ALL OF THEM OPEN
THEATERS DO BUSINESS SAME
AS USUAL.
SOME ARE PACKED TO DOORS
POLICE PREPARE TO REPORT TO
GRAND JURY.
Penny Arcades Put on Passion Play
and Sacred Music -- Judah Says
There Are Sermons in His
Bill -- Cigars Sold
as Usual.
Kansas City theaters really give Sunday performances. Bold policemen, acting under orders which came directly from the police board, found this out last night. Such a rumor had reached police headquarters, but Chief of Police Ahern diplomatically sent out policemen to learn the truth after the police board pledged support to the criminal court in putting on the Sunday lid.
Regarding the rumor of Sunday performances -- the policemen found "It is even so." They will report to their superior officer today the evidence they collected in the playhouses. The supreme court decisions, shipped in from Arkansas, do not say it is a crime for an actor or an actorine to act, any day of the week. But with the managers it is different, and the police caught 'em red handed last night. The manager who includes Sunday performances in his contracts with the public "works" during the show.
Down at the Grand a policeman caught A. Judah working -- smoking numerous cigars and nodding "yes" or "no" to the doorman when a friend of the house applied for free admission. Judah is a long-headed manager. He saw the reform cloud on the theatrical horizon and send down East for a fitting show for the first tabooed performance. "Arizona" is the bill, and Mr. Judah's public flocked to the show like girls to a marked-down carnation sale. The house was sold out before 7 o'clock for the night performance, and half an hour before the curtain went up the "admissions" were exhausted, too.
SERMONS IN HIS SHOW.
"Did you ever see such a turn-a-way," said Harry S. Richards, manager of the show.
"No," answered Judah. "But it's the show which brings 'em out this Sunday night. There's a good sermon in 'Arizona' -- the kind that sends the public home with better thoughts to dwell upon through the week. For a show with a sermon coupon, 'Arizona' is a scream."
"But does Judah really own the Grand?" asked a uniformed policeman of the ticket seller early yesterday morning. He was getting the evidences for the police board. It was his first stop. He finally departed with the information that the place is managed by Mr. Judah.
Policemen did not visit many of the theaters until after the matinee hour in the early afternoon. They then called at each of the first class houses and later made the rounds of the penny arcades and moving picture shows, taking names of manager and locations of the places of amusement.
HE HEARD A HYMN.
At many of the arcades the policemen, who are to make a report also on the character of the performances, were astounded to find the "Passion Play" in progress. Down on Main street an officer put a penny in the slot, adjusted the tubes to his ears, and then turned pale when the phonograph struck up a hymn instead of the ballet medley he had expected. He did not want the proprietor to think he did not like the place, so he ground his teeth and heart it "clean" through.
The officer assigned to vaudeville houses got blind staggers before he caught the right tip and performed the duty assigned him. At the Orpheum he found that Martin Beck is a Chicagoan. He went over to the Shubert and found a vaudeville service in progress, but a kindly disposed man outside told the blue coated officer that Mr. Klaw isn't expected here for a fortnight at least. No, Mr. Erlanger wasn't in town, either.
"Well, who is manager of this house?"
"I'm trying to be," answered Walter Sanford, the local representative of the theatrical syndicate of Klaw & Erlanger.
INSIDE INFORMATION
Chief of Police Ahern at first assigned regular theater patrolmen to bring in the evidence wanted. The men had the information already, and did not bother the managers, but they did "peep in" to see that the show really went on. Others, drawn to the theaters by curiosity, questioned employes. A policeman in uniform stood in front of the Willis Wood last night with the negro attendant who looks after the carriages.
"Who does run this house?" asked the policeman.
"The manager is Mr. Buckley, sir," answered the employe.
"Well," said the policeman, I thought Frank Woodward runs the house."
"No, sir, Mister Frank is business manager, and Mr. Buckley is the manager, sir."
"What's the difference between a manager and a business manager," asked the bewildered policeman.
"That's easy. Mr. Buckley, he runs the business. The business manager signs checks."
"Where does O. D. Woodward come in?"
"Why! He's the governor. He runs the whole business."
HIST! SAID HE.
When two officers in plain clothes applied for admission last night at the Century, Manager Joe Donegan stepped to the door of his office. Then he turned and said:
"Hist! We're pinched." He had forgotten he had occupied the office alone and was only talking to an empty room. But the officers merely wanted to see if a show was in progress, and they soon departed to round up the arcades and outlying playhouses.
Cigar stands continued yesterday to sell newspapers, cigars and other stock. It's alright to sell newspapers, but it's considered Sunday labor to sell cigars, and the cigar stands which stay open to sell newspapers are preparing to put the lid on everything else if the grand jury so orders. But the police made no attempt to close either cigar stands or grocery stores.
