I + ».I‘ ‘- . .- :_=q fly 5“. 4 s - 3.“ » I ~~ 4“ H.- 5‘. a.y h, n A“ ."qv 'Kp H l ‘VUrC § H t ”J 4 K.‘ 4-,. gm t. :5 v... A..- -\ l U 33 In the West, Rowse observes "they take ranks there according to the amounts of debts they ran away from. The worst in- solvent is elected Sheriff."29 Alleyn Van Dorp, a recent West Point graduate accom- panies Rowse to the frontier; the young officer is eager to fight Indians. Van Dorp encounters not only Indian warriors but also those who had been civilized. These former noble savages now carried a pack of cards instead of a tomahawk; once "he went for the hair of your head. Now he's in the midst of civilization; he carries the weapons of enlight- ment, and goes for the money in your pocket."30 A vigilance committee helps the sheriff to keep the peace in the West. They discourage undesirable citizens from remaining in their midst. "Whiskey Wolf" is chased out of the town of Rogue's Rest because he drinks all day in- stead of working, while a "regular Heathen Chinee" is re- moved because he works all day for half pay. More sophisticated Broadway plays often represented a fusion of techniques from the piece bien faite or "the ‘well-made play" with those of the melodrama. First devel- oped in France by Eugene Scribe (1791-1861), the well-made play represented a revolt against French classical tragedy .and.the melodramas of Pixérécourt. The plot of the 29Augustin Daly, Horizon, in Allan Halline, ed., American Plays (New York: American Book Company, 1935) , p. 346. 30Ibid., p. 352. > o u .y- was” yon-$-Vvu ~ ~ 'vu Ina.‘ o—"-. I vi a”? ‘ .I..‘.' ' n "v-u. .. - .. ‘vtv..._. {A A J '._ n.. n 'u“ . 0 u “I . n.:_~‘ - tang-“U‘ ‘Q‘ ‘ a”: -." ”-5. . . ‘.“ Ro- . I "n - . u.‘ n‘ v'.“ ‘.‘ .g. 5. _~ ‘ “b.‘. I - Q. ~ ‘ “1. c ~A 34 well-made play was often based on a secret known to the aud- ence, but not revealed to the major characters until the final scene. Action and suspense were heightened through contrived methods; the denoucement or "the untying" often involved a logical explanation of some misunderstanding, a letter, word, or situation misunderstood or interpreted dif- ferently (a quid pro quo) by the various characters in the play.31 Scribe, the son of a Paris shopkeeper, wrote for audiences like his own bourgeois family. Although the well- made play always at least seemed to be topical, Scribe re- stricted his plays to themes which were certain to appeal to French middle-class citizens: money, love, and success. Even his jokes were tried and tested. Political and social problems were ignored by Scribe, who preferred to avoid rad- 32 ical ideas. Scribe's plots and themes did, however, point in the 3lTom Driver, Romantic Quest and Modern Query: A History of the Modern Theatre (New York: Dell, 1970), pp. 46-49; Robert Lyle Hagen, "The Influence of the Well- .Made Play Upon American Playwrighting" (unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Case Western Reserve University, 1949), pp. 7, 221; John Russell Taylor, however, argued that Scribe sought "not to tame and discipline Romantic extravagance, but to devise a mould into which any sort of material, however ex- travagant and seemingly uncontrollable, could be poured." an“: Rise and Fall of the Well-Made Play (New York: Hill and Wangy 1967), PP. 11-12. 32Neil Cole Arvin, Eugene Scribe and the French The- ater, 1815-1860 (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1924), pp. 3, 21; Hagen, "Well-Made Play," pp. 39, 45, 64; Brander Matthews, French Dramatists of the 19th Cen- tury (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1881), P. 91. - u l .n:.~r3fl K m‘v'ttvu -.~qb ‘3‘;3 Vui‘h - - . . .v‘-~I- av- .. ‘aiAIVIA d. “"P-q-u A .. Vvvuv‘h ‘V . . ‘ a...“ \- "Az-c‘.- 1‘. . I: ‘ , \‘w~_‘_~ .4 di‘.~‘: 9" e. ‘ ‘ fl 7.. “can . Q.- "‘ “v--' ‘»-r“": Du. I .Q n v .u“; <‘-. I‘Q. ‘ "\\ hr. -~. 5“ ‘u 3.1‘ . "'4?" 5 51 \. . 1. '- P‘f’. 7‘ A. n Q‘LL:‘1 i"~ ~ 7 A ‘5 35 direction of greater realism. Furthermore, Scribe moved the setting of his plays from the bucolic world of thickets and thatched cottages which had long dominated the conventional stage to the urban world of streets and salons. Subsequent French dramatists, especially Emile Augier and Alexandre Dumas the younger, employed Scribe's techniques to deal with economic and social issues. The piéce bien faite became es- sentially a piece a these in, for example, Dumas file' Le Question d'Argent (The Money Question), produced in 1857, which dealt with capitalism.33 An English playwright, Tom Robertson, also employed Scribean theatricalism and yet focused on social themes in his plays. In Society (1864) and EEEEE (1867), Robertson depicted middle-class Victorian life in a seemingly realis- tic manner. Recent scholars have argued that Robertson achieved little in the way of theatrical reform. John R. Taylor, for instance, found that Robertson's revolution "was less than a full-scale attack on the sort of theater then in vogue than a significant refinement, a modification of de- tail," while Maynard Savin maintained that the principal difference between Robertson's plays and ordinary hackwork was his contribution toward natural dialogue.34 Savin, 33Hagen, "Well-Made Play," pp. 19-20, 199; Driver, Romantic Quest, p. 52. 34Taylor, Well-Made Play, p. 28; Maynard Savin, Thomas William Robertson: His Plays and Stagecraft ("Brown University Studies," Vol. XIII; Providence: Brown Univer- sity, 1950), p. 61; see, also, Driver, Romantic Quest, p. 118. vvzafler’ C nun-V. . - Q I «Q! 3' z ‘— ‘ i ..:‘oo' “" a - . n~... NH .1 ‘ _ nAI‘IOVlA Ivtq.yvo-‘ -n F, u-n.‘ I 5 .‘V, H‘\ 4" ' . . I '3‘." .00! v.‘ v._ , . - “‘5: "“ vua.‘ 'Alfl‘ ‘v-J‘ -.. ~v,l" A L" ~ fi""“‘~.t u..~ ‘- q. ‘2.» ‘. '.."‘ci N . V ‘3 36 moreover, cited aspects of Robertson's social thought which clearly limited his ability to act as a social critic: "Three stifling currents of Victorian orthodoxy--the glori- fication of woman, caste, and war--combined to smother the creative energy of Robertson."3S Contemporaries, however, greeted Robertson's plays with enthusiasm. Clement Scott believed that "Robertson's plays appeared at the exact time when they were wanted." In the United States, one reviewer commented that his School (1869) was "almost a revolution in dramatic literature. With a plot very slight, with no stirring incident, almost without a situation, dealing,i31a thoroughly realistic way: with ordinary life, it yet has achieved the greatest dramat- ic success of the season. This is to be attributed to its truthful characters, its charming pictures of life, and the highly skillful way in which ordinary incidents are rendered dramatic and effective."36 A few years after Robertson's success in the United States, Bronson Howard's Saratoga (1870) had a long run on Broadway and was adapted as Brighton in England and as Sign}: Erste und Einzige Liebe in Germany. During the 1870's, Howard's plays were primarily farcical; later he turned 35Savin, Robertson, p. 118. 36Clement Scott, "Two Dramatic Revolutions," North American Review, CLVII (October 1893), 480; "Table-Talk," Appleton's Magazine, I (April 17, 1869), 89. ‘ ‘ A .mra P": "lug A .3. .- ' V . “‘1‘: 1’3 V n... . . Q .‘ a H‘ 00. . 1.. \"T . V ...‘.. UV. .. '1 p. L C ' “ ..~ 5 7‘ n.“" V .'.on :‘:v--. a :1: a "v ‘4 : H ‘\'\ s .. v . ‘U- - ' ’2- v... H I ' 37 toward realism in technique and social themes.37 In tech- nique, however, his realism belonged to Scribe's school of drama rather than to that of Howells or Ibsen. Furthermore, the lower classes seldom appeared in Howard's plays, even in comedy roles. Thus, Howard's analysis of social conditions, like Scribe's, was limited by a desire to satisfy middle- class tastes. Howard's background, like that of Scribe's, was middle class. His father was a merchant and had once served a term as mayor of Detroit.38 Because he had poor eyesight, Howard abandoned plans to attend Yale. Although he worked as a reporter for the Detroit Free Press and for various New York newspapers, including Horace Greeley's Tribune,39 37Bronson Howard, "Letter to the Editor," Detroit Post, December 19, 1884: Harry Mawson, "A Brief Biography," p. 53; Allan Halline,eai.,The Banker's Daughter and Other Plays, V01. X of America's Lost Plays, ed. Barrett H. Clark (20 vols.; Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1941), pp. xiii-xiv. 38Montrose Moses suggested a strong element of idealism or at least businesslike efficiency in Charles How- ard, whom, he claimed, had once obtained lower insurance rates by removing grog from his Great Lakes ships. Egg .American Dramatist (Boston: Little, Brown & Co., 1927), jp. 9. Furthermore, Harry Mawson maintained that Bronson Howard and his father were much alike: "If Charles Howard believed himself to be in the right, no matter at what per- sonal.loss, he would carry out his plans as he formed them. Vtrth Bronson it was the same all over again." "A Brief Bi— ography," p. 51. Certainly, however, Howard did not extend tflxis philosophy to his art. See, for example, Howard's Egg Initobiography of a Play (New York: Dramatic Museum of Columbia University, 1914). 39Quinn, History of American Drama, p. 40; Boyle, "Howard and the Gilded Age," p. 3; Mawson, "A Brief Biogra- phy," p. 51; New York Dramatic Mirror (hereafter NYDM), December 28, 1899, p. 26. .L'ZEI 2'18 5' ‘?::"n~ ‘l "vi-you'lgl 4 “w -. O kt\. 0'1‘. I ~ .. a" I In..¢‘.( “ I . - q I‘vzu.‘ A“ "“""‘V .1 .‘AA. A ‘ ‘ We. ". ,. u “‘51. ‘aK 1 u.)- AV'I- - ‘V‘l ‘ .“i 38 Howard was primarily interested in writing for the stage. After the success of The Banker's Daughter in 1878 he in- creasingly relied on the techniques of the well-made play. The Banker's Daughter had first been produced as Lillian's Last Love in 1873. Howard's explanation of the transition in The Autobiography of a Play, first given as a lecture at Harvard in 1886, indicated his acceptance of Scribean principles: "A dramatist should deal so far as possible, with subjects of universal interest, . . . the one absolutely universal passion of the race, which underlies all other passions,--on which, indeed, the existence of the race depends,--the very fountain of material love itself, is the love of the sexes." Thus, although Howard dealt with such themes as materialism, speculation, and the Civil War, he clearly believed in the mid-1880's that these topics were background which need not be resolved; questions of love and marriage, however, had to be answered before the final 40For Howard's interest in a part-time position do- ing revisions for Daly, which would free him from newspaper work, see his letters to Daly dated November 1, 1869; April 7, 1871; May 31, 1871; and a letter from a farm near Ypsil- anti, Michigan, July 17, 1878, Augustin Daly Papers, Folger Shakespeare Library. See, also, Marvin Felheim, "Bronson Howard, 'Literary Attaché,'" American Literary Realism, 1870-1910, II (Summer 1969), 174-179. Felheim rejected as myth the notion that Howard came to New York penniless. This would suggest that there is little evidence to support Charles Boyles' contention that Howard "should have absorbed a great deal of this [that of the Gilded Age] fascination for money," because he "had himself gone through an Alger cycle on a somewhat modest scale." "Bronson Howard and the Popular Temper of the Gilded Age" (unpublished Ph.D. disser- tation, University of Wisconsin, 1957). p. 258. u . 0" 7’ “fi "..a¢u’ A," 1y 3" ' O L: _. a.“ 4 . ,' «1a.;- 0: 0" 'u o yo - ' u van : .o...-,. I ‘u A RR‘ VQH-u . u ' 0! |" u v o v 39 curtain. Moreover, the "play must be," he insisted, "in one way or another, 'satisfactory' to the audience."41 "In England or America," Howard explained, "the death of a pure woman on the stage is not satisfactory." In Lillian's Last Love, this had occurred. Lillian Westbrook was forced to choose between three suitors: John Strebelow, an older man; Harold Routledge, an artist; and Count de Carojac, a comic figure. Lillian married Strebelow to save her father from financial disaster, though she loved Rout- ledge. When Routledge was nearly killed in a duel by Carojac, Lillian's reaction led Strebelow to take their daughter away; Lillian died heartbroken. In the revised version, first produced in November 1878, Lillian's daughter remained, though Strebelow did leave until Lillian decided she really loved him, while Routledge was killed in the duel.42 For Howard, the popularity of The Banker's Daughter indicated that he had provided a plot which was "satisfac- tory" to the audience and which properly resolved all moral questions. Lawrence Westbrook, who had urged his daughter tIDJnarry Strebelow in order to save his banking firm from bankruptcy, a situation brought on by his own speculation, 41Quinn, History of American Drama, I, 43; Howard, .Autobiography of a Play, pp. 26-27. 42Howard, Autobiography of a Play, p. 28; Quinn, ‘History of American Drama, I, 43; Howard, The Banker's Daughter, Halline, ed., The Banker's Daughter and Other Plays, pp. 88-134. :4..~~VV ‘ I saw I“ § . m- .V... .5» L yt. .K.. . ~ u“\ " . 'V ~ ‘V‘FA .. Q 1" I ..',‘ ‘ ._'_ J"- ._u 1:: “I I"). s 40 suffered only through a guilty conscience; upon his retire- ment he told his partner that he would gladly give up their five-million-dollar assets "to bring Harold Routledge back to life, to compensate John Strebelow." Although his part- net replied, "What a heartless, grasping set we solid busi- ness men are,"43 Howard made no attempt to sustain the idea that the ethical code developed in The Banker's Daughter was applicable to financiers in general. If a "satisfactory" solution to a problem of romance was the key to theatrical success, Howard did everything possible to guarantee that Shenandoah would yield a profit. During the 1880's, sentimental romantic literature glori- fied plantation legends and portrayed the reconciliation be- tween North and South, which was personified through love affairs involving Union heroes and Confederate heroines. Howard, as C. Van Woodward noted, "outdid the novelists by uniting figs such lovelorn pairs in his play Shenandoah."44 As a dramatist, perhaps, Howard had an unfair advantage at resolving plots in this fashion; nevertheless, he had demon- strated a year earlier with The Henrietta that a strong play could be written despite romantic essentials. 3Howard, The Banker's Daughter, in Halline, ed., Banker's Daughter and Other Plays, pp. 127-128. 44C. Vann Woodward, Origins of the New South, 1877- 1913 (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1951), :pp. 167-168; William Dean Howells' review of Shenandoah was generally favorable, but, he concluded: "We believe that the pursuit of wives by villains is so uncommon in our soci- ety as to be scarcely representative or typical." "Editor's Study," Harper's Magazine, LXXXI (June 1890), 155. .tV—u:n 1.7.30 «n.3, a. -- u. ”may. Ayn—1 ' I -‘-u~-qe h ‘Idh:-n'i U aqy- .,.,J r " ‘utu b - ... - :Fa “‘- en... ' n n._ H F‘ ”“Hs! \- ' o \g‘ ‘ 4“ ‘ “"" s ~‘fi! ‘A u .H-“V .“.- ‘ a n “v. ‘n . -~- 5. ..‘_ ‘ . ‘ - 1 "w‘-' 4 \ K‘,. .. ‘e ‘4; n' u- 3 ‘ ‘- ‘ v‘~ \ (D I. ”fix 41 In The Henrietta, Howard employed Scribean tech- niques, yet effectively satirized the impact of materialism on American life and values. Secrets were revealed to the audience but concealed from some members of the cast. Let— ters and misunderstandings were the basis of various sub- plots within the drama. Yet, behind the farcical comic re- lief and the subplot, Howard portrayed the financier in highly critical fashion. Furthermore, unlike The Banker's Daughter and other earlier works, Howard described an entire class in unfavorable terms; his satire was directed at an entire class, not merely a single individual who strayed from accepted standards of behavior. The Wall Street speculator was portrayed as little more than a gambler in Howard's The Henrietta; luck was the basic ingredient in his success, but his materialistic ethic dominated American society. Traditional family ties and re- ligious values were sacrificed in a society which held the pursuit of wealth in highest esteem. In the opening scene Nicholas Vanalstyne, the play's major character, instructs his son in fundamentals of economic theory: Sell an Option of Nebraska and Montana, I'm going to water that stock tomorrow. Never gamble, my son, it isn't right. Squeeze the shorts, that's business. . . . I see the Wall Street lambs are buying Nebraska and Mon- tana very freely.45 The influence of materialism and the desire for 45Bronson Howard, The Henrietta, in Allan Gates Ikelline, ed., American Plays (New York: American Book Co., 1935), p. 416. ‘0'". *‘o —\ 0.”..- ".‘( ‘- ‘evl. .’-.‘AA — ‘-"v..' .‘ a 1% -_ ‘ 42 speculative wealth, as portrayed by Howard, not only affect- ed the conduct of business on Wall Street but also had a1- tered traditional family relationships and had even permeat- ed the ranks of the clergy. Vanalstyne gives his daughter a wedding present of fifty thousand dollars and urges her to invest in a particular stock. He plans to win "the gift" back through manipulation of the market, if she follows his advice. In his Sunday sermons, Rev. Dr. Murry Hilton preaches Christian ethics and attacks "the universal strug- gle in America for more worldly fortune--especially the growing tendency towards speculative gambling." During the remainder of the week, like most of the members of his con- gregation, he speculates in the stock market.46 The Henrietta also illustrated the influence of fi- nancial power on government. Nicholas Vanalstyne's power surpasses that of United States senators; he receives Inter- state Commerce Commission reports before they are presented to the Senate. A conversation between the financier and his son indicates that government on both the state and national level was controlled by powerful business interests: Vanalstyne, Jr. Butler of Omaha, writes that two or more competing lines of railroads. Vanalstyne. Tell him to buy them both. Vanalstyne, Jr. The legislature of Nevada-- Vanalstyne. Buy that, too. Vanalstyne, Jr. The new Constitution of the state-- Vanalstyne. Tell our agents to have it amended at once --same as Missouri. Vanalstyne, Jr. Holliston has been nominated for Con- gress in Kansas. Shall we contribute to his 46Howard, Henrietta, in Halline, ed., Plays, p. 429. ‘n ‘mnu . "3.. ~L- . . ‘ ' |¢vod.U'. 0 . as. “’--‘ 1 t»... 'n.'~.. \ _\ u,“‘ ‘U . h. A. we. " -. s. g g...» a 1". ‘ "‘4 \ 7 . s. 5 ._ ~ \ ‘1 . .v": e “‘u, . ' .V 1‘... H 43 election expenses? 47 Vanalstyne. No, wait till he goes to Washington. The plot of The Henrietta describes the efforts of Vanalstyne, Jr., to destroy his father's position on Wall Street in order to further his own career as a financier. With an obvious grasp of Wall Street ethics, the young man waits until Vanalstyne is aboard the family yacht, before beginning the market assault. Both throw their entire re- sources into this battle for survival. Vanalstyne is saved by his second son, Bertie, who represents the typical club- man of the period. The third act concludes with a natural- istic scene in which Vanalstyne, Jr., dies as the ticker re- ports the latest market developments in the background. While the conclusion was not quite an endorsement of social Darwinism, it was an indictment against a society which had forgotten Christian ethics and even the health of its members in a mad rush for speculative wealth. At times, however, Howard's satire drifted into farce as, in the final act, Bertie appears as "the Young Napoleon of Wall Street," who bases his decisions on the toss of a coin. The final act was anticlimactic, but it was necessary, given Howard's dramatic theory, in order to resolve numerous subplots and provide a "satisfactory" happy ending. A New York Times reviewer thought that Howard's play "reflects, with no more exaggeration than is permitted to any dramatist, something of the spirit of the age in which 47Ibid., pp. 416-417. 44 we live." He especially liked the portrayal of Nicholas Vanalstyne, Jr.: Such men as he exist, and may be found on Wall-Street to-day. They are creatures of our raw civilization and selfish society. And they are very often the off-spring of such men as Nicholas Van Alstyne [gig] the elder; men who began life on the farm; who brought to town with them sturdy constitutions and good habits and developed the ability to accumulate money forgetting all moral scruples in exercising their ability.48 Columbia professor Brander Mathews, a prolific author of books on the drama and a close friend of Howard, believed that The Henrietta, "in contradiction to the generally ac- cepted theory that the novel is constantly in advance of the drama in its investigations into society, . . . presented a picture of American life and character sharper in outline than any which had then been achieved by any novelist, ex- cepting the author of Silas Lapham."49 In contrast to the late nineteenth-century American 48New York Times, September 27, 1887, p. 4. 49Brander Matthews, "An Appreciation," In Memoriam, IBronson Howard, p. 41. Theater historians have been less enrthusiastic. A. H. Quinn, somewhat ambivalent, concluded: "The Henrietta is definitely a satire upon the rush and the heartlessness of financial and social life, and be- ing a satire it does not rise to the significance of Younngrs. Winthrop or Shenandoah, yet it has a hearti- ness of humor, a rapidity of action and prodigality of interesting situations and characters which put many a more sophisticated play to shame." Ikistomy of American Drama, 1, 37. Similarly, Freedley and Reeves commented that The Henrietta "was a play of financial tycoons and their 'big business' which have gone out of fashion as theatrical fare." Yet, they added, "with the combination of Howard's talents and these splendid actors UNilliam H. Crane and Stuart Robson] it played for years on tine road and was quite deservedly successful." A History of the Theatre, pp. 324-325. 45 novelist, who frequently reached an intellectual audience, Howard constructed plays for middle-class theatergoers. His primary objective was to amuse his audience, not to develop a sustained critical analysis of industrial America. Prob- lems faced by the farmer or the factory worker were ignored by Howard. Though he did recognize business-government ties in The Henrietta, Howard proposed no specific reforms. Fur- thermore, his most critical comments were devoted to specu- lation, an activity many businessmen regarded as dangerous and irresponsible. Thus, businessmen could laugh at How- ard's satire without fear of radical implications or reform- ist ideas in The Henrietta. Howard thought that every country had one theme on which "numerous plays might be written." In France, marital infelicity was such a theme, while in England the idea of a social caste served a similar function. Howard believed that business themes would prove fruitful to dramatists in the united States.50 His The Henrietta exercised a strong influence on American business plays produced between 1890 and World War I. New York Times critic Edward Dithmar as- serted.it was "still the best of native plays" in 1901.51 Jkuianticipating subsequent trends, Howard shifted the empha- sis from the typical love theme of the well-made play to business . 50Brander Matthews, "An Appreciation," p. 42. 51E. A. Dithmar, "At the Theatres," New York Times, February 3, 1901, p. 20. uqqn-n-v \‘ ‘OI'IQIA' . . .‘oa ‘ .‘VV O"§- ‘V‘ 6 a... . ”o h. v .- 46 The Henrietta ran for sixty-eight weeks in New York, grossing almost $500,000. Glen Hughes concluded that Howard both acquired a fortune from royalties on the play and "proved to managers that native playwrights could compete at 52 the box-office with the best foreign writers." Prior to Howard, despite success with the melodrama, American drama- tists had few opportunities in the better theaters. Henry James complained in 1875 that the American public could not expect to see a reflection of life as they knew it on the stage because "the mirror, as the theaters show it, has the image already stamped upon it--an Irish im- age, a French image, and English image." Similarly, George Parsons Lanthrop wrote a decade later: "Managers are willing to spend thousands of dollars on the reproduction of a play which has had a run abroad, but are chary of a few hundreds in experimenting with an untried play. 'Not one cent for tribute to the American playwright, but millions for the de- fence of the imported drama,‘ seems to be the motto."53 Dion Boucicault, the Irish-born playwright, insisted that a (deferential attitude toward European drama seemed to prevail (even.beyond the economic benefits to theater managers and producers. "New York audiences were keener and more 52Glen Hughes, A History of the American Theater (New York: Samuel French, 1951), p. 285. 53Henry James, "Notes on the Theatres," Nation, XX “march 11, 1875), 178; George Parsons LanthrOp, i'The Pros- pect for American Dramatists," The Theatre, I (May 24, 1886), 282. I 5‘ I-uAR'. :ouv:ce 0:] .0: a yr 0.." “\- -5 q... '1‘,- toy-4‘ uVL ‘n “ ‘ gun a N ‘tl. Dav . ‘4 A...“ “J ....‘v . 0 o' 1 I) 1 ) ‘Q\,. 1 eh... I V "“4” C ‘ Q o ‘. . .- " _ .1 vs. n. J“ . n q \ u. U. :V‘ t ~‘o m, _ . .‘ 1 I \ 4 5 '2». . “‘-:v‘ ! . n A as" 7 ..k '2 § \- Q \.‘ - «‘V “J; '1 . v‘" s c. a, . n. D '8 v.; r u " . ‘ S ‘. .A‘ NIF- § L In . 1.2.4 ‘4‘ ‘4 . . . as“ w“ L; " . 43 . D *2“. ~94)- \ 5‘ t l‘ 1“. ‘Js‘n‘ \L‘\ V 47 sincere" than those of London, he observed. American ac- tors, he insisted, were also superior, but "neither the press nor the people seemed to understand this artistic wealth. They had been taught subjection to London and Paris in all such matters, and willingly recognized their inferi- ority."54 Though earlier in the nineteenth century a movement toward an independent American literature occurred, inde- pendence for the drama came more slowly. Augustin Daly, one of New York's leading producers, maintained that the quality of American drama would improve, if more "authors of dis— tinction" wrote for the stage.55 Yet, in addition to his original melodramas Daly relied primarily on adaptations of German plays, which he provided himself. Thus, as a critic of the period remarked, one major New York theater was "al- most permanently closed" to American dramatists,56 distin- guished or otherwise. Nor was Daly's theater unique; the other leading theaters, Wallack's and Palmer's, were 54Boucicault, "Leaves from a Dramatist's Diary," p. 230. 55Augustin Daly, "The American Dramatist," North .American Review, CXLII (May 1886), 486. 56Julian Magnus, "The Condition of the American Stage," North American Review, CXLIV (February 1887), 187. In contrast, however, Bronson Howard wrote of Daly: "If he can see a better chance for a popular success in the suggestion that I make than in the ideas now in his head he will not let any desire to do his own piece weigh an ounce in making his decision. This is one of his strongest peculiarities." ILetter to W. J. Florence, May 14, 1877, in the Augustin Daly Papers, Folger Shakespearean Library. .. u v‘qI‘Qr vy , \ 4 ‘ imoufifi§ I l U. - “a“ n u n'vo‘ I o M' p '2‘»... .‘ ~._.‘\ I 4 v ..‘ .. '- :r u ‘.e .1,“ ‘y . . ~ v "u: “r.- v. ‘ h "r: , 1‘. , D u; 48 similarly dependent upon English and French plays respec- tively.57 Though the portrayal of business values in The Hen- rietta was hardly favorable, there were some critics who were satisfied neither by the pseudorealism of the melodrama nor by the superficial realism of most well-made plays. They sought greater realism and higher intellectual quality in the drama, changes which involved both subject matter and form. "We are all daily living dramas and comedies not lacking in intensity or humor; yet, how few of us," Julian Magnus insisted, "come into contact with murders, assassina- tions, abductions, hairbreadth escapes from fire and water, or are acquainted with rooms provided with half-a-dozen doors behind each of which a comedian may be hidden!"58 One aspect of theatrical realism involved more na- tural acting. Throughout the 1870's and 1880's controversy raged between those who admired the older romantic style acting of Edwin Forest and those who preferred the realism of the Italian Shakespearean, Tomaso Salvini. One landmark of this controversy was Steele MacKaye's speech, given in Boston during March 1871, in which he introduced the method of acting developed by Francois Delsarte in Paris. Many 57Arthur Hornblow, History of Theatre in America (2 vols.; Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott, 1919), II, 247. 58Julian Magnus, "Open Letter," Century, XXXI (N.S. IX) (November 1885), 156. 0‘ ‘ ”It" 3 a V .anOO-L . R .. vs:1 1. a. ovlghe . "‘7. a.” . “~I Mk. “.QQI‘f' \ a k "“..n“ ' 4 "=- 1: " .IOV ‘ v :3“? Ah: an.» U..- “u.,‘ fl -x‘ L“ ....._V~.I', ‘ I v a... c." Dan. "" baau‘ ‘ p h.“ ‘76" “ug .v. n 3.3?! I l V l h”“--. t.“ I .., b . ‘l. . Q. ~ .. ‘ H "J: an ‘A 'I‘ ~“LQ §". ‘U s. ‘ :u, h H‘I‘ IA'“~ 4 ‘19”: k v. “ l“ 1:)“ « \M'Ll" ‘l 1.» ‘ \‘,Qn .5; a S .I \ A 9"»: _ 49 intellectuals attended the lecture.59 Delsarte's system was somewhat mechanical, but it advanced acting in the direction of realism. Although the American stage accepted innovations to- ward a more realistic acting technique and while changes in staging in the direction of great realism were employed even at the lowest levels of melodrama, critics were pessimistic about changes in the drama itself. Richard Grant White, for example, writing in the August 1869 issue of The Galaxy, ar- gued that "the drama, as an intellectual diversion of the mind from one channel of thought into another, has passed away, I think, forever." Julian Magnus was, however, more hopeful: "Truth to nature is the fundamental principle of other arts, and the time has at last come when the public demands it shall also be the basis of plays."60 Critics who sought a realistic theater usually advo- cated an institution more responsive to elitist intellectual currents than the popular stage. More realistic theater, they hoped, would attract audiences from those classes which regularly read novels by Howells, James, Eliot, and Hardy. Commenting on the state of the American theater, Henry James urged a separation between popular and "art" theater: "We see no reason to believe that the mass of mankind will ever 9Wisner Payne Kinne, George Pierce Baker and the American Theatre (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1954), p. 12; MacKaye, Epoch, pp. 150-151. 60Richard Grant White, "The Age of Burlesque," The Galaxy, VIII (August 1869), 266; Magnus, "Open Letter," 155. '1 an “RV! ~— ., .4... w 4 . OI‘I :‘V at“! ‘3' .,. ...‘ l . ~ "0".v‘ . .,_. Y t. I I- c I . .1 . F'V. \“ ‘v .‘4.3.'\ *4 . fi - - .' _ _ u. I *! \ .25 \ 2! 1 I ~I ’H ‘1 .1 I: 50 be more 'artistic' than is strikingly convenient, and suspect that acute pleasure and pain, on this line, will remain the privilege of an initiated minority. A great many poor plays and pictures and novels will continue to be produced, in order that a few good ones be floated to the front; and the few good ones, after all, will have but a limited influ- ence."61 William Dean Howells, however, a frequent and influ- ential commentator on the theater, found the best hOpe for a realistic drama in the sketches of Edward Harrigan, which were hardly written for an elite audience.62 Beginning in 1872, Harrigan wrote and starred in vaudeville sketches and plays with Tony Hart (Anthony Cannon). His most famous plays were the Mulligan Guard series, which contrasted the Irish-Americans of New York City with other minority groups. Harrigan's realism was based on an accurate portrayal of lower-class types rather than in-depth character develop- ment. Unlike the well—made play or the melodrama, which re- quired carefully developed plots, Harrigan's sketches relied on a few situations or incidents, which were loosely tied together. The Mulligan Guard Ball, for example, describes a series of events leading up to a dance held by a 61Magnus, "Open Letter," 156; Henry James, "The Drama," Atlantic Magazine, XXXIV (December 1874), 755. 62See, for example, William Howells, "Editor's Stu- dy," Harper's Magazine, LXXXIII (July 1886), 316. ‘ «II-"1"." "Wu-Iv" "‘ 1 .-. “AN - rig..." ‘ n ...‘ -yq «.4 ad ‘1'»... . . 4. v... uvu..-A—-. ....,, g c n y ‘u. u <- ‘I "bvkt U '0‘..- .6. d "' 9|. .- O... u.‘ v,‘ - ‘- d._ .. 'Lf'“" 51 pseudo-military Irish organization. The sketch is sus- tained, however, through a running conflict between Irish- and German-Americans. Tommy Mulligan plans to marry Katy Lockmuller. His father vows: "The name of Mulligan will never be varnished with the name Lockmuller. The Divil a Dutch drop of blood will enter this family." Dan Mulligan agrees to put off fighting Lockmuller until after the dance, because the latter, a butcher, has promised to provide food for the affair, despite an outstanding bill of thirty-five dollars owed by the Mulligans. Lockmuller insists, he "can lick the whole Mulligan Guard." The ball is complicated by the fact that the hall has been rented to a similar black group, the Skidmore Guard, who accept an upstairs hall in 63 Tommy Mulligan and Katy order to be "above de Irish." Lockmuller slip away during the dance to be married, and in the final scene as Lockmuller and various other creditors descend on Dan Mulligan, a general melee ensues. The characters depicted in Harrigan's plays were far removed from the bankers and financiers dramatized by Bron- son Howard. Harrigan insisted that the common people led a Inore varied and interesting existence than the social aris- tocracy. Problems encountered by the peOple could attract the attention of a wide audience but "a cultured, refined and beautiful millionaire," he asserted, "aspiring to be 63Edward Harrigan, The Mulligan Guard Ball, in Richard Moody, ed., Dramas from the American Theatre: 1762- 1909 (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1969), pp. 551, 561. . a . «N .fipA'fl .Nvivu ‘ e .1 n, . ,.._.u..$.. ‘ Q on- I'm“! r a.- Unv‘i‘ ”Y‘OA .V-v‘ II J.: . . I" ' '1 "Io-oj ~.4. I. a. y . ‘., 1‘. ‘- 'n .. ‘« “"‘ . 1:. .5.» v . ‘:..~ I Tut-5 ‘ I J 6 ‘ u "A v n ‘s- ‘ .7- N ‘ l " .. " ura " Risk ‘ . . ..,"~L .l ‘4‘ 'I H N 52 numbered among billionaires, talking faultless English, and exhalting an atmosphere of good-breeding, would excite not the shadow of a smile, but simply pity and disgust."64 "I try to be as realistic as possible," he once wrote. "Each drama is a series of photographs of life to- day in the Empire City." A barroom, he noted, used in the Mulligan series, was c0pied from a Roosevelt Street saloon, while the opium den depicted in his Investigation had a real-life counterpart on Pell Street.65 Harrigan actually went beyond mere surface realism to capture much of the spirit of ghetto life; however, he did not seek to bring about social change. Frequently he satirized urban politi- cal life, as in The Mulligan Guard Nominee, which dramatized in exaggerated manner the process of ballot stuffing. Yet, the frequent presence of New York politicians at Harrigan's plays indicated that he sought to entertain and amuse his audience. The playwright, he argued, should not be a moral- ist, but neither should he glorify vice and sin. The true realist should show life as it is, he contended. Thus, though the drunkard could be a source of humor, the drama- tist must "not conceal the rags, misery, and disease which follow in his footsteps."66 64Edward Harrigan, "The American Drama," Harper's Weekly, XXXIII (February 2, 1899), 98. 651bid., p. 97. 66Walter Joseph Meserve, Jr., "William Dean Howells and the Drama" (unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, University of Washington, 1952), p. 93; Harrigan, "American Drama," p. 98. . ”I'J“ ‘ «any! 4 . ' S 5 our“ ‘0 vvnq y, h.~‘.‘ ‘ A ‘ “1““... s "90 g. “‘3. h. ' a h .‘ 3 s.l ." . .A'~ H w... \ ‘ v. ‘ .- 'a, 1 '. . _: "' u_ :‘R' .- "‘Q ’\ 'r w“ u: ‘1‘ “9. u \ ”A I .0 ‘n ~‘\J 2'; [A . “w ‘5. v" 53 Harrigan's sketches pointed more toward the twentieth-century musical comedy than a local color school of drama. During the 1880's several authors who had at- tained recognition as local color writers in other areas of literature tried writing for the stage. Among these were Joaquin Miller, Bret Harte, and Mark Twain. Miller had the most success; The Danites of The Sierras, written with Bart- ley Campbell, attained considerable popularity, but depended more on melodramatic aspects than local color.67 The impact of the movement toward realism in litera- ture was best reflected in the drama by the plays of James A. Herne. Chiefly self-educated, Herne had served as a the- ater manager in San Francisco and was an established actor, before he tried playwriting. In 1879 he collaborated with David Belasco on Hearts of Oak, a popular melodrama.68 Herne's subsequent plays, however, involved an attempt to deal with the lives of the common man in a realistic manner. In touching on serious themes Herne pushed beyond the rustic 67O. W. Frost, Joaquin Miller (New York: Twayne, 1967), pp. 100-103. Twain's problems in collaborating with Harte on Ah Sin, an unsuccessful play, were described in Justin Kaplan, Mr. Clemens and Mark Twain (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1966), pp. 232-237. 68Herbert J. Edwards and Julie A. Herne, James A. Herne: The Rise of Reglism in the American Drama ("Univer— sity of Maine Studies," 2d ser., No. 80; Orono: University of Maine Press, 1964), pp. 333-334. Quinn maintained that Belasco did not inform Herne that his idea for the play came from an English drama, Henry J. Leslie's The Mariner's Com- pass (1865). History of American Drama, I, 133. Julie A. Herne, however, made no mention of this in her "Biographical Note," in Katherine C. Herne, ed., Shore Acres and Other Plays (New York: Samuel French, 1928), p. xv. . l W‘s"; ’3’ I H... V .AArI ‘ ‘ OP 1:! “ 5..'u, H l‘oofll A .4 . v‘h. .yu E V ’ p Ieuoa no a .u. v. I. _ HAW “a. V»‘., w 4.. _‘ _ . ‘s-url' "' ev- -. . .- “ u..- I . 3“ w r o‘. “. A. 1 I) I ‘ ‘ . “vs.“ \ ‘U 54 realism of such plays as Denman Thompson's The Old Homestead (1886) which depended more on natural acting than on the content of the drama. In Drifting Apart (1888), Herne described the ef- fects of excessive drinking on a young sailor. For two grim scenes he depicted the sufferings of Jack Hepburne's family: the starvation of his wife, and the death of their daughter. The concluding act reveals the preceding scenes were a dream, but it was enough to exert a strong reforming effect on the sailor.69 Melodramas describing the evils of drink were popu- lar in the nineteenth century. William H. Smith's The Drunkard, or, The Fallen Saved (1844) and William Pratt's Ten Nights in a Bar-Room (1858) both were complete with delirium-tremens scenes played down to the end of the cen- tury.70 Often sponsored by temperance groups, which provid- ed an opportunity for theatergoers to take the pledge, melo- dramas of this type attracted many to the theater for the first time; like the antislavery melodramas, they could be endorsed by members of the clergy.71 69James A. Herne, Drifting Apart, in Arthur Hobson Quinn, ed., The Early Plays of James A. Herne, Vol. VII of America's Lost Plays, ed. Barret Clark (Princeton: Prince- ton University Press, 1940), pp. 101—136. 70William H. Pratt, Ten Nights in a Bar-Room, in Michael R. Booth, ed., Hiss the Villain, p. 176; W. H. Smith, The Drunkard, or, The Fallen Saved, in Moody, Dramas from the American Theatre, pp. 281-307. 71Nye, Unembarrassed Muse, p. 155; Booth, Hiss the Villain, p. 30. v '7“!!! A .- .— "viva-s. . “Y2. . o“‘ n.‘ ‘n ‘v 55 Benjamin 0. Flower believed that Herne's Drifting Apggp was "probably the most powerful temperance sermon ever preached on the boards of a theater." The general public, perhaps because the play contained the pioneering dream se- quence, disliked the drama; the Boston production of ppifp— ing Apart, however, attracted the attention of Boston intel- lectuals, who in turn influenced Herne to attempt further . . . 72 innovations in form. William Dean Howells attended a performance and praised the drama. Soon after Charles Hurd of the Boston Transcript viewed the drama, he handed two tickets to Hamlin Garland and said: "You ought to know Jim Herne. He's doing the same thing on the stage that you and Miss Wilkins are putting into the short story." After viewing the play, Gar— land wrote a letter to Herne commending the drama, and a long friendship between Garland and the Herne family fol- 73 lowed. Garland himself wrote a drama, Under the Wheel, which was published in The Arena in 1890. The drama reflect— ed the rising POpulist movement as well as the movement for literary realism. Thus, Under the Wheel both included po- litical ideas too radical for the pOpular stage as well as dramatic techniques that were unacceptable to theater 72Benjamin 0. Flower, "James A. Herne: Actor, Dramatist, and Man," Arena, XXVI (September 1891), 288. 73Hamlin Garland, A Son of the Middle Border (New York: Macmillan, 1919): P. 391; Jean Holloway, Hamlin Gar- land (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1961), p. 42. ...A~A . 4.1—? m'dv. . a Y A: "riva‘ \ 'uod‘“§ 1a $555139 ' ' a D-n .*:-~ “‘Uhl‘.." 56 managers. In Under the Wheel, Garland described a mechanic's struggle to lift his family out of tenement life in an op- pressive Boston slum. While Mrs. Edwards dreams of a place with a yard so her children need not play in the street, her husband, Jason Edwards, is faced with lower wages and higher rents. After reading a notice of a rent increase, Edwards exclaims: Good God! and my wages cut down last week. Haint they got no mercy, these human wolves? Haint I got all I can stand now? Look at it! (Looking at the walls.) Look at this tenement! Hotter, rottener, shabbier, but rent must go up. Jennie! Children! I don't know what I'm goin' t' do. I don't see any way out; I can see we're bein' crushed. . . .74 Julian Bergh, a German student-type, offers one solution: Our vages is reduced dwice already in four years--te rendt haff been raist four times. How? It is hell, is it nodt? I magke brotest so I shall pe heardt. It is nodt doo be born wit. I giff in my name to-night.75 Edward's daughter, Alice, who hopes to solve her family's economic dilemma through her singing, argues: "Keep away from those Anarchists, Mr. Bergh. They will hurt you. They don't belong here. Such meetings are wrong in a free coun- try." Bergh replies: "Free. Free doo bay rendt in. I fly from de tyrandts ofe my native landt, I reach a free landt! Bah! I am only slave under anodder name, dat is all. De 74Garland, Under the Wheel, in The Arena, II (July 1890), 192. 75 Ibid., p. 193. urn!- |¢ «h... V.- - ‘IA ~.-\r\- v.. . 2'". " ivy , 5.....4 'u-u - . 0.. ‘ d.‘ A . d i ( l" a u . a“ ”a ‘uggq '1 _. i . a‘ ‘H 57 march of feudalism is even here. I say there is no free blace left."76 Alice Edwards, a "modern woman," rejects the finan- cial security of marriage to a young reporter so long as her family's financial situation remains in doubt. Her father rejects protest as a solution to their economic problems, choosing instead escape with his family to the free land of the West. Jason Edwards finds little relief in the West, how- ever. For the crowded slums, he merely substitutes the loneliness and heat of the prairie, as well as weeks without rain. While rent increases and wage cuts are replaced by land speculators who own the land near the railroad and live off the interest on mortgages, four years of struggle against the elements and man's inhumanity to man are climaxed by a hail storm which flattens Edward's meager wheat crOp. The shock leaves Edwards paralyzed. While Garland's suggestion that the Single Tax could solve most of America's social and economic problems was somewhat less radical than the Populists' ideas for change, his dismal portrayal of rural life in Under the Wheel re- mained more radical than any analysis of American life pro- duced on the stage in the nineteenth century. The problems of the urban factory worker were delineated; the effects of wage reduction, rent increases, and slum conditions were all 761bid. 58 described. The idea of free land in the West was eXposed as a myth spread by land speculators. In the years between Daly's Under the Gaslight and Garland's Under the Wheel, the American theater had changed substantially. By 1890 most melodramas produced in American theaters were written by native playwrights. Bronson Howard had demonstrated that an American playwright could compete with French and German playwrights in the better theaters. In addition, although no art theater yet existed, a number of writers and critics were advocating a more intellectual drama. Social themes were generally treated as secondary issues on the popular stage; yet even in the most outlandish melodramas, economic and social conditions were not ignored. Augustin Daly noted the plight of Civil War veterans and the movement for woman suffrage, Bronson Howard satirized the materialism of the financial aristocracy, and Edward Harri- gan depicted life among the lower classes of New York. Pub- lic apathy toward Herne's Drifting Apart and the lack of in- terest in Garland's drama indicated obvious limits in popu- lar theater. Certain forms were clearly unacceptable; while there were a few who expressed interest in an elitist thea- ter, the final decade of the nineteenth century revealed this group was numerically small. CHAPTER III AMERICA VERSUS EUROPE: TOWARD AN INDEPENDENT THEATER In 1890 the First Independent Theater Association in Boston issued a prospectus which declared the group's objec- tive was to establish a theater, where "unconventional stu— dies of modern life and distinctive American life, may get a proper hearing." A noncommercial theater, they hoped, would stimulate an American drama of aesthetic merit and social criticism as had been produced at the Théa’itre Libre in Paris, the Independent Theatre in London and the Freie Biihne in Berlin. Benjamin 0. Flower, Mary Shaw, and Hamlin Gar- land were included in the association, which proposed a tick- et subscription system patterned on that of the Freie Biihne.l Response to the prospectus did not inspire further planning, though several of the group's members were involved in James A. Herne's independent production of Margaret Fleming a year later . 1A copy of "TRUTH FOR ART'S SAKE," Hamlin Garland Papers, University of Southern California, was published in Lars Ahnebrink, The Beginning of Naturalism in American Fic- tion (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1950), in Essays and Studies of American Language and Literature (The fierican Institute in the University of Upsala) , S. B. Liljegren, ed., pp. 451-453. 59 7‘. IAONA" “1.1VV‘“ In... 'vid 0 “3.3:. ‘9. . ‘ s..: .. .,. \ fix, inb~ 4 .. ‘ I: F D“ ‘ ‘4': . . H 60 Later in the decade other groups tried to sustain noncommercial theater in New York, but none attained suc- cess. Indeed, the failure of an independent theater move- ment to develop was the most significant fact in late nineteenth-century America's theater history. In contrast to Europe where intellectuals and the working classes estab- lished the independent or noncommercial theater as an ongo— ing institution, in America, intellectual groups failed to support such a movement and the workers' theatergoing was confined largely to popular melodrama. Thus, the failure of the independent theater movement in America provides an in- dication of the social values of American intellectuals and the class consciousness of American workers. The lack of an alternative to the Broadway stage also inhibited the thoughtful exploration of social issues in the drama. In contrast to his European counterpart, the American play- wright was confined by the limits of the commercial stage. The EurOpean dramatist could explore new techniques and deal with social problems. If his work was rejected as too radi- cal or innovative by commercial producers, the independent theaters provided an alternative. The American dramatist could gain a hearing only within the forms established dur— ing the 1870's and 1880's, the melodrama, the well-made play, and the sketch. Although a dramatist could deal with controversial issues within these forms, commercial produc- ers discouraged the practice. The career of Augustus Thomas provided an example of pfl‘ .- ’l. . ‘-Al w vr'vn - ‘7‘ 'b- oc~~ . nu.- 0-4.. ~< u”... v... .4 . ~~dn. . ‘Po "« o g“ a. “‘V. .P .’ ‘ A 61 the stifling effects of the nineteenth—century commercial stage. A former union member, and an active campaigner for Democrats, Thomas supported reform ideas in his early plays. He quickly found audiences unenthusiastic and critics hos- tile to the presentation of reform ideas on the stage. Once this became clear, Thomas turned not toward an independent theater but to a less intellectual drama in which political issues served only as background material. The pOpular stage was not totally unresponsive to reform movements. Though the spirit of the POpulist move- ment was probably best captured in the unproduced dramas of Augustus Thomas, attitudes regarding the growth of corporate power were often reflected in the satires of Wall Street which followed in the wake of The Henrietta. Political sat- ires, especially those of Charles Hoyt, were popular, and the urban reform movement was effectively depicted in a melodrama, The District Attorney, by Charles Klein and Har— rison Grey Fiske. Interest in reform declined in the thea- ter with the coming of the Spanish-American War. Both EurOpe and America experienced rising concern over social-economic issues in the years before 1900. In the 1880's Bismarck attempted to halt the growth of the So- cialist party through health and welfare programs and re- pression. In Great Britain, the Fabian Society was founded in 1893, while a year later trade unions were legalized in France. In the United States, drought and declining farm prices led to various agrarian organizations--Grangers, the '..'. ~v‘u in). any n.- ‘41 “.a n. s...- 0“ . \ . . 62 Farmer's Alliance, and the POpulist party (1892). Working- class discontent was reflected in the formation of the Knights of Labor in the 1870's. At its peak the union num- bered more than 700,000, but after 1886 membership declined when several strikes failed and the Haymarket Affair damaged the labor movement. Reforms enacted by Congress included the Interstate Commerce Act (1887), the Sherman Antitrust Act (1890), and the Sherman Silver Purchase Act (1890). Literature and criticism of the period reflected the interest in social-economic issues. In Germany, for example, Winthrop H. Root has observed, a significant shift occurred in the attitude of critics toward the novels of Emile Zola. Prior to 1885, they denied he portrayed life realistically.2 Gustav Wacht, for instance, concluded: "Zola takes pictures of insane asylums, grog-shops, and on the sidewalks of Paris, he touches them up with the brush of vulgarity."3 After 1885, the new critics, as rebels, could identify with Zola; moreover, they found in his interest in social evils not vulgar pessimism but idealism.4 In 1885, Zola also served as a measure of degeneracy for at least one American reviewer who declared that William Dean Howells' The Rise of Silas Lapham was "a decadent and immoral novel which 2Winthrop H. Root, German Criticism of Zola (New York: Columbia University Press, 1931), p. 31. 3Wacht quoted from "Emile Zola und der literarische Nihilimus," Allgemeine literarische Correspondez, IV, 121, in Root, German Criticism of Zola, p. 7. 4Root, German Criticism of Zola, pp. 36, 48. 63 '"5 Two years later Howells demonstrated 'out-Zolas Zola. his social concern by leading a petition drive to have the sentences of the Chicago Anarchists commuted. Howells com- pleted Annie Kilburn in 1888, a significant commentary on class distinction. Furthermore, between 1888 and 1897, the vast majority of American economic novels were written, a clear indication that minor novelists as well as Howells were aware of widespread interest in social issues. In Europe the trend toward a social orientation in literature and the new criticism also exerted a strong in- fluence on the drama. Arno H012 and Johannes Schlaf sought to develOp a literature that was more consistent than that of Zola, both in technique and in stress, on the artist's role as an objective observer of society. In practice, Ger— man naturalists frequently adhered to the conception of art- ist as scientific observer, but their interpretation often was based on a Marxist-humanism rather than Darwinist- fatalism.7 5Quoted from Catholic World, in Harold H. Kolb, Jr., The Illusion of Life: American Realism as a Literary Form (Charlottesville, Virginia: University Press of Virginia, 1969), p. 23. 6Larzer Ziff, The American 1890's: Life and Times of a Lost Generation (New York: Viking Press, 1969), pp. 32-33; C. R. Flory, Economic Criticism in Fiction, 1792 to 1900 (New York: Russell & Russell, 1969), p. 27; Walter Fuller Taylor, The Economic Novel in America (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1942). P. 59. 7Egon Friedell, A Cultural History of the Modern Age (3 vols.; New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1933), trans. Charles Francis Atkinson, III, p. 339; Alfred Stoeckius, "Naturalism in Recent German Drama with Special Reference to Gerhart '1 v... ‘- ‘u 64 Among those associated with H012 and Schlaf as mem- bers of the nggh Society, a Berlin literary organization, were Gerhart Hauptmann, Bruno Wille, and Wilhelm Bolsche. Hauptmann dedicated his first drama, Vor Sonnenaufgang to Bjorne P. Holmsen, a pseudonym employed by H012 and Schlaf for a volume of naturalistic short stories entitled Papa Hamlet. Wille, a philosopher, and Bolsche, a scientist, were active in the independent theater movement of Berlin.8 The independent theater movement in both Germany and France was linked to naturalistic drama. "I am waiting for them, in the first place, to put a man of flesh and bones on the stage, taken from reality, scientifically analyzed, without one lie," wrote Zola in 1881. Commercial European theaters were not, however, receptive to naturalistic drama. Not until several years later did an alternative to the com- mercial stage exist, where plays by naturalists might obtain a hearing. The theater Zola had sought was established in 1887 by Andrea Antoine, the leader of a small amateur com— pany in Paris. When Leon Hennique offered the company a one-act drama based on a Zola novel, many of the group's conservative members refused to participate in this radical Hauptmann" (unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Columbia Univer- sity, 1903), pp. 5, 11; John Gassner, Masters of the Drama (3rd rev.; New York: Dover Publications, 1954), pp. 449- 450. See, also, Anna Irene Miller, The Independent Theatre in Europe: 1887 to the Present (New York: R. Long and R. R. Smith, 1931), p. 106. 8Friedell, Cultural History, III, p. 411; Gassner, Masters, p. 450; Stoeckius, "Naturalism in Recent German Drama," p. 20; A. Miller, Independent Theatre, p. 130. ". .A DJ. 65 venture. Antoine persisted, however, and secured sufficient funds through a subscription arrangement to open a noncom- mercial theater. At the Theatre Libre, Antoine provided a forum where the dramatist could challenge the established social order. Thereafter "the three great areas of taboo in middle-class culture--sex, religion, and economics--were," as Eric Bentley has observed, "frequently freely displayed on the stage."9 Since the drama produced at the Theatre Libre and subsequent independent theaters was frequently innovative in technique and radical in ideology, it often produced public controversy. Ibsen's Ghosts, produced during the 1889-1890 season at the Theatre Libre, was the initial drama staged at the Freie Bfihne, Germany's first independent theater, after it had been banned by authorities in Berlin. It was direc- tor Otto Brahm's second production, however, Gerhart Haupt- mann's Vor Sonnenaufgang (Before Sunrise), which provoked bitter public debate in Germany. Some characterized the au- thor as "the reformer of art" or "the savior of literary art," while others insisted he was a "political anarchist" or the "grossest of naturalists."lo "We are erecting a free theatre for modern life. In 9Emile Zola, The Experimental Novel and Other Essays (New York: Cassell, 1894), trans. Belle M. Sherman, pp. 142- 143; Miller, Independent Theatre, pp. 42-43; Anita Block, The Changing_World in Plays and Theatre (Boston: Little, Brown and Co., 1939), p. 62; Eric Bentley, The Playwright as Thinker (New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, 1946): P. 6. 10 A. Miller, Independent Theatre: pp. 113-119. 66 the center of our movement shall be Art, the new art, which faces truth and contemporary life," wrote Brahm, who pro- duced plays by Zola and Tolstoy, as well as Ibsen and Haupt- mann. There was, nevertheless, considerable cooperation be- tween the commercial theaters and the Freie Bfihne. Since its productions were given on Sundays, Brahm could obtain the aid of professional actors and technicians. Funds were obtained through contributions; membership, which totaled approximately a thousand, was drawn from Berlin's artistic ll elite. Although as a private corporation the Freie Bfihne was not subject to censorship, Brahm avoided the political radicalism advocated by some of the organization's early leaders. Germany's second major independent theater, the Freie Volksbfihne, was more politically oriented. Two thou- sand workers attended the group's organization meeting; Bruno Wille and Wilhelm Bolsche from the Durch society, joined Otto Brahm and several socialist leaders on the plat- form for the meeting. The Freie Volkesbfihne opened on Sun- day, October 19, 1890, with Ibsen's Pillars of Society. Be- ginning with 600 members, the society grew to 12,000 by 1908. Members paid 50 Pfennigs, later 90, for season 11Brahm quoted from his weekly journal, Freie Bfihne ffir Modernes Lebep, in Herbert Henze, "Otto Brahm and Natur- alist Directing," Theatre Workshop, I (April-July 1937), trans. Frank Freudenthal, 16; Maxim Newmark, Otto Brahm: the Man and the Critic (Menasha, Wisc.: The Collegiate Press, 1938), p. 155; A. Miller, Independent Theatre, p. 119. ..q.Ao. .cv iv v! — O.‘ ‘u DY N. .- . .‘VA a bun,’ 1".. I l-" s v._-._ ‘\W 67 tickets, which were drawn by lot.12 Berlin police believed that the dramas produced by the Freie Volkesbfihne were not simply controversial but were outright propaganda on behalf of the Socialist cause; there- fore, they declared the group was a political organization, which meant that women were barred from performances. Dr. Wille argued that the expression of socialistic artistic ideals was not propaganda; he won in the courts but the workers, convinced he was not sufficiently radical, removed him from the group's directorate.13 Dr. Wille then joined with Maximilian Harden, a rad- ical editor and early supporter of the Freie Bfihne, and others to establish the Neue Freie Volkesbfihne, which oper- ated on a less democratic basis than its predecessor. The society's initial production was Goethe's Faust (November 1892), but it was Hauptmann's The Weavers which tripled the group's membership. By 1914 the Neue Freie Volkesbfihne in- cluded 50,000 members.14 Though the English drama had been moving toward re- alism since the early plays of Tom Robertson, response to the new drama of naturalism and political radicalism came more slowly in Great Britain than it had on the continent. Neither the working class nor the intellectuals responded as had those of Germany. Archibald Henderson noted, for 12A. Miller, Independent Theatre, pp. 130-131. 13£2£Qol p. 131. 14Ibid., pp. 131-132. 68 example, that a Unitarian minister, Philip Wickstead, was denied permission to give a series of lectures on Ibsen at London University. Edmund Gosse began writing articles about Ibsen in the 1870's; yet, as late as 1880, when Wil- liam Archer offered to write an article on the Norwegian dramatist, an editor replied, "Henry cibson! Who in the 15 world is he?" Pillars of Society had been produced in 1880, as had A Doll's House late in the same decade, but it was a produc- tion of Ghosts early in 1891 which brought forth an eruption of vituperous remarks in defense of middle-class morality. Reviewers characterized the play as "merely dull dirt long drawn out," "garbage and offal," and "lugubrious diagnosis of sordid impropriety . . . characters are prigs, pedants, and profligates." The author, according to some critics, was "a crazy, cranky being," "a egotist and a bungler," or "a gloomy sort of ghoul." Nor were those who admired Ibsen's work spared; one reviewer found them to be "sexless . . . educated and muck-ferreting dogs," while another insisted "ninety-seven per cent of the people who go to see Ghosts are nasty—minded peOple who find the discussion of nasty subjects to their taste in exact proportion to their 15For Gosse, see, for example, "Ibsen, the Norwegian Satirist," Fortnightly, XIX (January 1, 1873), 74-88; Wil- liam Archer quoted in Miriam Alice Franc, Ibsen in England (Boston: Four Seas Co., 1919), p. 25; Archibald Henderson, George Bernard Shaw: Man of the Century (New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts, 1932), p. 404. 69 nastiness."16 Clement Scott, the most influential anti-Ibsen crit- ic in Britain held that the standards of the stage ought to be those of "refined and polite society." During the past thirty years, he insisted in 1890, "we have kept the stage in such a condition that no man--if he were not a Puritan-- would prevent his wife or daughters from entering the thea- tre door."l7 Ibsen's Ghosts clearly did not fit this stand- ard; Scott compared it to "an open drain, a loathsome sore unbandaged, a dirty act done publicly, a lazar house with all its doors and windows open."18 William Archer, one of the leading pro-Ibsen critics in Great Britain, rejected Scott's basic assumptions regard- ing the stage and argued for an elitist theater. He ques- tioned "why the fitness of a topic for discussion at a dinner-table should afford the absolute and final measure of its fitness for treatment on the stage," and asked "why should not men and women who are not of 'the pe0ple' have their stage too, if they are willing to pay for it?"19 16Quoted in William Archer, "Ghosts and Gibberings," Pall Mall Gazette, April 8, 1891, p. 3; some are reprinted by George Bernard Shaw, The QuintessencecflfIbsenism (Boston: B. R. Tucker, 1891), pp. 93-95. l7Clement Scott, "Two Dramatic Revolutions," North American Review, CLVII (October 1893), 482-483. 18 Scott, quoted in Franc, Ibsen in England, p. 38. 19William Archer, "The People's Drama and the Peo- ple's Critic:--By One of the Other PeOple," Pall Mall Ga- zette, October 23, 1894, reprinted in Archer, The Theatrical "Worl " for 1893 (London: Walter Scott, Limited, 1894). |||z In“ kl 70 While Archer emphasized technical skills and poetic aspects of Ibsen's plays, the second major spokesman of the new drama, George Bernard Shaw, stressed the moral questions which they raised. Archibald Henderson observed that Shaw, "with uncritical hardihood, proceeded to array Ibsen in the ranks of the Shavian brand, on the very insecure ground that he recognized in Ibsen many features of his own ideology."20 Though Ibsen responded with a letter denying membership in any party and stating that he had never carefully studied Socialist literature (conceding, however, that he often ar- rived independently at positions like that of the Social- ists), in England between 1889 and 1893 controversy over his plays was confined almost exclusively to social dramas-- Pillars of Society, A Doll's House, Ghosts, and An Enemy of the Peeple. In this area, Shaw was an able spokesman; his witty retorts deflated the invectives of the old critics against the new drama. Thus, when George Buchanan described Ibsen as "Zola with a wooden leg," Shaw responded with an article entitled: "Is Mr. Buchanan a critic with a wooden Head?"2l Though the independent theater movement was less successful in England than on the continent, by the end of 20Henderson, Shaw, pp. 406-407. See, also, Raymond Williams, Drama from Ibsen to Brecht (London: Chatto & Windus, 1968), pp. 25-26. 21Ibsen's letter to H. L. Braekstad, published in Henrik Ibsen, Letters and Speeches (New York: Hill and Wang, 1964), Evert Sprinchorn, ed., p. 292; Una Mary Ellis- Fermor, The Irish Dramatic Movement (London: Methuen & Co., 1939), p. 5. 71 1892 J. T. Grein's Independent Theatre in London had pro- duced not only Ghosts but also Zola's Therese Raquin, George Moore's The Strike at Arlingford, and Shaw's Widower's House.22 Therefore, by the early nineties in Britain, as in Europe outside the commercial system, independent theaters provided a forum for the dramatist to develop a statement advocating change or questioning the values of his society. In the United States a few critics showed an aware- ness of European developments in the drama, but support for an American independent theater movement proved limited. The influence of the New York critics was more pervasive, though gradually the ideas of Howells did influence the writing of American drama. Various ethnic groups provided a natural audience for European social drama but beyond this most American theatergoers saw only poor translations and adaptations which watered down radical ideas to fit American tastes. In 1892, William Apthrop traced the history of the Théatre Libre in Scribner's Magazine and, throughout the era, critics whose principal audience was drawn from liter- ary circles actively celebrated the merits of European drama. Howells asserted in 1889 that "the two greatest dramatic events" of the season had been Théétre Libre pro- ductions. During the following decade Henry James declared 22Miller, Ipdependent Theatre, pp. 171-172; Hender- son, Shaw, p. 423; John Russell Taylor, The Rise and Fall of the Well-Made Play (New York: Hill and Wang, 1967), p. 87. Lj- u ‘4 g \ I \ 72 that he preferred Ibsen's plays to Shakespeare, and Howells linked An Enemy of the People to situations easily recog- nizable in American life--the ruthless boss and the trucking journalist--"where Tammany never was heard of Tammany is!" Although Howells did not expect Ibsen's plays would attain "any great acceptance" in American theaters, he found that Ibsenism was a growing influence on the English language drama. Already, he wrote in 1895, Pinero, Shaw, and Jones were treating their material differently than English drama- tists had in the past.23 The most influential American critic in 1890 was William Winter. For twenty-five years he had served as the— ater critic for the New York Tribune, and he would continue to do so for nearly another two decades. Winter saw himself as a "Minister of Beauty"; thus, he defended an actor- dominated theater, even more retrograde than that of Clement Scott, and castigated attempts by dramatists to deal with unpleasant problems. Winter did not deny the reality of so- cial problems; however, his works show an obvious disdain for the masses. Furthermore, though Winter defended classi- cal drama in terms of its celebration of man's heroic quali- ties, he indicated an eagerness to escape the present which 23William ApthrOp, "Paris Theatres and Concerts: III.--the Unsubventioned Theatres and Orchestral Concerts," Scribner's Megazine, XI (April 1892), 482-496; Howells, "ed- itor's Study," Harper's Magazine, LXXIX (July 1889), 315; Henry James, "London,"_Harper's Weekly, XLI (January 23, 1897), 78; William Dean Howells, "The Ibsen Influence," Harper's Weekly (April 27, 1895), 390. c...- a 1'1V‘“ . um‘ . .0.“ . 'I'n IA a». .A 5.. « 4 ‘b 73 seemingly transcended his desire to see drama of universal qualities on the stage. The son of a Gloucester, Massachusetts, sea captain, Winter graduated from Harvard Law School in 1857. Two years later he came to New York where he was associated with the Bohemians who gathered at Pfaff's Cave. Among those he met were Henry Clapp, Fitz-James O'Brien, and Walt Whitman. Winter's view of the latter indicated the level of criticism he applied to the drama.24 Winter objected to the forms used by Whitman as well as his choice of subject matter and his treatment of ideas. Whitman was merely "trying to be original by using a form— less style," Winter thought;lnun.the critic contended, no author has yet made a vehicle of expression that excels, in any way whatever, or for any purpose, the blank verse of Shakespeare and Milton." Furthermore, he insisted that "the old forms of expression are abundantly adequate, and so, ‘likewise, are the old subjects." By these he meant "the hu- man heart, human experience, man in relation to Nature and to God." Whitman described a poet as a "Maker of poems"; Winter insisted that "no person, poet or otherwise, can do more than disclose and interpret what God has made." What had been hailed as distinctively American in Whitman's work 24Jefferson Winter, "William Winter: A Sketch," un— published article in the William Winter Papers, Historical MSS Collections, New York Public Library (hereafter NYPL); William Winter, Old Friends: Being Literarngecollections of Other Days (New York: Moffat, Yard & Co., 1909): PP. 63, 92, 140. u..- -‘ l... on" Inv- ..__ .M' “_ v.- 's- . 5“ 0.. -a«.. c. . .7. ‘I .4 0‘. 5! 74 was to Winter only the "crude, shapeless, and vulgar." Fur- thermore, the proletarians whom Whitman had celebrated, Winter maintained, made "the world almost unhabitable by their vulgarity."25 In contrast to the "commonplace, uncouth, and some- 26 Winter preferred the times obnoxious" writings of Whitman, works of Edmund Clarence Steadman "whose poetic achieve- ment," he concluded, had "made his name illustrious in Amer- ican literature." To Winter, poetry often had a utilitarian function; so he commemorated the death of a friend with a few lines of verse so frequently that his colleagues dubbed him "Weeping Willie."27 Similar aesthetic principles were applied by Winter to the drama. Like Clement Scott, he insisted that stand- ards of taste were of primary importance. "I consider cer- tain subjects--whether technically dramatic or not," he wrote in 1910, "whether presented in lewd farce, philosophi- cal disquisition, religious colloquy; 'sensation drama', in- terlocutory preachment, or rythmical tragedy--to be unfit for presentation in the Theatre, before a miscellaneous 25Winter, Old Friends, pp. 30—31, 140—141; Albert Parry noted that Whitman characterized Winter as "a young Longfellow," and observed that "even that dull fellow under- stood the cut." Garrets and Pretenders: A History of Bo- hemianism in America (New York: Dover, 1960), rev. by Harry T. Moore, p. 41. 26 Winter, Old Friends, pp. 63, 92, 140. 27Ibid., p. 156; Walter Prichard Eaton, "William Winter," Dictionary of American Biography (1928), XX, 406. ‘1 s . N \ 75 audience of both sexes and all ages, as they would be for discussion, in such an assemblage, in a parlor, or at a gentleman's table."28 In theory, at least, Winter maintained a consistent position regarding didactic drama. He opposed the new Euro- pean drama. Ibsen, Winter conceded, had talent, but he was also "morbid, dismal, depressing, and sometimes nasty." Similarly, he also opposed, as one biographer has emphasized, turning the stage into a church. "The Ten Commandments," he once asserted, "are well known. Actors are not expected to furnish '1essons.' The province of the Stage is Art, and the handmaidens of Art are Beauty and Romance." He insisted that moral questions were solely a "function of the church."29 Yet, Winter also rejected the idea that the theater was a place of amusement; "the stage," he insisted, "is an institution higher and finer than any amusement, and it ex- ercised an influence on society second only to the Hearth- stone."30 Thus, Winter agreed with many of the naturalists who believed that the theater could influence society. He differed from the new dramatists more in basic social values than in conception of the theater. They stressed 28William Winter, "Letter to the Editor," Boston Evening Transcript, March 10, 1910. 29William Winter, "The Moral Influence of the Drama," North American Review, CXXXVI (June 1883), 599. 30William Winter, The Wallet of Time (2 vols.; New York: Moffat, Yard & Co., 1913), I, 4. Q. .- a. n ‘1. ‘v 76 social-economic issues in their plays while Winter defended a stage unrelated to the realities of his own world and a conception of man, perhaps drawn from Sir Walter Scott, whose picture hung with that of Christ in Winter's bedroom.31 In the past, Winter contended, "the best periods in the history of the drama have been those periods when it has been closely affiliated with the highest classes, because the ablest and most refined, classes of intellectual society --for these could guide and stimulate and govern its powers and its beauties, and, by the force of fashion and example, could lead the multitude in their train." Winter believed that the theater could regain its rightful status with the respective classes in their proper place, if theater manag- ers would accept their obligation "to manage the public as well as the theater." In America, Winter maintained that not intellectuals but "derogate Jews . . . 'shop-keepers'" 32 controlled the theater. While Winter could optimistically express the hOpe that "clean, honest, intelligent theatrical management" would develop, he viewed the common man with alarm. "The social cauldron is boiling," he wrote in 1893, "with such furious impetuosity that the dregs often come to the 31William Winter, Vagrant Memories: Being Further Recollections of Other Days (New York: George H. Doran, 1915), p. 417; Jefferson Winter, "William Winter." 32William Winter, The Actor and Other Speeches (New York: Dunlap Society, 1891), p. 14; Winter, Vagrant Memo- ries, pp. 476-477; Winter, Wallet, I, 30-31. ”A "‘ OI 77 surface." Already, he thought, the artistic elite had sur- rendered some of their power to "the mob." Moreover, in America, Winter contended, politics was "mercenary and mean," slang was accepted in newspapers and drawing-rooms, young girls were exposed to "the loathsome feculence and hideous moral leprosy" of Zola's novels, and "foreign ele- ments, seditious, boisterous, dangerous . . . largely affect or entirely control the disposition of our practical af- fairs."33 Actually, few theater managers showed any enthusiasm for European naturalism; actors were, however, as Winter's contemporary, Brander Matthews, noted, eager to produce naturalistic plays in America. Winter tried to discourage friends in the theater from such endeavors and characteris- tically denounced the plays. To Richard Mansfield he wrote, for example, "I am earnestly and deeply desirous to promote your welfare and happiness . . . but if you go into the Ib- sen business, you must go without me." In commenting on the career of Helena Modjeska, Winter observed that her brief "association with lugubrious Ibsen's paltry play of A Doll's ggpee was slight." While this was clearly fortunate, her admirers deeply regretted the fact that she had introduced Hermann Sudermann's "radically pernicious play," Heimat, in the United States.34 33Winter, Wallet, I, 29; Winter, The Actor, pp. 6-8. 34Brander Matthews, Inquiries and Opinions (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1907), pp. 266; Winter to \d. u h. NIH \n. 78 Although Winter condemned a lengthy list of plays as 35 and New York critics frequent- ly concurred with his assessment of the new drama,36 during unsuited to American stage, the 1890's, however, interest in such theater was growing. Not only did Howells and James promote Ibsen but also at the universities the new drama became the object of serious study. Twelve institutions of higher learning offered courses in Scandinavian studies in 1890; by 1900 the number had grown to twenty-two. Many of the schools were in the North Central states where the Scandinavian population was large. The works of Bjornson and Ibsen were predominantly studied in literature classes. Probably the best-known pro- fessor of Scandinavian studies was H. H. Boyesen who came to New York in 1869 and later served on the faculty of Cornell and, after 1883, at Columbia. Between 1890 and 1895, Boye- sen published four books and five major articles; seven of these nine publications dealt specifically with Ibsen or Mansfield, August 19, 1906, Folger Library; Winter, Wallet, p. 372. 35In 1910 Winter listed some of the plays he had condemned: The Second Mrs. Tanqueray, The Blue Mouse, Mrs. Warren's Profession, Little Eyolf, Rosmershelm, and others. 1'Letter to the Editor," Boston Transcript, March 12, 1910. 36Nym Crinkle [A. C. Wheeler], for example, de- scribed A Doll's House as "one of the most exasperatingly tedious narratives that ever called itself drama." The The- ater Magazine, VI (January 4, 1890), 165. Similarly, Ghosts was declared unsuitable for mixed audiences by reviewers in The Sun (New York), May 30, 1899, and the New York World, May 30, 1899. 79 . . . . 37 ScandinaVian literature in general. German- and Scandinavian-Americans provided a more receptive audience for Ibsen's plays than the New York crit- ics. In Milwaukee, for example, Pillars of Sociepy was pro- duced in German during 1879, a decade before a similar ver- sion appeared in New York. The Danish—Norwegian Society produced Ghosts in May 1882, a month before it was performed in Germany and preceding by a year a Scandinavian produc- tion.38 In contrast to Europe, where Ibsen's plays were gen— erally performed in independent theaters, English versions of Ibsen in America were staged in commercial houses. Since it was assumed that pOpular audiences required what Bronson Howard called a satisfactory resolution of the plot, adapta- tions were frequently employed. Thus, when Karol Chlapowski (Modjeska's husband), for example, adapted A Doll's House, he changed the heroine's name to "Thora" and managed to pro- vide a "happy ending" for the drama. Significantly, how- ever, this version was produced in Louisville, Kentucky, in 1883; six years later A Doll's House was first produced in London and New York. It was also, of course, possible to 37George T. Flom, A_History of Scandinavian Studies in American Universities ("Iowa Studies in Language and Lit- eratureffiNo. ll, Bulletin of the State University of Iowa, New Series, No. 153; Iowa City, 1907), pp. 38-41, 53-55. See, for example, Hjalmar Hjorth Boyesen, "The Drama of Re- volt," Bookman, I (July 1895), 384-388. 38Robert Herndon and Ansten Anstensen, "Henrik Ibsen on the American Stage," American—Scandinavian Review, XVI (April 1928), 219-221. 80 employ an adaption and yet exploit a drama's radical reputa- tion. In 1887, for example, Ghosts was adapted as Phantoms; or, The Sins of His Father, and appeared in larger American cities, except New York where the drama was not staged until 1894, advertised as "Forbidden in Germany."39 Despite their natural appeal to German-Americans, the plays of Gerhart Hauptmann were greeted by far more op- position than had been accorded Ibsen's dramas. Many of the same writers and critics who had responded enthusiastically to Ibsen's plays also saw the importance of Hauptmann's dramas, but others, who had been hostile to Ibsen, proved equally vindictive toward Hauptmann. Furthermore, inept ad- vertising and the association of Hauptmann's dramas with radical groups provided a situation in which suppression by the authorities could be too easily justified. An English version of Hannele was produced in New York by Carl and Sydney Rosenfeld, who had previously staged Vor Sonnenaufgang (Before Sunrise) in Berlin. The Rosen- felds had a reputation for disreputable promotion schemes. They once had assembled an incompetent collection of German actors and advertised them as "The Meininger," long after the Duke of Meininger's famous company had disbanded. To arouse interest in Hannele, the Rosenfelds were instrumental in the spreading of a rumor that Hauptmann's play was moral- ly indecent and that a girl of fifteen would play the 39Annette Anderson, "Ibsen in America" (unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, University of Iowa, 1931), pp. 12, 16-18. 81 leading role. The rumors attracted the attention of El- bridge T. Gerry, director of the Children's Protective Soci- ety, whose protests led first to the removal of the child actress and then to the suppression of the play as "blas- phemous." The New York Times' reviewer concluded: "Our theatergoers are in no mood for it. It is intended only to be a sensation." Not until 1910 was Hannele produced again in the United States; it fared little better in England, Where it was not seen until 1908 except for a single private staging in 1904.40 A German-language production of Die Weber, which preceded the Rosenfeld fiasco by two years, proved somewhat less disastrous even though the cast included John Most, the anarchist, and despite changes in the text to introduce a more obvious ideological attack on the manufacturers. Hauptmann's drama, based on the revolt of Silesian weavers in 1844, was a source of widespread controversy in Europe in the 1890's. After The Weavers was produced at the Theatre Libre in 1893, the French Socialist leader Jaurés told An- toine that "such a play accomplishes more than all campaigns and political discussions." New York critics were less ap- preciative. The New York Times' reviewer remarked: 40Frederick W. J. Heuser, Gerhart Hauptmann: Zu seinen Leben und Schaffen (Tfiringen: Max Niemeyer Verlung, 1961), pp. 46-51; Peter Bauland, The Hooded Eagle/Modern German Drama on the New York Stage (Syracuse: Syracuse Uni- versity Press, 1968), p. 15; Edith Cappel, "The Reception of Gerhart Hauptmann in the United States" (unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Columbia University, 1952), p. 46; New York Times, May 2, 1895, p. 5. 82 Die Weber is sincere, it states terrible facts with ter- rible energy, it shows the exploited workingman and workingwoman driven to desperation by hunger; but it does all this directly, not incidently, and therefore it is not a great or a good play, and there may be doubt if it is a play at all. After a single production in New York, the company, which included Most, moved to Chicago for a dozen performances, but their attempt to stage The Weavers in Newark, New Jer- sey, was blocked by the mayor who feared more strikes and labor violence.41 Despite the numerous productions of European dramas, little interest was generated in the idea of an American in- dependent theater or a naturalistic American drama. The First Independent Theatre Association of Boston failed to attract sufficient interest, and James A. Herne's Margaret Fleming did not attract a wide following. Despite the financial difficulties which Drifting Apapp had incurred, Herne was encouraged by Garland to con- tinue in the direction of realism. After prolonged attempts to persuade a manager to take the drama failed, Howells ad— vised Herne to hire a hall and produce the play himself, as Sudermann had once done in Berlin. After a tryout in Lynn, Massachusetts, Margaret Fleming was produced in Boston's Chickering Hall on May 4, 1891. Garland served as "Man in 41New York Dramatic Mirror (hereafter NYDM), Novem- ber 10, 1894, p. 8; Walter A. Reichart, "Gerhart Hauptmann: His Work in America," German-American Review, XXIX (December- January, 1962-1963), 5; New York Times, April 2, 1896, p. 5. Antoine, quoted in Mordecai Gorelik, New Theatres For Old (New York: Samuel French, 1940), p. 143. 83 Front" for six weeks without pay, and his brother was in the cast.42 Margaret Fleming was advertised as "An American Play without a Soliloquy." In a circular about the play, Garland and Flower wrote: "The American public is large, and we be- lieve there is a growing number of people to whom melodrama no longer appeals, and of people to whom farce comedy is a weariness, with its heartless as well as thoughtless carica- ture. This public is ready to welcome serious studies of 43 American life." In Margaret Fleming, Herne developed a theme no com- 44 mercial producer was prepared to touch. The plot depicted the problems caused by an extramarital affair between Philip Fleming and Lena Schmidt. Fleming, the son of a mill presi- dent, was well-educated in the social graces but was not an outstanding businessman. When Lena Schmidt died, Margaret Fleming learned that her husband was the father of Lena's child. At the conclusion of Act III, Margaret was shown nursing the child. As if this scene was not sufficient to 42Hamlin Garland, A Son of the Middle Border (New York: Macmillan, 1910), pp. 334, 393; Jean Holloway, Hamlin Garland (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1961), p. 43. 43Garland, Son of the Middle Border, p. 393; circu- lar from the Garland papers, published in Ahnebrink, Natur- alism, pp. 453-455. 44Herbert J. Edwards and Julie A. Herne, James A. Herne: The Rise of Realism in the American Drama (Univer- sity of Maine Studies," 2d ser., No. 80; Orono: University of Maine Press, 1964), pp. 53-54; Julie A. Herne, "Biograph- ical Note," Shore Acres and Other Plays (New York: Samuel French, 1928), Mrs. James Herne, ed., pp. xviii-xix. 84 send Winterite critics into hysterical fits, Herne followed with a vehement attack against the double standard of moral- ity: Philip. (With Urgeney.) You say you want to forget-- that you forgive! Will you--? Margaret. Can't you understand? It is not a question of forgetting, or of forgiving--(For an instant she is at a loss to convince him.) Suppose--I-—had been unfaithful to you? Philip. (With a cry of repugnance.) Oh, Margaret! Margaret. (Brokenly.) There! You see! You are a man, and you have your ideals of--the--sanctity--of--the --thing you love. Well, I am a woman--and perhaps-- I, too, have the same ideals. I don't know. But, I, too, cry "pollution."45 Flower praised the play in The Arena, as "An Epoch Marking Drama." Howells described the play and its impact on Boston: the play was common and plain, but true and ir- resistible; "literature, fashion, religion, delegated their representative to see it . . . it became the talk of the whole city wherever cultivated people met." The public, however, showed little interest in Margaret Fleming; it lasted several weeks only because Flower helped to finance the presentations.46 45The original manuscript of Margaret Fleming was destroyed in a fire in 1909. Mrs. Katherine Herne, with the help of Garland, rewrote the play for Arthur Hobson Quinn, who included it in Representative American Plays (New York: Century Co., 1930), pp. 542-543. The published version was based on the revised version, written for a Chicago produc- tion in 1892. A review of the Lynn, Massachusetts, produc- tion by Hamlin Garland describing the original more pessi- mistic fourth act was published by Donald Pizer, "An 1890 Account of Margaret Fleming," American Literature, XXVII (May 1955), 264-267. 46B. 0. Flower, "An Epoch-Marking Drama," Arena, IV (July 1891), 247-249; W. D. Howells, "Editor's Study," Harp- er's Magazine, LXXXIII (August 1891), 478-479. 85 In the fall, Margaret Fleming was again performed for a few weeks in Boston. Despite little interest from New York critics, the New York Times' reviewer characterized Herne's drama as "very modern, very gloomy, and . . . very dull"; A. M. Palmer was persuaded to permit a matinee per- formance in his New York theater in December. William Win- ter and other critics remained unimpressed; one suggested that Herne might better "devote his energies to writing pamphlets or contributing to The Arena." In 1892 Herne re- wrote the play's final act, in somewhat more optimistic form, for a production in James McVicker's Theatre in Chi- cago. This form was used for a later New York staging by the Rosenfeld brothers, which one journalist declared was only "a sort of a feeler," for Hauptmann's Hannele, which they were "actually threatening to produce."47 While theater managers were not receptive to Herne's Margaret Fleming, neither were they enthusiastic about his political activities.48 Herne campaigned for Bryan in 1896 and frequently lectured on behalf of the Single Tax. He once urged members of the Boston Theatrical Mechanics Union not to join any state militia organization, because "you don't know the hour or the minute you will be called upon to 47Herne and Edwards, Herne, pp. 69-71; New York Times, May 24, 1891, p. 13; NYDM, December 19, 1891, p. 3; New York Times, April 15, 1894, . 13. 48 Herne and Edwards, Herne, p. 55. 86 shoot down your fellow workman who is making a demand for 49 In another speech he noted that half the principle." country's wealth was in the hands of 2,500 people and as- serted that the end of land speculation through the enact- ment of the Single Tax would end this inequity. Upon Herne's death in 1901, Henry George, Jr., wrote of the dramatist: He gave much time and effort and was liberal with his purse for the new anti-slavery cause, and there are probably few large cities in the United States where on some Sunday afternoon or evening, in church or theatre, he has not discoursed on the great theme with that ex- quisite blending of actor's art and propagandist's in- tensity which gave a singular fascination to his elo- quence. Herne's interest in the economic ideas of Henry George was expressed in Shore Acres, produced in 1893. The plot described the efforts of Martin Berry, a lighthouse keeper, to turn his seacoast farm into a summer resort like nearby Bar Harbor, Maine. Josiah Blake, storekeeper and postmaster, encouraged him: This shore front makes your land val'able. Not to plant potatoes in--but to build summer cottages on. I tell yeh, the boom's a-comin' here jes' as sure as you're born. . . . You pool your land in with mine--we'll lay out quarter-acre lots, cut avenoos, plant trees, build a driveway to the shore, hang on to all the shore front an' corner lots--sell every one o' the others, see!!! Theyfitlbuild on 'em an' that'll double the value of ours. . . .51 49NYDM, October 3, 1893, p. 3. 50Henry George, Jr., "James A. Herne," Single Tax Review, I, 1-3. 5ers. James Herne, ed., Shore Acres and Other Plays, p. 17. 87 In the conflicts between Martin Berry and his daughter, Helen, Herne portrayed a clash of ideas. Berry, the conservative parent, sought to persuade Helen to marry Blake. Helen, a product of rising feminist independence, rejected both Blake and the authoritarianism of her father: Martin. Did yeh offer her the piannah, as I told yeh to? Blake. Y-e-s-- Martin. (Nogplussed.) I thought she'd 'a'jumped at the piannah. She's so fond 0' music. Blake. I offered her everything I could think of. I offered to build her a house, an' let her paint an' paper it any way she'd a mind to. Martin. (Pondering.) I guess I'd better talk to her myself. She giner'ly does what I tell her to. Blake. Yes, but you see girls are beginning to think they've a right to marry who they please. Martin. (With pride in Helen, and pride in his own power to control her.) Not my girl.52 Beyond the question of authority, Berry resented Helen's de- sire to marry Sam Warren, a young physician with dangerously radical ideas. Primarily through his association with Helen, she had developed an interest in books by Spencer and Darwin. When Warren brought a copy of Howells' A Hazard of New Fortunes, Berry assumed the worst and stood firm: Martin. (His temper rising steadily, flashes at him.) I won't hev yeh a-bringin' them books here! A- learnin' my daughter a pack 0' lies, about me an' my parents a-comin' from monkeys-- Sam. (His eyes twinkling with suppressed amusement, an- swers soothingly.) La bless you, Mr. Berry! That was ages ago! Martin. (Is goaded to the extreme by Sam's manner.) I don't care how long ago it was, I won't hev it flung in my children's faces. (Helen is much distressed by her father's bitter temper, andtahe suddenly attempts to calm him, and approaches MARTIN who has been standing near the barnyard gate. 521bid., p. 20. i,_~ 88 She timidly holds out the book to him, and says plead- ingly:) Helen. Father, I wish you'd let me read you this little bit-- Martin. (With ugly stubbornness, checks her with a sweep of his arm, as though pushing away_some harm- ful or noxious thing.) I don't want to hear it. I read The Bangor Whig, an' The Agriculturist, an' the Bible, an' that's enough. There ain't no lies in them.53 Martin Berry's land speculating venture failed, and his partner, Josiah Blake was quite prepared to take over the property, when the mortgage came due. The family farm was saved, however, when Martin's brother, Nathan'l, re- ceived a pension check for his Civil War service. "Art for truth's sake," for Herne meant the treat- ment of "the latent beauty of the so-called commonplace of life, because it dignifies labor and reveals the divinity of 54 the common man." In Shore Acres, Herne expressed these ideas; yet, he also managed to please critics and theatergo- ers for whom his earlier plays had been too pessimistic and somehow foreign. While a few like Henry A. ClaPP, the influential Boston critic, thought Shore Acres was "a series of more or less dramatic dialogues," not a play, most re- viewers were impressed. The New York Times' reviewer thought that the play depicted "a scene from life, simple, 53Ibid., p. 30. 54James A. Herne, "Art for Truth's Sake in the Dra- ma," Arena, XVII (February 1897), 369; Frederick Morton com- pared Herne's stress on the common man with Odet's" "There is little actual difference between Herne's lowly folk and those of Odets except a few labels. Herne's men fight with the storms of nature on their farms and their ships, and Odet's fight with the machine." "James A. Herne," Theatre Arts, XXIV (December 1940), 899-900. 89 direct, unadorned, except with verity. Therein lies the play's merit, its originality, its force." Herne success- fully toured with Shore Acres for five years.55 Opportunities for the American playwrights to digni- fy labor seldom occurred, however, in the pOpular theater, and aside from Herne's Margaret Fleming the idea of an inde- pendent production for an American play was largely ignored. The Theatre of Arts and Letters in New York produced Mary Wilkins' Giles Corey Yeoman, as well as plays by Brander Matthews and Richard Harding Davis;56 but, certainly none of these offered a radical challenge to the pOpular stage. Later attempts to establish subscription theater, such as the Criterion Independent Theatre in New York (1897) were exclusively oriented toward European drama.S7 Thus, the American playwright of the 1890's who wanted to deal with political and social issues was confined by the forms estab- lished during the preceding decades. The effects of these limitations were evident in the career of Augustus Thomas. During the bitter railroad strike of 1877, Thomas had been active in the Knights of Labor. A year later, while only twenty years of age, he ran as the Labor Party's candidate for clerk of the circuit in St. Louis. Years 55Herne and Edwards, Herne, p. 103; New York Times, October 31, 1893, p. 2. 56Theodore Hatlen, "The Independent Theatre Movement in New York, 1890-1910," Educational Theatre Journal, XV (May 1963), 136-137. 57New York Times, November 19, 1897, p. 7; The Crit- lg, XXXI (November 27, 1897), 332. 90 later Thomas wrote in his autobiography: "I deeply sympa- thized with the working class of the country, to which I thought I belonged, and their problems became my own as far as I could express myself and be tolerated as a member of one of their principal political parties." Thomas' politi- cal education had actually begun almost a decade prior to the railroad strike, when he was appointed to serve as a page in the Missouri House of Representatives. Later he held a similar appointment in Washington.58 Throughout his years as a playwright, Thomas was active in Democratic Party politics. At the local level, Thomas served as president of the New Rochelle Democratic Club; he once knocked out a local newspaper editor who ques- tioned his political integrity. He declined, however, numerous Opportunities to run for state office; Tammany Hall boss Charles Murphey offered his support, if Thomas would accept the gubernatorial nomination. In national politics, Thomas sought to promote Democratic candidates. In 1896, he joined James Herne at an election-eve rally for William Jennings Bryan. Excluded from the anti-Bryan New York dele- gation to Denver in 1908, Thomas was selected to represent Missouri Democrats and was, thus, able to second Bryan's nomination.59 During the 1912 campaign, Thomas introduced 58Augustus Thomas, The Print of My Remembrance (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1922), pp. 305-306, 337. 59New York World, February 8, 1903; Clipping dated February 8, 1903, Robinson Locke Collection, Vol. 461, p. 4, in NYPL Theater Collection (hereafter NYPLTC); New York 91 Woodrow Wilson, the Democratic candidate, to a New York City rally. After the election, there was considerable specula- tion that Thomas would be appointed Minister to France; but, when called to Washington by Secretary of State Bryan, he was offered the position of Minister to Belgium. To his later regret, Thomas declined the post.60 Thomas' first successful play was Alabama (1891). He personified the reunification of the sections as Bronson Howard had in Shenandoah, but Thomas employed characters better suited to the New South. The unreconstructed Southern gentleman and the Southern heroine appeared, to be sure, but the hero was not a military figure but a railroad agent, anxious to bring capital into the South to pay for "development" and to bribe legislatures to obtain favorable legislation. Thomas was somewhat critical of railroad practices and corrupt legislatures. One railroad agent com— mented: "In my business I have never yet found a legis- lative body, however honorable, but there was in it some moral leper." Nor did he approve of efforts to disfranchise blacks. Colonel Moberly explained: "The Talladega Light Artillery was recruited only six years ago, when the county Telegram, May 17, 1907; New York Times, August 13, 1934; Neg. York Sun, August 13, 1934; St. Louis Globe Demograt, June 29, 1903; George Henry Payne,i"Augustus Thomas," The Green Book Album, I, 112. ‘ 60Philadelphia Inquirer, August 13, 1934; New York Telegram, February 11, 1913; Memphis Commercial, March 16, 1913; John D. Williams, "Augustus Thomas," New York Times, August 19, 1934. ' 92 :Eeallgt: the need of some military organization for its moral salutary influence upon the blacks." They were, moreover, "El koalance of power" in primary elections. His own nomina- 'CJLCDID to Congress was possible, because they "did not permit E1 tallamed niggah to the caucus." However, Moberly assured ilflee agent of Northern capital that the Talladega Light Ar- 115.1;1ery was solidly behind the railroad. Nevertheless, 1211crugh Thomas linked Northern capital with legislative cor- 1Tllption and renewed efforts to oppress Southern blacks, he éiidd not propose reforms or even sustain the critical theme 1 In Alabama. 61 In For Money (1891) and New Blood (1894), however, w'hich were more closely related to his own experiences in ‘tdie labor movement, Thomas attempted to present his econ- <3mmic and social ideas in a more sustained manner. For Money tlOuched on conflicts between capital and labor, while New E3lood dealt with the growth of trusts. The major character in For Money was Colonel Win- ifiield Faragut Gurney, the president of the Electric S‘urcingle Railroad Company and an officer in the local militia unit. Thomas, thus, indicated the obvious and un- SUbtle ties which existed between corporate power and the military during the 1890's. Though these ties were hardly amusing to members of the labor movement, when American aUdiences refused to accept the play's star, William Crane, 61 Augustus Thomas, Alabama (Chicago: The Dramatic Publishing Co., 1905), pp. 42, 96-97, 121. 93 in a serious role, Thomas revised the play. Between tryout engagements in Cleveland and Washington, the entire play was rewritten as a farce.62 In its final form For Money contained few insights into the conflicts between capital and labor. At the play's cOnclusion, Colonel Gurney led the militia on to the stage to quell rioting strikers at his streetcar company. The Scene could have been strong satire--labor was suppressed by the power of the state employed to defend corporate inter- ests. However, as a farce the strike stemmed from none of the real issues Thomas had experienced in the railroad Strike, rather it was fostered by the capitalist himself, through a bogus "walking delegate," merely to find out if a Widow loved him or his money.63 In New Blood, Thomas described the efforts of a Young idealist to resist the formation of a trust. Van crandall secured enough proxies to outvote his critically ill father, and refused to participate in a trust. Other prOspective members of the trust attempted to force the Young "radical's" company into bankruptcy; but, a friend 1"lelped him with nine million dollars to move the company West to Illinois, where a cooperative factory and company ‘ 62NYDM, January 23, 1892, p. 2; Thomas, Remembrance, p. 3180 63 NYDM, January 23, 1892, p. 2; New York Times, January 13, 1892, p. 4. 94 town were established.64 As portrayed by Thomas in New Blood, trusts were not 1:1163 natural outcome of a competitive struggle, they were the result of conspiracies between several large companies to Cheat the public. If Thomas' ideal company town was pater- nalistic, as some thought, his belief that a corporate pres- ident ought to have worked at the lowest levels of his or- ganization was retrograde. Yet, a cooperative factory was certainly more radical, even if it was only practicable for corporate rebels with extremely wealthy friends. Like Bronson Howard's The Henrietta, New Blood was cOmplicated by subplots which were resolved in the final act. Yet, while The Henrietta was essentially a satire, New B\lo~oa was more serious. Furthermore, the circumstances of its production were unique. New Blood was first produced in Chicago during the summer of 1894. On May 11, 1894, in George Pullman's company town, 3 o 300 workers went on strike to protest against wage cuts and higher rents. Beginning on June 26, the strikers were Supported by the American Railway Union's boycott of Pullman Cars. A few days later Richard Olney persuaded President Cleveland to send troops into Chicago. This stimulated Violence; property damage for July 5, was estimated at 64Lucy Scott Bynum, "The Economic and Political Id?as of Augustus Thomas" (unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, UBIVerSity of North Carolina, 1954), pp. 241-243; New York @251. September 9, 1894, p. 10; New York Times, September 16! 1894, p. 4. 95 $ 3 4 0,000.65 New Blood was produced in the tense atmosphere of a City under martial law. The train carrying the cast to Chicago passed miles of burning freightcars outside the city.66 There had been little violence, however, prior to the decision to send troops, and most of that which followed Was concentrated in a single day. The press, however, por- trayed widespread violence, mob terror, and lurid plots, while the issues which provoked the strike somehow escaped the headlines. On July 7, for example, headlines from the Emcago Inter Ocean proclaimed: "FLAMES MAKE HAVOC--UNPAR- MJLELED SCENES OF RIOT, TERROR AND PILLAGE"; "ANARCHY IS RAMPANT--MOBS AT PULLMAN AND BURNSIDE APPLY THE TORCH"; and "CITY AN ARMED CAMP." On the same day, the Washington Post aSserted that anarchists and socialists were plotting to bomb and loot the Federal Treasury building in Chicago. So effective were the headlines of hysteria that when Hazen 1Dilngree, mayor of Detroit, arrived on July 11, he was sur- Prised to find neither massive rioting nor a city in flames.67 Theatergoers were obliged, however, to show their tickets to patrols along the streets. Yet, despite much 65 Ray Ginger, Altgeld's America (New York: Funk & Wagnalls, 1958), p. 161. 66 A. Thomas, Remembrance, pp. 339-340. Newspaper reaction quoted from Almont Lindsey, The 3% Strike (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 42), pp. 309-311. 96 antiradical publicity, Thomas' antitrust statements were applauded. In September, New Blood opened in New York. Aside from numerous technical blunders in the production, Critics found the treatment sentimental; the circumstances which permitted the establishment of a utopian town were Viewed as unrealistic, while the town itself was regarded as " Pa ternalistic . " 68 Although Thomas did not explain the operation of his I“Odel town in great detail, the charge of "paternalism" was uhfounded. Van Crandall assisted his workers to own their Own homes, in contrast to George Pullman's town, where the company merely leased property. Selling homes to workers, as Henry Demarest Lloyd illustrated in his account of the Spring Valley (Illinois) strike, could itself be profitable and utilized as a tool to further exploit the working class. Thomas, however, in making his town cooperative had elimin- ated this exploitive dimension from the town. Furthermore, Thomas specifically rejected the paternalism of the "Gospel of Wealth." In a deathbed scene, the elder Crandall be- queathed sizeable amounts to numerous charities, but this failed to relieve his guilty conscience; he was unable to for'get that his wealth had been acquired through the labor 0f others.69 68 A. Thomas, Remembrance, p. 340; New York Times, September 16, 1894, p. 2. Lindsey, Pullman Strike, pp. 65-66; Henry Demarest Lloyd, A Strike of Millionaires Against Miners or the Story flogging Valley: An Open Letter to the Millionaires 97 During the early 1890's, Thomas wrote one additional serious drama, which dealt with political and social life, The Capital. In technique, Thomas employed many aspects of melodrama and the well-made play in The Capital; yet, unlike Bronson Howard, he demonstrated a willingness to provide a sustained theme without minor subplots, romantic entangle- ments, and multiple marriages at the final curtain. In theme, Thomas satirized elitist attitudes in government and attacked the influence of business on government; yet, his portrayal of Roman Catholic leaders lent credence to the view that their influence was somehow sinister. Elitist attitudes were clearly delineated in Tae Capital by a member of one of Washington's exclusive clubs: "In this beastly town where everything is over run with niggers and Western Congressmen why the Cosmopolitan Club is the only place where a gentleman can take a drink." The same gentleman was proud of the United States only when on foreign soil: "Look at that Capital. Burning gas at both ends of it -- And what about -- In God's name what about? Some post-office in Des Moines." He assured his friend, a lobbyist, that a newly elected congressman from Nebraska would be blackballed, because he wore detached cuffs and collars.70 (Chicago: Belford-Clark, 1890), pp. 24-26 and passim; Bynum, "Augustus Thomas," p. 361. 70Augustus Thomas, The Capital (photostat copy of Mrs. Augustus Thomas' Typescript copy in NYPLTC, Thayer Col- lection, n.d.), Act I, pp. 2-3. 98 Thomas demonstrated an acute awareness of business- government ties in The Capital. The lobbyist exerted pres- sure in the states to insure the election of sympathetic congressmen and on those holding power at the national lev- el. Thomas suggested that individuals with criminal records were not unsuited for this role. Yet, it was not the activ- ities of business representatives in Washington but the ec- onomic policies of corporate America that Thomas viewed as dangerous. He described a railroad with extensive interests in coal mining which closed its mines to keep the price of coal high, affecting consumers and reducing the miners to the starvation level. Furthermore, the corporation used its power in the transportation industry to stifle competition from other mine companies, while simultaneously employing its influence on congress to preserve a high tariff and thwart foreign competition. While the Roman Catholic influence was used to de- fend a congressman against the assaults of corporate influ- ence, Thomas implied that any such influence was un-American. Yet, one Catholic leader in the drama did defend the prac- tice of church influence on the congress: "That is a privi- lege you grant to a man trying to manufacture tin. Why not grant it to us who are making men?"71 Like For Money and New Blood, The Capital did not become a popular play. One reviewer considered the 71Thomas, The Capital, Act II, p. 4. 99 characters puppet-like and the play insincere. Theater his- torians have been somewhat more favorable toward the play, Quinn calling it "a masterly study of politics" and Robert Harper noting "it did deal seriously, if not critically with national politics--perhaps for the first time on our stage."72 Though Thomas was, perhaps, the best equipped of American playwrights to undertake a thorough analysis of American social issues in the 1890's, The Capital did not represent a beginning towards a drama of social criticism. Instead, it was the last of his efforts in that direction, until in reaction to the Prohibition amendment he authored a bitter protest, Still Waters, in 1921.73 Years later Thomas concluded that New Blood had failed because the pub- lic had read so much about labor problems in newspapers and magazines that they were tired of the issue. In 1892, one commentator in the New York Dramatic Mirror had argued: The successful "labor" play is yet to be written--if, indeed, it will ever be written. Certainly not during the struggle between capital and labor, and while the sky is overcast with the darkening clouds of impending civil strife between the clashing forces can it be 72NYDM, September 14, 1895, p. 14; Arthur Hobson Quinn, A History of the American Drama from the Civil War to the_gresent 23X.(2 vols.; New York: Harper & Brothers, 1927), I, 247; Robert Harper, "Economic and Political Atti- tudes in American Drama, 1865-1900," (unpublished Ph.D. dis- sertation, University of Chicago, 1949), p. 161. 73Thomas believed "the Eighteenth Amendment is the most un-American, the most destructive, thing that was ever written into the constitution." He once denounced the Anti- Saloon League, startling John D. Rockefeller's Young Men's Bible Class," New York Times, August 13, 1934. 100 expected The subject is too real, too vital to be trans- ferred to the mimic of the theatre.74 In Europe, however, during the same year Hauptmann's The Weavers had dealt in a meaningful manner with capital- labor problems; yet, it, of course, had appealed to intel- lectual or "class-conscious" workers. Influential New York producer Charles Frohman witnessed New Blood and attributed the contrasting receptions the play had received to differ- ences between Chicago and New York audiences. Frohman, thus, implied that outside New York, an audience for intel- lectual or class-conscious drama did exist.75 However, Herne had failed to reach an intellectual audience of suffi- cient size, and Thomas, perhaps, profiting from Herne's ex- perience never tried to reach working-class theatergoers. The experiences of Augustus Thomas indicated that the dramatist who hoped to win Broadway recognition could deal with social and economic issues, but serious plays which dealt with the need for reform were likely to be re- jected. Influential newspaper critics and New York theater- goers were not receptive to social drama. Thomas had re- vised For Money to better suit Broadway audiences, but more significantly Lucy Bynum's study indicated that among his 74Thomas, Remembrance, p. 341; NYDM, August 6, 1892, p. 5. 5Thomas, Remembrance, p. 341. This contrasted with Louis Hartz's view that labor in America "was truly bour- geois." The Liberal Tradition in America (New York: Har- court, Brace & World, 1955), p. 247. 101 unproduced plays were a number which could not easily be re- Vised. These unproduced plays, with the possible exception 0f Garland's Under The Wheel, represented the clearest ex- Pression of Populist ideology in American drama. In Tae M_ember From Ozark, for example, Thomas treated the influence of financial power on government, while in The Mule Shoe he described techniques, such as unfair price fixing, employed by large flour mills to drive the smaller competitors out of business. 76 If Thomas was quick to compromise his political ideolxogy to attain success in the pOpular theater, certainly there were few Options available within the theater. Later in‘the decade some free silver advocates apparently consid- ered a melodrama entitled The Curse of Gold to have propa- gandavalue,77 but full-time professional playwrights were no doubt aware that most theaters across America were con- trolled by a small group of men who were not receptive to r"mical plays, and there was little evidence that an inde- perldent theater movement would develop in the foreseeable futfiire. Minnie Maddern Fiske found tours with intellectual drama were profitable;78 most producers preferred to send ei~___ 76Bynum, "Augustus Thomas," pp. 310, 342. 77Lewin A. Goff, "The Popular Priced Melodrama in AmErica, 1890 to 1910, With Its Origins and Development to 890" (unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Case Western Reserve UniVersity, 1948), p. 329. 78Alexander Woollcott, "Mrs. Fiske on Ibsen the Pop- ular," Century Magazine, XCIII (February 1917), 529-538. 102 companies on the road, however, with noncontroversial plays. Therefore, most American dramatists continued to treat so- cial issues as background material in the nineties, or as the basis for satire. Numerous satires depicting the financial activities of speculators were written during this decade, including Martha Morton's The Merchant, Henry Guy Carleton's A Gilded Fool, George Broadhurst's The Speculator and Sydney Rosen- 79 feld's The Whirlwind. As might be expected, such plays borrowed heavily from Bronson Howard's The Henrietta. Yet, while Howard had implied an entire class was aggressively materialistic and eager to find a quick and easy route to greater wealth, other writers generally focused on the one dishonest financier, as Howard, himself, had in The Banker's Daughter, who threatened the stability of the market and the economic status of those dependent upon his honesty. Never- theless, a sufficient number of individual, dishonest finan- ciers appeared on the stage to create a stereotyped image Of an insatiable speculator who cares little about his family or his health and engages in a relentless struggle for wealth. Frequently the Wall Street financier, as depicted on the popular stage, carried out intricate manipulations which deprived widows and orphans of their meager inherit- ances and cheated thousands out of their hard-earned 79NYDM, May 9, 1891, p. 25; New York Times, January 22, 1891, p. 13; New York Times, April 19, 1896, p. 4; New York Times, September 29, 1896, p. 5; New York Times, Octo- ber l, 1890, p. 4. 103 savings. Authors of melodrama sometimes dealt with the world Of finance from the perspective of labor, though their reli- ance on sensational scenes and gimmicks detracted from their ideas on economic and social change. Charles T. Dazey, for instance, described the formation of a trust in The War of Wealth through the elimination of competition through vio- lent means, while capital-labor disputes involving safety practices and a company store were depicted in William C. Hudson's A Man Among Men.80 Some of the most oppressive aspects of urban life were frequently depicted in lower-class theaters, though only as background for unrealistic melodrama. The juxtapo- sition of remarkable plot and grim setting was illustrated in a review of George Stout's Noah's Ark, which was set in a Five-Points district tenement: "Every sordid feature of crowded life in the slums is before the eye when the villain enters and fires the place 'to make good the insurance.”81 If authors of melodrama recognized inequalities of the social-economic framework, they also remained aware of the limitations of their art form. Thus, Scott Marble, one of New York's most successful authors of melodrama, declared that he had endeavored in The Daughters of the Poor "to show 80New York Times, February 11, 1896, p. 5; NYDM, March 2, 1895, p. 5; New York Times, February 11, 1894, p. 10; NYDM, March 10, 1894, p. 8. 81 New York Times, January 18, 1891, p. 4. 104 some of the abuses of the installment system, under which the poor of the city suffer intensely." Dickens, he noted, had brought reforms which had benefitted the poor by his novels. Marble, however, conceded: "I don't take my own plays seriously. They are written to satisfy a certain class of theatregoers. I am content if they accomplish this purpose."82 If working-class audiences failed to develop the level of class-consciousness toward drama which character- ized the European proletariat, theatergoers of the upper classes enjoyed watching plays which satirized their status- seeking. Edward Harrigan wrote one such play, Reilly and the 400, in 1891. Harrigan was, however, more successful with plays about the lower classes than the social aristoc- racy. Bronson Howard's Aristocraey (1892), which contrasted the "newly rich" of San Francisco, the Knickerbockers of New York, and the nobility of Europe,83 was more popular. Arle- tocracy did not bring about a substantive social change; Howard sought to amuse his audience. To many Americans of the 1890's, however, a social aristocracy was not amusing. The economic elite received an unfair share of the wealth, and further enhanced their posi- tion through influence on the government. Therefore, 82NYDM, May 14, 1898, p. 2. 83Ibid., January 3, 1391: Po 2; New York Times, November 15, 1892, p. 5. 105 government too Often represented corporate wealth against the peOple. Yet, just as economic and social ideas of the Populist had little impact on the popular drama, serious proposals for reform in government were only occasionally reflected in the theater. Charges of corruption were fre- quent in satires; yet, no American play written during this decade could be called an expose or Offered a constructive program for reform, even though a number of the authors of political plays had experience in government. One of the most popular political satires of the decade was The Senator, written by Sydney Rosenfeld and David Demarest Lloyd. Although Rosenfeld did write an unsuccess- ful satire on business methods, he was primarily a collabo- rator, more knowledgeable on the theater than politics.84 Lloyd had written For Coggress, a satire on the district nominating convention in 1894. He had once been Secretary to Supreme Court Justice Soloman P. Chase and had served as a Washington correspondent for the New York Tribune for several years.85 His brother, Henry Demarest Lloyd, had aroused considerable controversy with his study of the trusts, Wealth Against Commonwealth, but The Senator was ob- viously written to amuse pOpular audiences. The plot of The Senator described the efforts of a 84New York Times, January 19, 1890, p. 12. 85Caspar Nannes, Politics and the American Drama (Washington: Catholic University of America Press, 1960), p. 5. 106 senator to secure the passage of private claim to compensate for the loss of a ship during the War of 1812. The leading character was patterned on Senator Preston B. Plumb of Kan- sas. Lloyd did not distinguish between the needs Of the peOple and typical logrolling. In one scene, the senator returned to his office and commented to his secretary: I've got three more votes for the Denman claim. Make a memorandum that next session I am to vote for one marble post Office for Senator Griffin, two granite customs- houses for Senator Melville, and one court house with a mansard roof for Senator Starr. -- talk about log- rolling! The logs I roll to put through the Denman claim would build our new railroad.86 If The Senator did not seek to bring about substantial so- cial change, it did lead one efficiency-minded congressman to state that he would join a group of legislators to "raise the question of claims legislation in Congress the next session and endeavor to have it conducted in a more expedi- ent manner in the future."87 The plays and sketches of Charles Hoyt also frequent- ly touched on politics during this decade. Hoyt held a low Opinion of American audiences. They were, he thought, in- capable of understanding complex ideas or even subtle hu- mor.88 His plays, therefore, depended upon blunt satire, 86William Elsey Connelly, The Life of Preston B. Plumb: 1837-1891 (Chicago: Browne & Howell, 1913), p. 338. 87 New York Times, September 17, 1890, p. 8. 88Douglas Hunt, "The Life and Work of Charles Hoyt," Birmingham-Southern College Bulletin, XXXIX (January, 1946), pp. 31-33. 107 Often lacking a clearly defined plot. His A Trlp to China- town ran for 657 performances between 1891 and 1893, estab- lishing a record which lasted until 1919.89 Hoyt's A Texas Steer (1890) portrayed a rich, crude, Texas congressman, who ran for office "to gratify the social ambitions of his wife, a hard-working, ignorant woman, and his pretty daughter." In Maverick Brander's district there were 6,000 voters; he was elected unanimously at a cost of $30,000 per vote. By perfecting his skills at utilizing poker, whiskey, and bribery, Brander quickly became a polit- ical leader. In 1928, A Texas Steer was made into a motion 90 picture with Will Rogers playing the lead role. The nearest Hoyt came to a serious commentary in a play was his A Temperance Town, produced in 1893. In Nor- wich, Vermont, a restaurant owner violated the state's pro- hibition law. Since he was unable to pay the $7,000 fine, he was sentenced to work it out at thirty cents per day. At this rate, it would take sixty years to pay the fine. Hoyt denounced the law as comparable to the Inquisition; still, he wrote mainly to amuse his audience. When a touring com- pany was in Boston during 1893, Hoyt arranged to have the company perform or, perhaps, lobby before the New Hampshire State Legislature.91 89Hunt, "Charles Hoyt," p. 15. 90New York Times, December 16, 1890, p. 13. 91NYDM, March 26, 1892; Pittsburgh Leader, March 1893; Clipping from the Charles Hoyt file, dated January 21, 108 Before he turned to playwriting, Hoyt had been a law student, a cowboy, a reporter, and a columnist (one of Amer- ica's first). Neither Hoyt's theatrical views of politics nor his cynical View of peOple deterred him from active par- ticipation in the politics Of New Hampshire. A Democrat, Hoyt was elected to the state legislature in 1892 and was reelected two years later from a normally Republican dis- trict.92 The urban reform spirit of the 1890's was first re- flected not in satire but in a melodrama, The District At- torney, by Charles Klein and Harrison Grey Fiske. Klein, a London-born actor, had previously written a few undistin- 93 guished farcical plays. Harrison Grey Fiske was editor and publisher of the New York Dramatic Mirror; his wife was Minnie Maddern Fiske, a prominent actress often associated with the new drama in the United States.94 Urban reform during the nineties frequently involved 1906, NYPLTC; New York Times, February 26, 1893, p. 13. 92NYDM, November 19, 1892, p. 4; New York Times, January 8, 1893, p. 13. 93Klein's early plays included A Paltry Million,.a Dark Horse, Willie, and Truthful James (with James L. Mor- timer), NYDM, December 3, 1893, p. 3; NYDM, February 1894, p. 15; New York Times, April 24, 1894, p. 5. 94Early in 1894, Mrs. Fiske had toured playing Ib- sen's A Doll's House. Later in the decade, Mrs. Fiske per- formed in a dramatization of Hardy's Tess of the D'Urber- ville. The Fiskes also battled against the theatrical trust in the latter part of the 1890's. See, Scrapbooks (1891- 97), Container 42, Minnie Maddern Fiske Collection, Library of Congress; Archis Binns, Mrs. Fiske and the American Thea- Era (New York: Crown, 1955), PP. 56-64. 109 the elimination of graft and corruption in city government. The District Attorney depicted the career Of one such young Ireeriformer. Supported by a local newspaper and a legislative irrixzestigation, the campaign to clean up a city government ‘ViEiSS completed even after the reformer's father-in-law had k>eeeen exposed as a recipient Of graft.95 The play's theme was so timely that T. Henry French, vwlic: had been a New York theater manager for twenty years, czlicase it as his first American production. Throughout the ESIJInmer and fall of 1894 the Lexow Committee had focused pub- lii<2 attention on corruption in New York City government. frliee culmination of a crusade begun by the Reverend Charles I1- Parkhurst, president of the Society for the Prevention of (zlfiime, the investigation revealed that vice and crime paid fGrimmunity, police officers paid for promotions, and Storekeepers and shippers paid tribute. Municipal reformers “Hare elected; newspaper headlines for months proclaimed the iAssues dramatized in The District Attorney.96 The press naturally linked The District Attorney to the Lexow hearings. One reviewer commented: "This play is SO reflective of present conditions of life in New York and L. SO permeated with local atmosphere that it seems almost like 95New Ygrk Times, January 22, 1895, p. 5; NYDM, January 26, 1895, p. 3. 96State of New York, Report and Proceedings of the Senate Committee Appointed to Investigate the Police Depart- {3pm of the City of New York (Albany: James B. Lyon, 1895), pp. 18-36; Gilman Ostrander, American Civilization in the Elrst Machine Age, 1890-1940 (New York: Harper & Row, 1970), P. 98. 110 a transcript of the stories which come to light from day to day in the local columns of the newspapers."97 Another ob- served that "the exultant shouts of an aroused municipal 98 conscience ran through the American theatre last night." The authors of The District Attorney made no origin- al contribution to reform thought; they merely reported the surface aspects of urban reform. No analysis of the causes of graft and corruption was presented, nor was any solution beyond the personal dedication of the individual reformer suggested. A review of a road production, however, indicat- ed one significant theatrical aspect of the play. The com- mentator noted that the audience in Pittsburgh was "repre- sentative of the best East end society," and that The Dis- trict Attorney was "well calculated to interest a refined 99 audience." Klein's play, thus, indicated that an American playwright, well-attuned to reform currents could, while still relying primarily on melodramatic techniques, add suf- ficient sophistication to attract middle-class theatergoers. Though middle-class audiences were more responsive to Klein's journalistic commentary on current issues than the plays of either James Herne or Scott Marble, from 1896 until the muckraking era there was virtually no market for drama about social problems. Interest in reform declined 97Quoted from the New York Record in the NYDM, Feb- ruary 16, 1895, p. 17. '— 98 New York Tribune, January 22, 1898. 99Pittsburgh Times, September 13, 1898. lll vejLfltih the defeat of Bryan, and especially with the coming of tikiee Spanish-American War. In New York, the reform spirit which the Lexow Committee hearings had helped to generate IIEiCi dissipated by 1897 and Tammany Hall was back in pow- €312..100 Therefore, though one student of the period has at- ‘txrnibuted the relative absence of plays about social problems 1:<3» the rise of the theatrical trust,101 which was organized j.ri 1896, it seems more likely that the intellectual milieu Changed and that the popular theater reflected a different IRCDCKL American interest in Cuba was reflected in Henry Guy Carleton's Ambition (1895) , a melodrama which involved a bill to place Cuban sugar on the free list. A few months ‘lErter Cuba, by George Reno and Edwin Arden, was staged for 'tlre benefit of Cuban revolutionaries. Spanish Oppression of tile Cuban people was depicted in The Last Stroke (1896), “fliile in the final act of For Liberty and Love (1897), Cuba Ei‘ttained peace and independence.102 Like the Civil War, the Spanish-American War was the Suhdect for timely melodramas and battle spectacles in which American victories were reenacted. One reviewer character- ized a melodrama entitled The Red, White, and Blue, as: looostranderr American Civilization, p. 98. 101 Dorothy Gillam Baker, "MonOpoly in the American Theatre" (unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, New York Univer- Slty, 1962), pp. 630-632. 102 NYDM, November 2, 1895, p. 16; New York Times, I“larch 22, 1896, p. 10; New York Times, October 12, 1898, p. 7. 112 a fiery, jingo piece Of American patriotism, acted to the rattling accompaniment of rifle and pistol shots. . . . There is barely enough story to carry all the powder burning that is done on the stage, but the more powder that was burnt the more pleased seemed the audi- ence, which had evidently assembled in expectation of a jollification over the flag, and liked the smell of pow- der and the rattle of small arms. 1E52112t1e spectacles were often sizable undertakings. A hun- éiireed men and a dozen horses, for example, were required for £1 sspectacle depicting the Battle of San Juan Hill. Many Veterans participated in the cast, and a patriotic speech by :3. rnock Colonel Roosevelt concluded the entertainment.103 During the war and its immediate aftermath, no Amer- ican dramatist utilized the stage to criticize the war or the implication of imperialistic policies. In 1902, how- ever, George Ade wrote The Sultan of Sulu, which was not a Protest play but did reflect the views of the anti- illnjperialists, who questioned the wisdom of an eXpansionist foreign policy. In 1900, Ade had visited John McCatcheon and other Arnerican correspondents who were reporting on Acquinaldo's idisurrection from Manila. From them, Ade heard the story of lhnerican negotiations with an untamed Moro Chieftan, the Sultan of Sulu or Tolo. American leaders hOped to "assimi- late" him and avoid his Opposition; the Sultan tried to adapt himself to American law yet retain native customs. xii Since these included polygamy and slavery, Ade concluded the 103 . New York Times, November 29, 1896, p. 6; New York Times, March 23, 1898, p. 7. 113 situation in which "American civilizers" endeavored "to play ball with the little brown brothers" had all the elements of 104 a comic Opera. The Sultan of Sulu resulted, a popular musical com- edy in 1902. In the first act, American troops marched on to the stage, singing their philosophy of imperialism: We haven't the appearance, goodness knows, Of plain commercial men; From a hasty glance, you might suppose We are fractious now and then. But though we come in warlike guise And battle-front arrayed, It's all a business enterprise; We're seeking foreign trade. We're as mild as any turtle-dove When we see the foe a-coming, Our thoughts are set on human love When we hear the bullets humming. We teach the native population What the golden rule is like, And we scatter public education On ev'ry blasted hike! We want to assimilate, if we can, Our brother who is brown; We love our dusky fellow-man And we hate to hunt him down. SO, when we perforate his fame, We want him to be good. We shoot at him to make him tame, If he but understood.105 At gunpoint, the Sultan agrees to accept a govern- ment by consent of the governed. He becomes governor, though he spends some time in jail due to complicated alimony 104George Ade, "Recalling the Early Tremors Of a Timorous Playwright," The Players, New York, The County Chairman (Program). 105George Ade, The Sultan of Sulu (New York: R. H. Russell, 1903), pp. 11-12. 114 grants awarded to seven Of his eight wives. He is released when the Supreme Court rules that "the constitution follows the flag on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday only."106 Ade, thus, suggested that balancing native customs with American law was absurd. Furthermore, he challenged the basic assumptions of the assimilators. Four New England school-ma's are brought in to educate the natives. Jeffer- son Budd, a colonel in the volunteers assures the Sultan: "We believe that in three weeks or a month we will have you as cultured as the peOple of my native state Arkansas."107 Ade insisted, he did "not wish to be serious or didactic." Yet, he considered the idea of benevolent assim- ilation to be "over-pretentious." Ade also dealt with im- perialism in The Shogun, set in Korea which satirized Yankee commercialism and corporate practices, and in U.S. Minister Bedloe, in which one character illustrates the application Of the Monroe Doctrine: "You may count on me to use my in- fluence to protect the liifi and the property of all German and British subjects."108 Few American playwrights had Ade's talent for satire; for others the theater offered little Opportunity to express unpOpular ideas. The political activities of James Herne, Augustus Thomas, and even Charles Hoyt indicated that 106 107 Ade, The Sultan, p. 126. Ibid., pp. 26-28. 108"George Ade Talks of His Stage Ideals," The Thea- rer, IV (November 1904), 287-288; The Theater, IV (November 1904), 272; George Ade, U.S. Minister Bedloe (Typescript COpy: Princeton University Library, n.d.), Act III, p. 16. 115 a number of American dramatists held strong views on social issues. Yet, in contrast to European dramatists, play- wrights in the United States failed to develop a drama dur- ing the 1890's which addressed the social issues of the period in a serious manner. While none chose to abandon completely the popular theater in order to write radical drama, there was little evidence that such an alternative would have attracted an audience of sufficient size to sus- tain an independent theater. There was no American Antoine; nor was there an American Archer or even one comparable to Shaw who might have neutralized Winter's barbs. Late in the decade, James Huneker did begin to write about Ibsen, but in periodicals with very limited circulations, and he emphasized the artistic elements in Ibsen's plays.109 As popular theater, the American stage became more a national institution during this decade. The number of American dramatists increased sharply. Moreover, the plays of Thomas and Klein pointed toward the journalistic realism Of the muckraking era. If one could not find in an American theater during the nineties a radical defense of labor or a scathing attack on trusts, neither could one go to very many popular plays and remain unaware that these were important issues in American life. 109Arnold T. Schwab, James Gibbons Huneker, Critic of the Seven Arts (Stanford, Caiif.; Stanford University Press, 1963), pp. 70, 114. CHAPTER IV FROM REFORM TO DISILLUSIONMENT: THE AMERICAN DRAMATIST AND THE MUCKRAKING ERA The brief existence of the Criterion Independent Theatre in the late 1890's indicated that the aesthetic di- mension of naturalism exerted a continuing influence on some American theatergoers. Others, despite the declining inter- est in reform which accompanied the Spanish-American War, sought to alter the American drama in the direction of the sociological side of European naturalism. Helen Potter, for example, writing in The Arena, complained: "We have a stage that openly honors idle luxury and the emptiness of the title and aristocracy . . . where the workers have no place, where the thinkers have no place, where noble ideas have very little part." She urged reform in the theater, insist- ing "all hope for art that does not rest on the elevation of the masses is built on sand."1 At the turn of the century, social problems were ig- nored on the popular stage, while radical ideas were regard- ed as dangerous. A production of Senza Patria (Without a 1Helen Potter, "The Drama of the Twentieth Century," Arena, XXIII (February 1900), 158; Louis Filler, The Muck- rakers: Crusaders for American Liberalism (rev. ed.; Chica- go: Henry Regnery, 1968), p. 42. 116 117 Country), for instance, scheduled by an anarchist group, was suppressed by New York police.2 With the rise of muckraking journalism, however, social issues and reform ideas became a significant aspect of American drama. Lincoln Steffens' "The Shame of the Cities" series began in the spring of 1903. In November 1904, an editorial in McClure's Magazine summarized the early muckraking accom- plishments of Ida Tarbell, Ray Stannard Baker, Samuel Hop- kins Adams, and Steffens.3 Earlier in the same year the im- pact Of muckraking on American thought was reflected in the theater by a dramatization of Frank Norris' The Pit. Producer William Brady paid only $1,900 to Channing Pollock for the dramatization of The Pit, after Augustus Thomas had declined an Offer to do the play, arguing "you can't dramatize descriptions of office buildings at night." Although the play's profits exceeded $500,000, critics 2A production of Senza Patria, written by anarchist Pietro Gori, was arranged by a group of anarchists from the New York area. They had hired a company of actors, engaged the West Hoboken Band, and rented a Bowery hall. The per- formance was scheduled for November 10, 1900, the thirteenth anniversary of the hanging of the Chicago Anarchists. Pro- ceeds from the drama were to go to the family of Gaetano Bresci, the silkweaver from Patterson, New Jersey, who had assassinated King Hubert of Italy. New York police refused to allow the production, insisting that the radical group had failed to obtain a license. The police dispersed the group and a subsequent protest meeting at Mori and Lorenzi's Cafe on Beeker Street and another in a house on Thompson Street. See, New York Times, November 11, 1900, p. 3; Neg York Herald, November 11, 1900, p. 7; and New York World, November 11, 1900. 3"On the Making of McClure's Magazine," McClure's Magazine, XXIV (November 1904), 107-112. 118 agreed the stage version of The Pit included few of the critical ideas contained in the original novel. Instead, the drama's popularity stemmed from a sensational "pit scene," complete with a mob of frenzied brokers.4 Other attempts to dramatize muckraking novels or fiction strongly influenced by reform thought were unsuc- cessful. The Jungle did have a brief run, with Upton Sin- clair in the cast. As a novel The Jungle had exerted con- siderable influence on American thought; however, on stage it conveyed no more ideas than a typical melodrama which at- tracted audiences with a "realistic" scene, such as a mine tunnel, factory, or New York landmark. Sinclair's novel was not easily transformed into dramatic material, as, for exam- ple, had been Uncle Tom's Cabin; thus, one critic observed, "there was little to remind one that here was the outcome of a novel that has stirred two continents, started all sorts of official investigations, and lifted a large burden from the shoulders of the export statistician."5 Sinclair also wrote a number of plays, including Tne Second-Story Man, The Moneychangers, and The Machine, which were occasionally produced in California. While The Worth of a Woman by another muckraker, David Graham Phillips, was 4Channing Pollock, Harvest of My Years (New York: Bobbs-Merrill Co., 1943), pp. 127-130; New York Times, March 10, 1904, p. 9; The Theater, IV (March 1904), 57-58. 5New York Times, April 23, 1907, p. 9. 119 later produced on Broadway,6 New York theater managers con- tinued to regard Sinclair's plays as dangerously radical. While theater managers remained reluctant to risk productions of intellectual dramas based on reformist or radical ideology, they were anxious to offer plays which appealed to reform-minded audiences. Theatergoers found that a title did not always indicate the contents of a play. Kellett Chambers' A Case of Frenzied Finance, for example, was a typical farce which suggested that an elevator boy could win a fortune on Wall Street through a case of mista- ken identity--somewhat less revealing insight into the na- ture of finance capitalism than Thomas Lawson's series.7 Similarly, A Square Deal touched only briefly on graft and corruption, though it employed Theodore Roosevelt's slogan as its title.8 During the 1905-06 season, however, a play by Charles Klein effectively captured the spirit of the muck- raking era. Klein dramatized a confrontation between a muckraking novelist and a corporate president in The Lion 6New York Telegraph, February 2, 1909; Upton Sin- clair, Plays of Protest (New York: Mitchell Kinnerley, 1912), pp. i-ii; New York Times, February 16, 1908, vi, p. 1; Clayton Hamilton, "The Tone of Mid-Season Plays," Forum, XXXIX (April 1908), 514; Isaac Marcosson, David Gra- ham Phillips and His Times (New York: Dodd, Mead & Co., 1932), p. 243. 7The Theater, V (May 1905), 109-110; NYDM, April 15, 1905, p. 16; New York Times, April 2, 1905, iv, 5; Lawson's series began in August 1904 in Everybody's Magazine, XI (August, 1904), 154-164. 8New York Times, May 1, 1906, p. 9; NYDM, May 12, 1906, p. 3. 120 and the Mouse. In the following season George Broadhurst characterized urban reform conflicts in The Man of the Hour. Both Klein and Broadhurst wrote within the framework of nineteenth-century popular theater, employing techniques of melodrama and the well-made play. Thus, their plays were not considered dangerously radical by theater managers; yet, audiences assumed the plays were dramatizations of muckrak- ing or reform battles. In 1895 with Harrison Grey Fiske, Klein had written The District Attorney. His father, a Russian-born musician, had emigrated to London, where his brother served as music critic for The Times.9 Although he had studied law, Klein's plays revealed only superficial knowledge of American polit- ical life and social issues. Yet, while his solutions to complex problems were often simplistic and emotional, they reflected the view of many reformers and the public that moral pronouncements constituted reform. In The Lion and the Mouse,10 Klein described the ef- forts of a young muckraking novelist to clear her father, an honest federal judge, whom the "interests" were trying to remove from office. Earlier, when considering a purchase of a certain stock, the judge had sought the advice of an old 9George Henry Payne, "A Personal View of Charles Klein," Green Book Album, II (October 1909), 720-721; NYDM, March 9, 1895, p. 13. 10Charles Klein, The Lion and the Mouse (typescript copy: NYPLTC), published edition (New York: Samuel French, 1906). 121 associate, business titan John B. Ryder, who recommended the corporation. When the judge decided to buy the stock, how- ever, Ryder arranged to have the judge sent more stock than he had purchased. Subsequently, the judge was involved in a case involving the corporation. Charges of bribery followed; once impeachment proceedings were instituted, it became evi- dent that Ryder controlled enough votes in the Senate to re- move the judge. Although the novelist, working under a pseudonym, gained access to Ryder's personal papers, she was unable to find evidence to help her father. Klein's drama concluded with an emotional appeal in which Ryder was per- suaded to use his influence to save the honest judge. The melodramatic conclusion of The Lion and the Mouse suggested that emotional appeals based on justice and honor would provide substantive reform without basic alteration in business-government ties. Many reviewers objected to dis- crepancies between the real world in which decisions were based on the ruthless application of materialistic consider- ations and Klein's theatrical world in which ethical ideals outweighed the economic interests of giant corporations. Charles Darton, for example, believed the play's conclusion 11 as "almost farcical." The popularity of The Lion and the Mouse stemmed, however, not from the author's optimistic faith in reform, but from the public's assumption that Klein had dramatized 11Charles Darnton, New York Evening_WOr1d, November 21] 19050 122 the confrontation between Ida Tarbell and John D. Rockefel- ler. Mark Sullivan, for example, described the play as "a melodramatic portrayal of John D. Rockefeller," while a New York World reviewer thought that the muckraker's arguments were taken from the articles of Miss Tarbell.12 Since the public associated The Lion and the Mouse with muckraking, their response to the play was an indication of their inter- est in journalistic expose. By the end of the 1905-06 sea- son, G. W. Dillingham, publishers of a novel based on Klein drama, estimated that two million peOple had seen the play.13 In contrast to many reviewers, Benjamin 0. Flower reacted enthusiastically to The Lion and the Mouse. The business titan, Flower insisted, "the masterful mind, keen, penetrating, brilliant, and resourceful on the intellectual plane, but morally blind, the character of John Ryder has no equal in American literature." J. Alexander Fiske, writing in The Progress Magazine, moreover, contended that "the good 14 effect," produced by Klein's play, would "last for years." 12Mark O. Sullivan, Our Times; The United States, 1900-1925, Vol. III: Pre-War America (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1930), p. 461; New York World, November 21, 1905. 13The Theater, VI (September, 1906), p. xvii. In comparison, the circulation of McClure's Magazine was 500,000 by 1907. Frank Luther Mott, A History of American Magazines (4 Vols.; Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1957), III, 599. . 4Benjamin 0. Flower, "The Theater for Higher Civil— ization," The Arena, XXXVII (May 1907), 502; J. Alexander Fisk, "Good and Bad Effects of Mental Suggestion in the 123 Another commentator argued that given the limitations on the American dramatist Klein had treated "his subject coura- geously and in such a way that an underlying ethical purpose . . "15 is most ev1dent. Theater historians have generally agreed, however, with the contemporary reviewer of The Lion and the Mouse who insisted that the "mouse" was Klein, "a little man strug- gling in vain with a big idea."16 Margaret Mayorga, for ex- ample, found that Klein "made little original contribution to the drama of his day," while Quinn noted his "plays are all theatrically effective but they do not stand the test of analysis." Barrett Clark, however, viewed the play as a sophisticated melodrama: "Klein's villain was not the old time suave stage villain, but a more or less respected rich man, thekind who until the days of Lincoln Steffens and Ida Tarbell was pointed to as an ideal of successful manhood."l7 Similarly, Klein's treatment of the Congressional investi- gating committee's hearings involved subtleties not common to melodrama. In their testimony before the committee, Theater." The Progress Magazine, quoted in Current Litera- ture, XLVII (November 1909), 551. 15New York Times, November 21, 1905, p. 9. 16New York Press, November 21, 1905. 17Margaret G. Mayorga, A Short History of the Ameri- can Drama (New York: Dodd, Mead & Co., 1932), p. 351; Ar- thur Hobson Quinn, A History of the American Drama: From the Civil War to the Present Day (2 vols.; New York: Harper & Brothers, 1927), II, 105; Barret Clark and George Freed- ley, A History ofthe Modern Drama (New York: Appleton- Century Co., 1927), P. 10. 124 members of the trust did not denounce the judge with treach- erous lies, they merely refused to answer questions. By im- plying their own guilt, they condemned the judge. Like Klein, George Broadhurst was born in England. His mother hoped he would study for the clergy, but at six- teen he joined his brother in the United States, where he was employed as a clerk at the Chicago Board of Trade. Lat- er, he served as an advance agent for theatrical companies touring in the Midwest and edited a newspaper in Grand Forks, North Dakota.18 While managing the Bush Theater in San Francisco, Broadhurst met Bronson Howard, who encouraged him to complete his first play, The Speculator, based on his ex- periences in Chicago. During the 1890's Broadhurst also wrote a number of popular farces, including Why Smith Left Home . 19 While Klein's The Lion and the Mouse dealt with cor- porate influence on the national government, George Broad- hurst's The Man of the Hour portrayed a reformer's efforts to prevent local businessmen from obtaining excess profits through a streetcar franchise which exploited the public. Under the franchise system private companies were granted a monopoly to provide public services, such as water, gas, or 18Otheman Stevens, "From Clerk to Playwright," Los Angeles Examiner, March 6, 1909; New York Times, February 1, 1952; Cleveland Leader, March 9, 1913; Columbus Journal, August 2, 1912. 9Clipping marked Milwaukee, Wisconsin, May 29, 1907; New York Sun, September 6, 1899, p. 7. 125 streetcar lines for periods of fifty years and longer. Fre- quently, however, corporations used political influence to obtain franchises from local governments. Those with suffi- cient political power sometimes acquired monopolies without any payment to the city treasury. Charles T. Yerkes whose career became the basis of two of Theodore Dreiser's novels, The Financier (1912) and The Titan (1914), employed bribery to gain long term control of streetcar lines in Chicago. In The Man of the Hour a young reform mayor battled to secure enough votes from City Council members to uphold his veto of corrupt franchise bills. The combined forces of a political boss and a railway magnate were allied against the reform mayor. The methods and policies of the political boss were taken from statements of Richard Croker, former Tammany Hall boss. The boss explained to the railway mag- nate: "I don't trust nobody. I write no letters, I sign no receipts, I keep no accounts, I have no witnesses. It's my word and the other fellow's. I keep mine and I see that he keeps his."20 The boss contended that he had helped to elect the mayor and vigorously defended the prevailing sys- tem of business-government cooperation which encouraged graft: . . . every man is a grafter. A lawyer will take a fee for showing his client how he can break the law and evade the punishment--graft! Churches and Colleges ac- cept money they know has been obtained by fraud and op- pression--graft! Newspapers and magazines publish 20George Broadhurst, The Man of the Hour (typescript copy, NYPLTC), p. 15. 126 advertisements they know to be fakes and worse--graft! A railroad president accepts stock in a firm which ships over his line--graft! Senators become millionaires on a salary of seventy-five hundred dollars a year--graft! And so it goes, high and low, rich and poor--they all graft, in fact, the man who doesn't graft, hasn't the chance, or else he's a fool. ~ Alderman Phelan, a retired police commissioner and the mayor's strongest supporter on the City Council, perhaps, more accurately represented the nineteenth-century urban pol- itician than the boss. Like many urban progressives, Phelan opposed the awarding of public service monopolies without charges; yet, unlike many reformers he seemed little con- cerned with bringing business efficiency into government.22 Instead, he provided turkeys to the poor at Christmas, and as many as 2,500 people had attended his summer picnics. Broadhurst depicted the political battle in logical manner. The boss and the railway magnate were defeated as might have occurred outside the theater. In the final scene, however, a melodramatic twist was required in order to send the defeated grafters to jail. The magnate's secretary was revealed to be the son of a man ruined years earlier by the financier. He supplied the evidence to convict the grafters. 21Broadhurst, Man of the Hour, pp. 29-30. 22Samuel B. Hays has stressed the fact that urban re- form frequently involved a shift to government by profession- als who represented upper-class interests, while the aboli- tion of the ward system in favor of at large elections ef- fectively transferred power from ethnic minorities and lower class voters to a small group of business and professional men, in "The Politics of Reform in Municipal Government in the Progressive Era," Pacific Northwest Quarterly, LV (Octo- ber 1964), 157-69. 127 Critics objected to the final scene and also to the somewhat dated political boss. "The up to date boss was not the blus- tering individual shown on the stage, he belonged to an earl- ier era," commented one reviewer. Audiences and critics had assumed that The Lion and the Mouse was based on Ida Tarbell's articles on the Stand- ard Oil Corporation; The Man of the Hour was similarly re- lated to specific reform battles. The granting of fran- chises had been an issue in the cities across America, in- volving Joseph Folk, Hazen Pingree, Sam "Golden Rule" Jones, Tom Johnson and other reform mayors, and described in Lin- coln Steffen's articles. Audiences tended to relate Broad- hurst's play to the specific reform battle they had wit- nessed. In New York, critics associated The Man of the Hour 24 with the Remsen bill. The Remsen bill, which Mayor George B. McClellan had signed granted the Consolidated Gas Company permission to move a plant from Riverside Drive in Manhattan to Astoria in Queens. The mayor was convinced that the building made one of New York's most attractive sections almost uninhabitable and was assured by Thomas F. Ryan that the Governor would approve the bill. Yet, after McClellan signed the measure, Governor Odell changed his mind and vetoed it. Later a 23New York WOrld, December 9, 1906; Toledo Times Bee, January 19, 1908. 24Karl Decker, New York Morning Telegraph, December 17. 1906; New York Herald, December 9, 1906; NYDM, December 15, 1906, p. 2. 128 lieutenant of Tammany boss Charles Murphy explained to the mayor that Harry Rogers of Standard Oil had promised to carry Murphy's stock, if the bill was signed. The surprised mayor asked: "In other words, do I understand that Murphy delivered me behind my back?" He was reminded that the Tam- many boss never took an interest in a bill unless he "got something out of it."25 George Washington Plunkitt described the Remsen bill as an example of "honest" graft. The gas house was a nui- sance, and he owned property in the neighborhood. No voters in his district worked there; it employed only "Dagos" from New Jersey. The value of his real estate would increase by 26 one hundred percent, if the gas plant were removed. While The Man of the Hour was no dramatic landmark, it was another significant example of the influence of muck- raking on the American theater. The public was eager to see the type of reform candidate it had supported in municipal elections on the stage. Broadhurst's royalties from the 27 play exceeded $250,000. President Roosevelt, an infre- quent theatergoer while in office, attended a Washington 25Harold C. Syrett, The Gentleman and the Tiger: The Autobiography of George B. McClellen, Jr. (Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott, 1956), Pp. 211-213; State of New York, Public Papers of Benjamin B. Odell, Jr.; Governor for 1904 (Albany: James B. Lyon Co., 1907), pp. 103-109. 26William L. Riordan, Plunkitt of Tammany Hall (New York: A. A. Knopf, 1948), pp. 81-83. 27NYDM, June 15, 1912. 129 performance,28 and Senator Robert La Follette publicly en- dorsed the drama.29 In November 1906, E. Spencer Miller, a candidate for Congress in Philadelphia rented the Academy of Music and offered free tickets to prospective voters. The Republican candidate hoped to capitalize on the play's mes- sage, but the incumbent, a congressman for twenty-five years --though he had never given a speech--was reelected.30 Both Klein and Broadhurst denied that the specific battles often cited by critics had provided the basis for their plays. Klein insisted he was not familiar with Ida Tarbell's History of Standard Oil. It was, he claimed, the result of a trip he had made to Washington on behalf of the American dramatists' copyright bill. While there, he had observed that most of the Senate's work was done by commit- tees, which were strongly influenced by big business. Fur- thermore, he contended, John Ryder represented any commer- cial magnate; he was not based only on John D. Rockefeller.31 Broadhurst admitted that various newspaper accounts of graft and corporate influence on government had influenced the 28New York American, January 21, 1908. 29La Follette commented: "The action of the piece develops along the lines I have been following in my politi- cal career for many years. It shows up 'graft' in public affairs, and illustrates the great pressure brought to bear upon a public official who seeks to fulfill his obligations to the people." Clipping dated February 27, 1907, NYPLTC. 30New York Telegraph, November 5, 1906. 31Asa Patterson, "Some Theories of Playmaking by a Playmaker," The Theatre, VI (June 1906), 158. 130 writing of The Man of the Hour, but a particular scandal which he had witnessed first hand had been especially use- ful. While visiting Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, Broadhurst saw a magnificent new state building. He inquired about spaces on both sides of the door and found that two bronze tablets, listing architects, contractors, and others respon- sible for the building were lying in the basement. Since charges of accepting graft were pending against some of the men listed on the tablets, they had not been set in place. Broadhurst later learned that some of the men listed on the tablets were in prison. Throughout the remainder of the decade plays by Klein reflected the impact of muckraking on American thought. In The Daughters of Men he touched on the potential for vio- lence amongst radicals. His The Third Degree dealt with police brutality, while The Next of Kin questioned the ethics of American lawyers. From a technical standpoint The Daughters of Men (1905) was a radical departure for Klein. The play's char- acters represented diverse ideological positions; just enough plot was provided to enable the characters to state their ideas. The characters included Richard Milbank, an entrepreneur capitalist, Regonal Crosby and his wife, whose ostentatious displays of wealth (at a breakfast they floated 32George Broadhurst, "How I Write a Play," Des Moines Register, October 20, 1912. 131 a yacht on a lake of Rhine wine)33 were no longer fashion- able, because of criticism in the yellow press, Matthew Crosby and James Thedford, two modern, image-conscious, cor- porate executives, James Burress, a dangerous union leader whose followers were Mafia members, anarchists, and nihil- ists, and Oscar Lackett whose socialist newspaper had print- ed instructions for the manufacture of nitroglycerine.3 Klein, however, supported the ideological stance of John Steadman, a middle-class reformer who shared the conserva- tives' fear of violence and the radicals' sympathy for the poor. Steadman was a Westerner, the graduate of a state university (Wisconsin), and the victim of what Richard Hof- stadter called "the status revolution." When his status was questioned by the conservatives, Steadman replied: "So- cially . . . your father, Mr. Milbank, sold hides and made 33"When the farmer read about the 'Swan' dinner at Delmonico's (where swans swam in a thirty-foot lake in the Banquet roomL” Russel Nye has noted, "or about the 'gold' and 'diamond' dinners at which each guest received a ring or bracelet, or about the Astor wedding where the presents were valued at two million, or about the Kansas City bankers' dinner at $20,000 a plate, and then thought of mortgages at 18 percent on half the farms in the West, he was not in a pleasant mood." Midwestern Progressive Pglitics (East Lan- sing: Michigan State University Press, 1959), p. 44. 4Johann Most, who had once appeared in a production of Gerhart Hauptmann's The Weavers, worked for a short time in a Jersey City, New Jersey, explosives plant and then pub- lished a manual in Freiheit,an anarchist weekly, which ex- plained the manufacture and handling of home made bombs. See, Barbara W. Tuchman, The Proud Tower (New York: Macmil- lan, 1966), p. 80. 132 tallow--my grandfather was governor of his state."35 Klein defended The Daughters of Men against contem- porary critics, complaining that "the moment a man produces a play that contains more truth than imagination he is ac- cused of preaching." He asserted that the characters in the drama were influenced by ideas related to the real world ra- ther than "theatrical principles and 'motives.'"36 Klein insisted: "There isn't any reason why the stage can not be a splendid force for good. By his plays an author can preach as powerful a sermon as ever came from a pulpit."37 Yet, in his subsequent plays he did not deal with ideas in a direct manner. "To reach an audience," he concluded, "one must seek the audience's sympathies. An audience doesn't want to tax itself with heavy thinking."38 Although he was aware of European social drama, Klein had no desire to de- velop an intellectual American drama or a drama of propagan- da. He believed that Shaw and Ibsen were too pessimistic, 39 too much influenced by Darwin and Nietzsche. Montrose Moses compared The Daughters of Men to Shaw's Widowers' 35Charles Klein, The Daughters of Men (New York: Samuel French, 1917), p. 28. 36"Charles Klein Tells His Dramatic Purposes and Convictions," New York Times, December 2, 1906, iv, 2. 7Jessie E. Henderson, "Interview With Charles Klein," Boston Herald, November 5, 1911. 38Charles N. Young, "Sets Pace in Making Plays Out of New Material," Boston Traveler, December 5, 1908. 39Charles Klein, "Religion, Philosophy, and the Dra- ma," The Arena, XXXVII (May 1907), 492-493. 133 Houses and concluded that "Klein had no political vision."40 Certainly in contrast to European social dramatists Klein's political thought was superficial; yet he did accurately reflect middle-class reform thought. Thus, Klein asserted he had written The Daughters of Men "to show the havoc created 41 by a false Socialism." Therefore, though Klein was criti- cal of some capitalists, he was clearly more concerned with the violent potential of European socialists. If his solu- tions were sentimental and simplistic, many muckrakers of the decade exposed far-reaching social and economic problems yet believed only limited reforms were necessary. In The Next of Kin and The Third Degree, Klein again treated social issues in melodramatic fashion. He contended that lawyers could easily cheat widows and orphans out of inheritances in the former, while he suggested that police brutality and the influence of the yellow press violated the rights of an accused individual in the latter.42 Neither play involved substantial research or sweeping social criti- cism, but both stimulated muckraking magazines to make more extreme charges. Thus, if Klein has not questioned the ethics of the 4OMontrose Moses, "The Drama, 1860-1918," Cambridge History of American Literature (4 vols.; New York: Putnam's Son, 1921), III, 286. 41 "Klein Tells His Dramatic Purposes,‘ p. 2. 42Charles Klein, The Next of Kin (2 vols.; prompt— book, NYPLTC); Charles Klein, The Third Degree (New York: Samuel French, 1908). 134 entire legal profession in The Next of Kin, his play furn- ished Hampton's Magazine with an opportunity to do just that. In his commentary on the melodrama, Hampton's reviewer in- sisted if the American Bar Association ever cleaned house, I I 4 the remaining members could meet on a streetcorner. Benjamin 0; Flower associated The Third Degree with the power of reactionary materialism and Louis Post's The Public found considerable evidence to support Klein's theme. A new police building in New York was described in its dis- cussion of The Third Degree. The building contained "roast and freeze" rooms, with bare walls and pipes for quick changes of temperature and electric lights for alterations in room lighting.44 In another issue The Public related a remarkable interview with Captain McDonnell, Chief of Detec- tives on the Detroit police force, to Klein's melodrama. After attending a performance of the play, Captain McDonnell insisted the Detroit police did not employ a third degree; however, he explained: I am a police officer, not a lawyer. We've got to make laws of our own. If we suspect a man we see that he doesn't get a lawyer near him until we get through to him. We question him, and corner him up until he con- fesses. There was that young fellow who murdered the old woman and who was acquitted by the jury though he confessed. We used no brutality. He said he wanted to confess, after some facts were shown to him. If a man committed murder, we are going to get that man to 43"Plays and Players," Hampton's Magazine, XXIV (March 1910), p. 405. 4Benjamin 0. Flower, "The Third Degree: A Modern Play Illustrating the Educational Value of the Drama," The Arena, XLI (February, 1909), 140-141. 135 confess if we can. They break down. But brutality, man, none of that. The captain went on to compare the Canadian system to Detroit's. In Canada, the police were obliged to warn a suspect that anything he said might be used against him. In Detroit, "they'd never talk if we were to tell them that."45 Unlike Klein, Broadhurst grew more committed to sub- stantial social change. In an interview during 1909, he contrasted two parallel headlines from a New York newspaper: "RUSSELL SAGE'S WILL PROBATED--HE LEAVES SIXTY-FOUR MILLION DOLLARS" and "SLEEPS WITH UNCLAIMED DEAD--TWO HUNDRED EAST SIDERS FIND REFUGE IN THE MORGUE?" and asked, “Do not these 46 two incidents show that something is wrong?" In The Dollar Mark, produced in the same year, Broadhurst suggested there was, indeed, much that was wrong with American capitalism. The plot described the efforts of a trust to take over a small but valuable mine. A professor rationalized the trust's activities on the basis that a great trust "is like the American Beauty rose which can be brought to its full perfection only by nipping off the buds which grow around it."47 Broadhurst, however, illustrated that this process included direct efforts to buy the mine, court challenges to the ownership, pressure through the 45The Public, x11 (July 2, 1909), p. 625. 4 . 6Otheman Stevens, Los Angeles Examiner, March 6, 1909. 47George Broadhurst, The Dollar Mark (Typescript, Harvard Theater Collection), Act II, p. l. 136 trust's railroad and processing holdings, and finally by an assault against the bank which had extended credit to the mine. Throughout the play, Broadhurst supported La Follette's contention that the bankers had bought on the panic of 1907 in order to discredit the progressive move- ment. The representative of the trust explained: . . . when the trouble comes, we'll not only stand from under--but will help it along by selling every stock in sight. Things all over the country will go to smash; wages will be cut, hard times will come and securities will sell at fifty percent of their real value. Then to restore confidence, the Government will issue millions of dollars worth of bonds; and what will they do with the money they get for them--put it in our banks of course!4 Furthermore, the process of "saving the country" was profit- able for the trust: We call ourselves together, and agree to "save the coun- try." We buy in the stocks we have sold short, making a few hundred million in that way; with the very money the Government has put in our banks we get control of the few good things we haven't got, then put prices up where they legitimately belong and catch them coming, going and in the middle! And with it all we have proved our- selves the best citizens, for have we not stepped into the breach at the critical moment, have we not "saved the country."49 The Dollar Mark had only a brief trial on Broadway in 1909; producer William Brady was convinced that the pub- lic was tired of protest plays. Yet, because of its popu- larity on the road, the value of the play was estimated as above $50,000. In Los Angeles Broadhurst's drama had a 48Broadhurst, The Dollar Mark, Act I, p. 9. 49Ibid. 137 remarkable run of ten weeks, leading one critic to suggest that lower ticket prices had enabled socialists and other agitators, excluded by high prices in New York, to patron- ize the play.50 The Lion and the Mouse and The Man of the Hour had reflected the spirit of the muckraking movement, but were journalistic not because they involved original reporting but because they were based on ideas taken from the daily newspapers. In contrast, Joseph Medill Patterson and Wil- liam Hurlbut sought to dramatize the results of their own research. Thus, their plays constituted an attempt to util- ize the stage as an alternative medium to express the find- ings of muckraking journalism. In 1906, while Klein and Broadhurst were collecting royalties from melodramas which reflected the muckraking spirit, Joseph Medill Patterson was fighting department store owners and political bosses as Commissioner of Public Works in Chicago. After an education at Groton and Yale, Patterson had been elected to the Illinois State Legisla- ture. At twenty-four Patterson, who had campaigned on a municipal ownership platform, found the legislature's re- luctance to deal with reform issues intolerable. He led a demonstration in which books, inkstands, and blotters were 50Rennold Wolf, New York Telegraph, n.d.; Constance Skinner, "The Coast Defenders,fi—Green Book Album, III (April 1910), 856; Perry Beaumont, "East No Longer Likes Graft Plays," Philadelphia Times, October 14, 1909. 138 , 51 hurled at the speaker 5 platform. Patterson did not seek reelection; instead, he cam- paigned for Judge Edward Dunne, the Democratic candidate for mayor of Chicago, again focusing on the municipal ownership of public utilities as the crucial issue, though he remained a Republican and his family owned the conservative Chicago Tribune. After his election, Judge Dunne appointed Patter- son to office. As Commissioner of Public Works, Patterson forced department store owners to pay a half million dollars in fines for extending their basements under Chicago's streets, but he was unable to get his reform bills through the boss-controlled city council. After a year in office, Patterson resigned and declared that reform under capitalism was impossible: The whole body of our laws as at present formed are ridiculous and obsolete. . . . They are designed always to uphold capital at the expense of the community. . . . I realized soon after I took office that to fight privi- leges under the present laws would be a jest.5 His announcement that he had become a socialist caused some- thing of a stir. Judge Dunne commented that Patterson's 51"The Resignation of Joseph M. Patterson" (Chicago: National Committee of The Socialist Party, 1906); New York Times, May 26, 1946; New York Herald Tribune, May 27, 1946; The Public, VIII (April 29, 1905). P. 39; John Chapman, Tell it to Sweeney: The Informal History of the New York Daily News (Garden City, N. Y.: Doubleday & Co., 1916), p. 34; John Tebbell, An American Dynasty (Garden City, N. Y.: Doubleday & Co., 1947), p. 279. 52Wayne Andrews, The Battle for Chicago (New York: Harcourt, 1946), p. 225; New YorkTimes, May 26, 1946; "The Resignation of Joseph M. Patterson" (Chicago: National Com- mittee of the Socialist Party, 1906). ,‘\ss.‘ \. 139 views on capitalism need not have interfered with holding office.53 In 1907, Patterson was elected to the National Exec- utive Committee of the Socialist party along with Ben Han- ford, lecturer and former vice presidential candidate, Vic- tor Berger, editor and Milwaukee leader, Algie Simons, editor and writer, Morris Hillquit, lawyer and lecturer, Ernest Untermann, writer, and John Work, lecturer. Patterson head- ed the national campaign committee for the election of 1908, which primarily defended the movement against charges it ad- vocated "dividing up" the wealth and "free love," while quoting La Follette's statements that Rockefeller and Morgan 54 had been responsible for the panic of 1907. In his Socialist Party in America David Shannon in- cluded Patterson with Gaylord Wilshire and J. G. Phelps Stokes as socialist "millionaires," who were, perhaps, mo- tivated by a "guilt feeling." Others have stressed the fact that Patterson's mother and James Kelley, editor and general manager, had made it impossible for him to rise to a posi- tion of authority on the Chicago Tribune at the time he be- came active in politics. Louis Filler insisted that it was the times that made socialists of men like Patterson, while 53Andrews, Chicago, p. 225. 54Andrews, Battle for Chicago, pp. 226-227; The Pub- lig, XII (April 2, 1909), 316-317; Ira Kipnis, The American Socialist Movement (New York: Columbia University Press, 1952), PP. 186, 211-212. “.1: C- ~ \.. .v 140 Burton Roscoe noted his sense of noblesse oblige.55 Yet, whatever the reasons behind his brief participation in the socialist movement, Patterson's plays revealed insight into the nature of American capitalism and the complexities of social reform. Before his first play, The Fourth Estate, written with Harriet Ford, was produced on Broadway in 1908, Patter- son had published several socialist articles including "Con- fessions of a Drone" and "Marshall Field's Will"; both had discussed the unearned income of the rich derived from the labor of the working classes.56 In The Fourth Estate, Pat- terson implied that there was corruption in the federal ju- diciary; but, he dealt primarily with the influence of ad- vertisers on the contents of newspapers. The plot of The Fourth Estate illustrated the ob- stacles faced by a young muckraker who had uncovered evi- dence of judicial corruption. In the first act the editor of The Advance was visited by a "newspaper Lobbyist," who warned that if a second article was published linking cer- tain business interests to the bribery of a federal judge, substantial amounts of advertising would be withdrawn from 55David A. Shannan, The Socialist Party of America (New York: Macmillan, 1955), pp. 57-58; Burton Rascoe, B3- fore I Forget (New York: Literary Guild, 1937), pp. 240- 242; Filler, The Muckrakers, p. 348. 6Joseph M. Patterson, "Confessions of a Drone," Thg Independent, LXI (August 30, 1906), pp. 493-495; Joseph M. Patterson, "Marshall Field's Will," Collier's Weekly, XXXVII (June 2, 1906). ~l. 141 the paper. He reminded the editor that he represented thirty thousand dollars in advertising and he suggested that the staff of The Advance would be improved, if the muckraker were replaced. The young reporter, however, retained his position because the newspaper's new owner, who had acquired his wealth in the West, had once been sent to jail in order to break a strike by the judge implicated in the muckraker's article. To see the judge exposed, the new owner was will- ing to sacrifice advertising revenue. The owner's son at Harvard, his daughter at Bryn Mawr, and his wife in the com- munity, however, found family ownership of a "muckraking" newspaper a barrier to the social position they believed their newly amassed wealth entitled them. Thus, as a result of social pressure, the owner demanded that the reporter ob- tain more evidence that the judge was guilty. The reporter convinced the judge that his expose would be printed unless $10,000 was paid. As the judge handed over the money a flash photograph was taken. Even this failed to convince the owner, who ordered the editor to drop the story. In despair, the reporter committed sui- cide.57 Though a number of critics thought the ending was logical, producer George Tyler "feared the public would not 57New York Times, October 17, 1909, v, p. 14. The New York Public Library has only the revised version with a "happy ending." Joseph Medill Patterson and Harriet Ford, The Fourth Estate (Typescript). ~ \ 5 142 stand for it." The ending was revised to permit a compro- mise. The judge agreed to resign, and his daughter married the reporter. A newspaper was printed on stage, a gimmick which while suited to low-level melodrama distracted from the drama's plot. Despite the revisions, The Fourth Estate was far more successful on the road than in New York. Its long run in Chicago prompted Walter Prichard Eaton, a critic and New York University professor, to comment that Chicago was ahead of New York in its appreciation of good drama.58 Comments were divided on the contention in The Fourth Estate that the federal bench contained corrupt judges. "We all know that the big sin in the United States is the corrupt judiciary," commented Hampton's reviewer. The Outlook disagreed: "The reputation of the Federal judi- ciary . . . is so high that it ought to withstand the pre- sentation on the stage of the possible venality of a single judge as portrayed in The Fourth Estate." A commentator in The Public thought that most critics had missed the point of the play. Stage technique, he noted, required a more dra- matic portrayal of influences which in reality were more subtle. Bribes to judges, he asserted, were not necessary, now were reporters paid to keep quiet; nevertheless, pluto- cratic interests did influence both newspapers and the 58James O'Donnell Bennett, Chicago Record-Herald, November 4, 1909; Philadelphia Times, October 6, 1909; Wal- ter Prichard Eaton, At the New Theater and Others (Boston: Small, Maynard and Co., 1910): P. 200. . 4 .u. s V.)\\\ \ 143 courts. This was the important message of The Fourth Es- tate.59 Though Edward Bok's articles on patent medicine had touched on advertisers' influence on the press, Patterson's The Fourth Estate preceded the major study of this topic, Will Irwin's series, "The American Newspaper" which began in the January 1911 issue of Collier's Magazine.6O Commenta- tors acknowledged the accurate reporting of business influ- ence on the press. "There are not many owners who prove the faith that is in them by hewing to a line that leaves the half-page advertisements of a Boston stock-jobber out of the papers and the fact is just as well known inside the offices as out of them," commented James O'Donnell Bennett. The American Magazine agreed that Patterson had dealt with "con- ditions actually faced by most newspaper proprietors." Os- wald Villard, publisher of the New York Evening Post, illus- trated the influence of business on the newspapers in the lecture entitled, "The Moral Responsibility of the Press." He described a western town where a staff of reporters were given the power to support a reform movement by the paper's 59Hampton's Magazine, XXIV (February 1910); The Out- look (October 30, 1910), 484-85; The Public, XIII (April 8, 1910), 3. 60For Bok, see, "The 'Patent-Medicine' Curse," Ladies' Hgme Journal, XXI (May 1904), 18. See, also, Mark Sullivan, "The Patent Medicine Conspiracy Against Freedom of the Press," originally written for Bok but published in Collier's Weekly, XXXVI (November 4, 1905); Will Irwin, "The American Newspaper," Collier's Weekly, XLVI (January 1911), 5-18. J. 144 proprietor. When the reformers seemed certain of victory, business interest persuaded the proprietor to withdraw the paper's support for the reform cause. The reformers were de- feated. Villard visited the town somewhat later and found that the reporters who continued to work on the local paper had become cynical. Hampton's review proved to be the most ironic commentary on Patterson's drama. It stated that the "so called 'free press' of this country" was a myth. Within a few years "the interests" were to put Hampton's, the most radical muckraking magazine, out of business.61 Neither Patterson's dramatization of his novel, A Little Brother of the Rich, nor Rebellion, which questioned the Roman Catholic Church's standards against divorce, at- tained the popularity of The Fourth Estate. In his last two dramatic efforts, which were one-act plays written for vaudeville audiences, Dope and By-Products, Patterson por- trayed the effects of capitalistic Oppression on the lower classes and suggested that reform within the existing social-economic framework was unlikely. The tone of despair which runs through both plays anticipated that of many little-theater productions which were significant after 1912. By-Products, in fact, was frequently performed by the 61JamesO'Donnell Bennett, Chicago Record-Herald, November 4, 1909; "Plays That Make People Think:F American Magazine, LXIX (January 1910), 413; New York Times, February 20, 1911, p. 7; Hampton's Magazine, XXIII (December 1909), 816; Filler, The Muckraker, p. 367. 145 Hull House Players.62 Before writing Qgpg, Patterson had visited the "coke" sections of Chicago with Dr. J. J. Mahoney. Victims of drug addiction were depicted on stage, but Patterson was primarily concerned with the economics of the elicit drug trade. The drama focused on two reformers, Mr. Brown and Miss Jones, who condemned a druggist for selling cocaine and heroine to addicts. Before they were able to summon the au- thorities, however, the druggist observed that Miss Jones' mother owned tenement properties in which conditions were so bad that residents were driven to the drug habit, and point- ed out that Brown's father manufactured and supplied drugs for a market in which "honest" companies exploited addicts for profit.63 Significant reform to Patterson, therefore, required much more than the suppression of a single local supplier; it involved changes in the entire profit system-- changes which seemed unlikely to occur. In By:§roducts, Patterson depicted the impact of economic pressures on the social life and values of depart- ment store employees. In a cellar-tenement home, where her sister was dying of consumption, a young girl saw the re- wards of her mother's years of toil. As a department store employee, however, she had offers which promised, in contrast 62Percy Hammond, "News ot the Theater," Chicago Tribune, April 14, 1910. 63Clipping in the Grey Locke Collection, dated De- cember 31, 1909, NYPLTC; "The Secrets of Cocaine Traffic Re- vealed on the Stage," Toledo Times, February 18, 1912. \..~1.. .\~ \llfil : 3.! \\t n! 146 to her low wages, a chance to escape the slums and to obtain medical care for her sister. When her mother invoked the threat of a traditional hell, the girl replied: "All the girls in the store say so. We get our hell right here."64 William Hurlbut lacked Patterson's practical experi- ence in politics. At thirty, he had been an illustrator for eight years, after attending the St. Louis Art School. Olga Nethersole, a prominent actress who frequently lectured on socialism and women's rights, urged him to write a reform play. Hurlbut described the conditions he had seen on a tour of New York's slums in The Writing on the Wall, a popu- lar muckraking study of New York tenement conditions.65 The worst of New York's tenements were owned by Trinity Church. The church's ownership of a large block of real estate on the Lower East Side stemmed from a grant of land by the King of England in 1705. Tenements were erected by lease holders and were acquired by Trinity when the leases expired. The church made no improvements in the crowded, poorly ventilated buildings, which had the highest tuberculosis and death rate in New York City.66 64Chicago Record, April 19, 1910; Amy Leslie, "By- Products A Hit," Chicago News, April 1, 1910; New York Times, November 10, 1913, p. 9. 65Forthorth Record, December 5, 1909; Indianapolis Star, March 27, 1910; Philadelphia North American, February 4, 1909; Rochester Times, February 3, 1909; Clipping in Grey Locke Collection from Human Life, dated March 1910. 66Ray Stannard Baker, "The Case Against Trinity," American Magazine, LXVIII, May 1909, 2-16; Charles Edward fi_-_ Russell, "The Tenements of Trinity Church," Everybody's 147 The church consistently opposed all reform efforts to improve slum conditions. In the 1890's Trinity nearly defeated the passage of a New York State bill which required tenement owners to provide water on the second floor of their buildings. Jacob Riis stated that Trinity had nearly destroyed his many years of work to improve slum condi- tions.67 During the muckraking era, Trinity's tenement holdings remained a target of reformers. Ray Stannard Baker, Samuel Hopkins Adams, and Charles Edward Russell all dealt with New York's largest slum landlord. Russell, for example, observed: It seemed to me after a while that I had no need for a list of Trinity's holdings; I could pick them out un- aided, could tell them as far as I could see them, tell them by indubitable signs. Whenever I saw a house that looked as if it were about to fall down, one that looked in every way rotten and weary and dirty and disreputable, I found that it was owned by Trinity or stood upon its ground.68 Throughout The Writing on the Wall a tenement owner was urged by his wife to make improvements in dwellings which he owned; he argued that the tenements owned by Ma azine, XIX (July 1908), p. 47; Report As To The Sanitary Condition Of The Tenements Of Trinity Church, And Other Doc- uments (New York: Evening Post Job Printing House, 1895), pp. 29-30. 67John P. Peters, "The Tale of Trinity," Independ- ggg, LXVI (February 1909), 355-363. 68Russell, "Tenements of Trinity," p. 54. See, also, Samuel Hopkins Adams, "Tuberculosis: The Race Suicide," McClure's Magazine, XXIV (January 1905), 234-249. A novel based on a Hurlbut drama was written by Edward Marshall, The Writing on the Wall (New York: G. W. Dillingham Co., 19097: 148 Trinity Church were much worse than his. The owner found it cheaper to pay off inspectors than to make repairs. There- fore, unsafe fire escapes were merely painted. In one scene, painters were shown on scaffolding painting fire es- capes; in a melodramatic conclusion which followed, however, the tenement owner's son was killed in a fire, when the fire escape collapsed. Hurlbut also placed an "inside" room ten-by-twelve without light or air on stage in the drama. A woman and her four children occupied the room. During the day seven night workers paid the woman five cents for space to sleep on the floor, while the woman made liners for baby carriages. Soon after the play's production, Trinity Corpora- tion pulled down seventy of its worst tenements. In addi- tion Mrs. E. K. Vanderbilt spent one million dollars to build model tenements. Olga Nethersole claimed that the drama was responsible for the reforms.69 Although this ig- nored the impact of muckraking articles by Ray Stannard Baker and Charles Edward Russell, The Writing on the Wall clearly did contribute to the pressure for reform. The melodrama also led directly to a bill, introduced by Con- gressman McGavin (Illinois), which provided for an investi- gation of the fire escapes on buildings in the District of Columbia.70 69Indianapolis Star, April 6, 1910; St. Louis Star, March 31, 1910. 70New York Telegraph, January 16, 1909. 149 Another indication of the impact of muckraking in the theater was the production of Cleveland Moffett's Th3 Battle. Moffett, formerly the author of muckraking articles himself, insisted that reformers and socialists were too frequently depicted in a favorable manner on Broadway. He responded with a drama which provided an elaborate ethical defense of the capitalist system. Landlords, he asserted, should not be blamed for tenement conditions which resulted from the laziness of slum dwellers. Furthermore, he argued, if the poor were given an opportunity to run a business, they would operate it like the owners of a trust. Thg Battle provoked considerable controversy: John D. Rocke- feller, Jr., attended a performance and arranged for his Bible class to see the drama; Edward Markham, Richard T. Ely, W. J. Ghent, and Gaylord Wilshire engaged in a public debate with the author.71 Interest in muckraking was, however, on the decline. By 1910, Louis Filler has observed, the leaders of the move- ment had turned from expose to programs for change--materia1 of little use in the theater. The muckraking magazines de- clined rapidly, by 1912 they had like The American shifted emphasis or like Hampton's were about to be driven out of business.72 A corresponding decline in muckraking in the 71Cleveland Plain Dealer, August 29, 1909; New York Times, January 20, 1909, p. 11; New York Times, January 3, 1909, p. 11. 72Filler, The Muckrakers, pp. 359-371. 150 theater occurred. Broadhurst's The Dollar Mark was not suc- cessful in New York; Patterson joined with his cousin Robert McCormick to win control of the Chicago Tribune, his play- writing career was over; and Charles Klein, convinced the public was tired of protest plays, turned to comedy. After 1910, a few dramatists continued to write about political, economic, and social problems; however, these problems were utilized primarily as background material for character stu- dies. Between 1900 and 1910 the theater reflected the rise and decline of muckraking journalism. No drama had the ob- vious impact of The Jungle; yet, The Lion and the Mouse at- tracted large audiences, and many believed it reiterated the message of Ida Tarbell's History of Standard Oil. George Broadhurst's The Man of the Hour invoked a similar response, and it was viewed as a dramatization of urban reform battles. Joseph Patterson illustrated how corporate economic pressure could be utilized to stifle the press in The Fourth Estate, which anticipated later muckraking articles. In Dope and By-Products, Patterson depicted other repressive aspects of capitalism. Furthermore, Olga Nethersole pointed to specific cases of tenement reform, which she linked to William Hurlbut's The Writing on the Wall. Significant developments in form separate the thea- ter of the muckraking era from that of subsequent periods. Since the turn of the century, however, American dramatists have been relating financial power to social issues. 151 Certainly many dramatists of the 1930's were, unlike Klein and Broadhurst, firmly committed to a radical ideology. Yet, the reformist outlook of the progressive era was mir- rored in the plays of Klein and Broadhurst. The Lion and the Mouse suggested the progressive reliance on responsible capitalism, while Patterson's plays more accurately spelled out weaknesses and complexities in the programs advocated by reformers. Furthermore, the plays of Patterson and Hurlbut contained elements of pessimism more often associated with the little-theater movement in the following decade. Muck- raking drama, thus, helped to prepare the way for changes in form, as well as subject matter. us 3‘! - I "‘~‘L V "\n A. ’ I i4: “U. f ”(5 2‘. I til-:1» CHAPTER V A WORKERS' THEATER: JULIUS HOPP AND THE PROGRESSIVE STAGE SOCIETY If a significant number of Broadway plays mirrored the muckraking movement during the first decade of the twen- tieth century, the primary purpose of commercial producers was not to bring about social change but to attract the reform-conscious public to their theaters. During the same decade, Julius Hopp struggled to create a workers' theater along the lines of those already established in his native Germany. (While the Broadway producers were exploiting so- cial problems for profits, Hopp sought to demonstrate that the stage could elevate the class consciousness of the workers. Beginning with the Progressive Stage Society and later through the Theater of Labor and the Socialist Stage Society, Hopp offered European social drama at prices the working class could afford. He also hoped his theater would encourage the writing of American socialist plays, and he believed that the dramatist ought to actively participate in transforming the social-economic system. Therefore, Hopp used his theater to promote radical causes and to persuade workers to vote for Socialist party candidates. While, in theory, Hopp advocated revolutionary 152 153 tactics, in practice he supported reformist goals. He be- lieved that the aesthetic aims of socialism were as impor- tant as the material; but, by the end of the decade he was energetically contributing to a scheme that provided an op- portunity for lower-class New Yorkers to witness Broadway productions. Thus, once Hopp reached the conclusion that a socialist theater was an unattainable goal, he decided that even the entertainment-oriented commercial stage could add a worthwhile dimension to the lives of working-class people. "The theater being born in America today," wrote Hallie Flanagan in 1931, "is a theater of workers. Its ob- ject is to create a national culture by and for the working class." In the following year the League of Workers' Thea- tres was founded; groups which participated in the organiza- tion asserted that "theater is a weapon" and employed agitprop (agitation and propaganda) skits. Later they also utilized more sophisticated one-act plays, such as Clifford Odets' Waiting For Lefty;1 but, their goal, as one historian of the movement has noted, was political not cultural.2 In the sense that the workers' theater was both by and for the working class, it was a new conception in 1931. lHallie Flanagan, "A Theatre Is Born," Theatre Arts (November 1931); Mordecai Gorelik, New Theatres For Old (New York: Samuel French, 1940), P. 401; Gerald Rabkin, Drama and Commitment: Politics and the American Theatre of the Thirties (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1964), p. 173. 2Douglas McDermott, "Agitprop: Production Practice in the Workers' Theatre, 1932-1942," Theatre Survey, VII (November 1966), 115. 154 Yet, the idea of a working-class theater was not unique. Theater historians have cited, for example, the Workers' Drama League which was founded in 1926 by John Howard Law- son, Michael Gold, Ida Rauh, and others. Best remembered for a production of Karl Wittfogel's The Biggest Boob in the Wgrld, translated by Upton Sinclair, this organization was short-lived. In the following year, however, Lawson and Gold joined with John Dos Passos, Francis Farragoh, and Emjo Basshe to organize the New Playwrights' Theatre, generously endowed by art patron Otto Kahn and similarly dedicated to depicting the problems of the working class.3 The idea of working-class participation in amateur productions was not new in 1931, either. Some of the little-theater groups of the progressive era depended on acting talents of workers.4 Furthermore, during the 1920's hundreds of dramatic clubs had staged plays for audiences that had little interest in and could not afford Broadway productions. Throughout the decade Ukranian, Finnish, and Swedish groups kept alive European naturalistic dramas from the pre-World War I era. The impact of depression condi- tions at the end of the decade heightened interest in social issues amongst the membership of these groups, and some as a result experimented with new techniques. One such group, 3Douglas McDermott, "The Theatre Nobody Knows: WOrkers' Theatre in America, 1926-1942," Theatre Survey, VI (May 1965), 67; Gorelik, New Theatres, p. 400. 4See below, Chap. VII, pp. 266-267. 155 the Prolet-Bfihne, a German-speaking organization, introduced a chanted type of play which they called "agitprop."5 The director who led members of the Prolet-Bfihne toward a militant political and social ideology was John Bohn, a former student of Emanuel Reicher.6 Certainly no amateur, Reicher was a celebrated European actor, best known for his roles in the dramas of Ibsen and Hauptmann.7 In 1915, Reicher came to America and sought to create a theater that would be comparable to the great independent theaters of Europe. Though Reicher's organization, the Modern Stage Society, gained financial support from the Drama League and Amos Pinchot for an English-language production of Haupt- mann's The Weavers, it did not last long enough to accom- plish any of the goals proclaimed by its founder.8 As a part of the Modern Stage Society, however, Reicherlunisought to interest the working class in the dra- mas of Hauptmann, Bjornson, and Ibsen, through an auxiliary group, the American People's Theatre. Associated with 5McDermott, "Theatre Nobody Knows," p. 67; Gorelik, New Theatres, p. 401. 6McDermott, "Theatre Nobody Knows," p. 67. 7Anna Irene Miller, The Independent Theatre In Eur- ope (New York: R. Long & R. R. Smith, 1931), p. 104. 8Emanuel Reicher, The Modern Stage: ATheatre For Subscribers Only (n.p., 1915); Edward H. Smith, "A Free The- atre to Regenerate the American Drama," New York World, January 24, 1915; Christian Science Monitor, February 9, 1916; "Reicher is Praised for Production of The Weavers," New York Review, December 25, 1915, Clipping in Rose Pastor Stokes Collection, Yale University. ‘5‘ .1... n. U. I ‘ n ‘5‘" . w‘.‘ ‘Hu t.‘ 156 Reicher in this effort was Julius Hopp,9 who had organized some years earlier what might be called the first workers' theater in America. Julius Hopp's efforts to establish a workers' thea- ter in New York had, in fact, begun eleven years prior to Reicher's production of The Weavers. Though Hopp's efforts led to a theater more fgr than 9: the working class, politi- cal goals were emphasized rather than cultural. Further- more, Hopp no doubt believed his group's efforts were 9: the people, because he like Reicher tended to base conclusions regarding the American working class on experiences in Ger- many. Thus, he exaggerated the extent to which participa- tion by the Socialist party actually represented the work- ing class. Julius Hopp was twenty-five years of age and had been in the United States only five years, when he decided in 1904 that an independent theater might be successful in New York. Before launching the movement he discussed the idea of a workers' theater with several prominent social- ists, including Courtney Lemon, editor of The Worker; Horace Trauble, editor of The Conservator and socialist, probably best known for his friendship with Walt Whitman; Elsa Baker, a socialist poet; Gaylord Wilshire, a "millionaire" social- ist; and Henrietta Hovey, widow of the poet, Richard Hovey, dress reform advocate, and disciple of the Delsarte 9New York Times, September 8, 1915, p. 13. 157 philosophy, an acting technique which Steele MacKaye had in- troduced in the United States.10 After the group's first meeting, The Progressive Stage Society Bulletin was sent out. In addition to Julius Hopp's brief notes on membership in the organization, the announcement contained a speech by Courtney Lemon and a com- mentary written by Traubel. Lemon's speech, delivered at the Progressive Stage Society's first meeting held on June 30, 1904, was entitled "Commercialism and the Drama." Though Hopp later explained what he considered to be the objectives of the group, Lemon's statement best illustrates the Society's critique of the commercial theater and its artistic theory. Drama produced on the commercial stage was superfi- cial and inane, Lemon asserted. The theater, he conceded, did provide amusement, but, he insisted, that was a function which the vaudeville show and the music hall were better able to fulfill. A stage, Lemon continued, that sheds "no light on the great issues which confront civilization" and fails to deal "with the great social problems" has "no vital connection with life." Lemon reasoned it could "not inspire 10Whitman Bennett, "A Dramatic Enthusiast, the Truth About Julius Hopp and His Ventures," Boston Transcript, August 25, 1906; Ira Kipnis, The American Socialist Move- ment, 1897-1912 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1952), p. 387; Mildred Bain, Horace Traubel (New York: Al- bert and Charles Boni, 1913), pp. 48-51; David Karsner, Horace Traubel, His Life and Work (New York: Egment Arens, 1919), pp. 135-137; Allan Houston Macdonald, Richard Hovey, Man_and Craftsman (Durham, N. C.: Duke University Press, 1957), PP. 62-67. 158 nor instruct," and therefore, it was "divorced from true art."11 The editor of The Worker was skeptical about change. Capitalists owned the theaters and their patrons were drawn from a parasitic class--the idle rich. To the quest of the theatrical capitalist for profits, Lemon attributed not only the superficialities of the American drama but also the lack of basic safety measures, such as adequate fire protection in many theaters.12 There were many, Lemon noted, who thought that an endowed theater would invigorate American drama; however, because capitalist patronage also meant capitalist control, he rejected the idea. As examples of existing endowed in- stitutions, Lemon cited the University of Chicago and the libraries of Andrew Carnegie. At the University of Chicago, he contended, professors who made radical statements on so- cial questions lost their positions as a result of Rocke- feller's influence. Lemon admitted that at the present the books were impartially selected for Mr. Carnegie's librar- ies; but, he observed, at some time in the future, the work- ing class might be more militant. Should that occur, he suggested, no one would be surprised, if the Carnegie 1i- braries were to decide to exclude radical volumes dealing 1Courtney Lemon, "Commercialism and the Drama," in The Progressive Stage Society (New York: Co-operative Press, 1904). lzIbid. 159 with industrial relations. Therefore, Lemon concluded, "A theatre like Rockefeller's oil-soaked university or Carne- gie's blood-stained libraries" would not "stand for the great modern dramas which throw some revealing light on so- cial injustice and have some hope and hints for emancipation in them."13 In addition to the University of Chicago and the Carnegie libraries, Lemon cited the existing Broadway stage as an illustration of the way in which a wealthy patron would limit the content of an art theater. Problem plays about sex were permitted. Thus, "the rottenness of society is vividly exposed in the epigrams in society plays and in the jokes of the music halls." However, this occurred only because the cynical "smart set" liked "to laugh at jokes about themselves." Moreover, Lemon asserted that the social elite would not accept a drama that went beyond social sat- ire to seriously question the political and economic assump- tions on which the society was based. Therefore, he con- cluded, an ideological limit would restrict the content of any art theater that was dependent, like the commercial the- aters, on the financial support of the upper class.14 An art theater supported by the people, Lemon main- tained, could produce not only immortal works but also prob- lem plays about social and economic issues. Such dramas as Ibsen's An Enemy of the People and Hauptmann's The Weavers, lBIbid. 14Ibid. 160 which were almost never staged "because their revelations threatened the interests of the rich."15 Horace Traubel commended Hopp's efforts, which he viewed as an attempt to eliminate the star system. Further- more, he contrasted the Broadway theater which ignored im- portant public issues with the free stage which would "admit all the Questions and suppress no answers."16 Both Lemon and Traubel rejected a theater of propa- ganda. Traubel warned that doctrinaire plays would be dull. Lemon argued: By its nature the drama cannot serve as the instrument of any definite solution of the social problem. The purpose of the social drama can only be critical and iconoclastic; it can expose things as they are and show the cause of evil conditions, but its inherent limita- tions are such that it cannot propose a definite change or prove a particular principle of social evolution-- that must be left for the economist and the political agitator.l7 Julius Hopp outlined the Progressive Stage Society's aims and objectives. He stressed the group's educational goals. The society was organized, he argued, "for the pur- pose of increasing among ourselves the appreciation and in- fluence of the drama." The society planned lectures before each production and discussions afterward. Hopp also prom- ised that the dramas offered by the group would deal with 15Ibid. 16Horace Traubel, "Play Things," The Conservator (July 1904), reprinted in The Progressive Stage Society. l7Lemon, "Commercialism and the Drama." \ T». t 161 "life as it appears now to the writers of our time, who are writing about the struggles of our own days."18 The Progressive Stage Society's subscription system, obviously indebted to the Berlin Freie Volksbfihne, was based on an initiation fee of twenty-five cents and monthly dues of fifty cents. Members were entitled to a seat, selected by lot, at each performance. By January 1905 the society numbered about 1,200 members. Leaders of the group hoped to attract the people of New York's Lower East Side. Immi- grants from Eastern Europe had settled in this district where they dominated the garment unions.19 In Europe, thea- tergoing had been an important part of their cultural life; furthermore, they had supported socialist candidates for public office. The organization's dues were kept within the means of the working class; nevertheless, the society's mem- bership was drawn predominantly from literary men and women, artists, and students. The society's trustees included, in addition to Mrs. Henrietta Hovey and Courtney Lemon, Alexis C. Fern, Joseph H. Trant, and Ernest Crosby, the former in- ternational judge and founder of the Social Reform Club, who had written Captain Jinx, Hero, an anti-imperialism, muck- 20 raking novel in 1902. 18Julius Hopp, The Progressive Stage Society. 19"Teaching Socialism as Tried in New York, Popu- lar," Brooklyn Daily Eagle, January 8, 1905, p. 10; David Shannon, The Socialist Party in America (New York: Macmil- lan, 1958), p. 12. 20 "Teaching Socialism," Brooklyn Daily Eagle, 4P1 av» 162 On November 27, 1904, the Progressive Stage Soci- ety's initial production was greeted by a capacity house. The program consisted of two one-act plays, Miners and Sol- diers and The Scab. The former was written by Tola Dorian, a Russian exile. The latter was written especially for the occasion by Elsa Barker,21 a poet and lecturer who later joined the editorial staff of Hampton's Magazine. By the conclusion of the Progressive era the strike- breaker or scab was a familiar figure in American literature. In Sister Carrie, for example, when George Hurstwood accepts employment as a streetcar conductor during a strike, Dreiser indicates that he has been reduced to the level of a desper- ate man. Hurstwood is portrayed as an individual, tragic figure. In contrast, Miss Barker treated the strikebreaker in a more orthodox Socialist manner, as a traitor to his class, because he placed personal comfort before class loy- alty. The hero remained loyal to the working class, despite fear that his family might starve and threats from his land- lord and a finance company. The Scab is set in a typical workingman's tenement, where a laborer lives with his wife, their daughter, and his brother-in-law. Financial pressures on the family grow as a strike lengthens: the rent goes unpaid; installments on January 8, 1905, p. 10; Ernest Crosby, Captain Jinks, Hero (reprint of 1902 ed.; Upper Saddle River, N. J.: Gregg Press, 1968). 21"Teaching Socialism," Brooklyn Dai1y_Eagle, Janu- ary 8, 1905, p. 10. 163 their meager furniture are due; and their young daughter cannot understand why there is not enough food in the house. Finally, the wife's brother is gone an entire day. He re- turns with an armful of food and explains he found a dollar in the street. As the grateful family sit down to eat, how- ever, the workingman notices a bobbin in his brother-in- law's pocket--evidence that the dollar was the result of "scabbing." He takes the food from the table, even the bread his daughter is about to eat, and tosses it out the window. "We want honest food in this house," declares the class-conscious worker, driving the scab out of his home, "or we shall have none."2 Although the play ended with a victory for the strikers, the author suggested that the degradation of the working class would continue under the capitalist system. When the young girl was told, for example, that her mother will no longer spend the daylight hours in the sunshine teaching her daughter for she must return to the mill, the child responds: "Then, I don't see why you are so glad that the strike is over."2 Miners and Soldiers reflected a strain of European thought even more pessimistic than Elsa Barker's The Scab. The plot depicts a group of desperate strikers, who decide to blow up a mine, defended by a group of soldiers. The man chosen by the revolutionaries finds the mine guarded by his 22 23 Ibid. Ibid. 164 son, a young soldier who is deeply committed to patriotism and who readily has accepted military discipline. The young man keeps his father at a distance with a bayonet; however, his father's appeal to labor-class solidarity causes him to reconsider. Faced with a dilemma he cannot resolve, the soldier with a working-class background commits suicide.24 Hopp stressed the fact that Elsa Barker had written The Scab, because the Progressive Stage Society had sought suitable socialist plays.25 Social and economic issues, he observed, had been dealt with in a thoughtful manner by sev- eral American writers, citing Edwin Markham, David Graham Phillips, and Jack London.26 With the existence of a non- commercial theater committed to the production of social drama, Hopp expected that numerous writers, formerly stifled by the Broadway stage, would submit suitable plays to his organization, and further that social drama would have re- markable impact on economic and social life: Just think what it could be for America, if a powerful playwright should arise here and by excoriating the in- justice of the trusts, the corruptions of our political system, and the wickedness of society, cause a reform movement that would clear the air and the soul of peo- ple, so we could revert to the pure upright standards on which the good and true must stand. Suppose Philadel- phia was shown on the stage for the corrupt and content- ed pesthole that it is, suppose the "frenzied finan- ciers" were lampooned out of existence, suppose that Newport and its exiles were held up to ridicule and sat- ire that the "400" would return to the simple life. Would these not be gains for the people? Then, too, 24 25 Ibid. Ibid. 26Julius Hopp, "The Social Drama and Its Purpose," The Eclectic Magazine, CXLVI (January 1905), 11. 165 suppose the proletariat could find a stage that would talk to him about problems that he faces every day, about problems that were not dead and buried with Ham- let's father, would not that be a gain? All these thiggs and more the society stands for and means to do. Despite Hopp's optimism, suitable American plays were not forthcoming, the Progressive Stage Society relied, except for The Scab, on European drama. On January 1, 1905, the group's second production was Ibsen's An Enemy of the People, performed for the first time in the United States. In February, this was repeated for the benefit of the New York Society of the Friends of Russian Freedom.28 One of the trustees of Hopp's group, Ernest Crosby, was a prominent member of this organization. The Progressive Stage Society also produced The Revolt and The Escape by Villiers de d'Isle Adam, two scenes from Ibsen's Peer Gypt, Clara Ruge's On the Road, and Bjornsterne Bjornson's Beyond Human Power 29 for the first time in English. From the start Hopp's organization was confronted with financial difficulties. Despite donations of five to ten dollars by some of the members, the group's funds were exhausted, after two performances. When Hopp proposed dues of five dollars per year and regular prices for seats, he 27"Teaching Socialism," Brooklyn Dai1y_Eagle, Janu- ary 8, 1905, p. 10. ZBIbid. An Enemy of the People (program) in Ger- trude Robinson Smith's Scrapbook (NYPLTC). 29NYDM, February 10, 1906, p. 11; NYDM, April 1, 1905, p. 16; The Theatre, V (December 1905), xvi. 166 was accused of catering to the rich, and some of the members walked out.30 One critic attributed the Progressive Stage Socie- ty's continuing financial problems to their failure to at- tract a working-class audience, while at the same time their performances lacked the competence to hold an audience of intellectuals.31 With a membership as high as 1,200 it could potentially draw on greater resources than any of the highly successful little theaters a decade later. However, Hopp was limited by his German background. He thought in terms of the Freie Volksbfihne with its large working-class audience and its excellent professional actors. In America, the lower classes proved little interested in dramas by Ib- sen and Bjornson. Similarly, American professional actors were little inclined to participate in Sunday evening off- Broadway productions. The Irish Players had already demon- strated that dedicated amateurs could make outstanding con- tributions to the theater.32 Yet, if Hopp was aware of this he seemed unable to either attract or develop talented ac- tors, and it was the inept performances by third-rate thes- pians that drove intellectual theatergoers away from 30Whitman Bennett, "A Dramatic Enthusiast," Boston Transcript, August 25, 1906. 31 Whitman Bennett, Boston Transcript, July 19, 1911. 32See, for example, Una Ellis-Fermor, The IrishiDra- matic Movement (London: Methuen & Co., 1939), pp. 40-45, 70; William Butler Yeats, Plays and Controversies (New York: Macmillan, 1924), pp. 68-73. 167 Progressive Stage Society performances. If Hopp lacked both organizational and artistic tal- ent, he was completely dedicated to objectives of the Pro- gressive Stage Society and he ignored materialistic consid- erations. A friend once noted Hopp never had more than four dollars in his pocket, while another observed that when Hopp wanted to shave, he borrowed Courtney Lemon's razor.33 For a short time, Hopp kept the Progressive Stage Society oper- ating by supplementing their meager resources through con- tributions, collected during their performances. When this failed, Hopp sought financial support from New York labor unions. Although some members of the Federation of Labor were skeptical about a theater which would depict the same capitalist oppression they witnessed in their daily lives on the stage, a committee of the union agreed to help finance Hopp's efforts. The Theatre of Labor was established; it left theatrical concerns in the hands of the Progressive Stage Society, while union funds helped to defray production costs.34 Among the Theatre of Labor productions were 2993 People, a one-act drama by Hopp: which portrayed slum life and anticipated subsequent novels and plays that probed the 33Cleveland Leader, May 15, 1910. 34Whitman Bennett, "A Dramatic Enthusiast," Boston Transcript, August 25, 1906; NYDM, March 24, 1906, p. 9; NYDM, April 14, 1906, p. 13. 168 economic basis of prostitution, and The Brotherhood of Man, another Hopp play, later published in The Eclectic Magazine, which consisted primarily of a debate on the ethics of great wealth.35 As a result of basic disagreements between Hopp and the union leaders as to both political ideology and tac- tics, however, the Theatre of Labor lasted only a few months. "Our own age differs from all past eras in that it is a transition from commercialism into socialism," Hopp ar- gued, in an article entitled "The Social Drama and Its Pur- pose," published in the November 1905 issue of Eclectic Mag- azine. Socialism would bring about economic stability and the abolition of poverty. Hopp was less certain, however, as to how the transformation of the economy would occur. He did, however, imply that socialism could be brought about through a legislative majority: This change is to be brought about by the laboring peo- ple, who constitute a majority, and who are appealed to, in order to demand the control and social ownership of industry, so that the distribution of the necessaries of life according to need may be accomplished.36 Yet, although Hopp did not specify who would appeal to the workers, he observed that "the strong revolutionary and rad- ical movement of Europe are, to a large extent, due to the 35Whitman Bennett, "A Dramatic Enthusiast," Boston Transcript, August 25, 1906; New York Sun, January 22, 1907; NYDM, March 24, 1906, p. 9; Julius Hopp, The Brotherhood of Map, in The Eclectic Magazine, CXLVII (July 1906). 6Julius Hopp, "The Social Drama and Its Purpose," The Eclectic Magazine, CXLVI (January 1905), 6. 169 leadership of the literary world"37 and in his discussion of European intellectual leaders, Hopp celebrated the use of radical tactics outside the realm of legislative politics. Novels, Hopp observed, citing Uncle Tom's Cabin, had frequently been instrumental in stimulating social change. In the future, he suggested the drama could provide an even greater impetus toward political and social action, for "life itself is . . . reproduced" on the stage. Hopp be- lieved that because genuine art required "truthfulness to life," most prominent modern dramatists were "heralds of so- cial change." Their message had "its origin in the sympathy arising out of social condition, and their purpose, Hopp as- serted, was to "appeal to Man's intelligence to promote progress and to do away with social evils." Furthermore, he maintained, the immediate contact between the actor and the audience amplified the message of a play.38 Hopp argued that widespread public criticism of the repressive Russian regime was the result of social dramas such as Tolstoy's The Power of Darkness and Gogol's The Re- yisgr. However, Hopp believed the modern social dramatist ought to be more than an intellectual critic of his society, for through interaction with his environment the artist could more effectively produce radical social change. In the process a dialectic involving the theoretical and the practical would occur; ideas would influence actions, which 37Ibid. 38Ibid., pp. 4-6. 170 would stimulate new ideas. The modern dramatist, Hopp not- ed, had frequently taken ideas from social conflicts and radical movements. He believed, however, that the social dramatist should not simply deal with current issues as an isolated artist and critic of society; instead, the modern dramatist should actively participate in political action and should have direct contact with people through trade unions, universities, and lecture halls. Hopp particularly admired Maxim Gorki, whose audiences had cheered his revolu- tionary drama on the stage and, thus inspired, joined him at the barricades. Gorki was the product of the intellectual and social rebellion in his own country, and he in turn had influenced the rebellion.39 Hopp recognized that many modern social dramas had universal qualities, but he doubted European intellectual plays would appeal to American audiences, even dramas which dealt with conditions similar to those in the United States. Ibsen's The Pillars of Society might, he suggested, have been written about President Baer of the coal trust, while ThegLeague of Youth depicted a politician who could be found representing any urban constituency in the country. Yet, Hopp was skeptical that many Americans would find Ibsen's dramas of interest. "The modern drama of America will have to grow out of American soil and conditions," he contended, and Hopp, himself, sought to fulfill the role of social 39Ibid., pp. 4—5. 171 dramatist as he had delineated it. Therefore, he wrote a number of plays, based on American social and economic prob- lems, and he also endeavored to establish a theater which would have a political impact through direct involvement 40 with the peOple and specific problems. In one of his plays, The Friends of Labor, Hopp ig- nored the subsidy arrangements of the Theatre of Labor and bitterly attacked both politicians and labor leaders, sug- gesting that they worked together to oppress labor within the framework of capitalism. The opening scene of The Friends of Labor depicted a meeting called to arbitrate the grievances of streetcar workers. An antisocialist bishop presides at the meeting, during which Senator Whitaker, president of the traction company and boss of the Democratic Party announces a plan to run candidates, pledged to campaign for municipal ownership of public utilities but privately committed to oppose such legislation. The senator easily manipulates the streetcar workers' union president, a Gompers-like figure, through personal attention which reinforces the labor leader's feel- ing of self-importance. In the second act various political leaders address the union. A second group of labor "fakirs" emerges; they play to establish an independent labor party which will 40Ibid., p. 8. 1Courtney Lemon, "Review of The Friends of Labor," ThejWorker, May 25, 1907, p. 2; The Sun (New York), May 22, 1907. 172 throw its support to the Republican Party just before the election. Lawrence, the socialist hero, sees through the plan; but, when he protests, he is expelled from the meet- ing. A bishop speaks on the need for universal love, an idea enthusiastically supported by Ralph M. Measley of the Conciliation Federation, a man who seeks to stifle the de- velopment of labor-class consciousness and a not too subtle allusion to Ralph M. Easley of the National Civic Federa- tion.42 The remaining acts depict the various groups in the streets; first, seeking to advance their candidates, and then, after the election, again confronting the capitalists. This time, however, no arbitration is offered. Scabs are brought in to fill the jobs of striking employees, and when one of the strikebreakers kills a man in the ensuing con- flict, the militia enters to suppress the strikers. Law- rence, the socialist, persuades one of the soldiers, his brother, to throw down his gun and join the workers. When the socialist tries to persuade both groups against vio- lence, however, he is shot by the militia.43 The Central Federated Union demonstrated little in- clination to see The Friends of Labor produced; the union, in fact, as the result of ideas expressed in the drama, 42Lemon, "Review," The Worker, May 25, 1907, p. 2; The Sun (New York), May 22, 1907. 43Ibid. 173 decided to terminate its arrangement with the Progressive Stage Society. Hopp then established the Socialist Stage Society and sought alternative sources of funds. In September 1906, for example, Hopp read The Friends of Labor before an audience at the newly opened so- cialist college, the Rand School of Social Science. He hoped that some wealthy amateur socialist would become in- terested in the drama and agree to finance its production.44 Contributions came slowly; however, therefore, late in Janu- ary, he sought support from another group, the Industrial Workers of the World. W. J. Hanneman, secretary and treas- urer of the IWW, and Charles E. Jones, secretary of the New York Industrial Council which was affiliated with the IWW, attended a reading of Hopp's drama and expressed interest.45 In the spring of 1907 considerable public attention was focused on the trial of Wobbly leaders. On December 30, 1905, Frank Steunenberg, former governor of Idaho had been killed by a bomb. Harry Orchard confessed and charged that William Haywood, Charles H. Moyer, and George Petibone were accomplices; they were arrested without a warrant, extradit- ed, and placed in death row of a state penitentiary without 44The Worker, September 22, 1906, p. l. The Rand School, which offered courses in socialism and related ma- terial but sought to avoid dogmatic teaching, enrolled about 250 students in 1906-1907, by 1916-1917, 4,000 students were attending classes at the college. See, Algernon Lee, "The Story of the Rand School," in The Case of the Rand School (New York, 1919); "A Socialist College,fiNation, LXXXIII (October 4, 1906), 278. 45The Sun (New York), January 22, 1907. 174 a trial. Protest demonstrations were held, as a result, in Boston, Chicago, New York and other cities. The Haywood, Moyer, and Petibone Case became a eehee célebre of the left in the first decade of the twentieth century, and Hopp anxious to fulfill his own conception of the role of social dramatist, persuaded a theater manager to allow a production of The Friends of Labor for the benefit of the defense fund. In April, Hopp secured the Kalick The- ater in the Bowery for a week in order to stage his drama. Bill Kahn, manager of the theater agreed to contribute five percent of the proceeds from advanced sales conducted through The Worker office and an additional five percent of the entire gross to a fund to pay legal fees incurred by the Wobbly defendants. Following the New York Production, the play was booked at the Blaney Theatre in Newark, New Jersey, where ten percent of the proceeds was to be given to the de- fense fund.47 The opening night's attendance was impressive. It included Upton Sinclair and Edward Markam, who had encour- aged Hopp's original theatrical venture, but this level of support was not sustained. The size of subsequent audiences, 46William Haywood, Bill Haywood's Book (New York: International Publishers, 1929), p. 194; Ray Ginger, The Bending Cross: A Biography of Eugene Victor Debs (New Brunswick, N. J.: Rutgers University Press, 1949), pp. 260- 263. 47The Worker, April 20, 1907, p. 6; April 27, 1907, p. 1; May 11, 1901, p. 1; May 18, 1907, p. 1; New York Times, May 25, 1907, p. 2. Lu 175 Courtney Lemon contended, was a reproach to the socialists of New York. After three years of hard labor, Hopp's re- sults were being ignored by his comrades.48 Courtney Lemon described Hopp's drama as "a thing of mass effects, a panoramic play dramatizing mobs, social groups of which the individual characters are only inciden- tal expressions." He considered the mass scenes comparable to those in Hauptmann's The Weavers and noted there were no women in the play,49 which alone made it remarkable by Broadway standards. The Sun's reviewer dealt with the drama in sarcastic terms, which Hopp's technical abilities perhaps merited. Yet, the reviewer's commentary on the ideology of the play suggested that Hopp had a clearer grasp of the re- alities of the social-economic framework than the urbane journalist: Labor hasn't any friends at all; labor itself is almost criminally foolish and harbors traitors its gates in- side; the Civic Federation is composed entirely of rich crooks and their dupes; everybody in it who wants to help labor is an imbecile and the rest are wolves sheeps' clothes wearing. In addition to raising funds for the defense fund, Hopp acquired the rights to Not Guilty, a crude satire of the case and police efforts to silence the socialist press. Although written by John Spargo a well-known socialist 48"Teaching Socialism," Brooklyn Daily Eagle, Janu- ary 8, 1905, p. 10; Lemon, "Review,fiThe Worker, May 25, 1907. 49Lemon, "Review," The Worker, May 25, 1907, p. 2. 50The Sun (New York), May 22, 1907. 176 writer, whose muckraking novel The Bitter Cry of the Chil- dren had attracted wide attention, Not Guilty proved unsuit- able for the stage. A somewhat cynical critic asserted that it would take less than fifteen minutes on stage; Hopp elected not to produce the play. The influence of Spargo's play was restricted to those who read it in pamphlet form.51 Hopp's involvement in the Haywood case illustrated his belief that a social dramatist should both seek to in- fluence the society through the intellectual impact of his drama and actively participate in the political process to bring about social change. Early in 1908, Hopp endeavored to further involve himself in the political process. After a lengthy search, he located a suitable theater on Third Avenue, where he hoped to offer dramas which would persuade voters to support Socialist party candidates. At the small theater, where the famous Russian actress Mme. Nazimova had made her first appearance on an American stage, Hopp planned to offer both Yiddish and English plays; admission was set at ten cents to encourage the masses of the Lower East Side 52 to attend. The first play produced by the Socialist Stage 51John Spargo, Not Guilty(Boston: Ariel Press, n.d.); New York Telegraph, January 16, 1907; NYDM, March 30, 1905, p. 15. 52New York Times, March 19, 1908, p. 1; New York Times, January 23, 1909, p. 5; Clipping dated September 21, 1908, Grey Locke Collection, NYPLTC; New York Times, April 5, 1908, p. 11; New York Times, September 22, 1908; NYDM, October 3, 1908, p. 4. 177 Society at the Third Street Theatre was Hopp's The Pioneers, first read by Hopp at the Rand School. In a speech prior to reading his new play, Hopp commended Charles Klein's The Lion and the Mouse; but, he insisted no great play had yet been written in the United States, based on socialist ideol- ogy. The Pioneers, he implied was a distinct advance over previous works.53 Hopp's drama dealt with the disillusion- ment with capitalism experienced by members of some aristo- cratic families, such as Joseph Patterson and James G. Phelps Stokes. These converts to socialism, Hopp considered "pioneers"; he anticipated others would follow in their path.54 The plot of The Pioneers describes the career of Walter Armstrong, whom some critics associated with J. G. Phelps Stokes,55 and his sister Helen. As president of the Tunnel Construction Company, their father had recently been involved in a scandal, when a tunnel, obviously built with cheap labor and inferior materials, had collapsed, killing a number of people. After reading an article in The Truth, 53New York Telegraph, September 23, 1907. 54Ibid., August 1, 1907. 55One commentator also linked the theme with the East River Tunnel construction. See, New York Telegraph, September 23, 1907. For the controversy between the New York Contracting Company, headed by the brother of Tammany boss, Charles F. Murphy, and the Central Federated Union over safety precautions on the construction of the Pennsyl- vania Railroad's East River Tunnel, see, New York Times is- sues for June 21, 1906, p. 3; July 3, 1906, p. l. 178 a socialist publication which cited the causes of the disas- ter, Helen confronts the company engineer who confirms the account. When she questions her father about the story, he merely replies: "Competent engineers will be employed." While hired testimony might convince a jury, it did not sat- isfy Walter or Helen Armstrong. Walter publishes a letter which reveals his father's scheme, if successful, would have netted an eight-million-dollar profit. At the final curtain Helen and her brother join the Socialist party and become 56 settlement workers. Although The Pioneers attained little recognition, Hopp, who saw himself as a pathmaker, renamed his theater the Pioneer Theatre and continued his struggle to provide a socialist theater for the working classes of New York. One of his later plays was The Dolls; originally written for the Socialist Sunday School of the Eighth Assembly District, it was produced by the Socialist Stage Society and was later purchased by the owner of a vaudeville house.57 Prolonged illness and perhaps discouragement, how- ever, virtually ended Julius Hopp's career as a dramatist in 1909. Only one additional drama by Hopp was staged, The ‘World Aflame, an allegorical antiwar pageant, performed in the spring of 1919.58 Nevertheless, Hopp did remain active 56The_§hh (New York), October 22, 1908; New York Telegraph, September 10, 1907. 57New York Times, March 28, 1908, p. 8. 58New York World, June 2, 1915; The Sun (New York), .ApriJ.22, 1919, p. 4. 179 in the New York theater. During the second decade of the twentieth century, he also abandoned his efforts to provide New York with a so- cialistic workers' theater. Instead, he helped to provide better theatrical entertainment for the people of the Lower East Side than they could normally afford by working through established commercial theaters. When Winthrop Ames, who had organized the New Theatre along intellectual and elite lines decided to hold a series of "people's nights," he turned to Hopp whose experience and knowledge of the lower classes proved useful. As a result many people who ordinar- ily could not afford Broadway prices were able to attend first-class productions. After the New Theatre closed, Lee Schubert and other commercial theater managers expressed in- terest in the project. They began to sell tickets at re- duced rates near the end of Broadway runs to lower-class residents of New York through the Wage Earners Theatre League, the Educational Theatre League, and the Modern Stage Society--groups which Hopp organized.5 In a published play, Teepe (1904), Hopp argued in somewhat Turnerian fashion that America had changed, with the decline of the frontier it had become like Europe. Yet, if Hopp spoke for millions of immigrants who had 59Boston Transcript, July 9, 1911; Lynde Denig, "Theatre Tickets at Cut Rates," The Theatre, XX (April 1915), 186. 60Julius Hopp: Tears (Boston: Poet-Lore Press, 1904). u ll .54 I\ uh» y.\ >~. 180 experienced similar disillusionment, he was unable to at- tract them into his theater. Perhaps, in part, this was be- cause he was too closely linked to the Socialist party, which was not especially sympathetic to immigrants during the muckraking era.61 Not until the end of World War I was the Socialist party dominated by immigrants groups concen- trated in New York.62 Hopp proved equally unable to attract either workers or intellectuals to his theater. He recognized that the leadership of the American labor movement was not radical; his The Friends of Labor expressed this with sufficient clarity that labor unions withdrew their support from the Progressive Stage Society. If the working class itself was more radical than its leaders, as Hopp assumed, his dramas failed to attract them. Furthermore, they showed little in- terest in the European dramas on which he generally relied. Intellectuals showed considerable interest in the Progres- sive Stage Society, but the quality of his productions dis- couraged many. The interest generated by the little-theater move- ment in the following decade suggests that if Hopp had at- tracted more creative and talented performers, his 61Charles Leinenweber, "The American Socialist Party and 'New' Immigrants," Science & Society, XXX (Winter 1968), 9-10. 62James Weinstein, The Decline of Socialism in Amer- ica, 1212-1925 (New York: Monthly Review Press, 1967), pp. 327-328. 181 Progressive Stage Society might have been successful. Fur- thermore, the Irish Players could have been a model more analogous to the American situation than the Freie Volkes- @32- Yet, the little theaters depended far more on intel- lectuals than workers, and Hopp sought to establish a work- ers' theater. It is doubtful that more creative actors would have brought greater numbers of workers to Progressive Stage Society performances. If Hopp's theater lacked the mobility of the "shock troops" of the "agitprOp" workers' theaters of the 1930's, his theater did seek to attract the people of the Lower East Side and he did insist the dramatist must maintain close contact with the people. Among the plays produced by the Progressive Stage Society there were no dramatic landmarks; but, workers' theaters in the 1930's produced little of high aesthetic quality, either. The first workers' theater failed not because Hopp's actors lacked talent nor because the drama lacked quality or a message but because the pro- letariat was not sufficiently radical in the progressive era. 1"?“ .11 wt. W“ ‘4 «J. .5: at» 1"“. p‘.‘ O "A‘v 7. .. v, 31 a,“ V» RH I‘. I v k\~ «(we 3‘ \ s CHAPTER VI "AMERICA'S DRAMA RENAISSANCE": FITCH, MOODY, SHELDON, AND THE PROGRESSIVE ERA Courtney Lemon maintained in 1904 that a theater subsidized by plutocrats could not revitalize the American drama. Despite his assertion, the impulse toward reform from above exerted a strong influence on the American stage during the progressive era. At the universities, where the theater had hitherto been an object of scorn, a surge of in- terest in the acted-drama appeared. From the financial elite, patrons of the opera and symphony orchestras dis- covered the noncommercial theater was also worthy of cultur- al philanthropy. An early indication of a renaissance in the drama occurred at the beginning of the twentieth century, when Clyde Fitch turned from inane comedies and vehicles for stars to more satirical studies of upper-class mores. Fitch 'was totally isolated from the world of Courtney Lemon, and certainly he was no reformer; yet, in the progressive era his portrayals of the New York aristocracy became more crit- ical. Moreover, such plays as The Climbers, The Truth, and 'The City represented an obvious attempt to write drama of more lasting quality than the typical Broadway fare. 182 183 In The City, Fitch touched briefly on the relation- ship between ethics and the environment. Although Fitch in rather theatrical fashion denied that urban society did any- thing more than magnify already existing human weaknesses, the same theme appeared in plays by other dramatists during the progressive era. Turnerian assumptions of greater free- dom in the West were developed in dramas by William Vaughn Moody and Charles Kenyon. Moody's heroine in The Great Di- yide revolts against inhibitions inherited from generations of New England Puritanism. In her eyes the western hero be- comes a "Noble Savage," though crude, he is vibrant in con- trast to the stifled products of the decadent East. While Moody described a revolt against the values of urban soci- ety, Charles Kenyon in Kindling portrayed an assault against the social-economic oppression of life in the slums. For Kenyon's heroine, the West represents economic opportunity. Writing about an even lower stratum of urban poor, Edward Sheldon suggested in Salvation Nell that the individual could rise above the pressures of the worst ghetto exist- ence. Both Moody and Sheldon were graduates of Harvard University; the latter, moreover, was the first participant of English 47, a class in playwriting conducted by George Pierce Baker, to attain Broadway recognition. First of- fered in 1905-06, Baker's class by the end of the progres- sive era had helped to train leaders in every aspect of the theater. 184 Although Baker hoped to advance the level of Ameri- can drama, he prepared his students for careers in conven- tional commercial theaters. In time, many contributed to a thorough analysis of American society in the theater; how- ever, initially, economic and social issues were overshad- owed by theatrical concerns amongst Baker's students. In 1909, the New Theatre opened in New York. Built with funds from Morgan, Guggenheim, and other members of the financial elite, the New Theatre was managed by Winthrop Ames, another Harvard graduate. During its first season plays by Ibsen and Galsworthy were produced but the classics dominated; one American play was performed, Edward Sheldon's The Nigger. To the New York theater critics, Sheldon's early plays seemed quite radical; one compared Salvation Nell to Gorky's The Night's Refuge. Certainly, plays about life in the slums and race relations might have been radical but Sheldon like Fitch, Moody, and Kenyon tended to concentrate in individual conflicts and ignore social themes. When in The Nigger he was forced to deal with questions of prejudice auni discrimination, he responded with cliches which not even 'the elitist patrons of the New Theater could have viewed as dangerous. There were probably few Americans as far removed frtnn the ideals of the strenuous life in progressive America .as Clyde Fitch. In an age which valued physical energy and rtflnast exploits Fitch exemplified the highest standards of 185 refinement and taste. At his elegant Italian country home or his New York Brownstone, he provided instruction in the social graces for rising young actresses. Fitch descended on New York, after his years at Amherst College, where his bright blue suits and portrayals of female roles on the stage with his high-pitched falsetto voice caused a "sensa- tion."l With such plays as Beau Brummell (1890) written for Richard Mansfield, A Modern Match (1892), Mistress Betty (1895), and The Cowboy and the Lady (1899), Fitch estab- lished a reputation as a skillful playwright. In fact, due to the absence of problems raised by populists and labor leaders in his plays it sometimes has been assumed that these problems were entirely excluded from the American the- ater of the nineties. Fitch was far removed from these so- cial problems. His own world, Van Wyck Brooks observed, was one "of smart flirtations and Vanderbilt balls, four-in- hands, diamonds, orchids, and Hungarian music."2 Maud .Adams, a popular star of the period, once advised Fitch: I wish you could do some things that you'd hate to do. I wish you could give over your beloved Italy and your admired France and to to some place where the art is dead and life is uppermost--common life. We live so much among people of morbid tendencies, neuresthenics 1Wesley S. Griswold, Hartford Courant, September 16, 11934; Undated clipping in Clyde Fitch folder, NYPLTC; Balti- Imore Sun, September 12, 1909; Lloyd Morris, Postscripts to Yesterday--Amer_ica: The Lag Fifty Years (New York: Ran- dom House, 1947), pp. 172-174. 2Van Wyck Brooks, The Confident Years, 1895-1915 (New York: E. P. Dutton & Co., 1952), P. 113. 186 (I can't spell it), and the like--that we begin to think they are real, and they are real of their kind but it isn't a red blood kind.3 Fitch indicated an awareness of the boundaries of his social life. "I live my life in a mist of Shams," he wrote to Howells.4 If Fitch was not prepared to publicly defend anarchists as Howells once had or explore the world of Julius Hopp and Courtney Lemon, he was to increasingly apply the techniques of the realist to the New York social aristocracy, and he urged others to follow the same method: I feel myself very strongly the particular value--a value which, rightly or wrongly, I can't help feeling inestimable--in a modern play of reflecting absolutely and truthfully the life and environment about us; every class, every kind, every emotion, every motive, every business, every idleness! Never was life so varied, so complex; what a choice, then! Take what strikes you most in the hope it will interest others. . . . Be truthful, and then nothing can be too big, nothing should be too small.5 At one point in 1901 Fitch had four plays running simultaneously on Broadway; two had opened on the same night. Before the year was over two more of his plays re- ceived noteworthy productions.6 The drama which best 3Montrose J. Moses and Virginia Gerson, Clyde Fitch and His Letters (Boston: Little, Brown, and Co., 1924), p. 256. 4Moses and Gerson, Fitch and His Letters, p. 258. 5Clyde Fitch, "The Play and The Public," The Smart Set, IV (November, 1904), 98. 6Morris, Postscripts, p. 172; Barbara Frietchie, Captain Jinks of the Horse Marines, The Climbers, and Lover's Lane ran concurrently in 1901 on Broadway. Later, The way of the World and The Girl and the Judge were pro- duced in New York, while Beerbohm Tree produced The Last of the Dandies in London. Opening performances are listed in 187 indicated Fitch's interest in describing the social life of New York's elite was The Climbers. Theater managers were reluctant to produce The Climbers,7 because the play opened with a post-funeral scene in which Mrs. Hunter callously evaluates her husband's fu- neral as a social event. "It was a great success! Every- body was there!" she exclaims. There were minor problems; her youngest daughter had failed to shed sufficient tears. "People'll think you didn't love your father," she complains to Jessica. Nevertheless Mrs. Hunter was certain even her husband would have approved this turnout. Though she re- calls, "he always found fault with my parties being too mixed." "Mr. Hunter," she concludes, "wouldn't realize I couldn't throw over my old set when I married into his,--not that I ever acknowledged I was your father's inferior. I considered my family just as good as his, only we were Presbyterians!"8 If there were members of the audience who thought that Mrs. Hunter and Clara were unique, Fitch sought to de- stroy that impression. They were not alone in viewing the Arthur Hobson Quinn, A History of American Drama from the Civil War to the Present Day (2 vols.; New York: Harper & Brothers, 1927), II, 346-347. 7Moses and Gerson, Clyde Fitch, p. 26; Richard Cor- dell, Representative Modern Plays (New York: T. Nelson & Son, 1929), p. 403. 8Clyde Fitch, The Climbers in Montrose J. Moses and Virginia Gerson, eds., Plays by Clyde Fitch (4 vols.; Bos- ton: Little, Brown, and Co., 1920), II, 477-478, 481-482. 188 the funeral as a social occasion: Mrs. Hunter. "One thing I am furious about,--did you see the Witherspoons here at the house?" Clara. "I Did." Mrs. Hunter. "The idea! When I've never called on them. They are the worst social pushers I've ever known." Clara. "Trying to make people think they are on our visiting list! Using even a funeral to get in!"9 Mrs. Hunter's euphoria is first slightly diminished, when her sister-in-law ridicules the funeral as a social spectacle. Mrs. Hunter's ego was more effectively deflated by news that her husband had died penniless. Pressed by his extravagant family and the knowledge that another costly coming-out party was already planned, Mr. Hunter had specu- lated in the stock market and lost.10 The prospect that her daughters might have to work was terrifying to Mrs. Hunter; she considers but quickly re- jects as equally abhorrent the idea of taking in boarders. Mrs. Hunter, the experienced social climber, naturally finds a more satisfactory solution--an advantageous marriage. She has two eligible daughters, and the newly rich Mr. Trotter was a fine prospect. In exchange for the financial support he could provide, they could offer social acceptability; 9Fitch, The Climbers, p. 483. 10Similarly, the plot of Eugene Walter's Fine Feath- ‘ere (1913) was based on female extravagance. In Walter's play wider social implications were involved. An inspector accepted a $10,000 bribe to approve low-grade cement used in constructing a dam in order to pay debts accumulated by his wife. Hoping to expand their income further, the inspector speculated in the stock market and lost. When the dam burst and hundreds were killed he committed suicide. 189 Clara would be a fine catch for Trotter. Since it would take some time to work out such an arrangement, the Hunters remained hard pressed for money. Therefore, Fitch could logically develop a scene in which the commercialism of the aristocracy was remarkably depict- ed. Two young society women visited the family to offer sympathy and to profit from the misfortune of others. They were well aware that the Hunters had recently purchased dresses from Paris which would be out of style when the family's period of mourning was completed. They hoped to purchase the dresses at bargain prices; Mrs. Hunter hoped to improve her financial situation as much as possible. The bargaining scene which resulted was widely acclaimed by the critics. Howells praised the confrontation scene: A certain essence of New York has never been so perfect- ly expressed. . . . The play is worth while if for nothing but that scene, in which the incomparable world- liness, the indecent hardness, breaking through at times the shed of their decorums, at all times palpable under them, represents these women the spirit of the most commercialized society in the world.11 Fitch did not sustain the realism of the first act. Much of the remainder of the play involved a somewhat melo- dramatic stock battle between Mrs. Hunter's son-in-law, Richard Sterling, and the sharp operators of the market. Fitch demonstrated that in this battle between new and old wealth, Sterling could not win, for he did not even 11Fitch, The Climbers, pp. 545-555; William Dean Howells, "The Recent Dramatic Season," North American Re- view, CLXXII (March 1901), 475. 190 understand the rules of the game--ru1es which permitted him to win $100,000 through market transactions in one day and lose even more on the following day. The plot, however, was complicated when Sterling was revealed to be a thief who had speculated with family funds. In the theatrical conclusion, on a completely darkened stage, Sterling admitted his guilt. After The Climbers, Fitch continued to write at a variety of levels, farce, adaptations, and more serious dramas. His psychologically oriented character studies, The Girl with the Green Eyes (1905) and The Truth (1907) were recognized as superior to most Broadway plays. In 1909, Fitch returned to his "beloved Italy" where he died. He left behind The City which was produced in 1909. Although Fitch was better known for his sensitive portrayals of social life than his political insights, The Qity contained passages which might have been written by Klein or Broadhurst. Hannock. "What are you paying Elmer Caston ten thousand a year for?" George Rand, Jr. "For his legal services!" Hannock. "Rot! The firm's never used him--" George. "But keeping him on our pay list keeps him from working against us." Hannock. "Hush money!" George. "No!" Hannock. "Why were all these Amsterdam tunnel bonds made over to Parker Jennings?" George. "He helped me get the bill passed!“ Hannock. "Ask Vorhes if he wouldn't put that down in the expense-book under the name of Blackmail." George. "No!" Hannock. "Ask Vorhes!" George. "You can't alter the diplomacy of the business world--calling it by ugly names." 191 .. . - "12 Hannock. No, I can t, but Roosevelt dld! Unlike Klein or Broadhurst, however, Fitch was primarily concerned with individual ethics. The plot of The City described the rise of the Rand family from small-town society where their wealth entitled them to the foremost social position to New York City where they enjoyed only mediocre social success despite continued ability to acquire wealth. At the start of the drama George Rand controls two banks and is the wealthiest man in Middle- burg. His wife, however, is anxious for more glamourous social life; his daughter, who has already been to Europe, is enraged by the prospect of returning to small-town life; and his son is determined to test his abilities in the fi- nancial capital. Mrs. Rand soon finds New York social life less than she had anticipated and Teresa Rand's marriage to the wealthy but internationally disreputable Donald Van Vranken is a source of notoriety; yet, George Rand, Jr., enjoys continued financial success, and after a few years, reaches a position where his nomination for governor is assured. Rand is forced to withdraw, however, when George Hannock, his private secretary, threatens to expose Rand's financial dealings. Unlike the melodramatic figure who served as secretary in Broadhurst's The Man of the Hour, Hannock was a genuine tragic figure who provided continuity 12Clyde Fitch, The City in Moses and Gerson, ed., Plays by Clyde Fitch, IV, 508-509. 192 throughout the drama. Before his death George Rand revealed to his son that Hannock is his illegitimate son. Hannock remains unaware of this fact, though he and his mother have received money from Rand in the past, and he expects the practice to continue. In the final act, George Rand, Jr., explains the relation- ship to Hannock who then kills Cicely Rand whom he had se- cretly married. Thus, the moral tragedy begun in a small town was merely compounded in the city. Fitch insisted, however, that the city was not the source of moral or social degradations. This theme was stated most explicitly in a frequently quoted though thea- trical speech by George Rand, Jr., in the final act: Don't blame the City! She gives the man his opportun- ity; it is up to him what he makes of it! A man can live in a small town all his life, and deceive the whole place and himself into thinking he's got all the vir- tues, when at heart he's a hypocrite! But the village gives him no chance to find it out, to prove it to his fellows--the small town is too easy! But the City!!! A man goes to the gates of the City and knocks!--New York or Chicago, Boston or San Francisco, no matter what city so long as it's big, and busy, and selfish, and self-centered. And she comes to her gates and takes him in, and she stands him in the middle of her market place . . . and there she strips him naked of all his disguises--and all his hypocrisies. . . .13 Fitch also sustained the theme through Hannock's at- tacks on the business ethics of both George Rand and his son. In the first act he reminds the elder Rand that he worked in a Middleburg bank for two years, and he recalls, l3Fitch, The City, pp. 628-629; numerous newspapers quoted the speech. See, for example, the Columbus Journal, October 10, 1910. 193 “those very methods in New York, that have been raising hell with the insurance companies and all sorts of corporations, aren't a patch on some of yeur deals I know of!" Moreover, he suggested, if the state investigated the banking prac- tices of Middleburg, Rand would probably be sent to pri- son.l4 Hannock was aware that just as the banker had been a highly respected citizen in Middleburg, George Rand, Jr., was often called "Teddy, Jr." by the New York public. In a confrontation with the younger Rand, however, Hannock argued that the potential governor had extended the questionable financial practices of his father: Hannock. “What's the difference between your deal, and the Troy business that sent Pealy to State's Prison?" George. "Every difference!" Hannock. (TriumphantTy) "Te there? Think a minute!" (A second's pause.) "You gambled with your part- ner's money; Pealy gambled with his bank's." George. "It wasn't my pertner's money; it was the firm's. Hannock. "But you were the only one who knew what was being done with it." George. "My partner got his fair share, didn't he?" Hannock. "Yes, but you got the unfair! You got paid pretty high for your 'influence.' Nobody else had a chance to sell their's! If that isn't using money under false pretences, if it isn't using funds you haven't the right to use,--there was a miscarriage of justice in the Pealy case, that's all."15 Just as Fitch had maintained that the city was not responsible for unethical behavior, he also insisted that the business system did not promote dishonest practices. In the city behavior patterns were magnified to a larger scale, but the Rand's standards of conduct had remained consistent. l4Fitch, The City, p. 480. 15Ibid.. pp. 558-559. 194 Similarly, in the business world devious dealings often suc- ceeded, but Fitch asserted that this had nothing to do with commercial values, it stemmed from the weaknesses of men. George Rand, Jr., admits: "I've been a business 'crook,' in a big way, perhaps, but still a 'ereeh.'"l6 Fitch chose not to question the values of business. George Rand, Jr., in fact, vows to return funds, he had un- fairly gained, and to start over at the bottom but this time to rise only through honest business practices. Reform, thus, became not institutional but acceptance of certain ba- sic moral principles, which were widely recognized, but which men involved in a competitive economic struggle some- times forgot. In The City, Fitch suggested that a Puritan ethical code was applicable to modern society; William Vaughn Moody sought to articulate a more fundamental human revolt against basic social institutions in The Great Divide. Moody, him- self, separated work from art, and engaged in the former only when necessary to provide funds for traveling and writ- ing. He rejected an offer from the University of Chicago, where he taught briefly, which included a full salary but obligated him to lecture for only one quarter. Instead, he spent considerable time in Europe, where living expenses were low and he had leisure to write poetry.17 161bid., p. 633. 7Daniel Gregory Mason, ed., Some Letters of William Vaughn Moody (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Co., 1913), p. xxiii. o w’uV“ . nah 'l-t .he 4 Du rd. 1.. .l 151‘. .1:- «flu J v . z . M. v U L 5 NH»- «Man: In :ain as. J is HE ab Mum W... -l -1. L 3 VJ.‘ lb “U0 \\U #7:: l.bt\‘| Q.- . .. nxh V‘ O.» l H .H ‘ i 195 Unlike Fitch, however, Moody preferred the rural as- pects of European life and wilderness areas of the United States. During his senior year at Harvard, he hiked through the Black Forest with Robert Lovett and Norman Hapgood. Later, Moody enjoyed mountain climbing and lengthy bicycle trips in Europe and the United States. He spent the summer of 1901 camping in the Rocky Mountains with Hamlin Garland and several years later lived a week in a Hopi village.18 Nearly every Eastern character in The Great Divide is incompetent; however, Moody's drama is not simply a cele- bration of Western life. It does contain Turnerian over- tones; yet, Ruth Jordan's revolt is more an emotional revolt against Eastern decadence than a celebration of frontier democracy. She refused to consider marriage to Winthrop Newbury, a childhood friend and successful doctor, because he is already "finished." To her sister-in-law, Ruth ex- plains that she is searching for someone more primitive, a sublime abstraction--of the glorious unfulfilled--of the West--of the Desert."19 Ruth's confrontation with primitive man occurs after she is left behind, while her brother escorts his wife to the railroad, which will take her to "civilized" San 18Moody to Mason, August 30, 1901, in Mason, ed., Letters, pp. 139-140; John M. Manly, ed. The Poems and Plays of William Vaughn Moody (2 vols.; Boston: Houghton Mifflin Co., 1912), pp. x-xii. l9William Vaughn Moody, The Great Divide, in Manly, ed., The Poems and Plays of William Vaughn Moody, p. 26. \ s. . ~\~ 196 Francisco. Three half-drunken men break into the cabin and discover Ruth, who agrees to go with one, Stephen Ghent, if he will save her from the other two. He bribes one and shoots the other. Though, in time, Ghent's mine brought material wealth, Ruth Jordan's Eastern values proved a source of con- flicts. She condemns the "human beast, that goes to its horrible pleasure as not even a wild animal will go--ih pack." By her lingering Puritan standards, Ghent has not suffered sufficiently for his sin. The materialist side of her New England heritage also provided a lingering influence. When Ghent tries to bribe his comrades, one remarks: "A ornery buck of a dirt-eatin' Mojave'd pay more'n that for his squaw." Ruth rejects the idea of being bought, and the phrase haunts Ruth throughout the drama, even after she saves money and buys back the chain of gold nuggets which had bribed one of the marauders. At the conclusion Ghent appeals to Ruth on the basis of Western standards. He points to portraits of eighteenth- century ancestors on the wall and argues: . . . it's these fellows are fooling you! It's they who keep your head set on the wages of sin, and all that rubbish. What have we got to do with suffering and sac- rifice? That may be the law for some, and I've tried hard to see it as our law, and thought I had succeeded. But I haven't! Our law is joy, and selfishness. . . .20 Ruth Jordan's revolt in The Great Divide against the stultifying and artificial relationship which characterized 20Moody, The Great Divide, pp. 109, 32, 161. OJ» ‘-!d n: 5‘: ...\\ 197 urban life represented the kind of heroic individual rebel- lion celebrated by Ibsen and Nietzsche. In contrast, Maggie Schultz's reaction to urban life in Kindling involved a more direct response. Ruth Jordan intuitively questioned con- formity and modern society; Maggie Schultz challenged econ- omic inequities and the theories of bourgeois social workers. For both the West represented a liberating influence. Written by Charles Kenyon, an obscure San Francisco journalist, Kindling (1912) involved sociological commentary which had been popular during the muckraking era. Perhaps, because it was produced after interest in reform plays had declined, the public ignored the original production. Clay- ton Hamilton and Walter Prichard Eaton began a campaign which eventually resulted in a circular letter signed by thirty prominent writers, including Frederick C. Howe, Lincoln Steffens, and George Jean Nathan urging that the play be re- turned to Broadway.21 Life in a tenement is a grim affair for Maggie Schultz, the wife of a stevedore. The knowledge that she is expecting did nothing to alleviate her discontent. To the contrary, her husband, who attends lectures at the Cooper Union, believes that children raised in the slums will inev- itably become "human Kindling." This theory is frequently reinforced by conspicuously middle-class, social workers.22 21Clipping dated January 27, 1912, NYPLTC; New York Times, January 23, 1912. 22Charles Kenyon, Kindling, in Thomas H. Dickinson 1:10] Ii. Iii..5..\n. kl." 198 Maggie rejects this theory; she acknowledges that the slum world was a bad place to raise children but rather than agree to have none she becomes all the more determined to escape the slums. She steals from her employer, until she has enough money to move to Wyoming; Maggie explains to her husband that she has borrowed the money from a charity worker. Kenyon, thus, suggested that for Maggie Schultz economic depravity and concern for her unborn child justi- fied behavior normally condemned by society. Fitch, of course, maintained in The City that environment had nothing to do with morality, but Fitch dealt with businessmen whose economic decisions were far removed from the basic questions of survival which confronted Maggie Schultz. The characters in Edward Sheldon's Salvation Nell were even lower on an economic scale than Maggie Schultz; yet, Sheldon suggested that some could, through religion, transcend their oppres- sive surroundings. In the opening scene of Sheldon's play loafers, drunks, derelicts, and streetwalkers reel in and out of Sid McGovern's Empire bar. Those without the price of a drink are quickly noticed and soon find themselves being roughly reintroduced to the door. Entertainment is provided when the police raid Madame Cloquette's nearby establishment. and Jack R. Crawford, ed., Contemporary Plays: Sixteen Plays from the Recent Drama of England and America (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1925), pp. 253, 257. Fix. A g~m a. 5 u.\ 199 The mood changes suddenly, however, when one of the men grabs the scrubwoman, Nell Sanders; Jim Platt though half drunk, rescues his "girl" and beats, chokes, and kicks the man senseless.23 After eight years in jail, Jim returns to find him- self the father of a son, but his "girl" has become a Salva- tion Army leader. During the intervening years a struggle has occurred; an old friend, Myrtle Hawes urges Nell to seek employment with Madame Cloquette, while Hallelujah Maggie asserts that religion can inspire a better life. Jim's ef- forts to reassert his earlier authority are repulsed by Nell, though her love has remained. Jim is unable to find work, because he has a prison record; he joins a gang which plans a jewel robbery. Nell persuades him to abandon the gang, and after listening to Nell preach, Jim appears ready for his own regeneration at the final curtain. The reaction of New York critics to Salvation Nell was predictably inaccurate. William Winter alluded to Shel- don's recent attendance at Harvard as ample evidence that the young playwright had firsthand knowledge of "vile drink- ing dens, and the language and manners of prostitutes." He recommended the play to "those persons who wished to have their minds dragged through the gutter and drenched with the 23Edward Sheldon, Salvation Nell, in John Gassner, ed., Best Plays of the American Theatre: From the Beginning to 1916 (New York: Crown, 1967), pp. 558-616. 200 slime of the brothel."24 Similarly, Acton Davies observed that the opening scene was "a picture of sordid, unadulter- ated vice which Gorki in his most morbid dreams has never 25 excelled." Other reviewers also compared Sheldon's Salvation Nell to Gorky's The Night Refuge; yet, the two dramas had as little in common as their authors. At eight Gorky had tried to stop his father from beating his consumptive mother; later, he had traveled with tramps and lived at the lowest depths of Russian poverty. The despair which once led him to fire a bullet into his chest vibrated through his work. Sheldon's education included tutors, private schools, and, of course, Harvard. His grandfather acquired considerable wealth in Chicago real estate and was president of a rail- road.26 Before writing Salvation Nell, Sheldon made several forays into the slums. After one of these he wrote to Van Wyck Brooks: Did he [John Hall Wheelock] tell you how we went into a Salvation Army meeting and had a regular emotional de- bauch with three lassies and the Adjutant all entreat- ing us "To come to Jesus?" Jack feels sure that the dark glasses he is wearing were attributed entirely to syphelis or some other fell disease!27 24William Winter, New York Tribune, November 18, 1908. 25Acton Davies, The Sun (New York), November 18, 1908. 26John Gassner, Masters of the Drama (3rd ed. rev.; New York: Dover, 1954), p. 527; Eric Wollencott Barnes, The Man Who Lived Twice: The Biography of Edward Sheldon (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1956), pp. 18, 20, 23. 27Sheldon to V. W. Brooks, October 29, 1907, Van 201 Sheldon's biographer described another occasion when the dramatist and his cousin, Elsa Denison, attended a Salvation Army meeting in Chicago. This time, however, the glamor of slumming was tarnished a bit when one of the sinners turned his attention from the meeting to Miss Denison. The Bryn Mawr girl and the Harvard graduate student made a hasty re- treat.28 Sheldon was not, of course the only dramatist of the progressive era to visit an urban slum in search of materi- al. Joseph Patterson drank and fought with loafers and tramps in Chicago's North Side bars; William Hurlbut's The Writing on the Wall resulted from a tour of New York's tene- ments. For Patterson and Hurlbut knowledge of the realities of the social system served as a basis for developing ideas for social change or as evidence to support already held theories. Sheldon, however, sought background material. In the opening scene, which so enraged Winter, the producer Harrison Grey Fiske carried the ideas of David Belasco to their ultimate extremes. To assure photographic authenticity on the stage, Fiske purchased the entire con- tents of a New York bar to use as the set. Even real beer was used, until the WCTU objected. Although Sheldon's use of dialect contributed to the realism of the scene, the author's directions stated that "the opening scenes are to be played easily and swiftly, for a purely atmospheric Wyck Brooks Collection, University of Pennsylvania. 28Barnes, Sheldon, p. 42. 202 effect."29 Because Sheldon treated the environment as back- ground, Salvation Nell contained none of the obvious thea- tricalism of The City. But, then, if Fitch discussed the relationship of man to his environment in a decidedly arti- ficial manner, Sheldon made no comment on the oppressive effects of slum life except, perhaps, the implication that former convicts faced unfair discrimination from employers, and the drama contained no sustaining theme beyond the love story which formed the basis of the plot. Some years later Eugene O'Neill wrote to Sheldon: Your Salvation Nell, along with the work of the Irish Players on their first trip over here, was what opened my eyes to the existence of a real theatre as opposed to the unrea1--and to me then, hateful--theatre of my father, in whose atmosphere I had been brought up.30 Unlike Shaw's Mrs. Warren's Profession, however, which had been suppressed three years earlier in New York by Mayor George B. McClellan, Jr.,31 Sheldon's Salvation Nell 9Cincinnati Inquirer, November 22, 1908; Indianapo- lis Star, January 3, 1909; Cleveland Leader, March 7, 1909; Sheldon, Salvation Nell, in Gassner, Best Plays, p. 558. 30O'Neill to Sheldon, February 21, 1925, Edward Sheldon Papers, Harvard Theater Collection. 31George E. Wellwarth suggested that the mayor's ac- tion was a stroke by Tammany Hall to counter the corruption charges of reform-candidate William Randolph Hearst. Since McClellan was reelected by 3,485 votes, Wellwarth, while not dismissing the possibility of fraud in counting the ballots, asked: "who can tell whether or not 3485 good and true, blue-nosed citizens of New York were swayed to McClellan by his Administration's prompt action against that 'suppuration of a plaque spot,‘ Mrs. Warren's Profession?" "Mrs. Warren Comes To America, or the Blue-Noses, the Politicians and the Procurers," Shaw Review, II (May 1959). p- 16. 203 advocated no sweeping social theories. Nor did he adopt radical dramatic techniques, though O'Neill's letter and the reactions of Winter and Davis suggested that Sheldon's por- trayal of tenement conditions, barroom thugs, and prosti- tutes, even if only for "purely atmospheric effect," dif- fered considerably from Harrigan's stereotyped figures in the nineteenth century and the unreal characters who fre- quented similar depths in the melodrama. If Sheldon's first drama could not be considered radical except in Winter's terms, the fact that he had written a Broadway success immediately after completing George Pierce Baker's workshop on playwriting did indicate the presence of an important new influence on the American theater. In addition to O'Neill, others who later completed Baker's workshop included Sidney Howard, Philip Barry, Ken- neth Macgowan, Heywood Broun, John Mason Brown, Samuel Behr- man, George Sklar, and Albert Maltz. Though many of Baker's students brought about sub- stantial changes in the American theater both in terms of dramatic techniques and in more thoughtful analysis of Amer- ican society through the drama, Baker himself began with modest goals. He emphasized the techniques of the well-made play, and though critical of those who wrote to please the galleries, Baker obviously hoped to prepare his students for the Broadway stage. Furthermore, he tended to discourage social themes. Almost immediately upon joining the Harvard faculty 204 in 1888 as an instructor, George Pierce Baker organized a club to discuss the new drama. The group's members included Barrett Wendell, M. A. DeWolf Howe, H. T. Parker, George Santayana, Norman Hapgood, Robert Herrick, and George Rice Carpenter, who had introduced Baker to William Archer, Oscar Wilde, and other "Ibsenites" the preceding summer in London. As an instructor, however, Baker's duties involved assisting Professor Josiah Royce in advanced forensic classes, not the new drama.32 After the publication of his Principles of Argumen- tation, he was promoted to the rank of assistant professor, but increasingly devoted time to the drama. During the 1890's Baker taught English 14, a study of English drama from the Miracle plays to the Puritan Revolution (excluding Shakespeare).33 This was obviously better suited than the new drama at Harvard, where the theater was viewed in rather Puritanical fashion. Baker's instruction in the art of persuasion continued to be held in higher esteem than his knowledge of the theater by Harvard's business-oriented ad- ministration. At the end of the decade President Eliot re- marked: "Whatever new courses in the drama you may teach, George, it is for your work in argumentation that Harvard 2Wisner Payne Kinne, George Pierce Baker and the American Theatre (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1954), pp. 33-35. 33Kinne, Baker, p. 44. William Lyon Phelps' notes for English 14 (1890-91) are in the Yale University Library. 205 pays you."34 Despite his early interest in European social drama, Baker soon became convinced that the plays by Ibsen and Hauptmann were unsuited to American conditions. The public, he contended, would be attracted to plays somewhere between those written by "Ethical Dramatists"--Dumas TiTe, Augier, and Ibsen--and the pleasure-oriented "Utilitarians" who fol- lowed in the footsteps of Scribe.35 Much like Howells who saw in Harrigan's sketches the beginnings of an authentic American drama, Baker thought that great plays would develop from the nineteenth-century traditions of farce and melodrama. "The great public is un- trained; it may be dull; but it is not wholly wrong," he ar- gued. He did hope, however, that audiences could be edu- cated to appreciate "high comedy" of the sort Arthur Wing Pinero and Henry Arthur Jones were writing in Great Britain (this was despite the fact that he attributed America's lack of a national drama to excessive dependence on the English theater). Intellectual leaders, Baker insisted must estab- lish standards, if the American stage was to evolve beyond vulgar comedies based on situation excitement and constant action to a more sophisticated comedy which actually required the members of the audience to think. Through public lec- tures, Baker, himself, endeavored to create a more thoughtful 34Quoted in Kinne, Baker, p. 102. 35Ibid., p. 84. 206 audience.36 At Harvard, Baker's students increasingly expressed interest in writing and producing drama. Baker tried such a course at Radcliff and, then, offered English 47 at Harvard, "The Technique of the Drama," after the success of the Abbey Players in Dublin convinced him that excellent productions depended neither on money nor on professional actors. Baker also established a workshop, where plays written in English 47 could be tried out.37 Baker hoped to keep the workshop stage experimental. He did not seek to compete with civic theaters, and he noted that the revolutionary Théatre Libre in time had become the conservative Theatre Antoine. "My students need to see their plays produced quite as much as a student in chemistry needs to perform the experiments of his textbooks with the actual chemicals," he insisted. Plays were performed only two nights (exceptions were made only for charity produc- tions and, later, to "entertain" men in the armed forces during World War I); authors could learn from the production and from written evaluations from the 400 audience mem- bers.38 36_I_b_§-_d_ol Pp. 68‘691 713 75, 84. 37Ibid., pp. 102-103; The Sun (New York), October 12, 1919, p. 3; "Professor Geo. Baker to Quit as Yale Drama Mentor," New York Herald Tribune clipping in "The Harvard Workshop: Its History and Its Influence." Scrapbook in the Harvard University Library. 38Kinne, Baker, p. 83; K.M., "The Harvard Theatre: a Laboratory for Students," Boston Evening Transcript, 207 If Baker’s theory of an experimental theater was somewhat radical, his emphasis on the writing of "fresh, clean, well-made plays" in his class was certainly conven- tional.39 Furthermore, his attitude toward social criticism on stage was hardly revolutionary. To some Baker's approach seemed too commercial, while others saw it merely as a beginning. Certainly, the Scribean formula was in accord with the needs of the popular stage, and Baker's belief the English 47 could substitute for five or ten years of experience also suggested prepara- tion for Broadway.40 One indignant workshop member inquired: February 1, 1913, in "The 47 Workshop"; George Pierce Baker, "The 47 Workshop," The Century, CI (N.S. LXXIX) (February 1921), 421. 39Lafayette McLaws, "A Master of Playwrights," North American Review, CC (September 1914), 461. 4OHerbert Blau has observed that a persistent belief tends to permeate all levels of the American theater that however creative any aspect of local or regional theater might be, the only real standards of excellence are set in New York. As a result the best talent tends to gravitate toward Broadway, The Impossible Theatre: A Manifesto (New York: MacMillan, 1964), pp. 43-53. The resultant ambiva- lence of many associated with various types of Little Thea- ter groups was evident in Baker. In the mid-1880's, he wrote to his father: "last night I ushered for a lecture by Bronson Howard, the playwright. . . . He spoke very well, but evidently money is his idol. The question is not, with him, what should the audience like, but what do they like." Quoted in Kinne, Baker, p. 26. Later, however, he comment- ed: "The unconSClous function of the experimental theatre is that various men and women, through them, may make their way to such recognition as will ultimately lead to the lar- gest audiences." To Baker the largest audience clearly meant New York: "The small companies and the experimental theatres act as laboratories for the untried writer and enables him to test his work before he presents it for final criticism to a Broadway audience." See, The Sun (New York), October 12, 1919, and New York World, November 9, 208 "I merely wish to inquire as to whether Harvard College is in the main teaching a lucrative profession, or whether it is trying to inculcate some of the first principles of dra- matic creation?"41 And when August Thomas conducted a ses- sion and explained how the professionals first selected a star and constructed a play to fit the actor, Eugene O'Neill, who recalled his father's endless performances in The Count of Monte Cristo and had come to Harvard to escape all that, was less than enthusiastic.42 In his English 14 lectures during the 1890's, Baker had stressed that the drama of any period, even Miracle plays, could be best understood in terms of the intellectual and social framework in which it had been written. Yet, he also echoed the frequent cry of nineteenth-century theater managers and critics that "the drama must not preach,"43 a cry utilized to censor Ibsen, Hauptmann, Shaw, and even Charles Klein and which all too frequently aimed at elimin- ating, even the faintest glimmer of an idea from the thea- ter. Baker did, of course, support a dramatist-dominated theater, and he believed that a genuine comedy of manners 1919. Kinne noted in 1908 Baker believed that "the forces of actor, playwright, audience, and theatre must be brought into a working relationship at Harvard." Kinne, Baker, p. 125. 41Quoted in Kinne, Baker, p. 195. 42Barbara and Arthur Gelb, O'Neill (New York: Har- per & Row, 1960), pp. 270-272. 43W. L. Phelps, Notebook, pp. 31, 39, 76, 85, 99; Kinne, Baker, p. 71. 209 might evolve from the work of Pinero and Jones. Yet, Edward Sheldon, the most successful pre-O'Neill product of English 47, wrote to Baker that he had completed a play, "which, you will be pleased to hear, is an out-and-out love-story," im- plying, at least that Baker had been unenthusiastic about 44 the controversy which Sheldon's early plays had generated. Sheldon's second play, The Nigger was produced at the New Theatre in New York, where Winthrop Ames sought to pro- vide a forum for drama of aesthetic merit which commercial managers would consider too intellectual for Broadway audi- ences. If in Salvation Nell Sheldon had avoided the social implication of poverty, the title and subject of his second drama forced him to deal with the issue of race relations. Writing in a reform era during which opportunities for the black man expanded little, if at all, Sheldon showed courage in writing the play. Yet, the hostility which sometimes greeted the drama was not justified. Sheldon analyzed racial issues in terms of cliches, and the plot consisted of hack- neyed melodrama. The Nigger describes the rise of Philip Morrow from county sheriff and gentleman farmer to governor of his state. Morrow is nominated and elected because he opposes prohibi- tion and holds the proper views on "the Niggah question." Once in office, however, Morrow is faced by a race riot. He blames the riot on a local mayor who has enraged white 44Sheldon to Baker, n.d., George Pierce Baker Pa- pers, Harvard Theater Collection. 210 citizens by employing a few blacks on the police force. The riots also persuade him that prohibition is necessary. This prompts Morrow's cousin, Clifton Noyes, the owner of a prof- itable distillery, to reveal a letter, proving that Morrow's grandmother was a quadroon slave, a twist later employed by Sinclair Lewis, and used years before Sheldon by Dion Bouci- cault who more often than not borrowed his plots from others. Noyes warns the Governor, if the prohibition bill is signed the letter will be published. In the melodramatic scene which follows, Morrow in- forms his fiancée, Georgiana Byrd, of the letter. Immedi- ately, she is repelled by the thought of any further contact with Morrow; however, later she returns, insisting she still wants to marry him. Morrow asserts "theah's a black gulf between us--an' it's filled t' the brim with sweat an' hate an' blood!"45 As he prepares to announce his decision to resign and go out to help "his" people, Morrow says: Smile, Geo'grie I want t' see you smilin'--! As she smiles bravely back at him. Theah! That's the ticket! Keep it up, honey, an' remembah--it's all right--it's comin' out all right!46 This melodramatic optimism was not justified from the ideas presented in the drama. Governor Morrow's shift in attitude on the prohibition question was based on the same paternalism 45Edward Sheldon, The Nigger (New York: Macmillan, 1910)! p. 255. 46Ibid., p. 264. 211 which had always assumed benevolent treatment of field hands would be repaid in more efficient work: We brought the niggahs ovah t' this country, Clif--an' I reckon we're responsible fo' them while theah heah. If we've got to treat 'em like children. An' we're not in the habit, Clif, o' pourin liquoh down the throats of our infants. Why, day befor' yeste'day I had a count made an' theah were three thousand four hundred and sixty-seven idle niggahs in the fifty-nine saloons o' the levee district! Even Senator Thomas R. Long, who was described as a radical throughout the drama speaks in clichés. He urges the vote for the "intelligent niggah," and vocational education; some, he believed, would make useful citizens as carpenters, farmers, or bricklayers. He sees the white race as more ad- vanced chiefly because they had "time t' push ahead." He suggests someday men would be equal, but he emphasizes that it will take generations and speaks of a time hundreds of 48 years in the future. In The Nigger, as in his subsequent play The Boss, supposedly based on the career of "Fingey Conner" a Buffalo politician, Sheldon concentrated on individual conflicts. This enabled him to add a certain depth to his characters that ordinary melodrama lacked. During the nineteenth cen- tury Bronson Howard imposed several love affairs on a Wall Street satire; Edward Sheldon tended to attach social themes to well-constructed love stories. In the greater character development in his plays, Sheldon did suggest the means to construct a more universal drama, rooted in psychology. 47T§T§., p. 138. 48Ibid., pp. 211, 213-214. 212 Yet, in contrast to Charles Klein plays, in which characters were usually stereotyped figures, Sheldon's plays implied that the solutions to deep-seated social problems could be found in the courage of a few isolated individuals to deal with their situations. Certainly, there was nothing except, perhaps, the title of Sheldon's second play to shock the elite patrons of the New Theatre. Among the "Founders," who had contributed $10,000 each toward the building of the theater were Augus- tus Belmont, H. G. Frick, J. J. Astor, and Cornelius Vander- bilt; each had also paid $25,000 to purchase boxes at the theater, half the amount J. P. Morgan had agreed to pay. At the group's "annual dinner" (it lasted only two seasons), Judge Gary presided and George Pierce Baker addressed the gathering.49 Winthrop Ames, director of the New Theatre, was acquainted with upper-class patrons and the theater. His family were established members of the Boston Back Bay Brahmin caste. Ames graduated in the mid-winter from Har- vard, where he had taken Professor Baker's English 14. Af- ter working for a book publisher for several years,50 he 49See, lists of founders and box owners, in Winthrop Ames, "Diary of the New Theatre," NYPLTC. For Judge Gary and the annual dinner, see "biographical" section, Ames, "Diary," p. 19. 50David Edward MacArther, "A Study of the Theatrical Career of Winthrop Ames: From 1904 to 1929" (unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Ohio State University, 1962), pp. 9, 13. 213 traveled to Europe to study advances in theater design. Upon his return to Boston, Ames became director of the Castle Square Theatre, which was funded by the Boston Stage Society. One of the leaders of the Boston Stage Society was Major Henry Lee Higginson, patron of the Boston Symphony. The group hoped to continue the tradition of repertory the- ater in Boston, which had faced extinction when the Boston Museum was closed in 1903. The group leased the Castle Square Theatre and, upon a recommendation from Professor Baker, chose Ames as director.52 In the three years Ames served as director, plays by Hoyt, Howard, Thomas, and Boucicault were offered and mati- nee performances were given for school children.53 Ames en- countered little controversy in Boston, as director of the New Theatre in New York, he faced little else. Although it was the theater itself and not the drama, which was the source of conflicts. Ames was not involved in the construction of the New Theatre; Heinrich Conried, director of the Metropolitan Opera House, was probably primarily responsible for the building which was designed to accommodate both opera and drama. When Conried's connection with the New Theatre was terminat- ed, enormous problems of acoustics and difficulties resulting 51Winthrop Ames, "Notes Made During a Tour of the Theatres of England, France, and Germany, from November 22, 1907, to January 6, 1908," NYPL. 52MacArther, "Ames," pp. 43-44. 53Ibidl,§mn 55, 72. 214 from the lack of storage space were left to torment his successor. In addition the very idea of a theater for "mil- lionaires" was repugnant to many.54 If the theater itself was controversial, the dramas produced at the New Theatre confirmed Courtney Lemon's View that an elite theater would not generate a significant drama. During the 1909-1910 season the classics dominated at the New Theatre; Ames staged Ibsen's Brand rather than one of his social dramas;55 but then, perhaps, the director be- lieved his audience was more artistically than socially con- scious. When Galsworthy's Strife was produced by Ames, Emma Goldman considered the event an outrage: That Strife should be produced at the New Theatre is as much an insult to labor as the shirtwast workers being entertained at the Colony Club. To put a strike meeting of shivering workmen in setting of the New Theatre only shows the poor taste of the New Theatre management. If the management had set about discrediting Mr. Galswor- thy's ideas it could not have succeeded better. It's a crime against art to put Strife on that stage.56 The sole American play offered in the 1909-1910 season was Sheldon's The Nigger. No work of lasting quality was produced by Fitch, Moody, Kenyon, or Sheldon. Yet, each contributed to a drama of aesthetic merit, by their efforts to transform questions of immediate social importance into individual conflicts of more universal significance. Fitch insisted that the 54Ibid., p. 108. 55"Productions, 1909-1910," Ames, "Diary." 56New York Times, December 20, 1909, p. 2. 215 environment could only magnify already existing human weak- nesses. Thus, he concludes The City in rather theatrical manner, asserting that the materialistic urban society he had so effectively satirized in The Climbers did not itself cause corruption, it merely provided a framework in which men would be most likely to reveal their true inner charac- ter. For Moody and Kenyon the environment exerted an impor- tant social influence; yet, they were no more concerned with reformist goals than Fitch. In Moody's The Great Divide, Ruth Jordan does not seek to change the East, she merely tries to escape a code of values she no longer finds valid. Similarly, in Kenyon's Kindling, Maggie Schultz ignored issues of urban reform for more basic questions of ethics. Though the realistic setting for his Salvation Nell suggest- ed the need for meaningful social change, Sheldon also fo- cused on an individual's effort to transcend her slum exist- ence rather than the possibilities for reform. The New Theatre was not a success, but it, like George Pierce Baker's class, indicated growing interest in the drama. Yet, the concept of an elitist theater was not dead; the idea was basic to the little-theater movement which flourished after 1912. However, it was an intellectu- al rather than a financial elite which sustained this move- ment. The "Drama Renaissance" also continued in the little theaters, where the quality of drama was significantly im- proved as playwrights brought together character development 216 and themes along lines begun by Fitch, Moody, Kenyon, and Sheldon. In the little theaters, however, character devel- opment and individual conflicts tended to grow more logic- ally from the social context than had occurred in the plays discussed in this chapter. CHAPTER VII SOCIAL REFORM AND THE AESTHETIC REVOLT: BROADWAY AND THE LITTLE THEATERS OF THE WILSONIAN ERA In his autobiography Floyd Dell recalled that a "New Spirit" had come to America in 1912. He cited as evidence of the New Spirit the growth of woman-suffrage agitation and the election of Woodrow Wilson, as well as Post Impression- ism and the poems of Vachel Lindsay. Other illustrations of the changing intellectual milieu which Dell listed included the visit of the Irish Players and the rise of the little- theater movement.l Dell's reminiscences suggest a transition in Ameri- can thought involving a significant shift in the intellectu- al predispositions of writers and artists as well as greater participation by women in the cultural life of the nation. Emerging little theaters, which represented a revolt against Broadway commercialism, reflected both aspects of the tran- sition. The often quoted masthead of the Masses, "A revolu- tionary, and not a reform magazine," could easily serve as a statement of the ideology of many participants in the 1Floyd Dell, Homecoming: An Autobiography (New York: Farrar, 1933), p. 218. 217 i little-theate anateur groupl I audiences tha conventions oil I movement, how: apolitical I: fully articul several drama“ Stokes, and J: gressivism an; sirability of times staged ‘z incetoWn Play»: dramas advocat in fact, Of ti“ tendency to 85 ii“ l NS held by 135., and Freur‘. t. On BrC "h: 218 little-theater movement. Plays produced by experimental or amateur groups and aimed at smaller but more intellectual audiences than the popular stage frequently attacked the conventionscflfmiddle-class America. The little-theater movement, however, sought primarily an aesthetic rather than a political revolution. Though they did not in every case fully articulate their ideas of meaningful social change, several dramatists including Philip Moeller, Rose Pastor Stokes, and John Reed rejected the basic assumptions of Pro- gressivism and challenged the possibility and even the de- sirability of "uplifting" reform. Their plays were some- times staged by the Washington Square Players or the Prov- incetown Players, but even these groups tended to discourage dramas advocating radical political action. One indication, in fact, of their intellectually elitist nature was their tendency to satirize rather than promote the "advanced" views held by villagers on such issues as socialism, femin- ism, and Freudism. On Broadway the spirit of muckraking persisted in white-slave melodramas, while occasionally more propagandis- tic woman-suffrage plays were staged. Before the end of the decade the production of an antiwar play on Broadway indi- cated that the New Spirit had touched the commercial thea- ters, and the move of the Washington Square Players to an "uptown" theater had more than geographic significance. After 1910, few plays on the popular stage focused on social-economic issues in the manner fashionable in the :‘ickraking er Kandy Eugen cussed in the latter plays to the backgr Knfihn , E12 saphisticated sacial to ind Those ERinses, aftez ter. In 1912’ mfihdealing » ‘-‘Ersy. Both, Hard reform wt 219 muckraking era. There were, of course, the dramas of Charles Kenyon, Eugene Walter, and Edward Sheldon, which were dis- cussed in the preceding chapter. These, however, like the latter plays of Augustus Thomas, relegated social questions to the background. Thus, although the plot structures of Kindling, Fine Feathers, and The Boss were technically more sophisticated than those of The Lion and the Mouse and The Man of the Hour, they represented a shift in emphasis from social to individual problems. Those few playwrights who sought to write theatrical exposés, after 1910, turned to more sensational subject mat- ter. In 1912, plays by Bayard Veiller and George Scarbor- ough dealing with white slavery aroused considerable contro- versy. Both, in part, suggested a pessimistic attitude to- ward reform which had previously been developed in the dramas of Joseph Patterson and William Hurlbut. At the same time, however, both Veiller and Scarborough found it possible to appeal to the progressive spirit of uplift, while obtaining the upmost in melodrama from a topic which was readily ap- plicable to sensational exposé. Interest in the "white slave trade? had lagged some- what behind other issues in the progressive era. The United States was not represented at the international conference on white slavery which met in 1904, though President Taft proclaimed the treaty which emerged from the conference.2 2Oscar Cargill, Intellectual America: Ideas on the March (New York: Macmillan, 1941), pp. 591-592. Host of the i 1911, and DUI Published bel Much the City C for higher wa large numbers formers did 1 rest were con lore signific 'L‘nus, for exaa 0f the Chicagc .‘nited States Series Of art; 3"‘ai'ilazine durir “'33 directly During 220 Most of the state legislation on commercial vice came after 1911, and numerous books and articles on the subject were published between 1911 and World War 1.3 Much of this literature like the earlier Vice Report of the City of New York, issued in 1902, emphasized the need for higher wages in department stores and factories, where large numbers of young women were employed. Although re- formers did influence the passage of the Mann Act (1910), most were convinced that economic reforms would bring about more significant social change than any other legislation. Thus, for example, both The Social Evil in Chicago, a report of the Chicago Vice Commission which was banned from the United States mail after its publication in 1911, and a series of articles by Jane Addams, published in McClure's Magazine during 1911 and 1912, concluded that prostitution was directly related to economic distress.4 During the muckraking era several playwrights had portrayed the prostitute as a victim of capitalism, more to be pitied than condemned. In Julius Hopp's Poor People 3Egal Feldman notes that the Readers' Guide to Peri- odical Literature lists 36 entries under "Prostitution" for the period 1890-1909, and 156 citations for the 1910-1914 years. "Prostitution, The Alien Woman and the Progressive Imagination, 1910-1915," American Quarterly, XIX (Summer 1967), 192. 4Cargill, Intellectual America, p. 594; The Social Evil in Chicago: A Study of Existing Conditions with Recom- mendation by the Vice Commission of Chicago (Chicago: Gunthrope-Warren Printing Co., 1911), pp. 203-213; Jane Addams, "A New Conscience and an Ancient Evil," McClure's Magazine, XXXVIII (November—March, 1911-1912) , reprinted by Macmillan (New York, 1912), see, especially, pp. 90—91. an unemployer her father w; deck, in Bug. tress of a 5* actress in N. that prostit‘ the urban 51' In t tution was 1 Iier! While t with his Wit it was Possi vice' YEt re melodrama. some“ with the Law, Vei SubSECIuent r 221 an unemployed factory worker turned to prostitution because her father was sick and her family needed money. Lura Mur— dock, in Eugene Walter's The Easiest Way, remained the mis- tress of a stock broker in order to retain employment as an actress in New York, while a department store clerk found that prostitution offered the only possible chance to escape the urban slums in Joseph Patterson's Berroducts.5 In the plays of the muckraking era, however, prosti- tution was linked to capitalism in a rather doctrinaire man- ner, while the general mood was one of despair. Beginning with his Within the Law in 1912, Bayard Veiller demonstrated it was possible to link low wages and politics to crime and vice, yet retain and even add innovations to the popular melodrama. Thus, playwrights could win the plaudits of re- formers without sacrificing a sensational plot. In Within the Law, Veiller describes the conviction, imprisonment, and subsequent revenge of Mary Turner, a victim of an unfair system and elitist justice. After some stolen articles are found in her locker at the Emporium Miss Turner is arrested and tried for theft. Although she has been a clerk for five years at the store and insists she is innocent, Edward Gilder, her employer, urges that the court make an example of her. As a result, despite the unconclusive evidence, the judge sentences her to three years in prison.6 5See above, Chap. IV, pp. 145-146; Chap. V, pp. 167- 168. 6Bayard Veiller, Within the Law, in Van H. Cartmell Gild St. His pr competition, writes a Che declares tha fortunate th act, Mary Tu. noblesse obl. effers to tej goods. HOWex Clerks higher naudlin plea I thought YOU "\ We wOrk 1' a fact is on Six dc rent and In ta Charge that a 2‘5! . ‘J‘nor dld Sl able applicdt MarY- . girl . or SO Glider r I“ Gave 222 Gilder views himself as an honest and humane capital- ist. His profits, though large, are obtained through honest competition, and he receives no rebates from railroads. He writes a check for ten thousand dollars for a charity and declares that "it's splendid to be able to help those less fortunate than ourselves!" In the final scene of the first act, Mary Turner offers a challenge to Gilder's theories of noblesse oblige. Her imprisonment is delayed, after she offers to tell Gilder how to stop the problem of stolen goods. However, when Miss Turner urges him to pay the clerks higher wages, he dismisses the suggestion as "a maudlin plea for a lot of dishonest girls" and complains, "I thought you were bringing me facts." Mary Turner then of- fers considerable data: We work nine hours a day for six dollars a week. That's a fact isn't it? And an honest girl can't live decently on six dollars a week-—and buy food and clothes and pay rent and carfare, that's another fact, isn't it?7 In the exchange which follows, Gilder resents the charge that he is not a benevolent employer; however, the author did suggest there were definite limits to the suit- able application of principles of noblesse oblige: Mary. . . . Do you know that the first time an honest girl steals, it's often because she needs a doctor or some luxury like that? . . . Gilder (rising and interrupting her sharply). I'm not their guardian. I can't watch over them after they leave the store. They are paid at the current rate and Bennett Cerf, ed., Famous Plays of Crime and Detection (Philadelphia: Blakiston, 1946), p. 88. 71bid., pp. 86, 94-95. 223 of wages, as much as any other store pays. Mary. Yes, I know that, Mr. Gilder, but-- Gilder (virtuously indignant). No man living does more for his employees than I do! Who gave the girls the fine rest room upstairs? I did. Who gave them the cheap lunchroom? I did. Mary. But you won't pay them enough to live on. Gilder. So that's the plea you make for yourself and your friends, that you are forced to steal! Mary (leaning across GILDER'S desk). I wasn't forced to steal! But that's the plea, as you call it, that I'm making for the other girls. There hundreds of them stealing or going on the streets because they don't get enough to eat.8 Veiller indicates clearly that an elitist concept of justice prevails in American society. Mary Turner, despite little evidence is sent to jail for three years; her court- appointed lawyer was a boy "getting experience," trying his first case. In contrast, when Mrs. J. W. Gaskell, a klepto— maniac, is caught stealing, she obtains somewhat better treatment. Gilder apologizes to her for the inconvenience; not, of course, because she is in need of medical care but because her husband is a bank president. Elitist justice does not end with release from pri- son; Mary Turner and others find police harassment a contin- uing problem. Whenever they locate a job, police inform the employer that employees with criminal records are likely to violate the law again. Ex-convict Turner responds, however, by forming a gang which only operates "within the law." Mary Turner explains, "anyone with brains can get rich in this country if he'll engage the right lawyer."9 By the end of the second act Mary Turner attains her 81bid., pp. 95-96. 9Ibid., p. 99. avenge' 8k) filer innoct hporium's of. I ally tells G. and gave me E mdl've gOt In t? lymelodramat an elaborate The plan to t ber, clearly this the pol SMencer, pur maistolen f convince the father's home hottative gang hires: "The5 ‘tOn't they? " l] Veille ‘h ' a gimmicks c 224 revenge. She has a more than adequate income; she has proof of her innocence; and finally she has allowed the son of The Emporium's owner to marry her. At the curtain she emphatic- ally tells Gilder: "Four years ago you took away my name and gave me a number. Now I've given up . . . that number "10 and I've got your name. In the final act, Within the Law becomes increasing- ly melodramatic. The police employ an agent provocateur in an elaborate scheme to capture Mary Turner and her gang. The plan to trap the gang is foiled, however, when one mem- ber, clearly less committed to operating "within the law," kills the police agent with a gun equipped with a Maxium Silencer, purchased through a Boston fence, after it had been stolen from a Yale professor. Richard Gilder fails to convince the police that he shot the man in defense of his father's home, however, and the authorities play on the in- novative gang member's sense of pride. He confesses and in- quires: "They'll remember me as first to spring one of them, won't they?"ll Veiller has been remembered for his skill at spring- ing gimmicks on unsuspecting audiences,12 and Within the Law proved enormously popular. Due to increasing competition from the moving picture industry, the audience for popular 10 11 Ibid., p. 127. Ibid., p. 163. IZSee, for example, John Chapman's "Introduction," in ibid., pp. x-xii- helodrama de 1912, ten rot aelodrama al. l’eiller attrIE social issue. claimed that creases give: stores and i: in tWElVe st§ If Ve asticallY end the great pre clared, "bUt a sermon as Charles H. P6 employers wor 1:1 5 225 melodrama declined during this decade;13 yet, by the end of 1912, ten road companies were producing Veiller's play. The melodrama also had lengthy runs in London and Paris.14 Veiller attributed the play's success not to its plot but to social issues, raised in the first two acts. Later, he claimed that Within the Law was responsible for wage in- creases given to the employees of six New York department stores and investigations into working conditions for women . 15 in twelve states. If Veiller exaggerated the play's influence, numer— ous reform-oriented clergymen and politicians did enthusi- astically endorse the play. "I have listened to nearly all the great preachers of the world," Rev. T. D. Gregory de- clared, "but I have never heard from any of them so powerful a sermon as was preached in Within the Law." Similarly, Dr. Charles H. Pankhurst expressed the hope that all New York employers would attend performances of Veiller's play.16 In his days as police commissioner, Theodore Roosevelt recalled l3Alfred L. Bernheim, The Business of Theatre (New York: Actors' Equity Association, 1932), p. 13; Jack Poggi, Theater in America: The Impact of Economic Forces (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1968), pp. 39-43. 14New York Timgg, December 7, 1913, VIII, 9; "The Luck of Bayard Veiller," New York Times, December 10, 1916; Bayard Veiller, "No Such Thing as Lucky in Playwrighting," New York Sun, August 15, 1917. 15 New York Times, September 21, 1913, V, p. 4. l6Rev. T. D. Gregory, "Within the Law," New York American, November 26, 1913; Dr. Charles H. Pankhurst quoted from the New York Evening Journal in A Little Circular on the Theatre (New York: Royal Theatre, February 16, N.Y.). that both he nessed numer drama. R005 1 the play'5 In 9ractices by equally repr: classes. Vei practices of that is! on i JehocratiC 0?- :‘ormance Of “I never more ti- Rev. inaccurate; V melodrama. I bined a serrnoI m | he controve See D: .tarl Haskell all 10 stood dis 51‘ 3d another team. ‘h 18 OWI rfilsnantly il‘ 226 that both he and Veiller, then a police reporter, had wit- nessed numerous incidents like those depicted in the melo- drama. Roosevelt insisted that critics had misunderstood the play's moral lesson which was not to justify antisocial practices by the underworld but was intended to condemn equally reprehensible behavior within the law by the upper classes. Veiller had, Roosevelt asserted, placed "the practices of two sets of wrongoers exactly where they belong, that is, on the same moral level." Not to be outdone, his Democratic opponent, Woodrow Wilson, also attended a per- formance of Within the Law and wrote to Veiller: "I was 17 never more thrilled and interested." Rev. Gregory's appraisal of Within the Law was not inaccurate; Veiller had effectively combined preaching with melodrama. In his next play, The Fight, Veiller again com- bined a sermon with melodrama, but his subject matter proved more controversial. "'See that man!‘ cried the frenzied 'madame' of Pearl Haskell's 'house,‘ pointing to a gray haired Senator who stood dismayed in horror. 'Well, he paid me $500 to find another man's daughter in that room, and-—he--has found--his own.'"18 Thus, the second act of The Fight poignantly illustrated that even the best of people could 17Letters from Roosevelt and Wilson to Veiller were published in Anniversary Program, Within the Law (New York: February 18, 1913). 18Quoted by Alan Dale, New York American, n.d. he trapped iI imply provi political 1e trayed. Pub analysis and in order to I SEVEJ sihilar melo; On Broadway. atcept a mad: 1’8ch by a E garment StO: Soon afteFNa: no 1011991, be at the same t operatiOn' Cc to her dilemm tiOn. She ar th .e SECret Se 227 be trapped in a house of ill fame. To Veiller the scene simply provided a dramatic situation in which ties linking political leaders and police to vice could be clearly por- trayed. Public prosecutor William McAdoo rejected Veiller's analysis and insisted people did not come to see The Fight in order to hear a sermon. Several weeks prior to the opening of The Fight a similar melodrama, George Scarborough's The Lure, had opened on Broadway. The Lure described a shopgirl's decision to accept a madame's offer of employment and her subsequent rescue by a secret service agent. They first meet in a de- partment store, where the young lady is employed as a clerk. Soon afterward, however, the shopgirl is informed she will no longer be needed at the store because business is slow; at the same time she learns that her mother must have an operation, costing one hundred dollars. The only solution to her dilemma, the girl concludes, is the madame's proposi- tion. She arrives at the establishment and again encounters the secret service agent. He has been on the trail of a banker's daughter who, after a phony marriage, had been ta- ken to the house, where she committed suicide. Of course, he has already fallen in love with the shopgirl, and almost instantly he dissuades her from a life of even greater ex- ploitation through a system in which leading citizens and criminal elements share in the profits.19 15 19New York Globe and Commercial Advertiser, August , 1913. soOn both it and k ating for whé tained, by t} upper class F were suspect6 tions, VeillE action, beca‘c other notable fore offered Veill several weeks had opened. fi ds was her of ' the Medica ing season An s‘JStained a l the 228 Soon after The Fight opened, the police suppressed both it and Scarborough's The Lure. Both theaters were closed; authorities charged that the melodramas were inde- cent. Veiller believed that the police were merely retali- ating for what they considered unjust accusations in his Within the Law. They were particularly angered, he main- tained, by the charge that they treated members of the upper class much better than those of the lower class who were suspected of comparable crimes. Despite their objec- tions, Veiller contended, they were unable to take any action, because Theodore Roosevelt, Woodrow Wilson, and other notable had endorsed the play. The Fight, there- fore offered an opportunity for revenge. Veiller cited the fact that The Lure had run for several weeks, unmolested by the police, until his own play had opened. At the same time, moreover, Briux's Damaged Goods was being produced in New York, under the sponsorship of the Medical Review of Reviews. Also, during the preced- ing season Any Night, which dealt with street walkers had sustained a long run; the police had merely insisted that the play's producers delete all reference to the fact that public officials engaged in law enforcement might share in the profits of these "ladies." In contrast, Veiller was told by Police Commissioner Waldo, who had not seen The 20New York Times, September 11, 1913, p. 11; New York Times, September 17, 1913, p. 9; New York Times; Sep- tember 21, 1913, V, p. 4; Bayard Veiller, The Fun I've Had (New York: Reynal & Hitchcock, 1941), p. 176. Nume; social redee: basis of the awarning not Frederick C. to Veiller: From a mic Flght is searchlic and I be: proval of The Lure \ Was its authOr, a :elodrama On o seen an inVES Cor‘Sulted wit cr‘ma Would :lIlCh (Depart. I— 229 . . . "21 Fight: "You've got to throw the whole filthy thing away. Numerous reformers attested to the authenticity and social redeeming qualities of The Fight and The Lure. The basis of the plot for The Fight, Veiller asserted, came from a warning note published by the Traveler's Aid Society. Frederick C. Howe, director of the People's Institute wrote to Veiller: From a moral and political viewpoint, it seems to me Th3 Fight is a three-hours' sermon as well as a remarkable searchlight on the social basis of present day ethics, and I believe that public opinion should arise in ap- proval of such plays as The Fight.22 The Lure was advertised as "the Play that Reformed the World"; its author, a former secret service agent, had based the melodrama on a "particularly offensive case" in which he had been an investigator. Lee Shubert, producer of the play, consulted with numerous reformers who argued that the melo- drama would contribute to a worthwhile cause. Stanley W. Finch (Department of Justice, head of the division involved with the suppression of white slave traffic), Judge Warren W. Foster, former Police Commissioner Bingham, Mrs. Catt, Julius HOpp, Norman Hapgood, and George Sylvester Viereck 21New York Times, September 21, 1913, V, p. 4. 2Frederick C. Howe's letter to Veiller quoted in the Cleveland Leader, November 30, 1913. By 1916, however, Howe was convinced there was no evidence to justify the hys- terical accounts, often tinged with nativism, that appeared in the popular press. See, his The Confessions of a Reform- er (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1925), pp. 268-269; New York Times, September 21, 1913, V, p. 4. all endorsed Scar than Veiller trade. Most factory and cause of pro with urban A; or to the 9: guns, eSpe. from rural a: moment Werg LTJ‘Elltly listg few senator' s Ehte 230 all endorsed the play.23 Scarborough's melodrama conformed more accurately than Veiller's to the published accounts of the white slave trade. Most of these emphasized low wages paid to female factory and department store workers as the major economic cause of prostitution, while many also cited unfamiliarity with urban American life as a significant contributing fac- tor to the growth of the white slavery. Therefore, immi- grants, especially those with a language barrier, and girls from rural areas who had come to the cities in search of em- ployment were often victimized. Phoney marriages were fre- quently listed as a technique for obtaining victims,24 but few senator's daughters seem to have been kidnapped for the enterprises of urban madames. Critics, however, doubted that authenticity had much to do with the success of either The Lure or The Fight. George Jean Nathan challenged the whole "white slave myth- ology," and others argued that Scarborough and Veiller were more interested in exploiting the issue for profit than in bringing about reform. One suggested that The Lure "aroused more curiosity than public conscience," while another, 23New York Times, September 17, 1913, p. 9; F. C. Fay, "The Author of The Lure," Theatre, XXIII (October 1913), 124-125; "Dramatizing Vice," Literary Digest, XLVII (October 4, 1913), 577. 24See, for example, Addams, "A New Conscience and an Ancient Evil," McClure's Magazine, XXXVIII (November 1911), 5, 6-8; George Kibbe Turner's "The Daughters of the Poor," McClure's Magazine, XXXIV (November 1909), reflects nativis- tic and antisemitic attitudes but see, especially, pp. 46-47. ariting in 1 :elodrama wa the public. Briux's 93113 M's cr ference in t2 lag and sucl Literary Digg Who sought t: sad enthusias Shah" 8 Mrs. E- \_ Yet '— 231 writing in The Independent, observed that "white slavery" melodrama was "good stuff" but was not intended to awaken the public. Though Veiller later associated his play with Briux's Damaged Goods, this view was not shared by The Inde- pendent's critic who declared that there was "all the dif- ference in the world between such plays as The Fight and The Lure and such a play as Damaged Goods." Furthermore, as Literary Digest noted, New York prosecutor, William McAdoo, who sought to have the courts suppress Veiller's melodrama, had enthusiastically supported the New York production of Shaw's Mrs. Warren's Profession. Yet, if critics were skeptical about reformist ideas in The Lure and The Fight, a number of observers associated the plays' popularity with the rising political conscious- ness of women. One critic, in fact, asserted that the main theme of Veiller's play was the potential influence of women in politics. Similarly, the New York Advertiser reported that the audience responded with vociferous cheers when one of the characters in The Lure declares: "If the women of the country could write the laws there would be no white slave trade." Finally, there was an officer of the Woman's Political Union who claimed that "The Lure would have done 5George Jean Nathan, Another Book on the Theatre (New York: B. W. Huebsch, 1915), p. 246; Clipping from N2! Zgrk Evening Mail, n.d., NYPLTC; New York Times, September 21, 1913, v, p. 4; "Dramatizing Vice," Literary Digest, XLVII (October 4, 1913), 577. to white sla I Mostl status was r: popular woma written a wh of course, n gressivism m however, oth. ilar I years . lotte Perkin; 301a La Poll: aleading I'D: to Contimle t tillage femifl issue in 1914' .‘= in . ‘dirnlty lea 26 3..., Des Atn YOrk Am ‘3:th F ‘iewuger 13' l I. Ork w rue," Litomd e695]. g\er.\a 232 to white slavery what Uncle Tom's Cabin did to black."26 Most drama aimed at altering women's political status was more doctrinaire, though the author of the most popular woman-suffrage play, Elizabeth Robins, had herself written a white-slave novel.27 Suffragette plays were not, of course, new, and they reflected the philosophy of pro- gressivism more than the New Spirit of 1912. Sometimes, however, other issues raised by feminists in the pre-World War I years were developed in these productions. In Char- lotte Perkins Gilman's Three Women, for example, in which Fola La Follette--daughter of the Wisconsin senator--played a leading role, a kindergarten teacher argued for the right to continue teaching after marriage.28 Before Greenwich Village feminist Henrietta Rodman made this a controversial issue in 1914, New York City schools had refused to grant maternity leaves or rehire married female teachers with 26Des Moines Register and Leader, December 14, 1914; New York Advertiser, September 17, 1913; New York Times, October 15, 1913, p. 11; Nora Blatch de Forest, Secretary, New York Woman's Political Union, quoted in "Dramatizing Vice," Literary Digest, XLVII (October 4, 1913), 577. At a meeting of 800 women suffragettes, the president of the WOmen's Political Union, Mrs. Henrietta Blatch, praised The Lure as "a veracious presentation of the so-called white slave evil," New York Times, October 13, 1913, p. 9. 27New York Times, March 16, 1909; New York Tele- graph, March 1, 1913; W. J. Roberts, "Elizabeth Robins: The Novelist, Actress and Suffragist at Home," Book News Month- ly, October 1910, pp. 238-240; New York Times, April 1, 1910, p. 11; New York Times, March 29, 1911, p. 13. 28New York Times, March 15, 1911, p. 13; New York Times, March 29, 1911, p. 13. children, 57 report Chan? the school 1? I Suff occasions an English woma sen's Three “Pagent of P ins' Votes F \ allew York a release of it However, thi: erative Brit, leader nine t Althc agitation an: tations of a fa? between t 233 children, and many women who married while teaching, did not report changes in their marital status because they feared the school board would terminate their employment.29 Suffragette plays were often staged on special occasions and illustrated ties between the American and English woman-suffrage movements. Charlotte Perkins Gil- man's Three Women, for instance, was produced as part of a "Pagent of Protest" staged in New York, and Elizabeth Rob- ins' Votes For Women, first produced in England, was read to a New York audience on January 10, 1909, to celebrate the release of Mrs. Emmeline Pankhurst from an English gaol. However, this occasion was marred somewhat, when the uncoop- erative British government released the militant suffrage leader nine days ahead of schedule.30 Although Floyd Dell believed increased woman-suffrage agitation and the little-theater movement were both manifes- tations of a New Spirit in 1912, there was a considerable gap between the two. For, if dramatists who wrote material produced in little theaters were anxious to avoid the hack— neyed conventions of Broadway, they were, in general, equally adamant in their determination to avoid simplistic pr0paganda. Furthermore, they were also separated from their reform-oriented counterparts amongst the suffragettes 29June Sochen, The New Woman: Feminism in Greenwich Village, 1910-1920 (New York: Quadrangle, 1972), pp. 52-54. 30New York Times, March 29, 1911, p. 13; New York Times, January 10, 1909, p. 13. and along t? HY- r Bot? theater move who stressed upheld value alack of ex be no more I in Bayard Ve guard of the frage, they 51" the new f. 3 2SEE :n‘H‘OCo 340. *nCe (Ne 234 and along the great white way by wide differences in ideol- ogy. Both suffragettes and those involved in the little- theater movement were concerned about women's rights. Those who stressed the vote, however, saw it as a great panacea and upheld values rooted in middle-class culture. Thus, despite a lack of evidence, as one critic noted, the author of Egggg For Women maintained that if women won the vote, there would be no more ruined ladies,31 a claim which exceeded even that in Bayard Veiller's melodrama. Although those in the van- guard of the little—theater movement favored universal suf- frage, they were often more interested in the issues raised by the new feminists. Thus, freedom from middle-class con- vention was of greater concern than reforms to solidify what they considered Puritan morality.32 Yet, in serious drama written for little-theater audiences, playwrights did not seek to propagandize on be- half of radical social or political causes; instead, they frequently expressed skepticism regarding reform through plays depicting conditions beyond the scope of progressivism. For the women described in the drama of Philip Moeller, John Reed, and Rose Pastor Stokes, the likelihood that the vote would bring about meaningful change along the lines suggested 31Charles Darnton, Clipping dated March 17, 1909, NYPLTC . 32See, for example, Henry May, The End ofAmerican Innocence (New York: A. A. KnOpf, 1959), pp. 237-240, 337- 340. by Blizabet'i Moe: valid woman ence. From constructiOT known the gr ing, but the raised to be possible. U the connerci plain appear tain she exp given his la In J< 'a‘retched ten. cal; the oth litter meets he . - l filll come her friend 1: L . “0t“ Choose Hal]. II 34 235 by Elizabeth Robbins, was clearly remote. Moeller's Charity described the struggle of an in- valid woman and her daughter to maintain their meager exist- ence. From her tenement window the woman could observe the construction of an impressive new building. Once she had known the great philanthropist, who had donated the build- ing, but that was in better days. Her daughter had been raised to be a "lady," but her mother's status made that im- possible. Uneducated, she was unable to find employment in the commercial world, and when she tried prostitution, her plain appearance merely brought laughter. At the final cur- tain she explains to her mother that the philanthropist had 33 given his last donation to them two months ago. In John Reed's Moondown two shopgirls, living in a wretched tenement room, discuss their future. One is cyni- cal; the other clings to a romantic View of life. The latter meets a poet who promises to marry her. He declares he will come for her by moondown. When he fails to arrive, her friend refuses to aid her. As a result, in the end, both choose what Eugene Walter had called "The Easiest Way."34 Rose Pastor Stokes' In April describes a young girl's efforts to maintain the family tenement home. She refuses to marry the man she loves and stays at home to help 33Philip Moeller, Charity (NYPLTC: Typescript, 1914). 34New York Times, March 27, 1915. her mOther S . ‘ 35 ~ :atner- Li one Writer i \ ill the New I. Had YOu sible Oh for her, wretched self is The the Old right-37 The author r chism of ind asserted, "W the scruff o mntstairs. sisted, woul thrillment . and the old. Char a Pioneering ide - 236 her mother struggle with a brutal and usually drunken step- father.35 Critical reaction to Stokes' play varied,36 but one writer protested in a letter to the author which appeared in the New York Call: Had you let Annie go with the youth and take her pos- sible chance of happiness, there would be some hope for her, but to stay home with a brute step-father and wretched mother to become wretched in a short time her— self is awful. The young must sacrifice the old, if need be, or the old will sacrifice the young, thinking it is their right.37 The author responded that such reasoning reflected the anar- chism of individualistic thought. The individualist, she asserted, "would like to take Annie's drunken stepfather by the scruff of the neck and throw him down his wretched tene- ment stairs." A more enlightened social philosophy, she in- sisted, would recognize "that only 'human fate' prevents the fulfillment of 'human destiny' and provide for the young and the old."38 Charity, Moondown, and In April were all produced by a pioneering little-theater group in Greenwich Village. The idea for the group grew out of impromptu experiments staged 35New York Evening Post, May 8, 1915. 36One reviewer found the production unpleasant, Egg YorkITelegram, May 8, 1915. Another declared that In April was "one of the best playletstflmanew Bandbox occupants have given," Brooklyn Eagle, May 11, 1915. Later, Charles Col- lins, suggested the drama was similar to Joseph Patterson's By-Products, Chicago Post, January 8, 1917. 37L. M., "Letter to Rose Pastor Stokes," New York Call, June 13, 1915. 38Rose Pastor Stokes, "Reply to L. M.," New York Call, June 13, 1915. in Albert BC presentatior above which al Club in t by the outbr Player persua Europe. Thi Pia‘a’ers. To the Bandbox four One-act 503 the orga ular basis; . Begi: 237 in Albert Boni's Washington Square BookshOp; plans for more presentations were discussed at Polly Holliday's restaurant above which Henrietta Rodman moved one faction of the Liber- al Club in the autumn of 1913. In the following year, aided by the outbreak of war, Moeller, Ralph Roeder, and Josephine Meyer persuaded Edward Goodman to abandon a planned trip to Europe. This led to the formation of the Washington Square Players. Toward the end of the 1914-1915 season they leased the Bandbox Theater and began to offer programs, usually four one-act plays, on weekends. During the 1915-1916 sea- son the organization was able to lease the theater on a reg- ular basis; eight performances were given weekly.39 Beginning in the spring of 1914, however, many who later participated as active menters of the Washington Square Players gained experience in plays, directed by Edward Good- man, which were sponsored by the Socialist Press Club, an organization which sought to bring socialist intellectuals together. The society's president was socialist-muckraker 39"Theater Guild, Now a Year Old, Had an Interesting Genesis and an Uphill Fight to Win," New York Tribune, April 1920 undated clipping in Philip Moeller Collection; Albert Parry, Garrets and Pretenders: A History of Bohemia in America (New York: Covici-Friede, 1933), p. 270; Gilman Os- trander, American Civilization in the First Machine Age, 1890—1940 (New York: Harper & Row, 1970), pp. 179-180; Hen- ry May, The End of American Innocence: A Study of the First Years of Our Own Time, 1912-1917 (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1959), p. 284; Zoe Beckley, "Dentists, Lawyers, Clerks, by Day, They're Actors, and Good Ones, at Night," undated clipping in Moeller Coll.; Thomas Dickinson, The In- surgent Theatre (New York: B. W. Huebsch, 1917), p. 172; Constance D'arcy Mackay, The Little Theatre in the United States (New York: Henry Holt, 1917), pp. 28-30. Charles Edwa If t I ist, the dra pointed towal sin On thtl | sion was Ros-z: Cert; of Martin Grf man who is me he is two mor \l 40Unc‘ Socialist Pre IJYPLTC; w. 13.] While Anita E Edward Goodrna| tee. All, of ":3; See, P f r and Soc 1?: Rose Fag So - Me Call C. a. Went :11 L.hWCOmS tC Froup's n the 238 40 Charles Edward Russell. If the aims of the Socialist Press Club were reform— ist, the dramas staged for the group by Goodman clearly pointed toward the ideology which the Masses had articulat- ed.41 On the same bill with Moeller's Charity on one occae sion was Rose Pastor Stokes' The Saving of Martin Greer. Certainly a mood of despair prevails in The Saving of Martin Greer, a grim drama, describing the fate of an old man who is no longer able to find work. As the play opens he is two months behind in his rent and his landlady and her 40Undated letter from Thomas Seltzer (Sec. of the Socialist Press Club)tx>Goodman, Edward Goodman Collection, NYPLTC; W. E. B. DuBois served a term as vice-president, while Anita Block, Hiram Moderwell, Rose Pastor Stokes, and Edward Goodman were members of the group's executive commit- tee. All, of course, were associated with the theater as well. See, Pauline Cahn's letter to Stokes dated May 28, 1915, and Socialist Press Club Bulletin, February 14, n.y., in Rose Pastor Stokes Collection, Yale University. 41In March, the New York Call saw in the Socialist Press Club 21 spirit‘ similar to that created by the Young- est Germany movement 25 years earlier. A movement which, the Call noted, was closely associated with the early dramas of Gerhart Hauptmann. Later in the same month the Call ob- served: "Great interest is being expressed throughout the city among revolutionists, radicals, reformers, literary people, proletarians and city officials, including the po- lice, as to the nature of the plays which are to be present- ed by the Socialist Press Club at the Berkeley Theater." The Call went on to predict that, in addition to the police, Anthony Comstock would be likely to show up for one of the group's theatrical performances in the near future. Egg York Call, March 26, 1914. Other dramas produced before So- cialist Press Club audiences included R. Russell Hertz's A Female of the Species, Stanley Houghton's Phipps, George Bronson-Howard's A Night in Subterranea, August Strindberg's The Pariah and Anton Chekhov's The Bear. See, Socialist Press Club Program (December 19, 1914); Clipping from 52! York Call, March 14, 1914, in the Stokes Papers. awhiler dec dent evictiO gas. His 1a sons a dOCtO k1,. To the overtones . ”Saved!" and It W4 social uplif‘ one M Stokes was pl most writers Substantive c the economic like Moeller gressive refo l— 239 daughter decide he must leave. When informed of his immi- nent eviction, he looks the kitchen door and turns on the gas. His landlord manages to break down the door and sum— mons a doctor who revives the old man with a drink of whis- ky. To the old man, however, his rescue is marred by ironic overtones. He rises up in the bed to exclaim bitterly "Saved!" and falls back down in defeat.42 It was "hard from the viewpoint of entertainment or social uplift to see the use" of The Saving of Martin Greer one New York Herald reviewer declared.43 Yet, Rose Pastor Stokes was probably more oriented toward social change than most writers associated with the Washington Square Players. Substantive change, however, required a transformation in the economic and social framework for Stokes; while others like Moeller depicted conditions beyond the scope of pro- gressive reform but eschewed doctrinaire solutions. Moel- ler's Two Blind Beggars and One Less Blind, an early pro- duction of the Washington Square Players, for example, de- picted a brutal, Darwinian struggle for existence in an at- mosphere of sordid squalor without the element of Romanti- cism in the Broadway plays of Edward Sheldon or the hint that reform was even possible. Two Blind Beggars and One Less Blind was set in a rat-infested ragpicker's cellar. Two old beggars 42New York Times, March 29, 1914, iv, p. 6. 43New York Herald, March 29, 1914. simultaneous through a pi suing strugg I alittle gir the coal sto proves suita clares: "It 44 die." In s scribed peOp tho . " grOUp d1] en's rights . 'a'fllCh Sought ‘o. I 240 simultaneously come upon a dollar bill, while sorting through a pile of rags. They strangle each other in an en- suing struggle. Soon afterwards a third beggar enters with a little girl. The two search for a piece of paper to light the coal stove. The little girl finds the bill, which proves suitable. As the girl leaves, the third beggar de- clares: "It must be a terrible thing to be blind and to die."44 In such plays as In April, Two Blind Beggars and One Less Blind, and Moondown the Washington Square Players de- scribed peOple at the bottom of the social scale. Although the group did occasionally give performances to benefit wom- en's rights activities,45 they attracted a diverse group which sought not social but artistic reform.46 They hOped to create innovations in acting and staging which would 44Philip Moeller, Two Blind Beggars and One Less Blind (NYPLTC: Typescript, 1915), p. 16. 45Washington Square Players (Program for week of March 12, 1917), Philip Moeller Collection, NYPLTC. 46Edward Goodman believed that a drama of conditions "is art only when those conditions arise from character and situation." Furthermore, he concluded: "America has a su- perfluity of preachers and a dearth of seers." New York lggp, January 17, 1916, clipping in Stokes Collection. Oth- ers included in the group were Robert Strange, an active businessman, Spaulding Hall, an artist, Josephine Meyer, an illustrator. And if Lee Simonson, Philip Moeller, and Law- rence Langer sought permanent professional status in the theater, others such as Ida Rauh and Harold Stearns, as well as Charles and Albert Boni, did not. See, Washingtgn Square Players (Program, February 19, 1915); Zoe Beckley, "Den- tists, Lawyers, Clerks, by Day, They're Actors, and Good Ones, at Night" (undated clipping in the Philip Moeller Col- lection, NYPLTC); Vanitprair (February 1917). provide the: stage. Drar hageg dedicF considerablyI ges. For MCI transformatjl an aesthetic in the theat ‘Dlutionary e be used tO E types of ecc advocated; Fl led him awall little‘theat' Alth ilar ethnic vastly diffe hdd mOVed t0 Philip ”Cell family home at be 10Ca te dhO plaYing' described hi COm‘DliShment his energies 241 provide theatergoers with an alternative to the Broadway stage. Dramatists associated with the group might share the Masses dedication to revolution not reform, but differed considerably as to how to best carry out the sweeping chan— ges. For Moeller the needed revolution came to mean a transformation of the theater into an institution worthy of an aesthetic elite. Stokes grew more doctrinaire; changes in the theater for her were clearly less important than rev- olutionary economic and social changes, and the drama could be used to promote change. John Reed was committed to the types of economic and social change that Rose Pastor Stokes advocated; perhaps, it was his sense of humor, however, that led him away from doctrinaire drama and toward another little-theater group, the Provincetown Players. Although both Moeller and Stokes had roots in a sim— ilar ethnic tradition, their economic situations had been vastly different. Moeller's grandfather, an English Jew, had moved to New York as a successful merchant. As children Philip Moeller and his sister had played theater in the old family home on Thirty-fourth Street, where Macy's would lat- er be located. After attending Columbia, he dabbled at pi- ano playing, dancing, and book collecting-—one contemporary described him as an "arch-dilettante." With the early ac- complishments of the Washington Square Players, he applied his energies more seriously toward the theater, but drama remained to a large degree a source of aesthetic amusement i for Moelle he wrote :1: the Arrlouro:I whatever ti was intend< Ros helped her ghetto; Elf; Cleveland 5| StOkes, th not alter h jOI‘ I'Ole in in 1912 and labor, and P353th stOk dls'criminat It. the New Yor' \ 47N PMoeller ij {fifruary 10 A3111? M091: . A. 1910pr '1‘, r ,1 “he 95 C Paught 8) I 242 for Moeller. Following Two Blind Beggars and One Less Blind, he wrote Helena's Husband, Pokey; or the Beautiful Legend of the Amourous Indian, and several other works of this genre; whatever the artistic merits of these plays, certainly none was intended to bring about social change. Rose Pastor Stokes was born in Russia. At four she helped her mother set bows on ladies' slippers in a London ghetto; eight years later she learned to roll cigars in a Cleveland sweatshop. In 1905, while writing for the Jewish Daily News (N. Y.) she met philanthrOpist J. G. Phelps Stokes, whom she later married. Her change in status did not alter her commitment to social change; she played a ma- jor role in organizing female hotel and restaurant workers in 1912 and was much sought after as a speaker by university, labor, and socialist groups.48 Nevertheless, in 1916 Rose Pastor Stokes unwillingly became something of a symbol of discrimination in law enforcement. It was Margaret Sanger whose lectures and columns in the New York Call made birth control a public issue in the 47New York Herald, April 11, 1920; Howard Barns, "Moeller of the Theater Guild," New York Herald Tribune, February 10, 1929; Zoe Beckley, "Dentists, Lawyers, Clerks"; Philip Moeller, Five Somewhat Historical Plays (New York: A. A. Knopf, 1918). 48Rose Pastor Stokes, "I Belong to the Working Class" (unpublished autobiography completed December 1932 in Stokes Papers), pp. 4—5; V. J. Jerome, ed., "From an Unpublished Autobiography--the Little Breadwinner: How Child Labor was Treated in Cleveland in the 1890's," Jewish Currents, XII (June 1958), 8-11; Jeanette D. Pearl,_WRose Pastor Stokes-- Daughter of the American Working Class," Daily Worker (New York), June 20, 1939. years aftel had attract. the feminis of the Codel I free speecl'“ M to C Af+ family pla of m the Publice rested for land to avo i“ Havelock gemPhlet; h tributing i Mrs trial fOCuS. grOup Of Br Arnold Benm 243 years after 1912.49 By the early months of 1916 the cause had attracted supporters of diverse political persuasions to the feminist position. The somewhat ambivalent enforcement of the Code Comstock by the authorities raised issues of free speech, obscenity, and antiradicalism, and led the Masses to challenge Rose Pastor Stokes' ideology. After a trip to Europe where she learned more about family planning, Margaret Sanger published the first issue of Woman Rebel in March 1914. Three of the eight issues of the publication were banned by the local postmaster. Ar— rested for the opening issue, Margaret Sanger fled to Eng- land to avoid imprisonment; here she found a kindred spirit in Havelock Ellis. She left behind Family Limitation a pamphlet; her husband spent thirty days in jail for dis- tributing it to an agent of Anthony Comstock.50 Mrs. Sanger's decision to return home to face a trial focused attention on the issue early in 1916. From a group of British intellectuals including William Archer, Arnold Bennett, and H. G. Wells came an open letter to President Wilson urging him to intervene in the case "not 9Several weeks after she originated the column, the issue of censorship arose. Mrs. Sanger turned to a Sunday morning copy of the New York Call and found beneath a two- column headline "What Every Girl Should Know"--"NOTHING! By Order of the Post-Office Department." Margaret Sanger, An Autobiography (New York: W. W. Norton, 1938), p. 77. SOSanger, Autobiography, pp. 104, 109-120, 137-141, 176-177; Sochen, New Woman, p. 62; Emily Taft Douglas, Mgr- garet Sanger: Pioneer of the Future (New York: Holt, Rine- hart and Winston, 1970), pp. 27, 50-51, 85. only for t; material i; in every c- the night 1 Hotel whictr views on t1" National Bi the topic, trol argued Rose Pastor Dr. Abraham Planned to a medical me and She effe had planned his remarks . lically boas “3 “hi h f Planning ture.54 51 pp. 90‘91.Sa 52 rqDErs. & 53 .ncer P Sax r . 9] 54 244 only for the benefit of Mrs. Sanger, but of humanity." The material in the Woman Rebel, they noted, freely circulated in every civilized country except the United States.51 On the night before the trial a dinner was held at the Brevoort Hotel which brought support from groups holding diverse views on the subject of birth control. One faction of the National Birth Control League supported free discussion of the topic, while Henrietta Rodman's Committee of Birth Con- trol argued that only physicians should give information.52 Rose Pastor Stokes, who chaired the discussion, learned that Dr. Abraham Jacoby scheduled to speak before Mrs. Sanger planned to attack the guest of honor for her discussions of a medical matter. Stokes introduced Margaret Sanger first, and she effectively parried the arguments which the doctor had planned to use; he tactfully shifted the direction of his remarks.53 In her Opening remarks, Mrs. Stokes pub- lically boasted that she had violated both state and federal laws which forbid the transmission of information on family planning. Furthermore, she offered to restate her remarks before Federal Judge Clayton or the New York State Legisla- ture.54 51Sanger, Autobiography, p. 186; Douglas, Sanger , pp. 90-91. 52 New York Tribune, January 18, 1916, in Stokes Papers. 53Sanger, Autobiography, pp. 187-189; Douglas, Sanger, p. 91. 54New York World, January 18, 1916, in Stokes Papers. Che Herbert Crc dience who neither fer ment, and c inclinatior room packet dant, the C On February“ ending the In I not wish tc ”disorderly . I hung such 245 Charlette Perkins Gilman, Fola La Follette, and Mrs. Herbert Croly were among the more than 150 peOple in the au- dience who applauded Rose Pastor Stokes' declaration. Yet, neither federal nor state official responded to the state- ment, and on the following day the government showed little inclination to prosecute Mrs. Sanger, either. In a court- room packed by socially prominent supporters of the defend- dant, the district attorney requested and obtained a delay. On February 18, the government filed a nolle prosequi; thus, ending the case.55 In dropping the case the government contended it did not wish to persecute Margaret Sanger. She was neither a "disorderly person" nor did she "make a practice of circu- lating such articles." As a result, however, the case settled nothing. The government was free to prosecute others, and, several days before the Sanger case was "de- cided," the government had made another arrest. Again the district attorney chose to ignore the declarations of Rose Pastor Stokes; this time it was Emma Goldman who was arrest- ed. She was charged with lecturing on a medical question, a 56 violation of the penal code. Although it was her work among the poor of New York 55New York World, January 18, 1916; New York Times, February 19, 1916. 56New York Times, February 19, 1916; Sanger, Auto- bigraphy, p. 190; Douglas, Sanger, p. 92; New York Times, February 12, 1916; Richard Drinnon, A Rebel in Paradise: A Biography of Emma Goldman (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1961), p. 168. which led tion, she her work f wood, who - more about energetica‘ ed mention nent. When decided: " it practica consequence Beg 5° Practica‘ IECturing ir Lpal COUrt M Pu 246 which led to Margaret Sanger's interest in family limita— tion, she received considerable encouragement to continue her work from many Village radicals, especially William Hay- wood, who advised her to go to Europe where she could learn more about the subject, and Emma Goldman. The latter, while energetically supporting family planning in principle avoid— ed mention of specific methods which might lead to imprison- ment. When the Sangers were arrested in 1914, however, she decided: "I must either stop lecturing on the subject or do it practical justice. I felt that I must share with them the consequences of the birth-control issue."57 Beginning in late March 1915, Emma Goldman sought to do practical justice to the issue. Not until August, while lecturing in Portland, Oregon, did authorities take action. And even here, a one hundred dollar fine imposed by a munic- ipal court was overturned by Circuit Court Judge William Gatens, who observed: "the trouble with our people today is that there is too much prudery." She continued a lecture tour through February 11, 1916, when she was arrested in New York on the basis of a speech delivered three nights earlier at the New Star Casino.58 As in the case of Margaret Sanger, feminists of varying political persuasions rallied to the side of Emma 57Sanger, Autobiography, p. 96; Emma Goldman, Living My Life (2 vols.; New York: Alfred Knoph, 1931), II, 553. 58Judge Gatens quoted in Drinnon, Rebel in Paradise, p. 167; New York Times, February 12, 1916. Goldman. Hotel on Al: John Sloan ciated wit; and writer; that the i; had "been 1" time, howe: SPeech, sh»: birth-contr Other mm: "1' Goldman did 247 Goldman. Another pretrial dinner was held at the Brevoort Hotel on April 20, arranged by Anna Sloan, wife of artist John Sloan, and other friends. Pioneering physicians asso- ciated with the birth-control movement, as well as artists and writers, attended. Again Rose Pastor Stokes asserted that the issue merited civil disobediance; she and others had "been honoring the law by breaking it for years." This time, however, she also took direct action. After her speech, she passed out printed slips of paper containing birth-control information and whispered similar material to other women in the audience.59 "I'm not bidding for arrest. I want to do what Emma Goldman did," Mrs. Stokes told one reporter. "My being mar- ried and now having social standing makes a difference in a way," she suggested. Once again the police took no action. On the following day, however, Emma Goldman was found guilty and elected to spend fifteen days in jail rather than pay a one-hundred—dollar fine. With obvious, though implicit, reference to Rose Pastor Stokes, and perhaps to Margaret Sanger as well, Max Eastman wrote in the Masses that author— ities seemed to believe "whoever goes free, Emma Goldman should be punished."60 59Goldman, Living My Life, II, 569-570; Drinnon, Rebel in Paradise, p. 168; New York Times, April 20, 1916, p. 13. 60New York Times, April 20, 1916, p. 13; New York American, April 20, 1916, clipping in Stokes Papers; Eastman quoted in Drinnon, Rebel in Paradise, p. 168 On welcome En Stokes who speech she close of t. the stage . course of Stokes esc. Ed Ben Rei- thers . 61 Thr T’JPdIS MEET; CIDE SLIPS ShOWed lit? Reitman, w} formatiOn E The Ma law depends 61‘ gimpalgn 0:! Géplzer S f ”llty " De SaCCO é a; 62 I ray 6 S 248 On May 5, a meeting was held at Carnegie Hall to welcome Emma Goldman from jail. Again it was Rose Pastor Stokes whose action attracted most attention. During her speech she promised to hand out printed material at the close of the meeting. At the designated time a rush toward the stage occurred; chairs were overturned, and in the course of the disturbance a few fights broke out. Mrs. Stokes escaped, protected by a "flying wedge," which includ- ed Ben Reitman, Arturo Giovannitti, Max Eastman, and others.61 Though newspapers with such headlinesaus"MRS. STOKES TURNS MEETING INTO RIOT" and "WOMEN MAKE RUSH FOR RACE SUI- CIDE SLIPS," perhaps, exaggerated the incident,62 the police showed little interest. Three days later, however, Ben Reitman, who had been arrested for handing out similar in- formation a few days after Emma Goldman's conviction, was found guilty and sentenced to sixty days in the workhouse. At a protest meeting at Union Square a number were arrested including Ida Rauh (Mrs. Max Eastman) and Jessie Ashley, who had distributed birth-control pamphlets to lower-class wom- en. The Masses concluded that enforcement of the obscenity law depended: (l) on one's social position more than one's ‘ 61New York Times, May 6, 1916, p. 5. Reitman was a Campaign organizer for Emma Goldman; Giovannitti, an IWW or- ganizer spent a year in jail before being declared "not Guilty," after the Lowell strike, later he organized the Sacco and Vanzetti defense; Eastman was editor of The Masses. 62St. Paul Dispatch, May 6, 1916; Boston Journal, May 6, 1916, Clippings in Stokes Papers. politics; mdnfiddle size of th« too many c} Ira Mnner for issue decl: rests; but, distributec breakdown j Parently CC Sued an ind family limi issue ' part 249 politics; and (2) on whether one gave information to upper- and middle-class women who already had learned to limit the size of their families or to lower-class women burdened with too many children for their limited income.63 In the fall of 1916, Rose Pastor Stokes spoke at a dinner for Ida Rauh and Jessie Ashley,64 but interest in the issue declined.. The police continued to make a few ar- rests; but, many were convinced that information quietly distributed would not be suppressed.65 There was also a breakdown in unity within the movement; Margaret Sanger, ap- parently convinced political radicals were a liability, pur- sued an independent course, while others who did not see family limitation as a panacea became more involved in other issue, particularly the war.66 63Goldman, Living_Mprife, II, 572; Sochen, New Woman, p. 66. 64Notes for the speech, which was given October 29, 1916, at the Hotel Brevoort, are in the Stokes Papers. 651n a letter to Rose Pastor Stokes, Emma Goldman wrote: "I am convinced that if several dozen women would publically distribute Birth Control pamphlets no more ar- rests would take place. But where are the women to do it?" October 17, 1916, Stokes Paper. Yet, when Ben Reitman called for volunteers to distribute pamphlets after an Emma Goldman lecture, he was arrested. Though 100 people fol- lowed him to jail carrying pamphlets only Reitman was held, and later received a six-month jail sentence. Emma Goldman, Living My Life, II, 588-589. 661n her autobiography Margaret Sanger maintained that "Emma Goldman and her campaign manager, Ben Reitman, belatedly advocated birth control, not to further it but strategically to utilize in their own program of anarchism the publicity value it had achieved," Autobiography, pp. 207; Emma Goldman, Living_My Life, II, 590-592; Drinnon, Rebel in Paradise, pp. 169-171. Al more critil complete a velOPEd he as women'5 was not UH 1930's, wh 1960'5- N" industry e published 3 3: la mill tO'r ter in the the family make and se ous indicat ence level & own. When closed for been reduce BenJ'amin , s In 3"3 1 tem prov 7 “atherine L \ a 67 C “We Predu: 250 Although she too came to regard other problems as more critical, Rose Pastor Stokes did find time in 1916 to complete a drama, The Woman Who Wouldn't, in which she de- veloped her ideas on economic and social repression as well as women's rights. As a critique of capitalism the drama was not unlike the propagandistic thesis dramas of the 1930's, while similar feminist ideas were advanced in the 1960's. Neither the Washington Square Players nor the film industry elected to produce Stokes' drama;67 however, it was published by G. P. Putnam's. The Woman Who Wouldn't is set in a small Pennsylvan- ia mill town. Years earlier Mary Lacey, the leading charac- ter in the drama, had drOpped out of school to contribute to the family income. Only ten at the time, she learned to make and sell paper flowers. This was, of course, an obvi- ous indication that the working class was kept at a subsist- ence level even during periods of employment in the mill town. When the drama Opens, however, the mill has been closed for two months by a strike. The Lacey family has been reduced to a state of utter destitution. The baby, Benjamin, suffers from malnutrician. In the face of growing evidence that the capitalist system provides little justice for the working class, Mrs. Katherine Lacey upholds its values. "The Lord knows what's 7Correspondence relating to attempts to have the drama produced or published is found in the Stokes Papers. best for u tells her been doing Jo: passive Ina: ina capit. Don't mills, plain! hands . scrap-2 YOke! endura: Pahl69 Lacey infor do. The b( damEr'hter Mg o'crushing neither’.. t manager.s '. Oh, I cl ladY: a. has girl knowS n: Churcn. TO this I JC When the bCl If mist indu 58 York: G i: 69' i 251 best for us," she insists. "It's sinful t' complain," she tells her husband.68 To help keep her family going, she has been doing laundry for the wife of the mill manager. John Lacey, however, no longer views his status in a passive manner. He denies the validity of Christian ethics in a capitalistic system: Don't complain! When they work ye t' death in the mills, an' starve ye t' death in the strike, don't com- plain! When they live like lords on the strength 0' yer hands an' the sweat o' yer brow an' chuck ye on the scrap-heap when they're through with ye, don't complain! . . . No, be meek! Be mild! Be like an ox under th' yoke! Let 'em grind ye an' starve ye t' th' limit of endurance! The Lord made them rich, an' you poor, Pah!69 Lacey informs his wife that she will get no more laundry to do. The boss has found that Joe, who is engaged to their daughter Mary, is leading the strike. "They know the game 0' crushing us all right . . . an' the Lord didn't teach 'em neither," he concludes. Katherine Lacey asserts that the manager's wife has a social conscience: Oh, I don't believe she'd do it! She's a charitable lady, an' she's always sayin' as how them that th' Lord has given great riches should help th' poor . . . she knows me for a God-fearin' woman . . . we go t' th' same church. . . . To this, John Lacey replies tersely: "that won't save ye 70 when the boss's profits is at stake." If his experiences have led John Lacey to view capi- talist industry in a radical manner, his social ideas remain 68Rose Pastor Stokes, The Woman Who Wouldn't (New York: G. P. Putnam's, 1916), p. 15. 69Ibid., p. 16. 7° Ibid., p. 18. 252 traditional. He points to "Handy Jackson's wretch of a daughter" and declares: "If I'd 'a' been in old Jackson's place I'd 'a' buried her an' th' kid before I'd let a bas- tard into my family."71 Almost immediately afterward, Lacey learns that his own unmarried daughter, Mary, is pregnant. For three years Mary has been engaged to Joe, but now he has become inter— ested in another. John Lacey, prepared to believe the worst about his daughter, assumes that if Joe was responsible he would have married her, while Mary refuses to marry a man who now loves someone else. Mary Lacey recalls that when "th' boss's daughter-- was--sick," a doctor helped her to "get over it." However, when she seeks similar help, the doctor equates an abortion with murder. He reminds her it is a crime for which they could both go to prison and warns: "Thou shall not kill!" Mary counters that the owners of the mill are never arrested for crippling and destroying the workers, despite inadequate safety measures. The doctor concludes that some blatant so- cialist has been filling her head with "nonsense about our best people" and leaves.72 Mary, aided by a labor leader and his wife, escapes to Pittsburgh where she obtains em- ployment and in time becomes a prominent labor leader her- self. In the final scene Mary Lacey returns to address the 7lIbid., p. 98. 721bid., pp. 56-59. 253 workers of her home town. To the surprise of her family, she has become, as "Mother Mary," a famous militant labor leader. In Pittsburgh, she had been arrested for inciting to riot. Sentenced to six months in prison, she brought her baby daughter along. This further increased her prestige amongst labor groups; demands for her speeches became fre- quent. Mary remains committed to radical pglitical and so- gigl ideas. Her child, she insists cannot have economic security until the system is drastically altered. To Joe's suggestion, that she sacrifice her principle and marry him in order to provide a respectable home for their daughter, Mary replies that such a sacrifice would be comparable to a career of prostitution. When her father tries to support Joe's idea, she explains in terms, having a distinctly mod- ern ring: I'll ask you for nothing . . . but I must belong to my- self--be mistress of my own body and soul.73 Though John Reed was probably as involved in social causes as Rose Pastor Stokes, his background differed con- siderably. His grandmother's Cedar Hill mansion was the most celebrated residence in Portland, Oregon. His father was a successful businessman whose wit had made him a popu- lar member of San Francisco's Bohemian Club. Yet, if Reed grew up in an environment of affluence, his heritage includ- ed a tradition of independence. In snobbish and restrained 73Ibid., p. 180. 254 Portland, his grandmother's parties were considered shock- ing; yet she retained a prestigious position. His father became a United States marshall in a government investiga- tion in public land frauds, when assaults on lumber inter- ests, railroads, and insurance companies were not popular with the development-oriented businessmen of the Pacific Northwest. Similar lack of deference to authority affected Reed's social status at Harvard; numerous snubs occurred, some even involved the school's literary organizations in which he did have some success.74 It was the strike of silk workers in Paterson, New Jersey, which led direct involvement in the labor movement for Reed. In April, 1913, at Mabel Dodge's celebrated salon, Reed met Bill Haywood whose account of the Paterson strike aroused his curiosity. Although he went to observe the strike as a reporter, a confrontation with a police officer quickly led to more direct participation. He spent a few days in jail, until authorities decided he was less danger- ous on the outside.75 Just as Rose Pastor Stokes later used the drama to argue for the rights of women, John Reed employed theatrical techniques to focus attention on the strike. Prompted by a remark by Mabel Dodge and encouraged by Percy MacKaye, Reed _—_‘ 74Granville Hicks, John Reed: The Making of a Revo- lutionary (New York: Macmillan, 1936), pp. 2-4, 19-20, 30- 32, et_passim. 75William D. Haywood, Bill Haywood's Book (New York: International Publishers, 1929), p. 262; Hicks, Reed, PP. 96-100. 255 planned a massive pageant to depict on stage the events of the strike. Margaret Sanger, Hutchins Hapgood, and Jessie Ashley were all enlisted to raise funds; Robert Edmond Jones designed the scenery.76 On June 7, the pageant was staged in Madison Square Garden. With approximately 1,200 strikers in the cast, the event was an innovative and to many an impressive eXperiment in working-class theater. Susan Glaspell later recalled that "was a night when we sat late and talked of what the theater might be."77 Financially, however, the pageant was not a success.78 A huge crowd witnessed the performance, but as the case of the Theatre Union during the 1930's, those in charge decided to fill the more expensive seats at greatly reduced prices.79 By the summer of 1916, when Reed participated in the formation of the Provincetown Players, he had been to Europe where he discussed the Paterson pageant with Gordon Craig, 76Mabel Dodge Luhan, Intimate Memories, vol. III: Movers and Shakers (New York: Harcourt, Brace, and Co., 1936), p. 188; Hicks, Reed, p. 102. 77Susan Glaspell, The Road to the Temple (New York: Stokes, 1927), p. 250. 78Elizabeth Gurley Flynn maintained that the pageant by diverting attention from the real strike and augmenting disillusionment by the financial failure contributed sub- stantially to the failure of the strike. See, Mary Heaton Vorse, A Fgotnote to Folly(New York: Farrar & Rinehart, 1935). p. 53. 79Haywood, Haywood's Book, pp. 262-264; Hicks, Reed, pp. 102—104. For Mabel Dodge Luhan's account, drawn largely from newspaper accounts, see, Movers and Shakers, pp. 205- 212; Poggi, Theater in America, p. 100. 256 and become a widely heralded reporter, after his accounts of the Mexican revolution were published. He had also written a number of short stories and, of course, Moondown, which the Washington Square Players had produced.80 To the artists and writers from the Village who gathered in Provincetown, Massachusetts, during the summer, the Washington Square Players were not sufficiently experi- mental. In the preceding year, a group which included Mary Heaton Vorse, Hutchins Hapgood, Neith Boyce (Mrs. Hutchins Hapgood), George Cram "Jig" Cook, and Susan Glaspell had staged a number of plays. Most notable of these was §EEF pressed Desires by Cook and Glaspell, which the Washington Square Players had rejected as too advanced. The play was a spoof of misconceptions of Freudian psychology as understood by the intelligensia. On the same bill was Neith Boyce's Constancy based on Mabel Dodge's love affair with John Reed. The group's first performances were given at the Hapgoods' house. Later an old fishhouse owned by Mary Heaton Vorse was converted into the Wharf Theatre.81 80Hicks, Reed, pp. 104-105, 127, 134, 175-175; Bar- bara Gelb, So Short a Time: A Biography ofJohn Reed and Louise Bryant (New York: W. W. Norton, 1973), pp. 56-59. 81Mary Heaton Vorse, Time and the Town: A P£ovince- town Chronicle (New York: Dial Press, 1942), pp. 117-118; Glaspell, Road to the Temple, pp. 250-251; Barbara Gelb, and Arthur Gelb, O'Neill (New York: Harper & Row, 1960), p. 307; Helen Deutsch and Stella Hangu, The Provincetown: A Story of a Theatre (New York: Farrar & Rinehart, 1931), pp. 6-7; George Cram Cook and Susan Glaspell, Suppressed De- sires in George Cram Cook and Frank Shay, ed., The Province- town Plays (Cincinnati: Stewart Kidd Co., 1921): pp. 10-44. 257 In the winter months more elaborate plans were sketched for the following summer. Probably more important to the ultimate success of the group, however, were the ad- ditions to the group in Provincetown in 1916. Max Eastman and his wife, Ida Rauh who had been active in the Washington Square Players, were among those who came. So too were Hippolyte Havel, the famous kitchen anarchist of Polly Holi- 7% day's restaurant, and another anarchist Terry Carlin, best I remembered because he brought along Eugene O'Neill and his proverbial trunk full of plays. O'Neill had been invited by #3 John Reed, who had not been present during the first summer h but had become an enthusiastic member in the intervening months. Reed brought along his wife, Louise Bryant, who also participated in the organization of the Provincetown Players.82 Two plays by John Reed were produced at the Wharf Theater in the summer of 1916. In contrast to such dramas as Susan Glaspell's Trifles and Eugene O'Neill's Bound East for Cardiff which were also produced for the first time at Provincetown in the same summer,83 Reed's plays were not of outstanding merit. Nevertheless, his Freedom did illustrate 82Max Eastman, Enjoyment of Livihg (New York: Harp- er & Brothers, 1948): PP. 564-565; Vorse, Time 32d the Town, pp. 120-121; Glaspell, Road to the Temple, pp. 252-253; Hicks, Reed, p. 219; Barbara and Arthur Gelb, O'Neill, pp. 307-309; Gelb, So Short a Time, pp. 87-90. 83"Productions of Fourteen Years at the Provincetown Playhouse" (Provincetown Players Pamphlet, 1929), Vorse, Time andrthe Town, p. 121; Elsa Gidlow, "The Provincetown Players," Pearson's Magazine, XLVIII (July 1921), 25. 258 that although Reed shared Rose Pastor Stokes' commitment to radical social change, he was not unaware of inconsistent thinking on the part of freedom-loving Romantics.v Further- more the play exemplifies the distinction between many such as Reed, Floyd Dell, and Wilbur Steel who advocated social change yet retained a strain of humor in their sketches and plays and Upton Sinclair, Emma Goldman, and Rose Pastor Stokes who almost always expressed their ideas in a serious and doctrinaire manner.84 In Freedom, Reed depicted a prison break by a roman— tic, a poet, and realist. After tunneling through the pri- son's walls, they emerge in the cell of a status-conscious trustee who joins them. The trustee, whose only contact with the outside world is a suffragette newspaper, sent by his grandmother, Mrs. Pankhurst, reconsiders and decides to remain behind where he is "a man of position." Next the po- et reconsiders. His immense public, touched by his verses on freedom, is seeking his release through a petition; then, too, he wonders: "how can I write about Freedom when I'm free?" When the romancer finds that there are no bars to file, no walls to scale, and no guard to shoot, he also de— cides to give up the escape, for "no man of honor would take 84In his autobiography Floyd Dell recalled he had once written a three-scene satire of sexual morality entit- led Sinners All which he sent to Upton Sinclair. The latter commented, Dell had portrayed a society even more corrupt than the existing capitalist order. Dell's Liberal Club sketch, What Eight MillioniWomen Want proved equally abhor- ent to Henrietta Rodman. See, Floyd Dell, Homecoming, pp. 262-263. 259 "85 advantage of such weakness! "Well, the difference between you sapheads and me is that I want to get out and you just think you do," Smith, the realist, declares. He tries to leave but is restrained by the others, who inform the guards that an attempted es- cape has been thwarted. Smith insists: "There's not a word of truth in it. I was just trying to break into a padded cell so that I could be free."86 If Reed's Freedom was not the high point of the sum- mer season (Heywood Broun commented that "one would go far to escape such a play"), his enthusiasm, combined with that of Jig Cook, helped to convince the others that the group was ready to seek a larger audience in New York in the fall of 1916.87 On September 5, the Provincetown Players form- ally organized; twenty-nine members agreed on the following day to a constitution written by Reed, Cook, Eastman, and Frederick Burt.88 Beginning with a modest $240 raised through contri- butions from its membership, the Provincetown Players sought 85John Reed, Freedom, in The Provincetown Plays (2nd ser.; New York: Frank Shay, 1916), pp. 75, 81, 89-91. 86 Reed, Freedom, in Provincetown Plays, pp. 91-93. 7Heywood Broun, New York Tribune, January 1, 1917; Glaspell, Road to the Temple, pp. 257-258; Vorse, Time and the Town, p. 125; Deutsch and Hanau, The Provincetown, p. 16; Gelb, So Short a Time, pp. 99-100. 88A cepy of the constitution under the date Septem- ber 5, 1916, is in the Provincetown Players Minute Book, Provincetown Players Collection, NYPLTC. 260 to establish a theater in New York. Nearly all of the group's capital was disbursed for expenses incurred to carve a theater out of the ground floor of the aged brownstone at 139 Macdougal Street which was selected for financial rather than aesthetic reasons. A stage was constructed; but, its dimensions, 10-1/2 by 14 feet, were less than imposing. ER Furthermore, since it proved impossible to conform to the ifii city's building code for theaters, the group was forced to operate as a private club, which meant that tickets could be sold only through subscription.89 J It was Eugene O'Neill who suggested that The Play— wrights' Theatre was an apprOpriate name for the group's New York playhouse.90 The theater was well—named for the Prov- incetown Players consistently reaffirmed their determina- tion, as proclaimed in their opening announcement to estab- lish "a stage where playwrights of sincere, poetic, literary and dramatic purpose could see their plays in action and superintend their production without submitting to the com— mercial manager's interpretation of public taste." Thus, their second announcement asserted: "There ought . . . to be one little theatre for American writers to play with--one where, if the spirit moves them, they can give plays which, for one reason or another, are not likely to be elsewhere # 89Glaspell, Road to the Temple, pp. 260-261; Deutsch and Hanau, The Provincetown, p. 18; Barbara and Arthur Gelb, O'Neill, p. 317. 90Glaspell, Road to the Temple, p. 258; Deutsch and Hanau, The Provincetown, p. 16. 261 produced." Again in 1920, the announcement of the group's aims included a statement that the future of playwriting "should not be left to be shaped by the vulgarities and dullness of the ubiquitous amusement-seeyer of the city. A writer must be on the level of a Broadway audience not to 91 despise it." In the same year, Eugene O'Neill declared if The Playwright's Theatre had not existed, The Emperior Jones would probably never have been written.92 The Playwrights' Theatre provided the noncommercial forum for drama which a small group of dramatists and crit- ics had long sought. As a break from the Broadway stage, the Provincetown Players went beyond anything envisioned by James Herne or William Dean Howells. First, they depended far more than Herne would have thought possible on both writers and actors without professional experience in the theater.93 Some like John Reed, who both wrote and per- formed in Provincetown productions, remained best known for creative accomplishments outside the theater; others like lDeutsch and Hanau, The Provincetown, p. 17; Th3 Provincetown Players, "The PlaywrightsT Theatre," 1917-1918 (Provincetown Players Brochure, 1917); The Provincetown Elayers: Third New York Season, 1918-1919 (Provincetown Players Brochure, 1918); The Provincetown Players: Season 9; 1920-1921 (Provincetown Players Brochure, 1920);7“Aims of the Provincetown Players," Brooklyn Eagle,October 3, 1920. 92 Elsa Gidlow, "The Provincetown Players," p. 24. 93"Ida Rauh," New York Times, March 12, 1970; Deutsch and Hanau emphasized this as a crucial factor in the Success of the Provincetown Players and one which differen- tiated between this group and other less creative little theaters. The Provincetown, p. 6. 262 Ida Rauh were deeply involved in the group's activities for a lengthy period but eventually tired of the stage and turned to other art forms.94 Second, they profited from the experiences of the Irish Players and Professor Baker at Har- vard; production costs were held to a minimum. Performers provided their own costumes, and properties were usually borrowed.95 Third, the Provincetown Players did not measure their success by Broadway standards--a long run. Since only subscribers could buy tickets, production schedules could be planned in advance. During the first season, three perform— ances were given each week--each bill ran for two weeks. The schedule was expanded the following season to allow five productions each week and three weeks for each program.96 Finally, the Provincetown Players were less concerned with reform of the popular stage than the nineteenth-century ad- vocates of an independent theater. Their announcement for the 1918-1919 season proclaimed: The Provincetown Players are not . . . trying to uplift or reform the stage. We are working with the stage be- cause we like to. That is an artist's reason, not a moneymakers.97 During the nineteenth century those who advocated an 94"Ida Rauh," New York Times, March 12: 1970- 95Deutsch and Hanau, The Provincetown, p. 21. 96Gidlow, "The Provincetown Players," p. 25; The Provincetown Players: "The Playwrights Theater," 1917-1918 Provincetown Players Brochure, 1917). 97The Provincetown Players: Third New York Season, 1918-1919 (Provincetown Players Brochure, 1918). 263 independent stage had often also actively sought economic and social change in the political arena. Furthermore, they frequently lamented the failure of the American drama to deal with social problems in a realistic manner. Many asso- ciated with The Playwrights' Theatre were also involved in social causes outside the theater. Few, however, looked to the political sphere to bring about meaningful change; pro— gressive reform was rooted in middle-class values and the capitalistic system, and few believed that the theater could be utilized to bring about political and social change. Eugene O'Neill, Thomas Dickinson observed, had lit- tle interest in reform; yet, his plays emphasized lower- class frustrations and the black Americans' experience, and thus, brought to the American theater a protest against middle-class commercialism on a new plane of dramatic in- 98 sight. Later critics, however, have suggested that O'Neill's attack on bourgeois America was influenced more by Nietzsche and Strindburg than Marx.99 Others, such as Floyd Dell, showed even less interest in social issues in their plays. For them little-theater groups existed largely to provide amusement--more intellectual to be sure than the Broadway stage but differing little in aim from the mass- oriented commercial productions. His spoofs and satires R 8Thomas H. Dickinson, Playwrights of the New Ameri- Egg Theater (New York: Macmillan, 1925): PP. 64-68. 99See, for example, Cargill, Intellectual America, PP. 701-702. 264 which included King Arthur's Socks, The Angle Intrudes, and Ibsen Revisited.loo By 1920, the little-theater movement had spread to areas far from Greenwich Village; cities and towns where theater had formerly consisted of an occasional road-company performance now had regular productions given by enthusias- tic if sometimes unpolished local talent. Unlike the Wash- ington Square Players and the Provincetown Players, however, most little-theater groups relied on well-known plays by es- tablished authors. Thus, although some groups did utilize new material for workshop experiments,101 the rise of the little theaters did not greatly expand the opportunities for as p i ring American playwrights . Regional drama was encouraged in a few noncommercial theaters with ties to universities. One such project was the work of Frederick Koch, a former student of George Pierce Baker. After several years in North Dakota, Koch moved to North Carolina in 1918. The most notable regional dramas to emerge from the Carolina Players, however, the early plays of Paul Green, came after 1920. In Wisconsin, Simi lar efforts by Professor Thomas Dickinson led to the formation of the Wisconsin Dramatic Society. Though in- \ volVed in the endeavor, the state university did not fully S 100All are included in Floyd Dell, King Arthur's -I%%%§% and Other Village Plays (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, Y 101Kenneth Macgowan, Footlights Across America (New °I1:: Harcourt, Brace, and Co., 1929): P. 216. 265 support or endorse the project. Yet, many, including Dick- inson, directly associated the Wisconsin Dramatic Society with La Follette-progressivism.102 The best-known play produced by the "Wisconsin Idea Theater" was Zona Gale's The Neighbors. It depicts life on the middle border in a manner not unlike that employed by Hamlin Garland, whose "A Branch Road" was dramatized by the society.103 Yet, if the characters in The Neighbors endure hard work and poverty, their situations are not quite as hopeless as the figures in Main Travelled Roads. Zona Gale's characters remain cheerful; they respond to adversity with ironic remarks. Furthermore, the author does not sug- gest political action will alter their economic difficul- ties. The Neighbors proved especially popular with rural audiences. Beginning in September, 1919, A. M. Drummond's Cornell Dramatic Club offered a series of performances at the annual state fair at Syracuse. This event grew so popu- lar that in 1922 the group found it necessary to charge ad- mission to keep the crowds down. Of the 6,000 people who Saw the group's first series of plays, many were particularly \ 102Frederick Koch describes his experiments in North Pakota and his conception of folk and regional drama in an J‘ntroduction to Carolina Folk-Plays (New York: Henry Holt, 1922), pp. xi-xviii; Thomas H. Dickinson, The Insurgent The- % (New York: B. W. Huebsch, 1917), p. 71; William E. eOnard, "The Wisconsin Dramatic Society: An Appreciation," ~£§Efl§, II (May 1912), 222. N . 103MacKay, Little Theatre, p. 140; Zona Gale, The §%?€%§Qg£§, in Thomas H. Dickinson, ed., Wisconsin Plays (New r . B. W. Huebsch, 1914), pp. 1-67. 266 impressed by Zona Gale's rural drama. Over the following winter both the Cornell Dramatic Club and the author were deluged with requests for information about staging the play. Miss Gale agreed to allow country theater groups to produce The Neighbors without royalty payment, if a portion of the funds raised from each performance were used to plant trees.104 For many, the experience of Miss Gale and the Cor- nell Dramatic Club illustrated the most significant contri- bution of the little theater movement. Amateur groups could "educate" audiences whose former contract with the theater had been limited almost exclusively to road company produc- tiC3113 of Broadway plays. In addition to elevating public taste, little-theater groups could provide a meaningful reclreational experience for those who participated directly in the staging of drama. It was in this sense that many who Organized little-theater groups viewed their institutions as SOCiological. Thus, Thomas Dickinson later wrote: "My chief interest was in the outworking of democracy, of which I c=C>nsidered the theatre the workshop."105 In North Dakota, Fre(ierick Koch broadened the participation in theatrical ac— ti"’ities by setting up twenty-five groups of junior \ D 104A’ M“ Drummond, "A Unique Experimental Theatre," %, x (March-April, 1920), 237-238. M 105Thomas H. Dickinson, letter to Talie Handler, Aay' 6, 1952, published in Robert Gard, Grassroots Theater: _~§E§arch for Regional Arts in America (Madison: University VVisconsin Press, 1955), p. 86. 267 £31.51§(makers. Similarly, in urban areas such groups as the Neighborhood Playhouse of New York emphasized recreational gc>EiJLs for their predominantly working-class members.106 While many little-theater groups had sociological airnnss, few associated the drama with social change. Even TTICDIILas Dickinson, who linked his Wisconsin Dramatic Society wi th La Follette, fought against anything that would create tllEB impression that the organization supported a particular PC11.j_tical ideology.107 The Neighborhood Playhouse, as an cult:§;rowth of the Henry Street Settlement in New York, was itself part of a reformist enterprise. Yet, the plays SFtElgyed at the Neighborhood Playhouse indicated more interest 1J1 Eiesthetic than social reform. One exception to the gen- eral tendency was the Hull House Players of Chicago. Though tfliefiyy-too, sometimes stressed sociological goals in terms of Ixaczreation, the Hull House Players also placed considerable eunIPhasis on the social content of the drama which they pro- du(red. Although they relied primarily on European works, 'tkhay did regularly perform two American plays--Charles Ken- 3"3r1's Kindling and Joseph Patterson's By-Products.108 \ “ 106Macgowan, Footlights, p. 157; Elsie F. Weil, H‘ull House Players," Theatre, XIII (September 1913), xix- xuiii; Dickinson, Insurgent Theatre, p. 61; Alice Crowley, §i§§ Neighborhood Playhouse (New York: Theatre Arts Books, 959), p. 7; Sheldon Cheney, The Art Theater (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1925), p. 66. 107 Dickinson to Handler, May 6, 1952, in Gard, §£3§sroots Theater, p. 86. 108Dickinson, _ Insurgent Theatre, pp. 61, 161-164; Llllian Wald, The House on Henry Street (New York: Henry I'It v? a l i A! 268 In part, the absence of social drama was due to the commitment of little-theater groups to aesthetic rather than social aims. More important was the change in intellectual milieu. Throughout the late nineteenth century and the muckraking era, intellectuals were optimistic that reform could basically alter American life. In the years after 1912, many became disillusioned with progressive reform; they believed radical changes were necessary before the lives of the lower classes could be meaningfully affected. Those most committed to radical transformation of the soci- Ety , however, wrote only a few plays. Most were simply too involved in the world outside the theater to write more Plays. The war especially diverted public attention from SO(Iial issues and absorbed the energiesgof those who might have written social criticism for the theater. Opposition to the European war embroiled both John Reed and Rose Pastor Stokes in controversies. Due to a lOrig-existent kidney ailment, Reed was granted an exemption erm military service; but, because he had spoken out a‘gainst the war, the case was publicized. As a result, despite his reputation as a reporter, none of the estab- lisdied magazines for whom he had formerly worked sought his talents during the Russian Revolution; instead, friends raised the funds to send him on behalf of The Masses.109 \ Holt, 1915), p. 185; Joseph Wood Krutch, "Introduction," in CrOWley, Neighborhood Playhouse, p. xiii. logHicks, Reed. pp. 229, 234‘237' 249-250’ Gelb’ §9 269 12c>ssee Pastor Stokes spoke out against the war in Kansas City airlcfl. was convicted under the Espionage Act. In the same edi- 1:5.(311, New York Times' editorials applauded the New York City 53c2131301 Board's decision to phase out the teaching of German zirlci. denounced Mrs. Stokes. "It is probable," the Times be- JJquB‘Ied, "that her experience will teach our Bolsheviki and E>I?<>-Germans the advisability of continuing their anti- Puflleezrican utterances to New York, where juries are more ami- able, and that in future, when they go West, they will modu- 3LEl1Z£e their voices according to the pro-American prejudices O f the vicinage . "110 If active participants in the little-theater move- Inser11; campaigned against American entry in the European war, it: Vvas the Broadway stage which produced the most noteworthy ar11::i_war drama, Beulah Marie Dix's Moloch in 1915. The au- tilCDJr, a former Radcliffe student, had previously written two ant:J'Lwar plays, Across the Border and Laprown Your Arms.111 EEZQLSQEQ begins with girls throwing roses as soldiers march to t11€3 front. In the next scene the horrors of war are de- Pni<=1:ed; former friends are tortured and neighbors are l‘iCLILed. However, the supreme irony remains for the play's (“Drlczlusion, when, after the war has been concluded, the people are told that their government has again declared —~__‘_ §h£fl§t a Time, p. 145. 110New York Times, May 23, 1918, p. 12. 111Theatre, XXII (November 1915), PP. 230-231. 270 vvan:--this time the enemy is to be their former ally.112 Since Moloch contained a strong antiwar argument, George Tyler was reluctant to produce the drama. He wrote to Theodore Roosevelt regarding the play, but the former President's reply was delayed. Tyler's partners had already completed plans to stage the drama, when Roosevelt's criti- cism was received.113 The foremost advocate of the strenu- CrLiss life reacted predictably. He complained that by infer- en Ce the drama denied that war "often may and often does Dfl€2£3J1 the only possible expression of the heroism that ex- l‘lEi.1.1ths humanity." To Roosevelt, the author had not made an important distinction between wars "waged for the highest good of mankind" by men like Washington and Lincoln, and was fOUght "for the ruin of humanity" by leaders like Philip II Eir1<1 Genghis Khan. He concluded that the lesson taught by W was "abhorent, alike from morality and from common SeIlse. "114 In contrast to Colonel Roosevelt, a number of crit- ics thought Miss Dix's play could be used to defend prepar- eciness as well as pacifism.115 Nevertheless, the production \ 112Beulah Marie Dix, Moloch (NYPLTC: Typescript, 1919. 113Letter, George Tyler to Mrs. Theodore Roosevelt, C;<}tober 14, 1933, in George Tyler Papers, Princeton Univer- lty. 1 14Letter, Theodore Roosevelt to George Tyler, Octo- ber l, 1915, in George Tyler Papers, Princeton University. 115New York Evening Journal, September 21, 1915. 271 cggif the drama indicated a very different reaction from the theater to World War I than had occurred in 1898. Though t;1:1:is, in part, may have reflected greater public opposition 5.171 1917, it also illustrated the changing nature of the theater. Between 1910 and 1925, total number of legitimate 1:1:163aters declined by 58 percent from 1,520 to 634; the aver- age number of companies on tour each year, which had re- nnéi:ianed constant at 302 for the 1900-1909 period dropped even Umc>Jree sharply by 76 percent, to an average of 72 companies IEC>J:' the 1915-1919 years.116 The audience for popular drama ‘flEiss reduced by competition from the motion picture industry. 'Tflj_ss trend was accelerated by road company producers who r:Ei-ised prices to meet expanding production and transporta- 'thC>11 costs. Others reduced the quality of their companies .111 (order to reduce costs at a time when the automobile was 93j9V’jLng patrons of road companies a greater Opportunity to <:}1<>£scribers, at ten dollars, to all plays, and sold general 'aéinncission seats for one dollar.118 The war did force the Washington Square Players to dij-Siloand, despite the group's low ticket price. By 1919, h("'v'ee‘ver, Philip Moeller, Lawrence Langner, and a few others 1313<:>rt. Thus, despite low ticket prices, the little-theater nnx:>vement did not establish or even seek to create a workers' tzlnieater. A class-conscious, intellectual audience drawn Ifirrom the working class did not materialize, and this may Elczcount for the relatively few attempts, even by social ac- tlevists, to write message plays for American little thea- tleers. Perhaps, the most important lessons that those who J—Eiter sought to establish a workers' theater could learn fJrom the little-theater movement were in technique. Amateur Eicztors could become competent performers, and low-budget E31:oductions could attain the highest levels of aesthetic ex- <2Gellence. These techniques proved useful during the 1930's, Vvluen writers were more interested in economic and social is- S3IJes, and when the working class was more interested in see- iilug dramas of social protest. \ 121 New York Telegram, April 15, 1920; Christian Sci- Eflpce Monitor, April 20, 1920; The Provincetown Players, §fleasons of 1920-1921. CHAPTER VIII DRAMA, REFORM, AND AESTHETIC CHANGE: SOME CONCLUSIONS ON THE AMERICAN THEATER: 1880-1920 By 1920, the American theater had been significantly transformed from the pOpular institution of the nineteenth century to the modern stage. If it was not yet the elitist art of the mid-twentieth century,1 the theater was no longer the mass or pOpular art it had been only a decade earlier. While some plays were still produced by national road com- panies, an increasing number were staged by small groups for predominantly local audiences. The transition in the theater provided an impetus to a growing intellectual movement for a drama of greater aes- thetic merit. Historians of the American theater have, in fact, generally characterized the period 1880-1920 as one in which gradual improvements in the quality of American drama \ William J. Baumol and William G. Bowen cite surveys Of theater audiences from the spring of 1964 which found that 66-71% of male and 46-51% of female theatergoers had a1:tended at least four years of college. Less than 4% of files and 10% of females surveyed had not completed high School, and fewer than 6% had incomes below $5,000. See, Ijgrforming Arts: The Economic Dilemma (New York: Twentieth Century Fund, 1966), p. 494. 276 277 took place. At the start of this era the theater was actor- C1<:uminated; by the first decade of the twentieth century, the (attrama had become more important than the star. Furthermore, tzlnlroughout the era and especially after COpyright legisla— t::i;on in 1891 the percent of American plays staged by Broad— way producers was increasing. There were few American plays aL<::cepted by theater managers in 1880; by the end of the era Ilealtive playwrights were contributing most of the works per- formed in American theaters. Theater historians, most interested in the rise of Dn<2>dern drama, have carefully sorted out contributions by ZKltlerican playwrights which improved the aesthetic quality of tirieir art as well as developments which brought about an 1¥nnericanization of the theater in the United States. As a ITeasult of this rather narrow focus, however, scholars have tllreated the plays of this period in a rather superficial Ihamner. Only Arthur Hobson Quinn provides a detailed analy- SSis of many plays of the late nineteenth century, and even r162 was primarily concerned with evidence of improving aes- t:l‘letic merit.2 Interest in artistic merit has also led theater his- tC>rians and critics to impose standards of elite art on a Inass entertainment media. Within this study popular plays have been differentiated from dramas written for elite \ Arthur Hobson Quinn, A History of the American Dra- Efigfrom the Civil War to the Present Day (2 vols.; New York: Harper' 5, 1927) . 278 aauuldiences. This is an important distinction because the c:<:>nventions of popular theater imposed a framework which made artistic and ideological consistency difficult, espe- c:;j_ally for those playwrights who saw the need for social change. Theoretical studies of mass culture have suggested t:]:1at.p0pular artists must utilize established techniques and Ei‘croid controversy in order to reach the largest possible au- dience. In the early chapters of this study the limits im— ‘E><:>sed on popular dramatists were examined--limitations in form and content, which were established and defended by t:IIeater managers and popular audiences as well as many crit- i-czs and playwrights. The melodrama and the well-made play dicominated the pOpular theater; in both, authors were expect- €3<3 to provide satisfactory, which meant "happy," endings to tilleir dramas, even if the play's theme or plot pointed to a zicted on the stage, theatergoers were left at the final <2Iartain with the impression that all major issues had been 13€esolved. Yet, if American dramatists faced limitations which were basic to the melodrama and the well-made play, in con- tlirast to their European counterparts, they did not fully de- v«elop the social dimension within the context of these iforms. No American melodrama was banned because it con- tained dangerous ideas, and American well-made plays did not 279 «ea‘ren match the modest intellectual level attained in contem- po rary British dramas . In addition to restrictions inherent in the popular 111ee:lodrama and the well-made play, American playwrights faced czzzritics who were hostile to dramas containing ideas and pro- éltclcers who feared plays which might offend any segment of t:]:1e potential theater audience. The most influential critic éiiclring the years included in this study was William Winter. UTIfiLe spokesman for an actor-dominated stage, Winter vehement- J—jg' opposed the new naturalistic dramas of EurOpe or any 11:i.nts of similar inclinations in American plays. Winter ‘Jti.ewed the lower classes and plays which suggested the need ifCDI'reform with equal disdain. Down to the turn of the cen- tlliry, American producers generally agreed with Winter's view tll'iat reform ideas were not desirable on the stage. Few dramatists attempted to challenge the intellec- tlllal limits of the pOpular theater in the nineteenth cen- tllary. In Europe, independent theaters offered an alterna- tleve forum for playwrights who wished to develop themes wl‘lich were deemed unacceptable by commercial theater manag- Eilrs. Some independent or art theaters began as amateur com- Epéinies with low budgets but managed to draw an audience of £3lifficient size from intellectual groups; others relied on Exrofessional performers but drew patrons from large working- cllass and socialist organizations as well as intellectuals. r5-‘he only noteworthy American effort to establish a noncom- Inercial theater was the production of James A. Herne's 280 Margaret Fleming in Boston. Despite the support of William [Deenan Howells, Hamlin Garland, and Benjamin Orange Flower, Eleearne's venture did not attract large audiences, and this éi:i.scouraged further experiments. Although Herne expressed his Single Tax ideas most c::L.early in Shore Acres, the drama had wide popular appeal. Indeed, the play's success illustrated that even unorthodox E><:>1itical themes were acceptable to theatergoers, if the Cilcrama contained a well-constructed Romantic plot. Other E>Il.aywrights in the late nineteenth century, however, ex- }?Gtressed their ideas in a more incidental manner. In the melodrama, especially, playwrights such as ZKligustin Daly made occasional remarks about political and Eiczonomic life. While these were outside the plot and its £3Eitisfactory conclusion, they also added a note of credibil- i—tzy to an otherwise unreal situation. In the well-made play tll'le anticlimactic scene was employed to conclude a drama in El manner customary on the pOpular stage. Thus, for example, E3Ironson Howard effectively satirized materialistic values in 3\Dnerican society for three acts in The Henrietta and then 3Ek3110wed the play's logical conclusion--the death of Nicho- ZLEis Vanalstyne, Jr.,--with a fourth act which added little ‘txb the plot and departed from the drama's theme in order to i~hclude the "happy" ending which Howard and certainly most Exroducers believed was essential. The fact that the ending fit neither the theme nor the plot of The Henrietta seemed unimportant both to the 281 eatitimm'as an artist and to theatergoers who were apparently ssaaqtisfied by the play's conclusion. Howard's drama dealt veri.th political corruption and the effects of concentrated ea<::onomic power, however, and The Henrietta was frequently j.It1itated. Of course, Howard's play lacked the sustained tzlileme and the ideological consistency of contemporary Euro- E>€e=an social drama; yet, it also indicated that American E>l1.aywrights of the gilded age were more aware of reform is- 531cles than most earlier scholars have noted. Careful examination of the plays of the late nine- taeeenth century, in fact, has indicated that political cor— ITIthion was frequently the subject of satire in the American tilleater. Edward Harrigan, Charles Hoyt, David Demarest 1Lloyd, and others depicted various aspects of American poli— thLcs from the ward level to the congress in plays and £3Iketches. However, since their objective was clearly to E>1:ovide amusement not to change the system, not even the tleargets of political satire viewed American plays of this Sleenre as threatening. The career of Augustus Thomas further illustrated, h(Dwever, that playwrights were not encouraged to go beyond iIncidental commentary in their plays. Thomas had firsthand eExperience with labor problems and in politics; yet, when he Sftated his prolabor and antitrust views in his early plays, INeither critics nor theater audiences responded favorably. In fact, Thomas found an inverse relationship between seri- ous political ideas in dramas and success in the pOpular 282 theater. He chose to utilize politics as background materi- al; obviously his Options were limited--Herne's experiences all too clearly illustrated that plays not written for the Broadway stage had little chance for a production anywhere in the United States. The number of plays which touched On social issues increased substantially after the turn of the century. While a few scholars have noted the impact of the muckraking movement on such writers as Charles Klein and George Broad- hurst, they have generally been more interested in the lack of aesthetic qualities than the social dimension or the mass audience reached by The Lion and the Mouse and The Man of the Hour. The number of plays about similar themes and the widespread popular support for the plays of Klein and Broad- hurst indicated that there was a large audience for drama about reform issues. Like Klein, however, most American playwrights re- sponded to the public interest in reform with dramas that treated social issues in a superficial and, perhaps, ex- ploitative manner. Previous studies have failed to differ- entiate between dramatists such as Joseph Medill Patterson and William Hurlbut who dramatized the conclusions of orig- inal muckraking and Klein whose ideas came from the daily newspapers. Although Patterson has sometimes been listed among the "millionaire" socialists of the progressive era, his plays and essays have been ignored by historians. In The 283 'Fourth Estate, Patterson probed the influence of advertisers on newspapers, and in his other plays he explored the social consequences of tenement existence, the profits of the drug traffic, and other aspects of life in capitalist America. Hurlbut merits an occasional mention in volumes on the muck- raking era, but in contrast to the journalists who wrote ar- ticles about the tenement holdings of Trinity Church his play has received little attention and no serious analysis. Both Patterson and Hurlbut also expressed views in advance of the progressive era. As a result of his experiences in the Illinois State Legislature and in Chicago city govern- ment, Patterson concluded that reform under capitalism was impossible. He, therefore, argued that basic change in the system was necessary, a View espoused by Greenwich Village radicals associated with the little-theater movement a dec- ade later. Similarly, Hurlbut's drama offered little hOpe for reform within the framework of the profit system. Too often American dramatists, the evidence in this study suggests, have been condemned for their failure to write devastating social criticism comparable to that of Gerhardt Hauptmann, George Bernard Shaw, or Clifford Odets. Certainly American playwrights compromised both aesthetic principles and political ideology: Howard included a fourth act in The Henrietta; Joseph Medill Patterson agreed to a revised conclusion of The Fourth Estate; Augustus Thomas de- cided to utilize his political insights to write background material; and James A. Herne moved away from realism in his 284 later plays. Perhaps, this illustrates a significant dis- tinction between American and EurOpean culture; more likely, however, it indicates that dramatists were aware that the theater in the United States was a pOpular institution. In- deed, the evidence suggests theater historians and critics have too frequently merely asked: "Did America produce any great drama prior to World War I?" It would have been more productive to inquire: If a great social drama had been written before the little-theater movement, would anyone have noticed it? A few prominent actors had some success with the dramas of Ibsen, despite the outrage of William Winter and many other critics, for there were large ethnic minorities interested in seeing the new European drama. Ibsen's plays were usually adapted for American audiences, however, while dramas by Hauptmann and Shaw were sometimes simply sup- pressed. As early as 1905, the Progressive Stage Society had some 1,200 members. Perhaps, with more talented leadership, the group could have established a creative independent the- ater. Julius Hopp, the group's director was, however, un- able to provide competent productions on a minimal budget. Nevertheless, Hopp's efforts to establish an independent and socialist theater for the working class are an interesting and long-neglected aspect of American theater history. The rise of the little-theater movement after 1912, in marked contrast to Julius HOpp's Progressive Stage 285 Society, has long been celebrated as the beginning of the modern American theater. While the movement was to some ex- tent a product of the intellectual ferment of the years be- fore World War I, it had roots back to the nineteenth cen- tury, when critics such as Henry James and William Dean Howells and writers such as James A. Herne and Hamlin Gar- land had advocated a theater worthy of the intellectual elite. Furthermore, during the muckraking era, Clyde Fitch, William Vaughn Moody, and Edward Sheldon had advanced the aesthetic quality of American drama, while at Harvard, Pro- fessor George Pierce Baker trained many of the people who contributed to every aspect of the modern theater in subse- quent decades. The theater of 1920 was quite different from the popular stage a decade earlier, but the change was less drastic or sudden than many have suggested. The intellectu- al transition was gradual; however, after 1910, economic factors contributed to a significant decline in the popular theater, which stimulated independent experimentation on a smaller scale. The fact that Professor Baker and others be- came convinced that low-budget productions could have aes- thetic merit accelerated this trend. Although little-theater groups often introduced European naturalistic plays to American audiences, very few of these organizations sought original American plays. As a result there was no great outpouring of significant social drama after 1912 along EurOpean lines. John Reed, Philip 286 Moeller, and Rose Pastor Stokes depicted aspects of America seldom seen on the popular stage and views outside the main- stream of progressive ideology, but their dramas were ori- ented more toward social issues than most little-theater plays. Not even the most socially conscious little thea- ters, the Washington Square Players and the Provincetown Players, showed any interest in Stokes' The Woman Who Wouldn't, a drama which was in many ways similar to the left wing plays Of the 1930's. By producing innovative European plays, little- theater groups did educate the public and help to expand the frontiers in which American dramatists could experiment af- ter 1920. Furthermore, it was little theaters and the working-class, ethnic groups, which were indirectly linked to Julius Hopp, that kept alive an interest in social drama during the 1920's and pioneered with new technical forms in the thirties. Some who participated in left-theater activi- ties Of the depression decade had been involved in the little-theater movement, while many others had studied with Professor Baker. Nevertheless, it was William Hurlbut and Bayard Veiller, whose plays were staged in Broadway theaters, that claimed their dramas actually brought about social reforms during the Progressive era. Moreover, it was not the intel- lectuals of the elite theaters but Charles Klein who best reflected the muckraking movement. Klein failed to provide an in-depth analysis of social problems; instead he hoped 287 that individuals could be persuaded by moralistic arguments to alter their behavior. Similar criticisms have been di- rected at the muckrakers.3 Just as the popular plays of the muckraking era provide a generally neglected source of American ideas re- garding reform, the antiwar plays of World War I constitute an interesting index of dissent but are usually ignored by theater and intellectual historians. The popular drama il- lustrated that the American public lost interest in reform with the coming of the Spanish-American War. In contrast, the popular drama reflected declining enthusiasm for pro- gressivism in the years after 1910. Many believed that more basic change in the social-economic system was necessary, however, and expressed their ideas in dramas produced by little theaters. With the outbreak of war in Europe, they were unaffected by nationalistic fervor and continued to ex— press dissenting views. Thus, the production Of Moloch and other antiwar plays indicated not only more Opposition to World War I than had occurred during the war with Spain but also a greater willingness of playwrights and producers to deal with unpopular ideas on Broadway--additional evidence that the theater was changing from popular to elite art. The conclusions of this study suggest that the treatment of social issues by the popular arts may well have 3See, for example, Gabriel Kolko, The Triumph of Conservatism (Glencoe, Ill.: The Free Press, 1963), pp. 160-161. 288 been underestimated by many previous scholars. Certainly for the theater, reform issues were frequently discussed, and in the case of the muckraking era, they were debated at considerable length. Indeed, the View of theater historians that one could attend the theater regularly during the years 1880-1920 and remain unaware of serious political, economic, and social problems ought to be reversed. Through slum scenes and incidental remarks even the crudest melodramas illustrated the need for social reform. While in Broadway productions, so frequently did playwrights touch on social issues that even with the limitations of popular art it would have been impossible to attend the theater regularly without becoming aware of widespread interest in reform. If America produced no dramatist comparable to Ibsen or Strind— berg, such combinations of artistic talent and social alien- ation were not equaled by American novelists either, and they could write for a small elite audience. Furthermore, no American drama could be considered a protest play as ef- fective as those written by Shaw and Hauptmann. Yet Shaw's Mrs. Warren's Profession was proscribed by New York authori- ties in the middle of the muckraking era, and Hauptmann's The Weavers was not staged in New York until 1915. Obvious- ly, any American writers with similar talents and strong so- cial views would have channeled their creative abilities in- to something other than the drama. Nevertheless, throughout the period 1880-1920, de— Spite the limitations of the pOpular theater, the drama 289 provided an accurate indication of interest in social re- form. Theatrical productions were centralized in New York; therefore, urban-centered movements were reflected more ful- ly than rural-based Populism. Thus, melodramas, sketches, and other popular plays implied the need for urban reform in the nineteenth century. Yet, dramas by Bronson Howard, Augustus Thomas, and James Herne depicted corporate control of government, relations between capital and labor, and pat- terns of landholding along the lines suggested by the Popu- lists. After the turn of the century, unusually popular plays by Charles Klein and George Broadhurst indicated the profound impact of muckraking journalism on American culture, while dramas by Joseph Patterson and William Hurlbut illus- trated that a few dramatists were prepared to challenge the limits of both the popular theater and progressive ideology. Finally, the theater of Julius HOpp and the plays of John Reed, Philip Moeller, and Rose Pastor Stokes demonstrated the influence of socialism on the American mind. While Hopp's experiences revealed some of the difficulties of at- tracting a working-class audience to socialist plays, the little theaters of Greenwich Village in the years before World War I clearly presented a number of dramas which were influenced by socialist thought. BIBLIOGRAPHY BIBLIOGRAPHY Manuscripts VVianthrop Ames, Private Diary, New Theatre, 1909-1910. New York Public Library. (Bexorge Pierce Baker Collection. Harvard University Library. Van Wyck Brooks Papers. University of Pennsylvania Library. Bangustin Daly Papers. Folger Shakespeare Library. btinnie Maddern Fiske Papers. Library of Congress. (Zlyde Fitch Letters. New York Public Library. Idarriet Ford Papers. New York Public Library. (Sharles Frohman Papers. New York Public Library. Edward Goodman Collection. New York Public Library Theater Collection. Clayton Hamilton Papers. New York Public Library. Brander Matthews Collection. Columbia University Library. Philip Moeller Collection. New York Public Library Theater Collection. William Lyon Phelps Papers. Yale University Library. Provincetown Players Collection. New York Public Library Theater Collection. Edward Sheldon Papers. Harvard University Library. Rose Pastor Stokes Papers. Yale University Library. George Tyler Papers. Princeton University Library. William Winter Collection. New York Public Library. 290 291 Scrapbooks, Newspapers, and Periodicals American Magazine Ibrnama I?cxrum Green Book Album Jackson, Joseph Francis Ambrose, American Stage, 1886-1891, Scrapbooks. University of Pennsylvania Library. Hampton ' 5 Magazine Imicke, Grey. Collection of Press Clippings. New York Pub- lic Library Theater Collection. Imbcke, Robinson. Collection of Dramatic Scrapbooks. York Public Library Theater Collection. New Eggw York Dramatic Mirror §flpart Set '“The 47 WorkshOp: Its History and Its Influence." Scrap- books. 3V. Harvard University Library. Theatre ‘White, Matthew (ed.). The Press on Plays. Scrapbooks. 20V. University of Pennsylvania Library. Plays in Collections Booth, Michael (ed.). Hiss the Villain: Six English and American Melodrama. London: Eyre & Spottiswoode, 1964. Contains William H. Pratt's Ten Nights in a Bar-Room. Cartmell, Van H. and Bennett Cerf (ed.). Famous Plays of Crime and Detection. Philadelphia: Blakiston, 1946. Contains Bayard Veiller's Within the Law. Dickinson, Thomas H. (ed.). Wisconsin Plays. New York: B. W. Huebsch, 1914. Contains Zona Gale's The Neighbors. “‘ ——r , and Jack R. Crawford (ed.). Contempprary Plays: 292 Sixteen Plays from the Recent Drama of England and America. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1925. Contains Charles Kenyon's Kindling. (Saissner, John (ed.). Best Plays of the American Theatre: From the Beginning to 1916. New York: Crown, 1967. Contains Edward Sheldon's Salvation Nell. liailline, Allan (ed.). American Plays. New York: American Book Company, 1935. Contains Augustin Daly's Horizon and Bronson Howard's The Henrietta. Ddcxody, Richard (ed.). Dramas from the American Theatre: 1762-1909. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1969. Con- tains Edward Harrigan's The Mulligan Guard Ball and W. H. Smith's The Drunkard, or the Fallen Saved. Efipovincetown Plays. New York: Frank Shay, 1916. Contains John Reed's Freedom. Culinn, Arthur Hobson (ed.). Representative American Plays. New York: Century, 1917. Contains Steele Mackaye's Hazel Kirke, Bronson Howard's Shenandoah, and Edward Sheldon's The Boss. ‘Quinn, Arthur Hobson (ed.). Representative American Plays. New York: Century, 1930. Contains James A. Herne's Margaret Fleming. Individual Authors ,Ade, George. The Sultan Of Sulu. New York: R. H. Russell, 1903. . U.S. Minister Bedloe. Typescript, n.d. Prince- ton University Library. Biographical and Critical Ade, George. "Recalling the Early Tremors of a Timor- ous Playwright," The Players, New York, The County Chairman. Program, n.d. "George Ade Talks of His Stage Ideals," Theatre, IV (November 1904), 287-288. Broadhurst, George. The Dollar Mark. Typescript, 1909. Harvard University Library. 293 . The Man of the Hour. Typescript, 1906. New York Public Library Theater Collection. IDaily, Augustin. Horizon, in Allan Halline (ed.). American Drama. New York: American Book Co., 1935. . Under the Gaslight. New York: Samuel French, n.d. IBiADgraphical and Critical Daly, Augustin. "The American Dramatist," North Ameri- can Review, CXLII (May 1886), 485-492. Felheim, Marvin. The Theater of Augustin Daly. Cam- bridge: Harvard University Press, 1956. "Mr. Augustin Daly's Views," Harper's Weekly, XXXIII Supplement, February 2, 1889. IDavis, Owen. Secrets of the Police. Typescript, n.d. New York Public Library Theater Collection. ;§}ographica1 and Critical Davis, Owen. I'd Like to Do It Again. New York: Farrar & Rinehart, 1931. Dell, Floyd. King Arthur's Socks and Other Village Plays. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1922. ,Eipgraphical and Critical Dell, Floyd. Homecoming: An Autobiography. New York: Farrar, 1933. Dix, Beulah Marie. Moloch. Typescript, 1915. New York Public Library Theater Collection. Fitch, Clyde. Plays. Memorial Edition, 4 Vols. Edited by Montrose J. Moses and Virginia Gerson. Boston, 1915. Vol. I contains The Climbers; Vol. IV con- tains The City. Biograph Fitc Howe Mast Mose Murx Gale, Z< Garland Bio a $1; Gar H01 pi, Glaspel 294 B iographical and Critical Fitch, Clyde. "The Play and the Public," Smart Set, XIV (November 1904), 97-100. Howells, William Dean. "The Recent Dramatic Season," North American, CLXXII (March 1901), 475. Masters, Robert. "Clyde Fitch: A Playwright of His Time." Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Northwestern University, 1942. Moses, Montrose J., and Gerson, Virginia (ed.). Clyde Fitch and His Letters. Boston: Little, Brown & Co., 1924. Murry, James J. "The Contribution of Clyde Fitch to the American Theatre." Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Boston University. (Sale, Zona. The Neighbors, in Thomas Dickinson (ed.). Wisconsin Plays. New York: B. W. Huebsch, 1914. (Sarland, Hamlin. Under the Wheel, in The Arena, II (July 1890), 182-218. ‘Eiographical and Critical Garland, Hamlin, My Friendly Contemporaries. New York: Macmillan, 1932. . A Son of the Middle Border. New York: Mac- millan, 1919. Holloway, Jean. Hamlin Garland. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1961. Pizer, Donald (ed.). Hamlin Garland's Diaries. San Marino, Calif.: Huntington Library, 1968. Glaspell, Susan. Sgppressed Desires. With George Cram Cook, in Cook and Frank Shay (ed.). The Provincetown Plays. Cincinnati: Steward Kidd, 1921, pp. 16-44. —— . Trifles, in Paul Kozelka (ed.). Fifteen American One-Act Playy. New York: Washington Square Press, 1961, 182-199. MC (ec Biogramhical and Critical Glaspell, Susan. The Road to the Temple. New York: Stokes, 1927. Harrigan, Edward. The Mulligan Guard Ball, in Richard Moody (ed.). Dramas from the American Theatre: 1762-1909. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1969, p. 566. E3ixographica1 and Critical Harrigan, Edward. "The American Drama," Harper's Weekly, XXXIII, Supplement (February 2, 1889), 98. Howells, William Dean. "Editor's Study," Harper's Mag— azine, LXXXIII (July 1886), 316. Kahn, E. J. The Merry Partners: The Age and Stage of Harrigan and Hart. New York: Random House, 1955. Quinn, Arthur Hobson. "The Perennial Humor of the American Stage," Yale Review, XVI (April 1927), 553-566. THerne, James A. Drifting Apart, in Arthur Hobson Quinn (ed.). The Early Plays of James A. Herne, Vol. VII of America's Lost Plays (ed.) Barrett Clark. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1941, pp. 101-136. “-——-—a Margaret Fleming, in Arthur Hobson Quinn (ed.). Representative American Plays. New York: Century Co., 1938, pp. 513-544. “~——————. Shore Acres, in Mrs. James A. Herne (ed.). Shore Acres and Other Plays. New York: Samuel French, 1928, pp. 5-121. Eiggraphical and Critical "An Appreciation: James A. Herne, Actor, Dramatist, and Man." Hamlin Garland, J. (I. Enneking, and B. 0. Flower. Arena, XXVI (September 1901), 282-291. Bucks, Dorothy S., and Arthur H. Nethercot. "Ibsen and Herne's Margaret Fleming: A Study of the Early Ibsen Movement," American Literature, XVII (January 1946), 311-333. Dic Edv Flc Gal Hex HOE- MOI HOPP. ; Ho} 296 Dickason, David H. "Benjamin Orange Flower, Patron of the Realists," American Literature, XIV (May 1942), 148-156. Edwards, Herbert J., and Julia A. Herne. James A. Herne: The Rise of Realism in American Drama. "University of Maine Studies," 2nd series, No. 80. Orono: University of Maine Press, 1964. Flower, B. 0. "An Epoch-Marking Drama," Arena, IV (July 1891), 247-249. Garland, Hamlin. "Mr. and Mrs. Herne," Arena, IV (October 1891), 543-560. . "On the Road with James A. Herne," Century Magazine, N.S., LXXXVIII (August 1914), 574-581. Herne, James A. "Art for Truth's Sake in the Drama," Arena, XVII (February 1897), 361-370. Howells, William Dean. "Editor's Study," Harper's Magazine, LXXXIII (August 1891), 478-479. Morton, Frederick. "James A. Herne," Theatre Arts, XXIV (December 1940), 899-902. Pizer, Donald. "An Account of Margaret Fleming," American Literature, XXVII (May 1955), 264-267. Waggoner, Hyatt Howe. "The Growth of a Realist: James A. Herne," New England Quarterly, XV (March 1942), 62-73. HOpp, Julius. Tears. Boston: Poet-Lore, 1904. Eipgraphical and Critical Hopp, Julius. "The Social Drama and Its Purpose," The Eclectic Magazine, CXLVI (January 1905), 4-11. Howard, Bronson. The Banker's Daughter, in Allan Halline (ed.). The Banker's Daughter & Other Plays. Vol. X of America's Lost Plays. Barrett Clark (ed.). 20 Vols. Princeton University Press, 1941. —— . The Henrietta. Typescript. Columbia University Dramatic Museum Collection. Fell Hal‘ Howe Mar Hun Hurlbut 297 . Shenandoah, in Arthur Hobson Quinn (ed.). Repre- sentative American Plays. New York: Century, 1930. Biographical and Critical Boyle, Charles John. "Bronson Howard and the POpular Temper of the Gilded Age." Unpublished Ph.D. dis- sertation, University of Wisconsin, 1957. Felheim, Marvin. "Bronson Howard, 'Literary Attache,'" American Literary Realism, 1870-1910, II (Summer 1969), 174-179. Halline, Allan. "Bronson Howard's The Amateur Benefit," American Literature, XIV (March 1942), 74-76. Howard, Bronson. The Autobiography of a Play. New York: Dramatic Museum of Columbia University, 1914. . "Mr. Bronson Howard Illustrates and Defines," Harper's Weekly, XXXII, Supplement (February 2, 1889). In Memoriam, Bronson Howard, Addresses Delivered at the Memorial Meeting, Oct. 18 1908. New York: Marion Press, 1910. Marshall, Thomas F. "Performances of Bronson Howard's The Amateur Benefit," American Literature, XIV (November 1942), 311-312. M[ontgomerY], G. E., "Bronson Howard," Theatre, I (August 2, 1886), 469-470. Hoyt, Charles. A Texas Steer, in Montrose J. Moses (ed.). Representative American Dramas. Boston: Little, Brown, and Co., 1925. Biographical and Critical Hunt, Douglas. "The Life and Work of Charles Hoyt," Birmingham-Southern College Bulletin, XXXIX (Janu- ary 1946). ' Hurlbut, William. The Fighting Hope. Typescript, 1908. New York Public Library Theater Collection. . The Writing on the Wall. Novel based on Hurlbut's play, by Edward Marshell. New York: G. W. KenyO Klein B1ogrc Fl Kl Pa 298 Dillingham, 1909. Kenyon, Charles. Kindling, in Thomas H. Dickinson and Jack R. Crawford (ed.). Contemporary Plays. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1925. Klein, Charles. The Daughters of Men. New York: Samuel French, 1917. . The Lion and the Mouse. Typescript. New York Public Library Theater Collection. Published edi- tion. New York: Samuel French, 1908. Biographical and Critical Flower, B. O. "The Third Degree: A Modern Play Illus- trating the Educational Value of the Drama," Arena, XLI (February 1909), 139-152. "The Theater for Higher Civilization, and a Typical Play Illustrating Its Power," Arena, XXXVI (May 1907), 498-509. Klein, Charles. "Religion, Philosophy and the Drama," Arena, XXXVIII (May 1907), 492-497. Patterson, Asa. "Some Theories of Playmaking by a Play- maker," Theatre, VI (June 1906), 157-160. MacKaye, James Steele. Hazel Kirke, in Arthur Hobson Quinn (ed.). Representative American Plays. New York: Century, 1917. . Paul Kauvar, in Montrose Moses (ed.). Repre— sentative Plays by American Dramatists. Vol. III. New York: E. P. Dutton, 1921. Biographical and Critical MacKaye, Percy. Epoch: The Life of Steele Mackaye. 2 Vols. New York: Boni and Liveright, 1927. Moeller, Philip. Charity. Promptbook, 1914. New York Public Library Theater Collection. . Five Somewhat Historical Plays. New York: A. A. Knopf, 1918. . Two Blind Beggars and One Less Blind. Typescript, Moffet Moody, Biogra; Ma: Patter: Bioor ; .Ilqggp Ali Che Pam Tel REed' Bi \JEQEE Cell 299 1915. New York Public Library Theater Collection. Moffett, Cleveland. The Battle. Typescript, 1908. New York Public Library Theater Collection. Moody, William Vaughn. The Great Divide, in John Manly (ed.). The Poems and Plays of William Vaughn Moody. 2 Vols. Boston, 1912. Biographical and Critical Mason, Daniel Gregory (ed.). Some Letters of William Vaughn Moody. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Co., 1913. Patterson, Joseph Medill. The Fourth Estate. Typescript, 1909. New York Public Library Theater Collection. . A Little Brother of the Rich. Typescript, 1909. New York Public Library Theater Collection. . Rebellion. Typescript, n.d. New York Public Library Theater Collection. Biographical and Critical Alexander, Jack. "Vox Populi," New Yorker, XIV (August 6, 1938), 16-21; (August 13, 1938), 19-24; (August 20, 1938), 19-23. Chapman, John. Tell it to Sweeney: The Informal His- tory of the New York Daily News. Garden City, N. Y.: Doubleday & Co., 1961. Patterson, Joseph M. "Confessions of a Drone," Independ- ent, LXI (August 30, 1906), 493-95. . "The Socialist Machine," Saturday Evening Post (September 29, 1906), 5, 19. Tebbel, John. An American Dynasty. Garden City, N. Y.: Doubleday & Co., 1947. Reed, John. Freedom, in Provincetown Plays. New York: Frank Shay, 1916. Biographical and Critical Gelb, Barbara. So Short a Time: A Biography of John Hi Sheldo Bi are Ba: Co} 300 Reed and Louise Bryant. New York: W. W. Norton, 1973. Hicks, Granville. John Reed: The Making of a Revolu- tionary. New York: Macmillan, 1936. Sheldon, Edward. The Boss, in Arthur Hobson Quinn (ed.). Representative American Plays. New York: Century, 1917. . The Nigger. New York: Macmillan, 1910. . Salvation Nell, in John Gassner (ed.). Best Plays Of the American Theatre. New York: Crown, 1967. Biographical and Critical Barnes, Eric Wollencott. The Man Who Lived Twice. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1956. Cohn, Albert. "Salvation Nell: An Overlooked Milestone in American Theatre," Educational Theatre Journal, IX (1957), 11-22. Sinclair, Upton. Plays of Protest. New York: Mitchell Kinnerly, 1912. Spargo, John. Not Guilty. Westwood, Mass.: Ariel Press, n.d. Stokes, Rose Pastor. The Woman Who Wouldn't. New York: Putnam's, 1916. Biographical and Critical Jerome, V. J. "From an Unpublished Autobiography--the Little Breadwinner: How Child Labor Was Treated in Cleveland in the 1890's," Jewish Currents, XII (June 1958), 8-11. Thomas, Augustus. Alabama. Chicago: Dramatic Publishing Co., 1905. . Arizona. New York: R. H. Russell, 1902. . The Capital. Photostat copy Of typescript. New York Public Library Theater Collection. Biograpi Byn‘ Cra Tho Veiller Bio -43£§1 Ve: Walter ArchEr BQuciC 301 Biographical and Critical Bynum, Lucy Scott. "The Economic and Political Ideas of Augustus Thomas." Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, University of North Carolina, 1954. Cranmer, Catherine. "Little Visits with Literary Missourians-~Augustus Thomas," Missouri Historical Review, XX (April 1926), 399-405. Thomas, Augustus. The Print of My Remembrance. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1922. Veiller, Bayard. The Fight. Typescript, 1913. New York Public Library Theater Collection. . Within the Law, in Van H. Cartmell and Bennett Cerf (ed.). Famous Plays of Crime and Detection. Philadelphia: Blakiston, 1946. Biographical and Critical Veiller, Bayard. The Fun I've Had. New York: Reynal & Hitchcock, 1941. Walter, Eugene. The Easiest Way. Typescript, n.d. New York Public Library Theater Collection. . The Undertow. Typescript, 1907. New York Public Library Theater Collection. Critics and Contemporary Observers Archer, William. "The Drama in the Doldrums," Fortnightly Review, LII (August 1, 1892), 146-167. . "The Stage and Literature," Fortnight1y_Review, LI (February 1, 1892), 219-232. . "A Talk with Mr. Brander Matthews," Pall Mall Budget (September 20, 1894), 7. Boucicault, Dion. "At the Goethe Society," North American, CXLVIII (March 1889), 335-343. . "Leaves from a Dramatist's Diary," North Ameri- can, CXLIX (August 1889), 228-236. Browne, Burrill Burton, Darrow, DiCkins DrUmmor EatOn, Githw Hamile Hapgool Henneq. 302 . "The Future of American Drama," Arena, I (Novem- ber 1890), 641-652. Browne, Maurice. The Temple of a Living Art. Chicago: Chicago Little Theatre, 1914. Burrill, Edgar White. "The Passing Of the Old in Drama," Drama, III (May 1913), 205-224. Burton, Richard. "The Drama as Education," Drama, III (May 1913), 178-188. . "The Theatre and the People," Drama, II (May 1912), 169-190. Darrow, Clarence S. "Realism in Literature and Art," Arena, VIII (December 1893), 98-113. Dickinson, Thomas H. The Insurgent Theatre. New York: B. W. Huebsch, 1917. . Playwrights of the New American Theater. New York: Macmillan, 1925. Drummond, A. M. "A Unique Experimental Theatre,‘ (March-April 1920), 237-238. Drama, X Eaton, Walter Prichard. The American Stage Today. Boston: Small, Maynard & Co., 1908. . At the New Theatre and Others. Boston: Small, Maynard & Co., 1910. Flower, B. O. "Mask or Mirror: The Vital Difference Be- tween Artificiality and Veritism on the Stage," Arena, VIII (August 1893), 304-313. Gitlow, Elsa. "The Provincetown Players," Pearson's Maga- zine, XLVIII (July 1921), 24-25. Hamilton, Clayton. "American Playwrights of To—day," The Mentor, II (March 1923), ll-18. Hapgood, Norman. The Stage in America, 1897-1900. New York: Macmillan, 1901. Hennequin, Alfred. "The Drama of the Future," Arena, III (March 1891), 385-393. Howells, Mildred (ed.). Life and Letters of William Dean Howells. 2 vols. Garden City, N. Y.: Doubleday, Doran & Co., 1928. Howell Huneke: Hutton, Irving, James, 303 Howells, William Dean. "The Play and the Problem," Harper's Weekly, XXXIX (March 30, 1895), 294. . "The Recent Dramatic Season," North American, CLXXII (March 1901), 468-480. Huneker, James. "After Ibsen?" Forum, XXXIX (October 1907), 248-254. . Egotists: A Book of Supermen. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1932. . Iconoclasts: A Book of Dramatists. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1908. Hutton, Lawrence. Plays and Players. New York: Hurd and Houghton, 1875. Irving, Laurence. "The Drama as a Factor in Social Protest, Living Age, CCLXXXII (September 19, 1914), 734-739. James, Henry, Jr. "The London Theatres," Galaxy, XXIII (May 1877), 661-670. James, Henry Arthur. "The Foundations of a National Drama," North American, CLXXXVI (November 1907), 384-393. Leonard, William Ellery. "Wisconsin Dramatic Society," Drama, II (May 1912), 222-237. Mangus, Julian. "The Condition of the American Stage," North American, CXLIV (February 1887), 169-178. Matthews, Brander. "The American on the Stage," Scribner's Monthly, XVII (July 1879), 321-333. . The Develppment of the Drama. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1908. . "The Dramatic Outlook in America," Harper's Maga- zine, LXXVIII (May 1889), 924-930. . "Makers of American Drama," The Mentor, II (March 1923), 3-10. . "Mr. Howells As a Critic," Forum, XXXII (January 1902), 629-638. . These Manprears: Recollections of a New Yorker. New York: Scribner, 1917. Nathan, George Jean. Another Book on the Theatre. New York: B. W. Huebsch, 1915. Phelp Pollo‘ Rascoe Trent, Vorse, Wheelel llr Nillia Winter, AnderSOr Apthrop ArchEr 304 Phelps, William Lyon. "An Appreciation," North American, CCXII (July 1920), 17-20. Pollock, Channing. Harvest of My Years: An Autobiography. New York: Bobbs-Merrill, 1943. Rascoe, Burton. Before I Forget. New York: The Literary Guild of America, Inc., 1937. Trent, W. P. "Mr. Brander Matthews As a Critic," Sewanee Review, III (May 1895), 373-384. Vorse, Mary Heaton. A Footnote to Folly: Reminiscences of Mary Heaton Vorse. New York: Farrar & Rinehard, 1935. Wheeler, A. C. "Dion Boucicault," Arena, III (December 1890), 47-60. "William Dean Howells. March 1, l837-May 11, 1920," North American, CCXXII (July 1920), 1-16. Winter, William. The Actor and Other Speeches. New York: Dunlap Society, 1891. . Old Friends: Being Literary Recollections of Other Days. New York: Moffat, Yard and Co., 1909. . Other Days: Being Chronicles and Memories of the Stage. New York: Moffat, Yard, and Co., 1908. . Vagrant Memories: Being Further Recollections of Other Days. New York: George H. Doran, 1915. . The Wallet of Time. New York: Moffat, Yard, and Co., 1913. European Drama and its Impact on America Anderson, Annette. "Ibsen in America." Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, University of Iowa, 1931. Apthrop, William F. "Paris Theatres and Concerts," Scrib- ner's, XI (May 1892), 629-643. Archer, William. "Ghosts and Gibberings," Pall Mall Gazette (April 8, 1891), 3. . "Ibsen and English Criticism," FortnightlyRe— view, N.S. XLVI (July 1, 1889), 30-37. Arvin Baula Brand Cdppe Carpal Clark, crOSs, Ellis- Flom, Franc, Franc]. Fried, 305 . The Theatrical "World" for 1893. London: Walter Scott, 1894. Arvin, Neil Cole. Eugene Scribe and the French Theatre, 1815-1860. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1924. Bauland, Peter. The Hooded Eagle: Modern German Drama on the New York Stage. Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 1968. Brandes, George. "Henrik Ibsen," Century, XCIII (February 1917), 539-546. . Henrik Ibsen, A Critical Study. Translated by Jessie Moir. London: Macmillan, 1899. Boyesen, Hjalmar Hjorth. "Henrik Ibsen," Century, XXXIX (March 1890), 794-796. . "Henrik Ibsen's Greatest Work," The Chautauquan, XII (November 1890), 207-213. Cappel, Edith. "The Reception of Gerhart Hauptmann in the United States." Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Columbia University, 1952. Carpenter, George Rice. "Henrik Ibsen," Scribner's Magazine, V (April 1889), 404-412. Clark, Barrett H. (ed.). European Theories of the Drama. Revised ed. New York: Crown, 1965. Cross, Wilbur L. "Ibsen's Brand," Arena, III (December 1890), 81-90. Ellis-Fermor, Una Mary. The Irish Dramatic Movement. London: Methuen & Co., 1939. Flom, George T. A History of Scandinavian Studies in Ameri- can Universipies. 11Iowa Studies in Language and Literature," No. 11. Bulletin of the State Univer- sity of Iowa, N.S. No. 153, Iowa City, 1907. Franc, Miriam Alice. Ibsen in England. Boston: Four Seas Co., 1919. Francke, Kuno. "The New Storm and Stress in Germany," Atlantic, LXXIV (September 1894), 408-412. Friedell, Egon. A Cultural History of the Modern Age. Translated by Charles Francis Atkinson. 3 vols. New York: Alfred A. KnOpf, 1933. Fuchs, Gassne: Gosse, Guthrii Hagan, Henders Henze, HerndOn HeuSer, EhWells KOht’ H 306 Fuchs, Georg. Revolution in the Theatre: Conclusions Con- cerning the Munich Artists' Theatre. Translated and revised by Constance Conna Kohn. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1959. Gassner, John. Masters of the Drama. 3rd revised edition. New York: Dover, 1954. Gosse, Edmund. "Ibsen's Social Dramas," Fortnightly Review, XLV (January 1, 1889), 107-121. Guthrie, William Norman. "Gerhardt Hauptmann," Sewanee Re- view, III (May 1895), 278-289. Hagan, Robert Lyle. "The Influence of the Well-Made Play Upon American Playwrighting." Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Western Reserve University, 1949. Henderson, Archibald. "Gerhart Hauptmann: Social Idealist," Arena, XXXIII (March 1905), 251-257. . "Henrik Ibsen and Social Progress," Arena, XXXIII (January 1905), 26-30. Henze, Herbert. "Otto Brahm and Naturalist Directing," Theatre Workshop, I (April-July 1937). Translated by Frank Freudenthal, 13-26. Herndon, Robert, and Ansten Anstensen. "Henrik Ibsen on the American Stage," American-Scandinavian Review, XVI (April 1928), 219-221. Heuser, Frederick W. J. Gerhart Hanptmann: Zu sein Leben und Schaffen. Tfiringen: Max Niemeyer Verlung, 1916. Howells, William Dean. "The Ibsen Influence," Harper's Weekly, XXXIX (April 27, 1895), 390. Koht, Halvdan. "Henrik Ibsen," American-Scandinavian Re- view, XVI (April 1928), 206-217. Lacy, Alexander. Pixérécourt and the French Romantic Drama. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1938. Meisel, Martin. Shaw and the Nineteenth Century Theater. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1963. Miller, Anna Irene. The Independent Theatre in Europa: 1887 to the Present. New York: Ray Long & Richard R. Smith, Inc., 1931. Newmark, Maxim. Otto Brahm: The Man and the Critic. Reichi Root, Savin. Shaw, Slossc TaleJ "The b White‘ WilliE )‘JOOl 1C Baker BatChE Belasc 307 Menasha, Wisconsin: The Collegiate Press, 1938. Reichart, Walter A. "Gerhart Hauptmann: His Work in Ameri- ca," American-German Review, XXIX (December 1962/ January 1963), 4-6, 31. Root, Winthrop. German Criticism of Zola. New York: Columbia University Press, 1931. Savin, Maynard. Thomas William Robertson: His Plays and Stagecraft. "Brown University Studies," Vol. XIII. Providence: Brown University, 1950. Shaw, G. Bernard. The Quintessence of Ibsenism. New York: Brentano's, 1905. Slosson, Edwin E. "Ibsen as an Interpreter of American Life," Independent, LX (May 31, 1906), 1253-1255. Taylor, John Russell. The Rise and Fall of the Well—Made Play. New York: Hill and Wang, 1969. "The Moral Influence of the Drama," North American, CXXXVI (June 1883), 581-606. Wellworth, George E. "Mrs. Warren Comes to America, or the Blue-Noses, the Politicians and the Procurers," Shaw Review, II (May 1959), 8-16. White, Jean Westrom. "Shaw on the New York Stage." Unpub- lished Ph.D. dissertation, New York University, 1965. Williams, Raymond. Drama from Ibsen to Brecht. London: Chatto & Windus, 1968. Woollcott, Alexander. "Mrs. Fiske on Ibsen the POpular," Century_Magazine, XLIII (February 1917), 529-538. Histories of American Drama and Theater Baker, Dorothy Gillam. "MonOpoly in the American Theatre." Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, New York University, 1898. Batcheller, Joseph Donald. "David Belasco." 2 vols. Un— published Ph.D. dissertation, University Of Minne- sota, 1942. Belasco, David. The Theatre Through Its Stage Door. New York: Harper & Brothers, 1919. Edited by Louis V. Bellinge Bernheil Binns, Block, Bucks, Cassere Cheney Cr0w1 Dell, Drive DEutc \ 308 DeFoe. Bellinger, Martha Fletcher. A Short History of the Drama. New York: H. Holt, 1927. Bernheim, Alfred L. The Business of the Theatre. New York: Actors' Equity Association, 1932. Binns, Archie. Mrs. Fiske and the American Theatre. New York: Crown,.l955. Block, Anita. The Changing World in Plays and Theatre. Boston: Little, Brown, 1939. Bucks, Dorothy Sims. "The American Drama of Ideas from 1890 to 1929." Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, North- western University, 1944. Casseres, Benjamin De. James Gibbons Huneker. New York: Joseph Lawren, 1925. Cheney, Sheldon. The Art Theater. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1925. . The New Movement in the Theatre. New York: Mitchell Kennerley, 1914. . The Theatre Three Thousand Years of Drama, Acting and Stagecraft. New York: Chautauqua Press, 1931. Clark, Barrett H. Intimate Portraits. New York: Drama- tists Play Service, 1951. . A Study_of the Modern Drama. New York: D. Appleton and Company, 1925. , and George Freedley. A History of Modern Drama. New York: D. Appleton-Century Co., 1947. Crowley, Alice Lewisohn. The Neighborhood Playhouse: Leaves from a Theatre Scrapbook. New York: Theatre Arts, 1959. Dell, Robert M. "The Representation of the Immigrant on the New York State, 1881-1910." Unpublished Ph.D. dis- sertation, New York University, 1960. Driver, Tom. Romantic Quest and Modern Query: A History of the Modern Theatre. New York: Dell, 1970. Deutsch, Helen and Stella Hanue. The Provincetown. New York: Farrar & Rinehart, 1931. Downer. Flexnel Freedm. Gagey, Grad, Gassne Gelb, Goff, GOreli Harps} Hatli Hughe Kinn€ 309 Downer, Alan. Fifty Years of American Drama, 1900-1950. Chicago: Henry Regnery, 1951. Flexner, Eleanor. American Playwrights: 1918-1938. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1938. Freedman, Morris. American Drama in Social Context. Car- bondale & Edwardsville: Southern Illinois Univer- sity Press, 1971. Gagey, Edmund M. Revolution in American Drama. New York: Columbia University Press, 1947. Grad, Robert. Grassroots Theater: A Search for Regional Arts in America. Madison: University Of Wisconsin Press, 1955. Gassner, John. Dramatic Soundings. New York: Crown, 1968. . Theatre at the Crossroads: Plays and Playwrights of the Mid-CenturyAmerican Stage. New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston, 1960. Gelb, Barbara, and Arthur Gelb. O'Neill. New York: Dell, 1960. Goff, Lewin A. "The Popular Priced Melodrama in America 1890 to 1910 with Its Origins and DevelOpment to 1890." Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Western Re- serve University, 1948. Gorelik, Mordecai. New Theatres for Old. New York: Samuel French, 1940. Grimstead, David. Melodrama Unveiled: American Theater and Culture, 1880-1850. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1968. Harper, Robert. "Economic and Political Attitudes in Ameri- can Drama, 1865-1900." Unpublished Ph.D. disserta- tion, University of Chicago, 1949. Hatlin, Theodore. "The Independent Theater Movement in New York, 1890-1910," Educational Theatre Journal, XV (May 1963), 136-142. Hughes, Glen. A History of the American Theatre, 1700-1950. New York: Samuel French, 1951. Kinne, Wisner Payne. George Pierce Baker and the American Theatre. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1954. Krutch, Lewis, Ludwig HacArt McDern Hacgon MOI‘I-iE Nethfi O'Mee Orr 310 Krutch, Joseph Wood. The American Drama Since 1918. New York: George Braziller, 1957. Lewis, Emory. Stages: The Fifty-Year Childhood of the American Theatre. Englewood Cliffs, N. J.: Prentice-Hall, 1969. Ludwig, Richard M. "The Career of William Winter, American Drama Critic: 1836-1917." Unpublished Ph.D. dis- sertation, Harvard University, 1950. MacArthur, David Edward. "A Study of the Theatrical Career of Winthrop Ames, 1904-1929." Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, Ohio State University, 1963. McDermott, Douglas. "AgitprOp: Production Practice in the Workers' Theatre, 1932-1942," Theatre Survey, VII (November 1966), 115-124. . "The Theatre Nobody Knows: Workers' Theatre in America, 1926-1942," Theatre Survey, VI (May 1965), 65-82. Macgowan, Kenneth. Footlights Across America. New York: Harcourt, Brace, and Co., 1929. MacKay, Constance D'Arcy. The Little Theatre in the United States. New York: Henry Holt, 1917. Meserve, Walter Joseph, Jr. "William Dean Howells and the Drama." Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, University of Washington, 1952. Morris, Lloyd. Curtaintime: The Story ijthe American The- ater. New York: Random House, 1953. Moses, Montrose J. The American Dramatist. Boston: Little, Brown & Co., 1911. Nannes, Caspar H. Politics in the American Drama. Washing- ton: Catholic University Of America Press, 1960. Nethercot, Arthur H. "The Drama of Ideas," Sewanee Review, XLIX (July-September, 1941), 376—384. O'Meara, Edward F. "Some Influences of the Adoption of In- ternational Copyright on the American Drama." Un- published Ph.D. dissertation, Notre Dame University, 1940. Orr, Lynn Earl. "Dion Boucicault and the Nineteenth Century Theatre: A Biography." Unpublished Ph.D. disserta- tion, Louisiana State University, 1952. Poggi, Quinn, Rabkin) Rahill, Scott, Shank, Traubnu Weyant 311 Poggi, Jack. Theater in America: The Impact of Economic Forces, 1870-1967. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1968. Quinn, Arthur Hobson. A Histoty of the American Drama from the Civil War to the Present Day. 2 vols. New York: Harper's, 1927. Rabkin, Gerald. Drama and Commitment: Politics and the American Theatre of the Thirties. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1964. Rahill, Frank. The World of Melodrama. University Park, Pa.: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1967. Scott, Ginny. "Towards a Sociology of the Theater: Ameri— can Plays, 1900-1960--A Sociological Analysis." Un- published M.A. thesis, University of Pennsylvania, 1965. Shank, Theodore J. "Theatre for the Majority: Its Influ- ence on a Nineteenth Century American Theatre," Educational Theatre Journal, XI (October 1959), 188-191. Traubman, Howard. The Making of the American Theatre. New York: Coward-McCann, 1965. Weyant, George Waldo. "A Critical Study of Brander Matthews' Dramatic Theory." Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, University of Southern California, 1965. General Works on Theater, Drama, and Culture Adorno, T. W. "T.V. and Patterns of Mass Culture," Quarter- ly of Film, Radio and Television, VIII (1954), 219-220. Bentley, Eric. The Playwright as Thinker. New York: Har- court, Brace & World, 1946. Blau, Herbert. The Impossible Theater: A Manifesto. New York: Macmillan, 1964. Brustein, Robert. The Theatre of Revolt. Boston: Little, Brown, and Co., 1962. . "Why American Plays Are Not Literature," Harper's Magazine, CCXIX (October 1959), 167-173. Gans, Lowen‘ MachJ Nye. Phill Rosen Rosen Selde Sonta 312 Gans, Herbert. "POpular Culture and High Culture Critics," Dissent, V (Spring 1958), 185-187. Lowenthal, Leo. Literature and the Image of Man: Sociolog- ical Studies of the European Drama and Novel, 1600- 1900. Boston: Beacon Press, 1957. . Literature, Popular Culture, and Society. Engle- wood Cliffs, N. J.: Prentice-Hall, 1961. Macdonald, Dwight. Against the American Grain. New York: Random House, 1952. Nye, Russel. The Unembarrassed Muse: The Popular Arts in America. New York: Dial Press, 1970. Phillips, Gifford. The Arts in a Democratic Society. Santa Barbara: Center for the Study of Democratic Insti- tutions, 1966. Rosenberg, Harold. "Pop Culture and Kitsch Criticism," Dissent, V (Winter 1958), 14-19. Rosenberg, Bernard, and David Manning White (ed.). Mass Culture: The Popular Arts in America. Glencoe, Ill.: Free Press, 1957. Seldes, Gilbert. The Great Audience. New York: Viking 1950. Sontag, Susan. Against Interpretation and Other Essays. New York: Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1961. General Sources Aaron, Daniel. Writers on the Left: Episodes in American Literary Communism. New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, 1916. Adams, Samuel Hopkins. "Tuberculosis: The Race Suicide," McClure's Magazine, XXIV (January 1905), 234-249. Addams, Jane. "A New Conscience and an Ancient Evil," McClure's Magazine, XXXVIII (November 1911), 5-8. Ahnebrink, Lars. The Beginnings of Naturalism in American Fiction. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1950. Andrews, Wayne. Battle for Chicago. New York: Harcourt, Brace and Co., 1946. Baker I Beer, Brooks Cargil Chambe Connej 313 Baker, Ray Stannard. "The Case Against Trinity," The Ameri- can Magazine, LXVIII (May 1909), 2-16. Beer, Thomas. The Mauve Decade: American Life at the End of the Nineteenth Century. New York: A. A. Knopf, 1926. Brooks, Van Wyck. The Confident Years: 1885-1915. New York: E. P. Dutton & Co., 1952. Cargill, Oscar. Intellectual America: Ideas on the March. New York: Macmillan Co., 1941. Chamberlain, John. Farewell to Reform. New York: Live- right, 1932. Connelly, William Elsey. The Life of Preston B. Plumb. Chicago: Browne & Howell, 1913. Dell, Floyd. Homecoming: An Autobiography. New York: Farrar, 1933. Douglas, Emily Taft. Margaret Sanger: Pioneer of the Future. New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston, 1970. Drinnon, Richard. Rebel in Paradise: A Biography of Emma Goldman. Chicago: University of Chicago, 1961. Eastman, Max. Enjoyment of Living. New York: Harper & Brothers, 1948. Feldman, Egal. "Prostitution, the Alien Woman and the Pro- gressive Imagination, 1910-1915," American Quarter- ly, XIX (Summer 1967), 192-206. Filler, Louis. The Muckrakers: Crusaders for American Liberalism. Revised edition. Chicago: Henry Reg- nery, 1968. George, Henry. Progress and Poverty. New York: Appleton, 1881. Ginger, Ray. Age of Excess: The UnitedjStates from 1877 to 1914. New York: Macmillan, 1965. . Altgeld's America: The Lincoln Ideal Versus Realities. New York: Funk & Wagnalls, 1958. . The Bending Cross: A Biography of Eugene Victor Debs. New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1949. Goldman, Emma. Living My Life. 2 vols. Chicago: Hartz, Hays, Haywoc Hicks, Hicks HOfst. Howe, Kipni Knigr Kolk< Laws Lein 314 University of Chicago, 1961. Hartz, Louis. The Liberal Tradition in America. New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, 1955. Hays, Samuel P. Conservation and the Gospel of Efficienoy. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1959. . "The Politics of Reform in Municipal Government in the Progressive Era," Pacific Northwest Quarter- ly, LV (October 1964), 157-169. Haywood, William D. Bill Haywood's Book. New York: Inter- national Publishers, 1929. Hicks, Granville. The Great Tradition: An Interpretation of American Literature Since the Civil War. New York: Macmillan, 1935. Hicks, John. The Populist Revolt. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota, 1955. Hofstadter, Richard. The Age of Reform: From Bryan to F.D.R. New York: A. A. KnOpf, 1955. . Social Darwinism in American Thought: 1860-1915. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1964. Howe, Frederick. Confessions of a Reformer. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1925. Kipnis, Ira. The Socialist Movement, 1897-1912. New York: Columbia University Press, 1952. Knight, Grant C. American Literature and Culture. New York: Ray Long & Richard R. Smith, 1932. Kolko, Gabriel. The Triumph of Conservatism. Glencoe, Ill.: Free Press, 1963. Lawson, Thomas. Frenzied Finance: The Crime OEAmalgamat- 9a. New York: Ridgway-Thayer Co., 1905. Leinenweber, Charles. "The American Socialist Party and 'New' Immigrants," Science & Society, XXXII (Winter 1968), 1—25. Lindsey, Almont. The Pullman Strike. Chicago: University of Chicago, 1942: Lloyd, Henry Demarest. A Strike of Millionaires Against Miners or the Story of Spring Valley: An Open Lubov Luhan Marcc May, Morrj Mowrj Nye . Odel Ostr Parr Par] P01 315 Letter to the Millionaires. Chicago: Belford- Clark, 1890. Lubove, Roy. The Progressives and the Slums: Tenement House Reform in New York City: 1890-1917. Pitts- burgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1962. Luhan, Mabel Dodge. Movers and Shakers. New York: Har- court, Brace, & Co., 1936. Marcosson, Isaac. David Graham Phillips and His Times. New York: Dodd, Mead & Co., 1932. May, Henry. The End of American Innocence. New York: A1- fred A. Knopf, 1959. Morris, Lloyd. Postscripts to Yesterday, America: The Last Fifty Years. New York: Random House, 1947. Mowry, George E. Theodore Roosevelt and the Progressive Movement. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1946. Nye, Russel B. Midwestern Progressive Politics. East Lan- sing: Michigan State University Press, 1959. Odell, Benjamin B., Jr. Public Papers of Benjamin B. Odell, Jr.; For 1904. Albany: J. B. Lyon Co., 1907. Ostrander, Gilman M. American Civilization in the First Ma- chine Age: 1890-1940. New York: Harper & Row, 1970. Parrington, Vernon. Main Currents in American Thought, Vol. III, The Beginnings of Critical Realism in America, 1860-1920. New York: Harcourt, Brace & Co., 1930. Parry, Albert. Garrets and Pretenders: A HiStory of Bo- hemia in America. New York: Covici—Friede, 1933. Pollack, Norman. The Populist Response to Industrial Ameri- ga. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1962. Regier, C. C. The Era of the Muckrakers. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1932. Report as to the Sanitary Conditions of the Tenements of Trinity Church, and other Documents. New York: Evening Post Job Printing House, 1895. Riordan, William L. Plunkitt of Tammany Hall. New York: Russe Sange Shani \ Stef Sull Syre Tarb Tayl Tuch Turn WalC Weir Whii 316 McClure, Phillips & Co., 1905. Russell, Charles Edward. "The Tenements of Trinity Church," Everybody's Magazine, XIX (July 1908), 47—57. Sanger, Margaret. An Autobiography. New York: W. W. Norton, 1938. Shannon, David A. The Socialist Party of America: A Histo- ry. New York: Macmillan, 1955. Steffens, Lincoln. The Autobiographyof Lincoln Steffens. 2 Vols. New York: Harcourt, 1931. Sullivan, Mark. Our Times; The U.S., 1900-1925. 6 Vols. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1926-1935. Syrett, Harold C. (ed.). The Gentleman and the Tiger: The Autobiography of George B. McClellan, Jr. Philadel- phia: Lippincott, 1956. Tarbell, Ida M. The History of the Standard Oil Company. 2 Vols. New York: McClure, Philips and Co., 1904. Taylor, Walter Fuller. The Economic Novel in America. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1942. Tuchman, Barbara. The Proud Tower. New York: Macmillan, 1966. Turner, George Kibbe. "The City of Chicago," McClure's Magazine, XXVIII (April 1907), 575-592. . "The Daughters of the Poor," McClure's Magazine, XXXIV (November 1909), 46-47. Vorse, Mary Heaton. Time and the Town: A Provincetown Chronicle. New York: Dial Press, 1942. Wald, Lillian. The House on Henry Street. New York: Henry Holt, 1915. Weinstein, James. The Corporate Ideal in the Liberal State: 1900-1918. Boston: Beacon Press, 1968. . The Decline of Socialism in Ameripa, 1912-1925. New York: Monthly Review Press, 1967. White, Morton. Social Thought in America: The Revolt Against Formalism. Boston: Beacon Press, 1959. Woodward, C. Vann. Origins of the New South, 1877-1913. Zif 317 Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1951. Ziff, Larzer. The American 1890's: Life and Times of a Lost Generation. New York: Viking Press, 1969.