SHY PLAYWRIGHT

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 71, Issue 237, 6 October 1928, Page 19 (Supplement)

SHY PLAYWRIGHT

NEVER SEES HIS OWN PRODUCTIONS If you wrote a story about a man who lived in the country and wrote plays w'hich ran a year or two, but who never saw them performed, people would not believe you. But, as so frequently happens truth is stranger than fiction, writes William Pollock in the Daily Mail, London. Take the strange case of Eden Phillpotts, whose latest play, 44 My Lady’s Mill,” written in collaboration with his daughter, Adelaide Phillpotts, was produced in London recently. Mr Phillpotts was a comparatively old man when Sir Barry Jackson took a fancy to produce his play, 4 4 The Farmer’s Wife,” and, what is more, to keep it running until audiences began to go and see it. Still Staying Away. For the first time in his life Mr Phillpotts began to make money out of writing for the stage, and it would have been natural if he had come up from Devonshire to London to see 44 The Farmer’s Wife” acted. But no, he never came, nor did he ever go to the theatre during the long run of his next successful play, 44 Yellow Sands.” Queer people, authors! Mr Phillpotts is one of those of whom it can truthfully be said on first nights: 44 The author is not in the house.” Edgar Wallace is one of whom it can never b© said. No Edgar Wallace first night would be complete without him in a box, and with his long cigar-ette-holder in his mouth. All the same, he very nearly did miss the opening London night of his 44 The Yellow Mask.” They said in the theatre that he was not coming to see the play because he thought it was not going to be a success. But he did not turn up before the end, and 4 4 The Yellow Mask” had been a success. “Make-up” for Authors. I always think that authors ought to be “made up” before—in response to the beckonings and tuggings that take place to get them from their lurkingplaces—they come upon the stage. They usually look so pale and terrified beside the company. And they should be rehearsed. They seldom know where to stand or what to say. But then, a prepared speech is not much use if—to take the recent case of Noel Coward after 44 Sirocco,” for example—someone shouts “Rotten!’ and other people begin to hiss and boo directly the author appears. On the first night of his revue, 4 4 This Year of Grace,” when the whole audience seemed to be in a mood to acclaim him, Noel Coward hid himself in the back row of the dress circle. He came rushing into the theatre just before the end of the show in a grey flannel suit, dashing past an attendant who did not recognise him, and wanted his ticket, and just pausing for a moment to say 44 Thanks so much” when I told him that the show was a great success. Frederick Lonsdale conceals himself in a box, or stands up at the back of the dress circle on his first nights.