“STAGE DOOR JOHNNIES”

Press, Volume LXXIV, Issue 22430, 17 June 1938, Page 5

“STAGE DOOR JOHNNIES”

What has happened to the “Stage Door Johnnies” of 1912? Most of the old-time troupers on whom these gentry danced attendance have disap- ' peared also, but Milly Doris, of Australian variety fame, is still on deck, and recently talked about the old days. “Those ‘Stage Door Johnnies’ —They’re in Point Piper and back o’ Bourke in the wool business, they’re travelling in jam, and selling real estate, and buying exchange. Bless their generous hearts, they’re grown-up! There was one young man for instance, who used to wait, so patiently, every night for me at the stage door to present me with a bunch of dark red roses. That was in 1912. Even romance fades a little after 26 years. He is a leading cityzen now, and I often see his name figuring in the papers. “Glamour and golden hair have gone down to gilt-edged securities. Gentlemen prefer bonus, so to speak. “In 1912. Ah! Those were the days! Most of these stage door freauenters tised to have plenty of money. Presents of diamond rings, brooches, frocks, or baskets of flowers—a basket of roses was worth £2—used to be handed up on the stage from the ‘Johnnies’ at the final curtain. Often these presents had notes attached reading something like this; ‘Please’ have supper with me to-night. Don’t refuse. This is the fourth time I’ve asked you.’ They Would queue up outside the stage door and wait decorously for the performance to end. v “Sometimes a favoured few would wp the doorkeeper, and manage to get backstage. A tip of £5 meant nothing to- the ‘Stage Door. Johnnie’ when it .Cot him into first place “Often the more eager found their way into the chorus room,, and then -it cost them a small fortune before me night was over. Drinks, and not Infrequently supper for the entire chorus, ran away with the sovereigns But they could take it. The customary technique was to send flowers, or chocolates,. with an invitation, which, as a rule we didn't turn down, not from the right sort of person at any rate. Then the ‘Johnny’ would wait at the ftage-door. whisk the girl into a han-

A Trouper Recalls Old Days

som cab the moment she came out and have the driver take them to the most exclusive supper-room in the city. “Sometimes, of course, the cavaliers fell in love. A ‘Johnnie’ once fell in love with me, and followed me over all the Australian states, and even to New Zealand. “I really think that 1912 saw the stage-door ‘Johnny’ at his very best He was gentlemanly, and a wonderful sport. He often invited girls to his home, introduced them to his family, and was kindness personified to them. “He didn’t take girls for motor rides in cars that broke down on lonely roads, he preferred to make use of the parks and gardens for daylight strolling. He took girls to race meetings and sporting events. Yes. I went to my first meeting with an Australian ‘Stage Door. Johnny’ as an escort. “To the bloods of 1912, succeeded the ‘Woolloomooloo Yanks,’ of later years These were over-dressed, pseudo-Amer-ican. unpopular with men nad girls alike. ‘Baby,’ they’d say, ‘come and eat,’ and you were always a little afraid they wouldn’t be able to pay the bill. “The English ‘Johnny’ was not as a rule a very virile specimen. There was one, the third son of an English peer who is only a memory and a monocle to me now. He was a terrible pest to be dodged if possible. I took to going out the front door when I knew he was waiting, but he got wise to me, and used to post a friend at the front while he waited at the stage entrance. Oh! Yes! I went to supper with him, pest and all that he was. ‘Awf’ly naice,’ he’d say, ‘very cleveh, what? What to drink? Champagne. Your life must be awf’ly jolly, what?’ and so on—just another pest. “But in spite of such nuisances, I’m sorry the day of the real ‘Stage Door Johnnie’ has passed. He was picturesque, even exciting, and his generous heart earned all the fun he ever got from us. and more. “For myself, I’m in the films now. and in ‘Let George Do It’ there were no flowers for me after my act in the theatrical sequence, but in a riotously funny scene, George Wallace (gs a stage hand) gave me the bird, and it was White Leghorn-at -thatT