Hoodoos Banished

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 400, 7 July 1928, Page 8

Hoodoos Banished

Charm of Stage Superstitions

IN the glare of the footlights and the glitter of tinsel, the filmy figures in that other world —the stage—appear to us to be enshrined in a temple of exalted romance. Yet bei ond those gaily-painted scenes, along dismal corridors, and in smudgy dressing-rooms, there are potent influences which lead the unwary actox - into the black books of his superstitious fellows.

Superstition is an almost inherent characteristic of the showman. All his actions are shrouded in a mystic cloud of hoodooism; everything he does is performed with a scrupulous care calculated to save his show from the distressing forces of ill-luck; and results are essentially computed upon the smile and the frown of Dame Fortune. Miss Elsie Prince, the popular and pretty star who banished the jinx from the new St. James Theatre at Auckland the other evening by being carried over the portal of the stage entrance, instead of walking through, has emulated the finest and best in stageland superstitions. Her predecessors in art throughout the ages have practised this destruction of evil spirits

with greater seriousness, but perhaps with no greater sincerity at heart, than Miss Prince. Many stage superstitions had strange origins; many, indeed, are suspected as being subtle tricks of shrewd publicity managers. One has to go back to the days of Macready, the noted tragedian, to discern the birth of the “tag line” superstition. Never, according to Macready and subsequent adherents to his belief, should the tag line, or final sentence of a play, be pronounced until the opening night of the show. The great producers is reputed even to have dismissed his favourite actress for reciting the last line at a rehearsal. The range of songs permitted behind the scenes at rehearsals is dis-

tinctly limited. In a moment of morbid enthusiasm, the leading lady is suddenly possessed by an irrepressible desire to sing Tosti’s “Good-bye.” The producer’s hair then rises to the perpendicular, for woe is at hand when the strains of the “Good-bye” are heard issuing in careless abandon from the lips of a performer. The late Harry Rickard, one of the cleverest producers of yesteryear, believed in the evil effect of this, and on one historic occasion he paid a high salaried artist up to the end of her contract and dismissed her because of this offence. In another instance Rickard perceived the effect of an evil influence, and closed the theatre for one night to break the spell of ill-luck. To play the inspiring and pathetic “Home, Sweet Home” prior to a show is to become an habitual stage criminal, and this assuredly will invite a poor house. To play the piano at all before a show, in fact, heralds bad fortune, while the producer who perceives a carpet bag among his performers’ effects turns purple in his superstitious fear. WHEN NOT TO WHISTLE A troupe of artists making up for a show —if all stage traditions are observed —is indeed a melancholy collection of souls. The actor knows exactly when to whistle and when not to whistle; he may do so anywhere but in the dressing-room. So if that pepped-up feeling must bubble over in a bird-like chirp, the offender immediately incurs the wrath of the gods upon the show; and the only manner in which he may be relieved of the curse is to go outside, knock three times and ask politely for readmission. This Is a precarious undertaking if a “call” is about due; but then, the actor knows when to whistle! WHAT THE EYE DOES NOT SEE . . The stage performer is as anxious as the wharf labourer to greet the dawn of pay day, but hand him his salary in a green envelope, and possibly for the first time in his life he will refuse the money! One of the most amusing of superstitions occurred when the Diggers were touring the Dominion after the war. To complete the dress of the woman impersonator a spray of peacock feathers was required, and although the plumes were quite pretty and remarkably effective, they were blamed by the artists for the bad season the show had experienced. The protest was so vigorous that Mr. Tano Fama. the producer, burned the feathers while the Diggers were at Auckland —and the show lived happily until its voluntary disbandment many months later. The Diggers were satisfied that the curse was removed —but they were unaware that night after night Stan Lawson was performing with clipped peacock feathers dyed to disguise their character!