Thousands of people have asked me about Russia since we were there. While I realize that the whole world is interested in the Social and Economic condition of that country, and while I might be able to give my impressions, I doubt that it would be the right thing to do at this time, so I will let alone the political angle and confine myself to the Russian Theatre.
Perhaps it might be interesting to take you back to the beginning of negotiations for my Russian engagement.
I was appearing at the Casino Theatre Buenos Aires, playing my twelfth week, when I received a cable from Mr. Dankman, General Dir. of the Soviet Theatre Union, inviting me to come to Russia on a guarantee contract for a period of ten weeks, under the direction of the Russian Government. As a child I had always longed to visit Russia, and here was my great chance. Reluctantly I terminated by Buenos Aires engagement and set sail for Hamburg, Germany. I then travelled with my full Company, and sixteen tons of equipment to Berlin, where, through the Soviet agent I made final arrangements to proceed to Moscow.
The salary stipulation was quite liberal, the only condition being that half the weekly guarantee was to be paid in roubles, while the other half was to be paid in any foreign currency that I might designate; this in no way inconvenienced me inasmuch as I had already calculated that I would be obliged to spend the roubles in Russia, and more besides in order to cover my companies salaries and incidental expenses. Transportation was to be paid by the Russian Govt. from Berlin to Moscow and back to Berlin for myself and company and a car load of baggage. The agent further informed me to take as little of the necessities of clothing as possible; to dress very plain; to arrange for my own bedding and cooking utensils. In fact, when he had finished his instructions I felt as tho I had been advised to prepare myself for a fishing trip.
The contract was drawn, and as is the custom with most foreign contracts, they are generally presented to the Consulate of my Country for approval; in this case however to my great surprise I was advised that they could take no interest in my venture what-so-ever, and that I would take the trip entirely at my own risk, and that in the advent of disaster I would be left to my own resources as there was no Government Representation in Moscow that I could appeal to. Besides my large company, I had with me my wife and five children, three boys and two girls, four of which were practically of age. While I gloried in my great opportunity, and while I have always managed my own affairs as near as possible as well as those of my family, I felt, for the first time a little sheepish about packing them into a country that I was totally unfamiliar with, and it now seemed more than ever we would be isolated from the civilized world that we had been accustomed to.
It recalled to me my boyhood days when I saw huge placards announcing the stage play “Darkest Russia,” but the same incentive or intuition that has commanded me to all the remote parts of the World as well as the Capitals urged me on to Moscow, not however without first holding a consultation with my family and company. Here I explained fully the conditions under which we were to venture. It seemed a desperate plunge from all reports, but all were over enthusiastic with the idea and quite prepared to face any hardship that we might encounter. With me the actual profit of the venture became secondary, in fact I disregarded it. I wanted to see Russia, and I did.
We stripped ourselves of everything beyond absolute necessities and when boarding the train at Berlin, we resembled a band of prospectors. My heart sank as the train pulled out, for never in my thirty years travel have I felt so empty. For some inexplicable reason I felt a little bit like the man who would attempt to leave this earth for the moon. This was especially due to the fact that during my short stay in Berlin, I had met many people who had just returned from Russia and amongst them several dear friends of the theatrical profession. I had spent nights with them listening to weird tales, of hardships, no living accommodations, petty thefts, and bold robberies. However, my contracts were made, so on to Moscow.
After an almost three days journey, travelling first class which compared favorably with third class in other countries, we arrived at the border, and the custom house. I have never had the pleasure of entering any of the trading stations of the far north, but I believe that herein might be a slight similarity, at least in the beards that the men wear. For courtesy I think I should prefer the bearded men of the north.
There was a huge log cabin, surrounded by soldiers with fixed bayonets, long ill-fitting coats, that reached to the ground, and the hour was the usual Russian choice for the inconvenience of the travellers, which is anywhere between one and four in the morning. These are the hours that they generally select for a thoro search. In our case, we had been well and honestly warned by their own agent as to what could and what could not be taken in. In spite of this, it took several hours before we were passed. Two of our party for some unknown reason, which only the customs officials could explain, were taken to an ante room, completely stripped of their clothing which was thoroughly searched, and then after the lining had been removed from several cases and trunks, we were set free to continue on our way to Moscow.
We arrived in Moscow in total darkness, altho the clock had not yet struck three in the afternoon. We were met by two representatives of the Soviet Theatre Union, who packed us in horse drawn sleighs, or droskeys as they are termed in Russia, and we were taken to what would ordinarily be called a rooming house. They allotted five rooms to the company, which consisted for twenty people, in other words four people to a room regardless of age, sex, or color. The rooms consisted of four bare walls, uncarpeted wooden floors, a small hole in one side of the wall measuring about a foot square, about four feet from the floor, and this we were advised was the fire place, and that there would be a slight charge for each stick of wood. There were two beds in each room, minus bed clothing, and one chair. The rooms were small, cold and dark.
We were further advised that in another portion of the building could be found a community cook-stove which was shared by all the occupants of the building for the purpose of preparing their meals.
(I might say here that they have one leading hotel and two that are misleading, but the high officials keep the best hotel filled permanently with their Bernard Shaws.)
The next thing we were naturally concerned about after a long and tiresome journey, was where to purchase food, so after some little difficulty we found an interpreter who acted as a guide at so much per purchase, and we followed him hopefully until we arrived at what might have been a small county fair held in the slums of any big City, in the middle of a cold winters night. Each Kiosk, and there were hundreds of them, had something to sell. Each had its own vendor with a limited supply of the plainest of food stuffs. Eggs, butter, cheese, frozen fish, potatoes, onions, dried, sausages, chickens, these were the outstanding commodities. Other vendors carried padlocks, the cheapest kind of tools, some clothing, mostly second-hand, old shoes patched up to look like new, and the merchants usually had their feet and hands wrapped up in rags to try to keep warm. All stood in the open air, with a temperature about 20 below zero. And this the shopping district of Moscow.
We made a few purchases but they were very limited, for the whole atmosphere was one of depression and did not lend itself to stimulate appetite.
On returning we discovered that we had forgotten bread, the discovery being made upon observing a queue a half city block long of types of humanity that are indescribable. When I asked our guide what they are lined up for, he advised me that they were buying bread, so we fell in line with them. When it came my turn the clerk pushed out a black loaf and I was told I should have a permit or a ration card. The interpreter fixed that easily however, by explaining that we were artists, and in Russia, Artist means something. They have the utmost respect and show the greatest admiration everywhere in Russia for those who amuse them from the stage and lighten their burdens.
This gesture put me more or less at ease, especially since the clerk advised the guide that henceforth it would not be necessary to stand in line, but to walk right in. Another gesture most noticable and friendly was when we sought to purchase a packet of tea, we were told that the allotment for that had been exhausted, and the regular patrons were being turned away empty handed. Here again the word ARTIST came to the rescue and in a moments notice from underneath the counter a packet of tea was brought forth with a smile. This kindly treatment naturally relieved the burden of suspence for the first day, and stood out in great contrast to the treatment artists receive in other countries where I have been, where they are looked upon as vagabonds and are treated as such.
It was not long until I found the right contact, and we were allowed to move into cozy quarters, well lighted, and steamheated, and by this time we had settled down to local conditions.
Our opening night in the Music Hall Moscow which seats 2500 people was packed and never have I received a greater reception. We took 16 curtain calls at the finish of the performance, and the audience stood as for an Opera. They were a happy and cheerful lot, and as for dress and appearance I could not distinguish them from any other big City audience in any other part of the World.
An interpreter introduced me and made it clear that there was nothing supernatural about me, that all my work was brought about by a modern technique; also that the costumes worn in the show if elegant were simply those of artists playing a part and he told the audience not to envy us.
Most of the audience understood German, and some English, so I gave the performance in German mostly. This same Theatre remained crowded nightly for ten weeks. It was well appointed, warm, and neat as a pin. After the premier, a banquet was tendered in my honor, with over three hundred guests, a bottle of champagne at each plate, and a perfect seven course dinner was served. Two bands played throughout the night, and they danced until six in the morning. The thing that puzzled me most was the great contrast as I had thought that everything was equal in Russia, but almost nightly in some quarter or other there was a champagne supper behind locked doors.
Most of their political meetings are held in the Theatre generally a week day when there is no matinée; in that case an army of soldiers take possession of the building two days prior; the building is then searched and on the day of the meeting, soldiers are stationed a few yards apart on the outside, surrounding the building and the fire department is called out as well. Two firemen are placed on the stage each with a fire hose directed toward the audience, ready for action in case of disturbance while political speeches are being made. No one may enter the building without a red card, which is issued after considerable red tape, and in addition to this every person is searched upon entering the theatre. This precaution was perhaps due to the fact that explosives enough to blow up the building, had been found 2 weeks earlier.
As for the Moving pictures, they are all liberally patronized, in spite of the fact that all of their films are propaganda for Russia, showing what a deplorable condition the rest of the world is in, and how well off Russia is … The photography and direction is fine.
As I am always building new illusions wherever I go, I had occasion to employ carpenters in Russia as well. I have a very good idea of the scale of wages throughout the world, for example the union scale for a first class cabinet maker in America is 8 dollars per day; in Russia the set scale is just about half this amount, which somewhat surprised me, but only for a week or so as I found by that time that by comparison only half of the amount of work had been turned out on the four dollar a day plan. So in reality the labor there is just as expensive, only that it takes twice as long to do it. I found the Italian and Spanish wood workers the most efficient in the world.
One thing that hampered me considerably in the production of new effects was that materials such as yard goods can be purchased only one yard at a time; that is to say one yard each day. You can readily understand the handicap should you want a curtain containing 20 yards of goods, you would get it in pieces and then with the probability of the piece being sold out before your order was completed.
We went from Moscow to Leningrad (formerly St. Petersburg), where we playing in Jan. and Feb. the climate being delightful. Here too we played one of the most beautiful theatres I have ever been in, in fact it was two theatres, with huge banquet halls, restaurants, rehearsal rooms, carpenter shops, scenic studios, all combined, occupying a full City block square, and here I learned more about Russia through many international artists who had gone thro the Revolution and been trapped there unable to get out. They allow none of their subjects to leave except on official business. In the case of a married couple, one may leave and one remain, and then a heavy cash deposit must be paid for this privilege. Every one must find employment. One reputable artist whom I met, a lady well known on the Continental stage, was selling newspapers. There are women conductors on the trams, women street cleaners.
I was instructed before entering Russia not to talk politics, only to listen, and this being near our end there were many officials secret and otherwise who attempted to draw an expression from me, and altho I had heard much from my theatrical friends whom I could trust, especially from the lady with the newspapers, with whom I talked daily, when I left I knew nothing, even tho I had seen Russia from the kitchen, bedroom, parlor and bath. While most of the Bernard Shaws and committees of experts and so called investigators and tradesmen are placed in the hands of a reception committee on arrival, they are only allowed to meet whom the committee wants them to meet, and they are shown only the parlor.
Russia’s greatest institution is its Theatre. Their artists are excellent, and trained to the utmost. The Theatre is run on Sundays and closed on Mondays, giving the worker a chance to enjoy himself on the Sabbath as well as the artist an opportunity to rest on Monday. The prices are high. They charged the equivalent of sixteen shillings top for our performance, but there is not much else to spend money for except amusement.
We entertained the Red Army, the entire house being turned over to them for one week. I have never played before a more enthusiastic audience.
Now we are ready to leave Russia; our contract had been extended and another six months prolongation offered together with a return contract for 1933. The Manager for the Soviet Theatre Union cabled my agent in Berlin that we were the biggest financial and artistic success they had ever had. But now the fun began.
The Theatre branch of the Soviet had done their work, their publicity campaign had been excellent, money had been made and turned into the Government. My work had been done as per contract, and our association most pleasant. We are now turned over to the finance department, for each department is a separate unit, such as, theatre, transportation, finance, like so many spokes in a wheel, and each one striving to show the best results. Therefore no matter how well my work was done in the Theatre that was finished and I now had to deal with strangers to get my money. I was sent back to Moscow to collect it altho I had many promises that I would receive my check the last night in Leningrad.
In Moscow I waited for many days in vain, then I was told to leave … the money would be in Berlin waiting for me, and that my baggage would go on the same train with me. I arrived in Berlin and was informed they knew nothing about my check, that I should have been paid in Moscow. After much intrigue I received the amount three weeks later from their agent in Berlin. Whether it was an attempted hold-up on the part of their Berlin Agent to make a showing for himself, I have never been able to find out.
The only weapon I had and the one that brought payment about was the Theatrical trade papers. Moscow feared an unpleasant exposé through this medium, and so paid; but I put the blame of this unpleasant termination onto the finance department and not on the Russian people nor the Theatre. Likewise the Railway dept. took advantage of saving money by sending our baggage by freight, altho it was contracted express, so that I was obligated to lay off in Berlin with my company of twenty people for one month. When I finally received my 160 pieces intact I was very happy and needless to say did not accept their kind invitation for a return engagement.