Louisiana State University LSU Digital Commons

LSU Historical Dissertations and Theses Graduate School

1978 The aC reer of Owen Davis (1874-1956) in the American Theatre. Jack Kendall Wann Louisiana State University and Agricultural & Mechanical College

Follow this and additional works at: https://digitalcommons.lsu.edu/gradschool_disstheses

Recommended Citation Wann, Jack Kendall, "The aC reer of Owen Davis (1874-1956) in the American Theatre." (1978). LSU Historical Dissertations and Theses. 3301. https://digitalcommons.lsu.edu/gradschool_disstheses/3301

This Dissertation is brought to you for free and open access by the Graduate School at LSU Digital Commons. It has been accepted for inclusion in LSU Historical Dissertations and Theses by an authorized administrator of LSU Digital Commons. For more information, please contact [email protected]. INFORMATION TO USERS

This was produced from a copy of a document sent to us for microfilming. While the most advanced technological means to photograph and reproduce this document have been used, the quality is heavily dependent upon the quality of the material submitted.

The following explanation of techniques is provided to help you understand markings or notations which may appear on this reproduction.

1.The sign or “target” for pages apparently lacking from the document photographed is “Missing Page(s)”. If it was possible to obtain the missing page(s) or section, they are spliced into the Him along with adjacent pages. This may have necessitated cutting through an image and duplicating adjacent pages to assure you of complete continuity.

2. When an image on the film is obliterated with a round black mark it is an indication that the film inspector noticed either blurred copy because of movement during exposure, or duplicate copy. Unless we meant to delete copyrighted materials that should not have been Rimed, you will find a good image of the page in the adjacent frame.

3. When a map, drawing or chart, etc., is part of the material being photo­ graphed the photographer has followed a definite method in “sectioning” the material. It is customary to begin Riming at the upper left hand comer of a large sheet and to continue from left to right in equal sections with small overlaps. If necessary, sectioning is continued again—beginning below the Rrst row and continuing on until complete.

4. For any illustrations that cannot be reproduced satisfactorily by xerography, photographic prints can be purchased at additional cost and tipped into your xerographic copy. Requests can be made to our Dissertations Customer Services Department.

5. Some pages in any document may have indistinct print. In all cases we have Rimed the best available copy.

University Microfilms International 300 N. ZEEB ROAD, ANN ARBOR, Ml 48106 18 BEDFORD ROW, LONDON WC1R 4EJ, ENGLAND f 7911589 f | MANN, JACK KENDALL | THE CAREER OF OMEN DAVIS (1B7A-1956) IN THE | AMERICAN THEATRE.

! THE LOUISIANA STATE UNIVERSITY AND | AGRICULTURAL AND MECHANICAL COL., P H .D ., 1978

University , M icrofilms International 300 N. ZEEB ROAD, ANN ARBOR. Ml 48106

@ 1979

JACK KENDALL WANN

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED THE CAREER OF OWEN DAVIS (1874-1956) IN THE AMERICAN THEATRE

A Dissertation Submitted to the Graduate Faculty of the Louisiana State University and Agricultural and Mechanical College in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in The Department o f Speech

by Jack Kendall Wann M.A., U n iv ersity of L o u is v ille / 1969 December/ 1978 Acknowledgeme nts

Special thanks to Dr. Roderick Bladel/ Staff Librarian, Lincoln Center Theatre Collection, and to Betty Ross and Paul Myers of his staff. My gratitude is also extended to Dr. Bill Harbin for his guidance and to Dr. Waldo Braden for his very special overall influence during my doctoral s tu d ie s . But, especially I owe my major debt to Carol and to Regan for their help and patience in getting through difficult and demanding times. Table of Contents

A b stra c t

Introduction...... 1 C hapter I. The Early Career of Owen D avis...... 9 I I . Owen Davis Becomes a L egitim ate Broadway Playwright...... 79 III. The Maturity of Owen D avis...... 122 IV. The Final Twenty Years of the Career of Owen Davis...... 170 % V. The Organizational Work of Owen Davis. . . . 189 C onclusion...... 200 A ppendix...... 210 Bib liography...... 220 V ita ...... 235

i i i A b stra ct

The purpose of this study was to examine and assess the theatrical career of Owen Gould Davis (1874-1956) . The published plays of Davis, extant unpublished manuscripts, typescripts, and contemporary reviews and articles constitute the bulk of the primary research material. These have been supplemented by the playwright's personal memoirs, biographical accounts, correspondence with surviving contemporaries, and journal and newspaper a r t i c l e s . The results of the study were as follows: Since, (1) Owen Davis was an important American play­ wright whose work was significant in the development of American Theatre practice in the twentieth century, (2) his prolificacy was remarkable, (3) the duration of his career (almost sixty productive years in the professional theatre) demonstrates his enduring influence on the American theatre scene, (4) at least four of his works have gained a lasting place in the dramatic literature of this country (Icebound, Ethan Frome, The Nervous Wreck, and The Haunted House) , (5) h is work in th e New Realism made him second only to i v Eugene O'Neill in the development of America's regional drama, (6) he was America's most representative practi­ tioner of sensational melodrama, (7) he was an acknowledged master of adaptation and dramatization from other forms, (8) he was a significant innovator and a pioneer in dramatists' organization work, specifically for the Dramatists Guild of The Authors League of America, and (9) his personal and professional "ethos" remained unblemished throughout his long career; it is apparent that his significance and influence on the development of theatre practice in America has been grossly under­ estimated. Owen Davis has proved an important figure in the history of theatre in this country.

v Introduction

George Jean Nathan once referred to Owen Davis as, "the Lope de Vega of the American theatre.”^ Other prom­ inent twentieth-century critics described Davis as "the dean of American dramatists," "America's most prolific and produced playwright,"^ and "our dramatic laureate."^ These superlatives provide an ironic introduction to an artist whose name has virtually been forgotten by con­ temporary students of American theatre. Owen Davis began his professional career in 139 7 at a time when Bronson Howard reigned as the foremost of a small group of significant American playwrights. By the time Davis died in 1956, Tennessee Williams represented this country's best efforts in dramatic literature. Owen

Montrose J. Moses, Representative American Dramas (Boston: L i t t l e , Brown and Company, 1933), p . 300. 2 New York World Telegram, 21 September 19 34 (Clipping File, Lincoln Center Theatre Collection). Hereafter cited as CF, LCTC. ^ New YQEfc Times, 15 October 1956, p. 75. ^ Alexander Woolcott, "Up From 10-20-30," C ollier's, 2 January 1926,- p. 7. 2

Davis served the theatre devotedly for that entire period of fifty-nine years. In that time/ he produced over two hundred plays, nearly all of which were performed in the professional theatre. This productivity made Davis unques­ tionably America's most prolific playwright in the first half of the twentieth century; his plays were produced in New York for thirty-seven consecutive seasons. This "enormous fecundity and narrative invention"^ earned him immense popularity and great profit (by 19 33, he had already earned nearly one and a half million dol­ lars in royalties}.1,5 In retrospect however, in spite of his popular and financial success, his career seems to have been as ephemeral as it was prolific, Davis' view that the playwright serves his society as "a minstrel, not a prophet" brought a contemporary quality to his work which consistently reflected the conventions and character of his own time. This contributed to the monetary and popular success of his art, but also limited its universal significance and his own acceptance as a serious artist. When Davis made h is debut as a p lay w rig h t in 189 7, American theatre asked little of its dramatists, but

5 Sidney Skolsky, Times -Square Tintypes, 5 August 1931 (CP, LCTC). ^ Ward Morehouse, New York Sun, 6 February 19 33 (CF, LCTC). ^ New Ycrk Herald-Tribune, 2 March 1941, p. 27. demanded a great deal from its actors, directors, produc­ ers, and technical innovators. As a result, superior acting could always be found, displayed in spectacular mountings provided by skillful craftsmen of the theatre. But the plays upon which these productions were built often seemed less important than these elements. The emphasis on the playwright's contribution to a theatrical production would be a hallmark of the early twentieth century; but at the time when Owen Davis entered the field, his experience was practical and production oriented rather than literary. He matured at a time when increasing critical demands were being made in the area of dramatic literature. He was required to meet these new challenges in order to remain a practitioner in a rapidly changing theatre scene. Davis' initial success came in the realm of lurid melodrama. In fact, by the end of the first decade of the 1900's, he had succeeded in establishing himself as the foremost author of this kind of "ten-twenty-' thirt" drama in America. His boundless energy permitted him to produce over one hundred of these "mellers" for the patrons of the popular priced houses in the Bowery section of New York. His plays, like N ellie, the Beautiful Cloak Model, The Confessions of a Wife, and The Gambler of the West delighted audiences for many years both in and out of New York. Although they were immensely popular, none of these scripts displayed any genuine literary achievement beyond 4 facile technique and clever plot manipulation. The plays are illustrative of the genre of melodrama and provide examples of the emphasis on spectacle in the early develop­ ment of our p o p u lar th e a tr e . H is to r ic a lly , they demon­ strate the point of departure for the subsequent develop­ ment of the playwright. Davis created these plays with a high degree of technical skill and succeeded in bringing to the province of sensational theatre practice a formula which remained effective until the fall of this kind of melodrama in the early twentieth century. Davis' early study of melodrama was influenced by the work of Dion BoucicaUlt and by a careful examination of earlier successful melodramas like The Great Train Robbery. But just as he had been influenced to write melodrama by the work of the masters of the genre, so he came to be attracted to higher regions of literary endeavor. The Easiest Way (1909] by Eugene Walter and the social dramas of Clyde Fitch stirred Davis to aspire to move up the artistic ladder. The climb was to take almost eighteen years, but by 1913, he had transcended the sensational mel­ odrama and moved into the legitim ate, "uptown" world of s itu a tio n comedy and f a rc e . The p lay which made th is move possible for him was The Family Cupboard (1913). The play's critical success permitted Davis to leave the "ten- twenty-' thirt" drama behind and address himself to the more rigorous challenges provided by the Broadway theatre. Davis proved equal to the task and became an integral part of the 5

Broadway scene from that point until his death forty-three years later. Although he remained productive and financially suc­ cessful, the combination of his desire to be considered a serious artist and the impetus provided by the continental models in naturalism and the "new realism" prompted him to undertake serious realistic drama. The result was the c re a tio n o f two o f h is b e s t known works, The Detour (1921) and Icebound (1923). With Icebound came a Purlitzer Prize and induction into the National Institute of Arts and Letters. These honors served as tangible symbols that he had finally been accepted as a significant voice in the American theatre. "There is no living American to rank with him except Eugene O'Neill," wrote one critic.® His work in the realistic mode demonstrates a matura­ tion in writing technique and a shifting emphasis from the visual to the elements of plot and character. He no longer relied only on his facile technique with established stereotypes, but rather began a regimen of carefully detailed characterization. Davis' new emphasis on plot and character resulted in a marked improvement of his farce in the early 1920's. Both The Nervous Wreck (1923) and The Haunted House (1924) represent Davis consummate skill as a w riter of comedy. Davis also developed an interest in dramatic adaptation

® Bookman, October 192 3, p. 231. 6 from other sources. This skill was best displayed in his adaptation of Edith Wharton's Ethan Frome in 1936, with his son Donald collaborating. Some considered this Davis' finest single work. Other plays like The Great Gatsby (1926) , The Good Earth (1932), and Mr. and Mrs. North (1941) also illustrate his versatility in the art of adaptation. In the middle of the 1920's, Davis became disen­ chanted with the "new realism" which had gained for him his first serious audiences. The inherent pessimism of the style as it had developed in Europe disturbed him. He wanted his own work to reflect the unique optimistic spirit of America as he had come to view it. Therefore, to the discontent of many of the critics who had hailed The Detour and Icebound as harbingers of a significant new serious voice in American theatre, Davis embarked on a futile search for a drama of affirmation. His practice continued and his plays found consistent production, but the quality of his artistic contributions remained erratic. The present study will assess the contributions of Owen Davis to the American theatre and his significance in the history of theatre. The major materials examined include the published plays and extant unpublished manu­ scripts. Although the plays provide significant insights into his career and constitute a sizable portion of the primary material, an exacting effort has been made to utilize contemporary reviews to help assess his 7 development. Also, biographical references, numerous newspaper and journal articles, and the playwright's two autobiographical accounts make up the major research materials underlying this career study. Many historical studies and anthologies have also been examined in the attempt to get an accurate picture of this productive playwright.^ The career of Owen Davis may be divided into four periods: the sensational melodrama (1897-1913)the legitim ate Broadway comedy period (1914-192 3); realism and mature farce (1923-1936); and Ethan Frome and the search for a serious drama of optimism (19 36-1956). Each of these stages of Davis' career w ill be treated as a sep­ arate chapter in the study. Included in each section will be a detailed analysis of a representative play which will aid in demonstrating the playwright's development. The

*Q The appendix of this study provides an all-inclusive list of the plays produced by Owen Davis. A division of the bibliography indicates which plays are published and which rest in special collections or in theatre archives. The preparation of this study relied to a great extent upon the materials housed in the Theatre Collection of the Lincoln Center Library in New York City. Without numerous visits to this repository of theatre material and the coop­ eration of the staff there, it would have been impossible to have completed this work. The Davis melodrama consistently fell into three subgroups: The New York comedy drama, the Western th riller, and the "sexy" adventures of N ellie, the Beautiful Cloak Model and her long string of persecuted and unfortunate sisters. To these plots, Davis had added the "Prodigal Son" and "Magdalen" themes. The plays remained con.- stant in the use of spectacular scenic devices, a romantic love interest, and good, basic comedy. 8

Confessions of a Wife has been selected as his representa­ tive melodrama, The Detour w ill exemplify his work in realism, The Nervous Wreck, his skill in farce, and Ethan Frome, an example of skillful adaptation. An additional chapter w ill provide information about the important role played by Davis in the formation and development of the most powerful single body of writing men in America, The Dramatists Guild and The Authors League of America. This section will also detail his vigorous efforts on behalf of the rights of authors and theatre artists. A brief appendix provides a simplified chronologi­ cal listing of the plays of Owen Davis. Even though truly fine plays like Ethan Frome and Icebound have secured for him a permanent place in theatre history in America, it is the weight of the overall con­ tribution of Owen Davis that has initiated this study. It is to that investigation that the following work is devoted. C hapter I The Early Career of Ov/en Davis, 1899-1912: From Through the Breakers to Making.Good

Owen Gould Davis, born in Portland, Maine, on January 28, 1874, was one of eight children of Owen Warren Davis and Abbie Gould Davis. Although his family provided neither active support nor obstacles to his interest in theatre, they gave him a solid education and a highly developed appreciation for the value of knowledge and hard work. His father was a graduate of Bowdoin Col­ lege and a veteran of the Civil War. Owen Davis has whimsically recounted that his impractical father gained and lost several fortunes in his lifetime. The financial depressions appeared more frequently than the peaks of prosperity. Although the senior Davis spent most of his life in the iron business (he served one term as President of the Society of American Iron Manufacturers) , he chose to operate a 42nd Street photographic studio in New York in his later life. But for most of his years, Davis owned and operated the Kathodin Iron Works, fifty miles from his home in Bangor, Maine. In 1920, Owen Warren Davis died from heart disease. 10

Owen Gould Davis attended elementary and high school in Bangor. He produced his first literary effort in 1883 at the age of nine. This work, a play entitled Diamond Cut Diamond: or The Rival Detectives, foreshadowed the sensational melodramas he was later to create with such su ccess. Davis' college career began at the University of Tennessee in 1888. At the age of fourteen, he enrolled as a sub-freshman in the literature and science program and remained one year in Knoxville. The Tennessee Univer­ sity Student, a campus magazine of that time, does not include Davis' name as a participant in any of the school's activities.^ In 1890, acceding to his father's wishes that he should attend an eastern school, Davis applied and was accepted for Harvard. Since the university had no drama department (the Harvard Drama Club was formed eighteen years later), Davis entered the School of Business, later transferring into the sciences (geology, minerology, and paleontology). With little direct exposure to the lit­ erary arts, he had determined by his third year to become a mining engineer. But the arts apparently attracted him, for he often attended the flourishing Boston theatres (among them, The H o llis S tr e e t, The Boston T h eatre, The

^ Letter received from John Dobson, Librarian, Special Collections, University of Tennessee, Knoxville, Tennessee, 12 September 1975. 11

Boston Museum, and Dion Boucicault's last little stock company at Bowdoin Square), and soon after his arrival at Cambridge, he helped create an organization called The Society of the Arts. Formed for lovers of better drama in the Boston area, the society operated under the aegis of Maurice and Georgianna Barrymore, both of whom were then in the twilights of their careers. The society existed for only one year, producing some four plays. Although no great successes issued from its Hollis Street Theatre home, the organization presented significant works by William Dean Howells and Frank R. Stockton. When audiences failed to support the venture, it disbanded. Davis' membership in The Society of the Arts and the verse dramas which he had been producing in his leisure hours (seen by him as merely a pleasurable hobby) provide the only hints of the career which would await him. If his academic preparation was for mining engineering, his major area of excellence was on the sports field, where he gained recognition in football and track. He left Harvard in 1893. No record exists of any degree being granted. In the summers Davis had been creating maps for gov­ ernment coast surveys. During his college years, his family moved from Portland to Bangor and from there to southern Kentucky. After returning from the east, he was hired by the Cumberland Valley Kentucky Railroad as a mining engineer at a salary of $40.00 a week. He soon learned that "mining engineer" was little more than a 12 glorified title for a "digger of holes." He hated the work and was appropriately inept at it. The mid-1890's was a period of extreme violence for the mining industry. The Debs s t r i k e s , which culm inated in c o n fro n ta tio n s between the rioters and Kentucky State troopers, soon con­ vinced Davis that he could not happily continue in this line of work. Throughout his years at Harvard and during this brief period of employment in the mountains of Kentucky, Davis had apparently grown more attracted to writing in general and, especially, playwriting. Having continued to write his verse dramas, he convinced himself that it might be possible to earn a living with the pen instead of the pick. Since the professional theatre was in New York, Davis determined to ally himself with it. So, with "$12.00 in [his] pocket and a firm determination to o conquer the theater either as a writer or as an actor,” he boarded a train and arrived in New York City in the summer of 1895. His first step was to have his material read and evaluated, not an easy task as he soon discovered while making the torturous rounds of producers. After numerous rejections, Davis finally convinced A. M. Palmer, a New York manager, to read his work. Palmer subsequently helped Davis break into the ranks of professional

^ Owen Davis, I'd Like To Do It Again (New York: Farrar and Rhinehart, 1931), p. 14. 13 playwrights after a series of setbacks which would have discouraged a less determined young man. Perhaps the most h u m ilia tin g o f th e se disappointm ents came when he approached the famous Frohman organization with his work. A professional play reader for that organization rejected his efforts by suggesting, "You are a strong and husky young man, with, so I have heard, some reputation as an athlete. Why don't you take this play of yours and see how far you can throw it?"3 Palmer, encouraging Davis to gain first-hand experi­ ence, sent him to the well-known Polish "grand dame" of the theatre, Fanny Janauschek, who hired him as a utility actor and all around helper. Janauschek, an accomplished tragedienne of the Romantic school, had lost much of her beauty and power by the time Owen Davis came to work for h e r. But she s t i l l commanded re s p e c t as an o u tsta n d in g actress. Her portrayal of Medea, for example, was con­ sidered an impressive interpretation. Her company at the American Theatre included Blanche Walsh, William H. Thompson, Annie and Jenny Yeamans, Fred Bond, Orin Johnstone, Joseph Whiting, George C. Bonifice, Katherine Grey, and Sally Cohan. Working with these veterans, Davis gained experience in all facets of theatre. Janauschek*s popular production of The Great Diamond Robbery (1895) was

3 Owen Davis, I'd Like To Do It Again, p. 27. 14 typical of her fare. Many years later, Johnson Briscoe, writing in the New York Sun (18 February 19 33) , recalled having seen Davis play the role of Joshua Smith in this production.^ The play served to acquaint Davis with the kind of melodrama that he later imitated in the early stages of his playwriting career. For the entire 1895- 1896 season, Davis worked in New York and on major road tours for a salary of $12.00 to $15.00 per week. For this money, he played twelve parts weekly, stage managed, acted as press agent and company manager, and did advance work in public relations. He even functioned as an assistant to the director in several locales. After only one season, Davis found himself eager to leave acting and to pursue playwriting. Years later, he remembered with delight his final encounter with the imperious Mme. Janauschek. In Chicago, she called him to her dressing room as the tour was ending. Giving him a photograph of herself, she firmly advised him, "Neffer again be an actor. Thereupon Davis retired as a profes­ sional performer and again began making the rounds of producers, seeking employment as a writer. But he gained only negative results. Eventually, the renewal of the

4 Johnson Briscoe, New York Sun, 18 February 19 33 (CF, LCTC). 5 Owen Davis, I ’d Like Td Do It Again,,.p. 18. 15

acquaintance of an old school friend saved him from absolute poverty. He met an ex-Harvard football captain, who remembered him (although Davis had been little more than an anonymous substitute on the team) and helped to secure for him a temporary position as boys' football coach at New York's De LaSalle Institute. Davis earned a relatively handsome salary of $50.00 a week for the next two months and s u c c e s s fu lly liv e d on th e money fo r the rest of the year. At this juncture Davis tried to sell a romantic costume drama to the popular Davis-Keough producing agency. His play, For the White Rose, was rejected, but one of the managers secured a ticket for him to see a performance of The Great Train Robbery (190 3) at the Star Theatre on 13th and Broadway. He was told that hie would be paid five hundred dollars if he could write a melodrama like it. He viewed the play critically and immediately went to work to produce a manuscript for Keough. It was promptly rejected. Although discouraged, Davis became convinced that he could write a successful melodrama. To prepare himself, he began to study carefully the "mellers" as well as the audiences who frequented the popular priced theatre houses. From the dime seats of the Bowery theatres during the winter and spring of 1898-99, Davis watched the reactions of audiences. He wanted to know what made these people laugh and cry, certain that if he could discover the 16

"tricks" which delighted them, he could then create a play that would work effectively. He discovered a number of important factors. The audiences not only tended to be uneducated, but also had great numbers of immigrants among them, many of whom understood only the rudiments of English. He also discovered that the old standard verities involving religion, home, and virtuous behavior were strongly held in the collective consciousness of the Bowery's patrons. Also, the huge theatres often had poor acoustics. These facts convinced Davis that the element of spectacle most attracted audiences to these theatres. g He would write for the "eye, rather than for the ear," demonstrating emotions through sensational action onstage. He observed many obvious distinctions prevailing between the legitimate "two dollar" Broadx^ay houses and the Third and Eighth Avenue th e a tr e s in th e Bovrery. C hief among them was the composition of the audience itself. To the Bowery theatres came the shop girls and the laborers, all living at poverty levels. Among them existed a wide diversity of nationalities, languages, and cultural back­ grounds. Most came out of the fast growing slims to make up what was called the "ten-twenty-'thirt" theatre clientele. These people flocked to the theatres at a time when a frankfurter and a cup of coffee could be purchased for four cents. The "mellers," extremely popular with the

® Owen Davis, I'd Like To Do It Again, p. 36. 17 poor, were obviously designed for their particular needs, aspirations, and dreams. Since many could not hear because of the poor acoustics or failed to transcend language barriers, they required a production which relied very much on the visual and little on dialogue or charac­ terization. Although discrimination levels were low, these Bowery theatregoers vocally supported their favorites and were equally demonstrative if any script or performance fell short of their expectations. They hummed and sang enthusiastically along with ratty orchestras to tunes like "The Brave and Handsome Fireman" and became totally involved and moved by the spectacles. They responded to the sentiments of the "bathetic" situ­ ations which evidently helped to fill voids in their narrow lives. They stood uniformly together in the con- vition that virtue constituted, without exception, its own reward, and poetic justice remained an absolute. In sum, Davis concluded that the basic requirements of the "mellers" were a primary emphasis on spectacular scenic effects, well-defined conflicts of good and evil (with justice always triumphant), a simple and direct love interest, and a utilization of stock comic characters and stereotypes. What Davis accomplished as a neophyte playwright in his investigation of a new genre, was the creation of a successful formula which exploited the value of spectacle 18 in a proletarian theatre. He applied scientific methods to a study of what made a particular kind of script work for an audience, and he utilized techniques which supported that method. •The summer of 189 8 took him to Portland, Maine. By July l l r he succeeded in getting For the White Rose on the boards at the Gem Theatre in Peak's Island. But the pro­ duction evidently brought little or no profit, for he later arrived in New London (with ninety cents in his pocket) to try to jo in th e James O 'N e ill Company. Since a condition of his employment required an outlay of $750.00 for personal costumes, he decided instead to try his 7 fortunes once again in New York. He settled in Manhattan in September, and soon began an alphabetical check lis t of the Broadway producers' offices. The "B's" brought him to William A. Brady (whom Davis later described of all the men he had known, as "the o most fabulous" and "in a class by himself"). Brady, not interested in Davis at this point, sent him to Gus Hill, who gave Davis his first major writing breakthrough in New York City.

77 It seems ironic that Davis came so close to working for the father of Eugene O'Neill since both men were to become major voices of New Realism in America in the second decade of the twentieth century.

® Allen Churchill, "Owen Davis" in The Great White Way (New York: E. P. Dutton, Inc., 1962), p. 237. 19

Gus Hill, a thirty-five years old swinger of Indian c lu b s, was le a d in g perform er of "Gus H i l l ’s S ta r s ” a t Brooklyn's Star Theatre. In a strange quirk of mood or ecentricity, Hill decided to back Davis' Through the Breakers for a tryout in Bridgeport, Connecticut. The playwright had to put up an elaborate front to obtain H ill's support in getting the play on the boards. He had confidently assured Hill that he had the necessary exper­ tise and background to hire all of the actors as well as to rehearse and mount the show. The truth was that he knew little beyond the lessons of his brief apprenticeship with Janauschek about any of these areas. Hill had guaranteed Davis $50.00 per week and full financial back­ ing for the production. If the play succeeded, one-third of the profits was to fall to the playwright. Through the Breakers did extremely well (it netted $17,000.00 in only three months) giving Davis his first steady income in the world of theatre since his tentative entry three years earlier. Opening in New York on January 30, 1899, the play continued to run for more than five years in popular priced houses on three continents. Although Davis was a novice as director, he knew enough to make his own play work effectively. Most important, Through the Breakers proved salable. Walter Prichard Eaton, musing in his New York Herald-Tribune column almost thirty-five years later, recalled seeing in a Harvard Crimson late in the 1880's the banner headline, "Harvard has at last produced a 20

9 playwright! See Through the Breakers by Owen Davis, ’93." Additional productions soon followed. Davis pulled out of his trunk a play called Abner White From Belfast.10 On April 9, 1900, it opened a t’the Grand Theatre in Boston with the new title of Over the Fence. That same year he produced another play, Reaping the Whirlwind, at the Star Theatre in mid-September. By this time, Owen Davis was devoting himself fully to playwriting. Although he plied his craft at the lower end of the artistic hierarchy which existed in 1900, he was nonetheless a professional earning a living in the New York theatre scene. Davis entered his profession in the era of director- managers like Augustin Daly, Steele MacKaye, and David Belasco. Along with A. M. Palmer (whom Davis called "the first man I worked with and one of the best"),H these men influenced Davis as he began his career as a writer- director. Davis recalls other figures who impressed him, like Charles Hoyt (A Trip to Chinatown, 1891) , Henry M iller, and Charles and Daniel Frohman,with their penchant for good taste and honesty. Winthrop Ames and dramatist- director Winchell Smith were active as Davis began his

9 (In a review of I'd Like To Do It Again) New York Herald-Tribune, 8 February 1931, p. 5. 10 Owen Davis, "Abner White From B elfast," 1900 (Unpub­ lished manuscript in the Lincoln Center Collection). Here­ after cited as UM, LCTC. 11 Owen Davis, I'd Like To Do It Again, p. 49. 21

playwriting career. Also Davis found inspiration from Sam, Lee and Jake Shubert (.challengers of the powerful syndicate) and men of the theatre like George Abbott, Arthur Hopkins, George M. Cohan, Jed Harris, and Sam Harris. Popular playwrights of the early 1900's included Augustus Thomas, Bronson Howard, and Edward Harrigan, who were, to newcomer Davis, the "Big Three." In addition, he studied the new drama of realists like James A. Heme (Margaret Fleming, 1891 and Shore Acres, 1892), William Dean Howells (A Counterfeit Presentment, 1877) and Hamlin Garland (Main Travelled Roads, 1891) all of whom were finding audiences for innovative theatre practice. William G illette's Secret Service (1895) had brought melodrama to new levels of excellence in America. William Vaughn Moody's The Great Divide (1906), the work of Charles Kline (which culminated in a fine melodrama, Bought and Paid For, in 1911) and Clyde Fitch (Captain Jinks of the Horse Marines, 1900), and Eugene W alter's The Easiest Way (1909) provided Davis with a wealth of skillfully produced material to emulate in the early stages of his career. In addition to Fanny Janauschek, Davis was influenced by the performances of many master theatre artists, such as Sarah Bernhardt, Edwin Booth,1 0 Laurette Taylor, Eleanora Duse, Pauline Lord, Mrs. Fiske, Jane Cowl, Ada

12 Davis recalled having first seen Booth act in Boston during his tenure as a student at Harvard. 22

Rehan, Maude Adams, Fannie Davenport, and Modjeska. Others like Joseph Jefferson, Richard Mansfield, Nat Goodwin, and John Drew, with his "polite" comedy, perhaps also had some influence on his early writing style. Importantly, Owen Davis began his career at a time and in a place resplendent in theatrical talents and skills. He later boasted that the American theatre scene in 1900 richly motivated his career.^ In 1901, Davis again teamed his efforts with Gus Hill; Lost in the Desert opened at the Star Theatre on 14 January. With this play, Hill and Davis sought to emulate or even challenge the kind of work being done by Daly, Belasco, and Charles Fohman in the more prestigious theatres. The profits realized earlier from Through the Breakers allowed them the luxury of hiring an excep­ tionally fine cast, a troupe of acrobats, and four trained horses. The script revolved around a young man falsely accused of bank robbery who escapes prosecution by becom­ ing a sailor. On his ship, he encounters the real criminals. After a series of spectacular events, the hero escapes from the ship, which has been set afire by the villains. Having escaped to the desert, the good folks (the heroine, soubrette, and others who also survive the burned ship) alternately are starved and set upon by

^ Owen Davis, My First Fifty Years in the Theatre (Boston; Walter H. Baker Co., 1950), pp. 21-45. 23 heathen Arabs at the instigation of the villainous Duncan Howells (portrayed by "meller" favorite Orlin Kyle). A mighty mechanized vehicle race climaxes the action and order is appropriately restored. But the play failed to please audiences sufficiently (in spite of all the spec­ tacular attractions) to recoup its initial investment for the producers.^ In other ways. Lost in the Desert provided a sub­ stantial gain for playwright Davis. Playing the soubrette, or comic lead (Sally Peasley), in this production was a lovely young actress from Chicago named Elizabeth Drury ("Iza") Breyer. Davis, who had recently hired her from the E. H. Sothern troupe, admired her, courted her, and finally married her in St. Louis on 15 April 1901. The marriage was to last for fifty-five years. In 1901 Davis used the Baker Theatre in Rochester, New York, fo r summer sto ck v e n tu re s. He had lease d th e house from the Shuberts. After two substantial losses with The Fatal Call (1901) and The Two Orphans (1901), Davis managed successful productions of The Gathering Storm and Under Two Flags (both in 1901). The latter, a version of a story by Ouida, became an immediate popular success.15

New York Dramatic M irror, 19 January 1901, d . 38 (CF, LCTC). ouida was a pseudonym for the English novelist Marie Louise de la Ra-mee. 24

Its profits surpassed $10,000 in four weeks and put the Rochester operation back into the black. Davis maintained this association with the Shuberts for four years. This involved not only continuing the Baker Theatre in Rochester, but adding houses in Syracuse, Utica, Brooklyn, Philadelphia and other major cities. Elizabeth Breyer Davis became one of the most popular attractions of these companies throughout the East. In fact, Davis insisted throughout his life that his wife would have been an actress of the first magnitude had she not made the decision to devote herself to domestic m a tte rs. In 1902 came the preliminary negotiations which led to the "Owen Davis-Al Woods MelodramaFactory.Davis signed a contract in the fall to write a melodrama for Sam Harris, "Big Tim" Sullivan, and A1 Woods,^8 a group which produced for the Stair and Havlin Circuit. Davis created not one, but a series of manuscripts for them. In fact, Davis had his busiest year in 1902 with four productions at the Baker in Rochester, a play at Syracuse's

Unidentified newspaper clipping (c. 19 34) called "V arious Stages" (CF, LCTC). D avis' only o th e r recorded play prior to 1902 was Circus' Day, 4 October 1901. Lewin Goff, "The Owen Davis-Al Woods Melodrama Factory," Educational Theatre Journal. XI (October 1959), pp. 200-207. 18 Montrose J. Moses, "The Metamorphosis of Owen Davis,"' Theatre Magazine (May 1922), p. 300. 25

National Theatre, and one at the Star in New York. The plays for Rochester's Baker Theatre for 1902 included My Old Kentucky Home, Between Love and Duty, Ily Lady N ell, and In the Hands of the Enemy, all presented between April and August. The production at Syracuse, entitled Her Marriage Vow, opened in June; critic Ward Morehouse reported that in spite of the fact that it had been written in three days, it was an admirable melodrama.1 Q ^ Concurrent with the opening of his Rochester series for that season, Davis' A Gambler's Daughter began a success­ ful run at the Star. During the last part of 1902, the Harris-Sullivan- Woods triumvirate split up. Sam Harris decided to align himself with Theodore Kramer, who along with Charles A. Blaney, Hal Reid, Lincoln Carter, and Charles Taylor rep­ resented the most popular of the other dramatists produc­ ing "mellers." Sullivan went his own way and Woods moved into a singular collaboration with Owen Davis. This prof­ itable partnership was to produce a long string of remarkably successful melodramas. It took time, however, for the Davis-Woods "factory" to get its mass production wheels turning. Davis, in the meantime, unable to remain idle, continued to produce plays for the summer operations with New York productions often following.

1 9 Ward Morehouse, New York Sun, 27 August 1943, p. 29. 26

The Baker in Rochester mounted The Lighthouse by the

S e a ^ O ^ Great Temptation in April of 1903. By early fall, both scripts had won New York productions. Her One False Step and Over the Quarry Brink, also part of the sum­ mer' s fare, failed to gain productions in New York. In November, Queen of' the White Slaves opened at the Grand, giving Davis his third New York production of the season. The program l i s t e d the a u th o r as A rthur Lamb, a pseudonym employed by Owen Davis.2^ In 1904, Dealers' in White Women and Man Proposes appeared at the New Star Theatre in New York. In 1905 Al Woods and Davis began their collaboration. The contract that resulted from their negotiations was most unusual. The terms stated that Woods would produce no fewer than four new plays by Davis during the first year of their agreement. After the initial year, four new plus four old plays were to be produced each season for five years. This exclusive contract gave Davis at least

20 Owen Davis, "The Lighthouse by the Sea," 1903 (Unpublished typescript, Lincoln Center Theatre Collec­ tion) hereafter cited as UT, LCTC. The practice of using pseudonyms was a common one for Davis. He enjoyed creating new authors in the field of melodrama like Robert Wayne, George Walker, John Oliver, and Walter Laurence. The purpose of the practice was simple. Royalties and bookings would not appear to be accruing to only one individual if different names appeared on the posters, playbills, and programs. Lamb and Martin Hurly were names that Davis used in 1903- 1904. 27 eight plays each calendar years with each play eligible to tour on the Stair-Havlin Circuit for no fewer than thirty weeks. The playwright, therefore, was guaranteed two hundred and eighty weeks of royalties each season. The terms of the pact did not permit Davis to write for another manager and prohibited Woods from producing any other author. Both men evidently cheated on this point of the agreement, but no friction developed as a result of it, and each felt that the other had lived up to the spirit of the collaboration. According to the New York World- Telegram of 18 March 19 38, fifty-nine plays resulted from the pact. 22 Few associations between author and producer have equalled the exclusive contract devised by Woods and Davis, but it worked. -For example, Owen Davis once had eighteen plays touring popular priced houses across the country in a single season. Together, Al Woods and Owen Davis reportedly addressed as many as seven million theatregoers each and every season.2 2 The Confessions of a Wife,24 the debut production of this team, was presented at the 14th Street Theatre on 13 February 1903 to an appreciative audience. Davis always believed that this play and The Gambler of the West (which

22 New York World-Telegram, 18 March 1938 (CF, LCTC). 23 I b id . 24 Owen Davis, "The Confessions of a Wife," 1905 (UT, LCTC). 28 opened in October of the same year) were better than their lurid title indicated. Davis called The Gambler of the West/ "by far the best of the sensational melodramas of the time." 25 Certainly it was one of the most successful/ as its five-year run in diverse popular house sub­ stantiated. But the critic for the Brooklyn Daily Eagle reacted negatively to the production/ referring disdain­ fully to pre-show hoopla/ street parades, and.the inclu­ sion onstage of knife throwers and even an educated horse that raised an American flag.28 in truth, only one of the Davis-Woods collaborations failed to generate financial success. This was The Power of Money in 190 6.2 7 The Confessions of a Wife illustrates the style and technique of Davis' emerging art in the early twentieth century. It serves as both a prototype for "Davidrama" (a term coined by Rollin Lynde Hart who applied it to the particular kind of melodrama written by Owen Davis during his tenure with A1 Woods)78 and is an outstanding example of his work in sensational melodrama altogether. For

Brooklyn Daily Eagle, 7 October 1906 (CF, LCTC).

26 I b i d * 27 Subtitled "In the Clutches of the Trust," The Power of Money featured, among other things, a villain capitalist who tortures a boy by grinding his arm in a letter press and the appearance onstage of an actor portraying the Presi­ dent of the United States (at that time, Teddy Roosevelt) who saves the hero by appealing to a mob of strikers. 28 Rollin Lynde Hart, The People at Play (New York: Ives Washburn, 1930), p. 132. 29

Davis, The Confessions of a Wife represents his typical plot structure and usual approach to characterization in the "meller"; it also illustrates Davis' use of the stage devices and "sensations” associated with his w ork.2^ When he wrote The Confessions of a Wife in 1905, Davis was as much a disciple of Dion Bouccicault’and Lope deVega in melodrama as he would become of Eugene O'Neill later in the realm of new realism. In the evolution of his formula for successful melodramatic plots and char­ acters, Davis came to realize that audiences wanted the kind of exaltation found in fast, sensational action which emphasized spectacular visual effects. Borrowing generously from the past, and from his contemporaries in the genre like Theodore Kramer, Hal Reid, Lincoln Carter,

and Charles T a y l o r ,he developed a swift, journalistic

2^ Ironically, of all of Davis' "ten-twenty-'thirt" manuscripts, seven (Lighthouse by the Sea [1903], The Confessions of a Wife [1905], At The World's Mercy [1906], Secrets of the Police [1906], Ruled Off the Turf [1906], A Race Across the Continent [1907], and Convict 999 [1907)1 are available to historians and scholars for crit­ ical examination and study. Davis hid away or destroyed almost all of the old "Davidrama" scripts. In a letter to Lewin Goff (February 3, 19 48), the playwright stated, "Nobody is ever going to see 'Nellie' again. I got away with it once and I see no reason in tempting providence." Thus the work of ten years Croughly 129 plays, composed of over two million words) even though it represents only the crude beginnings of Davis' career, are yet to be uncovered by scholars. 30 Taylor was the husband of Laurette Taylor, who later played in many of Davis' major scripts for the legitimate Broadway stage. 30 style, an economy of dialogue, and a boldness of stroke necessary to meet the demands of his popular public. He created melodramatic "stereotypes’* to carry out the naive conflicts of his plots. The "meller" plots had become dependent upon an obligatory series of "sensations" created for each script, and were structured to include simple transitional bridges of dialogue from one climac-' tic scene to another. Davis described a representative scenario for a melodrama as follows-: Act One starts the trouble; Act Two further complicates the trouble cul­ minating in the heroine’’s most extreme plight, "at the mercy" of the villain; Act Three rescues the lady "by the stage carpenter" in what was expected to be the play's most spectacular visual moments; finally, Act Four reunites the lovers and justly punishes the villain. The Confessions of a Wife, along with The Gambler of the West, remains the playwright's personal selection as representative of his best efforts in the early stages of his development as an artist. Davis' reliance upon the visual and spectacular scenic effects have never been more in evidence than in this play. The script follows the heroine, Alice Rutherford, in a frantic line of action which carries her from her father's blacksmith shop, . through abject poverty in ITew York City, a daring water rescue, a climactic confrontation on a railway train stalled by a blizzard, and an attempted murder at the hands of her ex-husband. Holding fast to the demands of 31 the ''meller,” Davis paints good and evil as clearly definable forces and provides a series of romantic love interests more subtly treated than by many of his con­ temporaries in the genre. The plot opens with an immediate recourse to visual humor. Before a character utters a word, the juvenile comedian Sam Sprouts sits on a red-hot bar of iron while sleepily tending the bellows in his employer's blacksmith shop. Once this attention-getting device is past, clearly labelled characters are introduced who often define them­ selves with their opening lines. The heroine's Aunt Hannah, for example, immediately launches a verbal assault on the comic boy, providing him with abundant ammunition for a rustic "put-down" of the sour old spinster.22 Following a short expository section which estab­ lishes reasons for the recent and sudden return of Alice Rutherford to her home town, the heroine appears to chal­ lenge the malice of her father's sister by taking a firm stand against the aggressiveness of the older woman. The heroine gains strong audience support almost immediately in a debate over who will control the household. When her

For example, the innovative "humours" character is cleverly drawn and a delightful soubrette is created in the person of poor, but plucky little Betty Bloom. 22 Owen Davis, "The Confessions of a Wife," 1905 (UT, LCTC) . H e re a fte r c ite d as-' W ife CUT,LCTC) . 32 father backs her claim against that of his sister, the stage is set for vindictive behavior on the part of Aunt Hannah, and Alice has met her first major adversary. The poverty and travails, as well as the grit of this central female character in The Confessions of a Wife hearkens back to s itu a tio n s in Thomas H ardy's Tess o f th e D'urbervilles, with the significant difference that Alice Rutherford, having dealt with the bigamy of her former husband by having him jailed, is placed in additional jeopardy upon his return. The second comedy man, a Davis "humours" character (a comic type which relies upon physical conditions for its humor), appears next as the plot unfolds. He is a remarkably amusing portrait of a small town newsman named Peter Quillet, the nervous editor of the Pineville Finger. He bemoans his position in the village, com­ plaining that "Bein' an editor is discouragin' in this town. There ain 't no news, and if there was, nobody would buy the paper, an' if they did, most of 'em can't read, and if they could, they can't some of 'em understand nothin', and if. they could, they'd say I was a lia r."^ After the brief comic interlude provided by Quillet,

33 This character is a precursor of Henry Williams in The Nervous Wreck, Davis' classic farce of 1923. 34 W ife, 1905 CUT, LCTC), Act I . 33

Oliver Ashmore and Ella Newcomb arrive at the blacksmith shop. Oliver, a railroad man, has declared his wish to marry Alice. Ella, a pretentious society adventuress, displays contempt for everyone with the exception of Ashmore, who is the target of her own marital aspirations. Alice and Ella engage in some spirited verbal duelling in which Alice reveals her suspicion of the clever "vamp." She says, "I thank you, Miss Newcomb, if you are sincere."35 Ella makes no effort whatsoever to conceal her dis­ dain when she declares, "If you are prudent you w ill have nothing more to do with him [Oliver]." Following the in itial confrontation between Alice and Ella, the young comedian is left alone on stage to meet with his female counterpart, Betty Bloom, a runaway orphan who "ain't had a real meal for 107 years."^7 Betty is allowed a meal after the intercession of old Simon Ruther­ ford, who overrules the callousness of his selfish sister, who wants to send the child away hungry. Betty, not wanting to be a beggar, responds to his kindness by saying, "My heart's full anyway and that's better than a meal. I was hungry for food, but I was starvin' for a

35 Wife/ 1905 CUT, LCTC), Act I. 36 Ibid., Act I. 37 i b i d . , Act I . 34 kind word.”38 Simon characteristically insists that "a hungry woman has got a right tew the food of every man who ever had a mother.”39 Betty Bloom's innocence and openness make her a charming example of the soubrette of sensational melo­ drama. With her character established, the plot returns to the*past "secret” of Alice's life. It comes to light when she discusses her possible marriage to Oliver. Alice is properly concerned about his reaction to her shameful past (in her youth she had been the victim of the deceit of a bigamist), but after a cruel challenge from Ella, she decides that she must marry Oliver Ashmore in spite of the risk involved. At this point, the major villain appears. Tom Calder (Alice's former husband, who had been in prison for the deception of his young bride eight years earlier) has tracked her to Pineville. As Act One ends, Alice suc­ ceeds in pushing the gloating villain over a balustrade after he threatens her with cruel vengeance for his imprisonment. Seeing Calder tumble into a ravine below her father's.home, the distraught heroine cries out, "He is dead! I don't care! I don't care! I am glad—glad—

»

38 W ife, 1905 CUT, LCTC), Act I . 39' I b i d ., A ct I . 35 glad!"4® and then faints stage center. The second act begins three months later upon the return of the newly married Alice and Oliver Ashmore from an extended wedding trip. Aunt Hannah is at their home and discloses the unwelcome news to the new bride that the man found in the ravine near the Rutherford home is alive. Another new character is introduced, Basil Ashmore, the clergyman brother of Alice's husband. Reverend Ash­ more recognizes Alice as his former parishioner in New York, Mrs. Tom Calder; but he agrees to keep her secret for a time because "In your sorrow you won my admiration. I b e lie v e you to be a good woman, b u t I cannot deceiv e my brother."4^ Hannah and Ella, now co-conspirators against Alice, overhear this honest declaration and join the vindictive Tom Calder in planning his vendetta against the new Mrs. Oliver Ashmore. Calder also reveals to the two women that he has Alice's son hidden nearby (Alice had been told that her son was dead) and that he intends to use the boy in his revenge on his former wife. When Ella openly accuses Alice and challenges Basil to reveal the truth of her past, she is thwarted when the minister directs his response to his brother. ''Is it

40 W ife, 1905 (UT, LCTC), Act I . 41 Ibid., Act II. 36 answer enough that I take her by the hand and call her s i s t e r ? " 42 This satisfies Oliver^ and the plot is temporarily foiled. It even appears that Tom Calder's revenge plan is stalemated when Simon Rutherford tells the villain what will happen to him if he speaks out against Alice. Unfortunately, however, when the heroine faces the prospect of losing her little son, Bob, to the maltreat­ ment of his father, she tearfully acknowledges the child and flees with him. The tableau following an assertion by old Simon that he fully intends to kill anyone who tries to pursue his daughter closes Act Two. The third act, in a broad sweep, moves to Alice's humble lodging in New York City. In a highly sentimental exchange, Alice and young Bob pledge their support to one another.43 Following this poignant scene of mother and son, when prospects are at their most bleak, Sam and Betty arrive with food. Alice's father has journeyed to New York with them and joins in the reunion, again pledg­ ing his fidelity to his daughter in her hour of need.

It is at this • ooint that Calder • arrives and tries forcibly to take young Bob from his mother. But this

42 W ife, 1905 (UT,LCTC), Act I I . 43 Tke New York Dramatic M irror, 13 February 1905 (CF, LCTC) reports that in the debut production, Bob was portrayed by little Ethel Shutte to "extremely positive" critical accolades. 37 time, Oliver intercedes, aided by the vivacious soubrette, who chases the villain away with a broom. Alice now determines that her only course of action is to tell O liv er a l l of th e tr u th , concluding, "I am a woman. We have not the strength of men."44 A clever plot device is employed when Alice says that if, after he has heard her confession, her husband still wants her, he should leave her a note to that effect. Certain of his love, he willingly does so; but Ella and Hannah find it and destroy it. Hannah says, "Yes, it is our duty to make her suffer. Our duty as Christians.1,4 25 As the initial scene of the third act ends, Alice’s child has once again been delivered into Tom Calder's hands. After Alice has physically subdued Ella Newcomb in order to force her to divulge the whereabouts of Bob, she flees to aid her child, leaving Oliver confused and frustrated. This kidnapping establishes the machinery for the reversal scenes and the spectacular rescue at the end of the act. But before Alice arrives to save her child, Davis provides a lighter scene focusing on her Pineville advocates, Betty, Sam, Peter, and Simon, all of whom have banded together to find and assist her. Into their midst

44 W ife, 1905 CUT, LCTC), Act I I I 45 Ibid., Act III. 38 come Ella and Tom, argumentative, but unified in their goal to break Alice's heart. Ella sneers, "I will tell you to stop [pursuing Alice] on the day I see her at my feet dead. Dead of shame, and want of [sic] misery."4 fi ° This scene prefaces a third confrontation between Alice and Tom in which Reverend Basil Ashmore (a "man" before he is a minister) comes forward to aid the heroine. She then hastens to the sea ferry where Ella holds her child captive. This scene provides Davis with a unique opportunity to employ spectacular effects like "wave" machinery, a "working" moon, and a sensational practical steamboat. Ella, at the lowest point in the drama, cruelly throws Alice's child into the flood. In a breath­ taking rescue, the mother (who was fortunately nearby in a rowboat) leaps into the torrent to save the boy. Act Four returns to rustic Pineville with Peter Q uillett and Sam featured in a comedy section which cul­ minates in the specialty act often associated with the comic actors in the "Davidramas." Sam then turns his attention to Betty Bloom and a tentative romantic alliance is portrayed. Hannah, still a part of the Rutherford household in spite of all her malevolent actions, gains her chance for revenge when Alice and Bob return home destitute after

46 W ife, 1905 (UT, LCTC), Act I I I . 39

days of wandering. Hannah brazenly lies about the where­ abouts of Simon, telling Alice that he had given up his search for her. She then drives her out into a raging storm to attempt to walk over two miles to a railroad s ta tio n . The second scene provides additional spectacle as the New York Express lies stalled in a snowbank caused by the blizzard which has descended upon the area. Oliver, now grief-stricken and vulnerable to the wiles of the seduc­ tive Ella Newcomb, is aboard the train along with Oliver's faithful brother Basil and Tom Calder, who is hiding in one of the freight cars. After a series of "electric blizzard" effects replete with wind machines, the dis­ traught and now repentant Oliver finds the nearly frozen Alice and Bob huddled near the locomotive. The final act, set six months later at Simon Ruther­ ford's home, opens on a charming pastoral scene. It is discovered that Oliver had brought the mother and child there and immediately departed, uncertain as to his right to his wife's forgiveness and love. Early in the act, Simon finally ejects Aunt Hannah, having discovered that she and Ella (who is in New York) have been tampering with the mail, intercepting messages which could have reconciled Alice and Oliver. In the ultimate confrontation, Hannah, Ella, and Tom unite in a final desperate attempt to kill Alice. Telling 40 her that Bob is hurt, they lure her to the wooded area near her father's shop; but, in an innovative conclusion, Sam, the juvenile comic, shoots Calder and saves the day. Both her father and her husband join in standing between Alice and her enemies in these final moments. With Tom Calder dead, Hannah and Ella are promptly arrested and all the evil characters are properly punished. The last words in the play are given to the comic, Peter Q uillett, who says happily, "A man shot in Pineville. There's a damned good chance to s e l l some p a p e rs ." 47 The plot of The Confessions of a Wife, as expectation had come to dictate, displayed poetic justice and sup­ ported virtue as its own reward. This virtue, revolving around the heroine's determination to tell the truth about her past, had been severely tested by the many obstacles placed in her way. It is this series of obstacles which constitutes the rationale for the "sensational" predica­ ments in which the central characters become enmeshed. The plot of this "meller" provides effective drama and illustrates the skill of a fine craftsman. Given its milieu, it compares favorably with the work of estab­ lished playwrights prospering in more sophisticated houses in 1905. The characters, although subservient to the plot and spectacle elements of the play, are interesting and are

47 Wife, 1905 (UT, LCTC), Act V. 41

more complex than m an y of their counterparts in other melodramas of the period. The character of the heroine possesses only virtu­ ous traits. Alice, although badly misused in the past, retains qualities of strength and kindness. Her innocence at that earlier time is balanced by her strict adherence to a death over dishonor ethic and her unswerving loyalty to both her rightful husband and her child. These qual­ ities place Alice Rutherford's characterization in the finest tradition of Bowery melodrama. The hero, in the case of The Confessions of a Wife, may actually be three characters. Simon Rutherford (the heroine's father), Oliver Ashmore (her husband), and Basil Ashmore (her friend and spiritual advisor) are all her protectors and risk danger for her throughout the play.^8 Oliver Ashmore operates oftentimes with too little information to keep him aware of Alice's needs. Both Alice's decision to withhold her past and Ella's desire to entrap him place Oliver in an ineffectual posi­ tion for much of the play. Primarily, his willingness to forgive his wife demonstrates his heroic stock. Reverend Basil Ashmore complements his brother as a hero. It is clear that under different circumstances Basil would have

48 The New York Dramatic Mirror review of 13 February 1905 (CF, LCTC) faulted the production for its over­ abundance of heroes. 42 declared his own love for Alice, but he places duty first. His benevolent ministrations to both Alice and his brother define his goodness. The fatherly concern of Simon Rutherford supports him as a third hero. In fact, in merely physical terms, Simon comes to th e aid o f A lice more o fte n than any o th e r members of this heroic alliance. Davis' unique decision to distribute the hero's role over three characters indi­ cates an early experimental tendency even in his melodrama work.‘ Paced with the dilemma of which of the three to award the final rescue, he cleverly decides to use his comic character, Sam Sprouts. This innovative resolution proved not only effective with audiences, but serves to demonstrate a willingness on the part of the young play­ wright to take calculated risks with his story lines and character portrayals. The comedy in th e p lay is d iv id ed between the

i youthful rustic, Sam Sprouts, and the nervous Peter Quillett. Sam retains most of the qualities of the stereotypical melodrama comic character; but Peter is apparently a harbinger of something new. The use of per­ sonality "quirks'' as the focus for comic portrayal over ludicrous plot complications and "sight gags" was dif­ ferent. Experimentation with types of comic portrayal would continue throughout Davis' mature career. Although Sam Sprouts is the more substantial role in terms of lines and business, it is Peter Quillett who gains the interest 43 of the reader. The soubrette, Betty Bloom, is an orphan? but she has the usual heart of gold and abundant empathetic qual­ ities which served to arouse the protective instincts of the essentially male audiences. Betty, like Sam, is a definite type; but she transcends that definition in charm and gentle humor. As was the case with the multifaceted group of heroes, the "heavies” in The Confessions of a Wife also coalesce to create an evil triumvirate composed of Tom Calder, Ella Newcomb, and Aunt Hannah Rutherford. The innately evil and vengeful convict, the haughty society "vamp," and the cold and unfeeling sister who seeks the control of the family inheritance are all typical melodrama villains, but they have seldom been so cleverly orchestrated as they are in this play. All must be considered unrelieved villains, and all are certainly real threats to the wellbeing of the heroine. Their motivations are all greedy and self- centered. At this point in his career, Davis was unable to make the actions of his malevolent characters credible, except in terms of the clear-cut expectations and demands of his audiences. A tentative villain with mixed motives would probably have failed to please Bowery patrons, and Davis was not yet confident enough to risk losing his new-found following. It is also unlikely that his skills were sufficiently honed by this time to allow him the sophistication to recognize and address this problem. 44

Most of the sentimental value is provided by the character of little Bob. This, along with Alice's scenes with her father and the charming "advice" scene with the soubrette, constitutes the bulk of the sentimentality in the melodrama. These loyalties are poignant, however. They'display a tender handling of the human condition, even at this stilted level of dramatic expression, that is admirable and effective. A careful reading of this play reveals that Owen Davis possessed the same kind of coarse enthusiasm that was typical of his peers in the realm of sensational melo­ drama, but it also provides hints that in Davis might be found details of clever plot management and comic presen­ tation that could carry him beyond the genre. His balanc­ ing of plot and spectacle, coupled with the initiation of subtler than usual character work, are significant. The intricacies of the plot development in The Confessions of a Wife, the interpolation of the visual "sensations," and the innovative treatment of stock characters as illus­ trated by the triple heroes and the early development of the "humours" comedian demonstrate a w riter who is showing signs of an ability to transcend the "hack" milieu of the ten-twenty-'thirt circuit. Several key qualities had already emerged in Davis' work in melodrama. He apparently 45

possessed a "contemporaneousness,"4^ that is, a sense of theatre and an understanding of people which made his timely reactions to current trends appear almost prophetic at times. His plays seemed current with what his audi­ ences required. Since he wrote always for the stage, he prepared his scripts with production values in mind. His detailed attention to stage directions and property references, as well as his practice of using the rehearsal period for rewrites, demonstrates his reliance upon his practical experience in the working theatre. In The Confessions of a Wife, s till another element emerged which contributed to his early success. This was a sense of personal integrity and an honest desire to write truly worthwhile plays. From this play forward through his career, his work consistently represented his best efforts, even as he sought higher artistic ground. His versatility, which has been construed by some critics as an inability to settle intellectually on a problem long enough to delve into it artistically or to address solu­ tions, was an ongoing aspect of his work as he moved rather effortlessly from serious drama to outrageous farce and back again. The skill in play construction and knowledge of audiences which he learned in the Bowery with plays

49 This term was applied to Davis by Barry B. Witham in an article entitled, "Owen Davis, America's Forgotten Playwright," Players, Oct.-Nov. 1970, p. 30. 46 like The Confessions of a Wife remained unequalled throughout his long career, and the hope and faith of his unwavering optimistic spirit pervade the majority of the scripts he produced. With the notable exception of a few of the later adaptations, the work was consistently American in subject matter. It was invariably clean, even in a mil.ieu which could readily stimulate unnecessary lurid digressions. Even when technically crude, it was morally upbeat. George Middleton reminds us of s till another consistency in Davis' writing which dates back to the early plays like The Confessions of a Wife. He always wrote in earnest, even with the melodramas:, never resorting to a tongue in cheek approach with his creations. He utilized his energy, talent and instincts to produce his very best at any given point in his development. Middleton recollects in his eulogy of Owen Davis50 the playwright's insistence that his current script was always the best thing he had ever done. Building effectively upon his limited training and a sense of the stage and stagecraft, and armed with boundless energy, Davis emerges from the first decade of the twentieth century as a playwright with unusual sensitivities and skills in observation. All of these qualities .are evident in early Davis manuscripts like

50 George Middleton, Owen Davis (A memorial pamphlet published by The Dramatists Guild of the Authors League of America), 1956. 47

The Confessions of a Wife and through his final efforts at the end of his career in the 1950's. From The Confessions of a Wife in 1905 until his death, his moral and ethical posture remained uncompromisingly consistent, and his writing continued to improve steadily, levelling off only later as he unsuccessfully struggled with the creation of a "magnum opus" which could encompass his optim istic s p i r i t . All of these qualities were already apparent in his work with the early melodramas. In The Confessions of a Wife, the orderly management of the plot had remained dependent on the effects and spectacles. The complica­ tions were compounded, and the denouement was consistently prolonged and.overstated following the ultimate "sensa­ tion" in the third act. But Davis' touch was already bringing to these plays a peculiar kind of unity, even though the stereotypical characters and situations were derivative from European counterparts. Since reversal and recognition scenes in which central characters are traditionally required to move from ignorance to enlightenment, were traditional to this genre the third and fourth acts which allowed the morally upright characters to achieve sometimes inordinate rewards while the darker characters suffered the just desserts of their malevolence were obligatory plot consequences. In The Confessions of a Wife, poetic justice and the compre­ hension that both good and evil must be portrayed as 48 clearly definable are served equally well. Spectacle, although at the lower end of the Aristote­ lian artistic hierarchy, was, without question, one of the two major basic ingredients of the melodrama. Considera­ tion of plot and spectacle far out-distanced attention to character, with other elements like thought, music, and diction receiving little emphasis. It is in the realm of character, however, that Davis' work showed the greatest promise. Few comments were made about it this early in his development, but in retrospect, it is clear that the people in his works were appripriate, true to the life provided for them, and above all else consistent. Davis' characters, as exemplified by Alice, Basil, Betty, Peter and the other creations in The Con­ fessions of a Wife, are totally consistent within the reality of their fictional existence and yet contain seeds promising subtler and more complex futures. They are assuredly not true to life in any realistic sense, but they remain faithful to the ideals which the playwright's audiences apparently needed and wanted. The moral posi­ tions of each character in plays like these are certainly clear, and the behavior of these characters clarifies and even expands the expectations of the melodrama's patrons. The Davis characters, always amusing and exciting, but seldom at this point complex or deep, provide a colorful reaffirmation of the ordinary man's desire to hold fast to the tenets of his unsophisticated interpretations of poetic 49 justice. The theatre remained one of the few places, along with organized religion, where the blue collar worker might aspire to a higher plane. Depriving him of this trust in a balanced universe would have assuredly destroyed one of his major reasons for participating in the theatre as enthusiastically as he did. Considerations like motivations and cause and effect would be an important part of the development of Davis' more mature art, but at the time The Confessions of a Wife was produced, the craft asked little more of the play­ wright than simple adherence to a code of stereotypical heroes, heroines, and heavies. Representative characters usually fell into six major categories. The central protagonist or hero was a virtuous man. He was con­ sistently brave, strong and kind, but not always wise. The code-allowed him entrapment by circumstances or by designing villains. As in The Confessions of a Wife, he could, through his youth, poverty, or weakness, become a victim of "demon rum" or an evil woman (like Ella Newcomb), fall, and arise again purged, usually through the benevolent influence of the heroine. The leading woman loved the hero. Consistently she chose danger over potential dishonor and was many times placed in jeopardy testing her trust in the "God who protects the working girl." Ultimately, she won her heart's desire. 50

The comic man was more often than not characterized by his unflagging loyalty to the hero. This devotion, like that of the heroine's, was severely tested before the final curtain was allowed to fall. In love with the comic man was the popular soubrette. This was the poor, but honest, second lead. ,Always a charmer, this worthy young woman with the heart of gold was made popular through portrayals like those of the lovely Laurette T aylor. The heavy man or villain and the heavy woman (like Calder, Ella, and Aunt Hannah in The Confessions of a Wife) are the remaining members of the core of the dramatis personae of the obligatory cast of the melodrama. He was innately evil, wealthy, arrogant, or all three. The woman, a tta c h e d to th e v i l l a i n through devious machina­ tions, is recognizable through her haughty manner and "vamping" expertise (Ella Newcomb is an excellent example of this). Just as her male counterpart is immediately marked by the crease in his pants and the silk hat, which often became the badge of his malevolent office, so she was recognizable by her blonde wig and overly abundant frame. These two, in company with characters incorporated for sentimental value (mothers and crippled little broth­ ers were especially popular in these roles), second heavies (usually expendable), and various other super­ numerary "walking parts," constitute the remaining figures in typical melodrama. Variations on these 51. formula characters abound in the early work of Owen Davis. The other play representative of Davis' art is The Gambler of the West. Like The Confessions of a Wife, it has a simple plot structure. In fact, many of the elements in this plot are in evidence in later successful melodramas like Edward Sheldon's Salvation Nell (190 8). In the Davis' play, a hussy called Tenderfoot Sal takes the heroine into the uncertain safety of her home. With the possible exception of Lucky Jack Gordon (the Gambler), Mabel Grey (an Eastern flower who has come West to find her missing child), a Hebrew comedian, and an Irish soubrette, there are few characters in this play whom the audiences would not want shot. Davis apparently agrees with this viewpoint and after much plot complication has his actors fire off enough blank cartridges to support a small war. Among the villains are Mike Clancy (the lead heavy), Denver Dick, Red Fox (the conventional bad Indian), and Sal. Sensational action illustrates some features of this exciting melodrama. A poker game with the heroine's honor at stake and her ultimate rescue when bound to a tree (the result of a critical flag signal being raised by a white horse)^ are typical sensations in the play. The Confessions of a wife and The Gambler of

The Hew York Sun, 10 December 1909. (On the advent of the 908th performance of The Gambler of the West [CF, LCTC]). 52 the West remained two of the most successful American melodramas in the history of the Bowery's popular priced h o u ses. In May, 1905, the 14th Street Theatre accommodated a production of Tracked Around the World. In November, Davis mounted How Baxter Butted In at the Murray H ill, featuring Sidney Toler as Billy Baxter. Baxter, a New York "drummer," butts in and rescues a young woman who is the victim of a hard-hearted stepfather. The play con­ tained not only some innovative musical interludes, but also a series of special effects involving illuminated swings, jack o' lanterns, and specialty music by The Excelsior Pour. How Baxter Butted In received unanimous approval and became an immediate popular success, settling into the Murray Hill for a comfortable run beginning on November 13. Toler's work and the per­ formance of Della Clark as Nell Dale were singled out as particularly impressive. 52 Davis apparently spent a portion of 19 05 preparing an adaptation of Dr. Cyrus Townsend Brady's novel A Comer

52 The New York Dramatic M irror, 13 November 1905 (CP, LCTC). (How Baxter Butted In was the attraction at the Murray Hill last week with Sidney Toler featured as Billy Baxter. This production was handsomely staged by Vance and Sullivan and an excellent company assisted in making a very successful presentation of this recent effort by Owen Davis.") 53 in Coffee.53 Although no actual performance is recorded for that year, the play was later presented to apprecia­ tive audiences all over the world. A Corner in Coffee may be considered significant because it represents Davis' first formal effort at adapting material for the stage from another form. He came to use this talent often in his career as he moved away from melodrama and toward more serious theatre. Davis' attraction to uptown Broadway theatres apparently was becoming strong at this point. He began to call each of his melodramatic efforts his last and to refer to his own work as "facile flummery."3^ Meanwhile, although he deprecated his work in humorous fashion, making references to "committing plays" and "littering" scripts over the landscape, the playwright could not resist the temptation of the easy money and comfort afforded by writing sensational melodrama. But he remained aware that his main talent at this point still resided in his naive enthusiasm, sincerity of effort, and enormous energy. He admitted privately that he wrote

^3 This play, although not exactly a melodrama, has evidently completely disappeared. It is hoped that future researchers in the archives of the New York theatres operated by the Shuberts and other .producing organizations may find some of these scripts. 54 Ralph Sargent Bailey, Theatre Magazine, April 1931, p. 4. 54 plays like "a freshman writes home for money—as frequently and with as little effort. Nonetheless, his belief that his plays fulfilled a basic need in the lives of his patrons enabled him to keep writing vibrant and credible material even when he began to have strong reservations about its literary merit and his personal progress as an artist. Another typical melodrama appeared in 1906. At the World's Mercy was produced by Davis on February 12 at the Star Theatre. Barry B. Witham, in his study of the dramaturgy of Owen Davis^® uses this script as illu stra­ tive of the use of sensational material and visual effect in Davidrama. Witham discusses the play in detail, finding in it a complex plot heavy in delayed exposition. At the World1s Mercy demonstrates the kind of energetic work that Davis was producing in the first decade of the new century. As in The Confessions of a Wife and The Gambler of the West, sensational scenes climax each act. Children are trapped in mines, walls are broken down, water rises, and villains are eliminated in spectacular fashion. In fact, Witham employs the electrocution of Jacob Grafdt in At the World's Mercy as his central example of the skill Davis had

55 New York Times, 3 August 1919 (IV), p. 2. 56 Barry B. Witham, 'The Dramaturgy of Owen Davis," Diss. Ohio State University, ISL'filS, 55

attained in the area of scenic display. The script's stage directions for that effect tell us that:

As the storm breaks clouds of dust blow from left; flashes of lightning through storm clouds at back/ thunder, etc. Jacob stands under tree up left and puts his foot on an iron plate on stage. Both of his heels are shod with iron and a wire runs up his trouser legs and meets on a small iron button on his chest. He puts his other foot on second charged iron plate on stage, the electric current goes up wires and there is a flash of flame from his chest. Loud report of thunder and at the same time an electric bomb comes down a wire from flies and explodes on limb of tree. Limb breaks away and f a l l s . Jacob f a l l s on sta g e d ead .57

The stage electrocution, a device imitated in many plays afterward, can be traced from this beginning. At the World1s Mercy provides another good example of Davis' work in the lurid melodrama and especially in his treat­ ment of the popular "humours" character which he had introduced. , Washington Griggs, an eternal pessimist, is very like Peter Q uillett in The Confessions of a Wife. Personality quirks like pessimism, nervousness, and .hypochondria became outrageously funny when Davis exploited them in his comic "specialty" roles. What had been more or less pre-packaged "routine" material became more

57 Owen Davis, "At the World's Mercy," 1906 (UT, LCTC), Act I. 56

psychologically interesting and more humorous. A review of At the World * s Mercy as it was presented in Boston recognized Davis diminishing reliance on the use of extraneous "bits'1 in his comic writing. It must be noted, however, that the same critic praised the "fancy dancing" of Willie and Josie Barrows above most of the other aspects of the play.^® On 5 March 1906, Chinatown Charlie opened at the American Theatre. Sidney Skolsky facetiously insisted that this play was written in one hour.^ Subtitled The Opium Fiend, the script called for a massive "living bridge" sequence which later came to be associated with the Davidrama. Such a scene often involved hiring large troupes of professional acrobats to perform death-defying s tu n ts on sta g e in much th e same manner as th e s tu n t men o f today's film industry do. Chinatown Charlie ran in New York for more than four years. It encompassed twenty-five scenes and featured some of the most rapid scene changes in the theatre of its day. Davis' skill in incorporating "front" scenes to cover the setting up of major episodes behind drops was another contributing factor to the success of /this popular play.

5^ From an article in an unidentified Boston newspaper dated 19 February 1906 (CF, LCTC). 59 Sidney Skolsky, "Times Square Tintypes," 5 August 1931 (CF, LCTC). 57 V

Other successful plays produced in the season of 1906 were N ellie, the Beautiful Cloak Model and A Marked Woman.60 Both were Davis-Woods collaborations. NeHie, the Beautiful Cloak Model has often been referred to as the prototype of the Davidrama. x Produced in December of 1906/ Nellie/ the Beautiful Cloak Model recounts the adventures of a young girl separated from her mother in her youth. A nephew (the villain) wants the mother's fortune. His attempts to keep Nellie and her mother from finding one another constitute the major action of the plot. A crippled brother, a haughty female co-conspira- tor, and an inhuman bogus father round out the cast of characters of this typical Davidrama. Davis again relies on a triumvirate of villains (the nephew, the female con­ federate, and N ellie's presumed father), who- place the heroine's life and honor in a series of dilemmas. The contemporary reviews called special attention to the scenic effects in Nellie, the Beautiful Cloak Model and responded positively to the performances as well. Perhaps one reason why this particular play captured the imagination of chroniclers of the period may be found in

60 a Marked Woman's New York run ended abruptly. The play had been financed by a major political faction on the Chinese mainland. Other factions, disturbed by the plot h. Marked Woman relative to their position,, threatened Al Woods and forced him to close the show. 61 The New York Dramatic M irror, 12 January 1907 (CF, LCTC). 58 one humorously classic line from the script. After attempting to k ill the heroine in dozens of outrageous fashions/ the villain (upon cornering Nellie in her own bedchamber) utters the statement/ "Why do you fear me/ Nellie?"0 That such a line could have been employed and taken seriously tells us much about the naivete of the audiences for whom Owen'Davis worked in his early career. The twenty-one extravagant scenes in the production entertained diverse audiences for more than five seasons on New York's lower East Side. Davis' Ruled Off the Turf63 at the 14th Street Theatre was mounted on 20 August 1906 under his favorite pseudonym, John Oliver. During August, September, and O ctober The Power of Money, S ecrets o f the P o lic e , ^ The Burglar's Daughter, and Ten Thousand Dollars Reward played over Davis' name. The titles which contained the word "daughter" seemed always to draw well; perhaps the heroines aroused paternal feelings in the substantially male audience members. Also strong sexual appeal exerted more attraction for its audiences. In The Burglar's Daughter,b e a u tifu l Ruth Holt is both blind and at the

^2 New York World-Telegram, 21 April 1943, p. 41. 63 Owen D avis, "Ruled Off th e T u rf," 1906 (UT,LCTC). 64 Owen Davis, "Secrets of the Police," 1906 (UT, LCTC). 65 New York Dramatic M irro r, c. 1906 (CP, LCTC). 59 mercy of an evil guardian. The sensations provided to endanger the blind heroine included a gunfight on top of an electric car on a bridge/ the appearance on stage of a steam yacht (a device employed earlier in The Confes­ sions of a Wife), and the portrait of an indomitable char­ acter called Meg of Mulberry Bend, who literally axes her way out of a boathouse in order to protect her friend. In addition, a reformed father saves his daughter and later dies. This pattern was a highly empathetic one for Bowery audiences, who understood only too well the compul­ sion to stray and reform. An additional feature was the portrayal of a rigidly moral clergyman (also reminiscent of The Confessions of a Wife) and his upright brother who ultimately marry the two central female characters, Ruth and Meg of Mulberry Bend. The action moves rapidly in this script, making The Burglar1s Daughter a major Bowery "hit" for several years. It opened in September of 1906 and like other popular Davidramas later made the rounds of the East Side houses. An unprecedented number of new Davis scripts appeared in 1907. Over one half of the year's work was produced under the name of John Oliver. Davis' use of the name gives rise to an anecdote which serves to illustrate the overwhelming volume of Davis material being performed in the popular theatres of the first decade of the twentieth century. A dramatic critic for Pittsburgh's morning paper was reported to have said of a new "John Oliver" play, 60

"Here at last is a fine melodrama and Heaven be praised. Here, in the person of John Oliver, a new writer, we have at last found a man who knows more about how to write a play of this kind than the irrepressible Owen Davis ever knew."66 The Davidramas of 1907 included A Race Across the Continent,6^ The King and Queen of Gamblers, A Chorus * G irl1s Luck in New York, Convict 999: or, From Society and Riches to Prison and Shame (which featured a spec­ tacular prison escape complete with scaling feats employ­ ing real acrobats), The Great Express Robbery, Edna, the Pretty Typewriter (with a treadmill panorama featuring noted gymnast Edna Browning), Broadway After Dark (memorable because of an innovative onstage prize fight as well as a practical steamship), Since Nellie Went Away, Fallen By the Wayside, It's Never Too Late to Mend, At Yale,66 Deadwood Dick's Last Shot, and Tony, the Bootblack: or Tracking the Blackhand Band (with noted vaudeville favorites Genaro and Bailey). Of these, perhaps The Great Express Robbery, produced on August 12 at the American Theatre, best indicates Davis'

66 New York WorId-Telegram, 21 April 1943, p. 17. 67 Owen Davis, ''A Race Across the Continent," 1907 (UT, LCTC). 68 Owen Davis, "At Yale," 1907 (DM, LCTC). 61 development. The New York Dramatic Mirror observed that the play possessed "literary quality combined with melo- f? Q dramatic value." It is difficult for a modern reader to accept that a play containing shopworn traditions like leaps over waterfalls and a daring rescue by a brave Chinese or a girl tied to a railroad track has literary merit, but even at this early stage in Davis' career, various local newspapers were noticing in his works stylistic innovations growing beyond the kind of writing in which he was engaged.70 Broadway After Dark, which appeared the month after The Great Express Robbery, although dependent upon old cliches, had a critical and popular success. The heroine's line, "I will spend every dollar of my fortune to clear my sweetheart's nam^"71 aroused such a sympathetic furor that a stagehand had to rap for more than five minutes with his cane to restore order among the "gallery gods." Taking its audiences through subterranean Canal Street dives and to the grounds of a private insane asylum, the major premise of this Davidrama focused on Curtis York's dogged pursuit of Flora Ross. This "very lively affair," mounted at New York's Thalia Theatre, was called by the Dramatic

N~ew York Dramatic M irror, 24 August 1907 (CE, LCTC). 70 I b id . New York Dramatic M irro r, 21 September 190 7 (CF, LCTC). 62

Mirror/ "one of John Oliver's most outstanding accomplish­ ments in the genre.The performance of Margaret Bower as Flora was considered satisfactory/ but it was sped- tacle like the onstage boxing match that set Broadway After Dark apart. The New York Dramatic Mirror gives us further insight into the workings of the spectacular demands of the popu­ l a r melodrama of the day in an - a r tic le about Deadwood Dick's Last Shot. The writer asserts that each member of the cast had been provided with at least one weapon from A1 Wood's private arsenal and that the principals were issued three or four each.77 *3 In spite of the blood and thunder aspects of the play, the Dramatic Mirror praised the script as unusually well written for its kind.74 Deadwood Dick/ an "honest faro bank dealer," having recovered Madge Fulton's claim in a poker game with a crooked sheriff, proceeds to overwhelm an entire regiment of heavies, led by Black Bess, Cheyenne Charlie, and numerous "supers." Gus Gordon, in the pivotal role of Dick, and J. E. Miltern as the evil Buck Farren, were admired for their performances. Like Madge and Emma

72 New York Dramatic M irro r, 21 September 190 7 (CF, LCTC).

73 I b i d . 74 New York Dramatic Mirror, 23 December 1907 (CF, LCTC). 63

Curren, Edna Brouthers, portraying Black Bess, fared, less well with the critics. Deadwood Dick's Last Shot opened at the 14th Street Theatre and was repeated throughout the circuit for more than ten years. With the solid backing of A1 Woods and a public that seemed not to tire of sensational fare, Davis devoted him­ self to almost constant writing. His only contact with "uptown" playwrights at this juncture in his career was as an enthusiastic organization man. A later section of this study will deal with his activities in the business end of theatre practice. But it is significant that as the first decade of the twentieth century ended, he already was gaining leadership roles in decrying unethical theatre procedures, corrupt managers, and the unjust copyright laws, of the period.75 Beyond the scripts he had been producing at breakneck pace for Woods, Davis found time for an excursion into a different kind of theatre event in 1908. In January, he presented an extravaganza at the New York Hippodrome called The Battle of Port Arthur. No descriptions of this produc­ tion have been found. But Davis must have met the chal- lenges that such a spectacular event offered; the produc­ tion was s till remembered in the New York Sun twenty-five

75 Another major event of 1907 was the birth of his first son, Donald. Davis was a devoted family man and the advent of his first child was an especially meaningful stage in his life. 64 years later (1933) in a feature column called "Twenty- five Years Ago Today."76 By 1908 he had added the name Walter Laurence to his lis t of pseudonyms. The Creole Slave's Revenge appeared as the first script bearing that name. The Bowery theatre calendars for 1908 also listed The Prince of Spendthrifts, F a lse F rie n d s, On T r ia l For His L ife / and The Opium Smugglers of 'Frisco as new plays from the tireless Davis. The author did little in 1909 to change the kind of material that had been successful for him. Davis, well established as the master of sensational fare for the theatre, had reservations about continuing with it; but they were dispelled by the profits that continued to come to him. He later claimed that throughout much of this time he was feeling the need to move on to higher forms of literary expression, but he had not yet initiated any positive action in that direction. The scripts which are extant from the time and the critical reviews which are available in reference to them suggest that On Trial For His Life, The Millionnaire and the Policeman1s Wife, and The Convict's Sweethe art constitute his best efforts at th e tim e. The Grand Street Theatre became the home of On Trial For His Life in late 1908. A military melodrama in the

76 New York Sun, 10 January 1933 (CF, LCTC). 65

manner of Bronson Howard's Shenandoah (1888) and Belasco and F ran k lin F y le 's The G irlI Left Behind Me (189 3) . The majority of the Bowery critics viewed the play as another move artistically upward for Owen Davis.77 In the creation of a uniquely modest hero (Lt. Jack Royal), Davis began a series of subtle experiments with charac­ ters that eventually produced considerable refinements in the stereotypes which had served him so well. In this d ig n ifie dplay,even the villain, treated unusually sym­ pathetically, is portrayed as very much in love with the heroine. His actions are, in fact, mostly the result of the inordinate prodding of the female antagonist in the p la y . A standard figure in m ilitary melodramas was the Irish comic. In On Trial For His Life, however, Davis chose to replace this character with a Jewish comedian and once again presented a variation on the "humours" comic approach which had worked so well for him before. A burning prison rescue and the scaling of a perpendicular wall of rock pro­ vided enough of the old fashioned thrills that few patrons noticed the touches which were beginning to suggest a departure from the stereotypical qualities to which they were accustomed. Although the Mirror referred to it as

77 New York Dramatic M irro r, c. 1908 (CF, LCTC). 78 ib id . "rattling good melodrama,”^9 the descriptions of the char­ acters and their actions in this play demonstrate more experimentation and innovation than he had allowed himself before. In spite of the fact that the hero and heroine close the play embracing under an American flag, con­ temporary accounts support the view that Owen Davis, although still adhering to the melodramatic practice of the day, was growing more sophisticated in the realm of plot and especially character. The New York Dramatic Mirror once again noted Davis' progress as a writer, stat­ ing that "On Trial for His Life marks another step upward toward really improved melodrama. 1188 The M illionaire and the Policeman1s Wife, a play filled with sensational spectacle, includes a duel between two divers at the bottom of-the North River, an escape from an elevated train, the dynamiting of the Tarrytown Bridge (with a daring leap into nearby tree branches), a tenement house fire (also highlighted by a leap to safety by a policeman with an infant in his arms) , -and a gunfight which was said to have reached warlike proportions. Despite the thrills provided by the play, audience response to this script remained passive. The. New York Sun, noting this phenomenon, suggested several reasons for the play's

New York Dram atic M irro r, c. 190 8 (CF, LCTC). 80 Ib id . 67

failure to evoke the customary acknowledgement at the end of the third act when the cast passed in its traditional review.8! The article suggested that the absence of the obligatory "papuhs" and perhaps some heavyhanded over­ writing of the hero may have contributed to this? but it appears more logical that audiences were simply viewing Owen Davis’ loss of innocence as a w riter of melodrama. He had strained his own belief in his characters and situ­ ations to such an extent that his work was no longer credible to the Bowery patrons. As Davis began shifting his drama away from the sensa­ tional, he appeared to recant some of his earlier philoso­ phies about playwriting. He had said, "every melodrama must be a play of human interest.• Never allow mixed motives to appear. My good people are all alarmingly good. My bad people are black all the way through. I never allow a bad person to repent. Repentance is fatal in melodrama. Nothing must be left to inference."^ With his work in the latter part of 190 8, it was clear that his viewpoint was changing as he saw new possibilities in the area of characterization opening up for him. The Convict's Sweetheart premiered on 30 August 1909 at the Grand Theatre in Boston. Franklin P. Adams, writing in Green Book, concludes that The Convict1s

81 New York Sun, 10 February 1909, p. 31. 82 Ib id . Sweetheart could well be the last of the Davidramas. Certainly Davis appeared to be searching for a more com­ plex form of expression. Referring to the metamorphosis of Owen Davis as illustrative of the more widespread demise of the meller houses in Manhattan (by 1909, there were none of the former nine major melodrama theatres uptown), Adams fills his Green Book article with a strong sense of the impending loss of Davis from the ranks of the "ten-twenty-'thirt" playwrights. Davis' usual tricks are once again displayed in The Convict's Sweetheart. Tom Corbin (a university man) and his daughter, Lucy, battle the forces of evil in the forms of Milton and Barbara Deveroux. Lucy's father is murdered early in the play, and Prank Templeton, her intended husband, blamed for the murder, becomes her protector. But eventually everything is resolved happily and the lovers are wed. The script, although similar in format to much of Davis' previous work, marked his final melo­ drama for the Bowery. Adams' review prophesied the trans­ formation to come and refers to the preparation of Davis' new play, The Wishing Ring, for popular star Marguerite Clark. This drama, Davis hoped, would enable him to prove that he had the ability to aspire to a more demanding kind of drama. A legitimate play for an established star would provide this proof. Although The Wishing Ring, produced

Franklin P. Adams, Green Book, December 1909, pp. 1200-1202. 69 by Lee Shubert at the prestigious Daly's Theatre in New York, met with little critical enthusiasm, Davis was encouraged to redouble his efforts toward acceptance as a legitimate playwright. The vehicle did succeed well for Miss Clark and initiated for Davis a series of happy asso­ ciations with stellar leading ladies. These included Laurette Taylor (Lola) and Alice Brady (Forever After). The Wishing Ring, directed by Cecil B. DeMille, serves as a kind of turning point for Owen Davis. Its effect on the world of theatre of the day was minimal, but it reformed the playwright's goals and expectations for his place in the a r t . In the summer of 1910, Davis provided new scripts for The Alhambra Stock Company at the Majestic Theatre in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. The troupe performed three of his plays in July, August, and September. One of these, The Rejuvenation of John Henry, elicited the comment from a Milwaukee critic that Owen Davis had written a real farce and seemed now committed to a new kind of psychological seriousness lying well beyond the demands of lurid melo­ drama.®^ Productions in Philadelphia and Boston in 1910

84 Since only one performance is recorded at that time, perhaps it was a "showcase" presentation for young playwrights aspiring to Broadway. The play disappeared after its initial performance; but the script was later used as the basis for a highly successful film in 1916. 85 New York Sun, 27 August 1943 (CF, LCTC). 7.0

included The Chinatown Trunk Mystery/ a play that prob­ ably was written considerably earlier. These months in 1910 were characterized by a final outpouring of melo­ dramas. Davis recalls that during this time he often had literally dozens of works touring all over the country. He had on one occasion three plays running on one night in the same neighborhood in New York—one at the Grand Opera House, one at the Fourteenth Street Theatre, and still another at the old Star .Theatre on Eighth Street and Broadway. The playwright reminisces, perhaps with tongue in cheek, that it was at that moment that his major competitor in the field of sensational melodrama, Theodore Kremer, decided to give it up and return to his native G erm any.^ Davis' characterizations had become more refined with each new script, and his comic style had grown more subtle. He began to knock on uptown doors with renewed vigor, hoping to gain some recognition as a serious playwright of farce and the more sophisticated forms of melodrama. He remained, however, intimidated by the highbrows of the theatre. He was convinced that his name was scorned in artistic circles or, as he once phrased it, was "used as a horrible example to young authors and to frighten bad

86 Owen Davis, I'd Like To Do I t Again, p. 10 8. Kremer, author of plays like Her Sister and The Fatal Wedding was considered Owen Davis' closest rival. 71

children."87 The thought of his producing a play in a Broadway theatre appeared to be quite absurd, as "all my

OO friends assured me." He became increasingly dissatis­ fied with the work which he undertook away from Broadway. Both he and Al Woods complained often that "the factory" had lost its spirit of fun, but only Davis saw a change in the immediate future. The thirty-seven-year old playwright had never claimed any special gifts of prophecy, but once more his uncanny ability to perceive a trend and to feel the pulse of the people and the spirit of a time apparently urged him to a major decision. He seemed instinctively to know that the "ten-twenty-'thirt" had begun its path into oblivion. The movies had already become a threat, and he could see that this new medium would soon be able to pro­ vide escapist spectacles far beyond the capacity of the live stage to equal. It seemed clear to him that if the films were to serve the sensation-minded public, his role, if he was to remain a writer for the legitimate theatre, must be altered. He prepared himself to move with his writing in a new and more demanding direction, one which would require deeper insight, more complex characteriza­ tion, and a closer understanding of the relationship of aural and visual aspects of play production.

87 Owen Davis, I'd Like To Do It Again, p. 108. 88 Ib id . 72

He had also begun to distrust his own attitude toward the work which he had recently produced. Much of it had appeared ludicrous to him; respect for his own manu­ scripts had steadily diminished. He was concerned because he comprehended that audiences would soon sense his dis­ illusionment and insincere motives and reject his plays. His own innocence and credibility had been responsible for much of the vitality of his early practice, but he now acknowledged that the artistic ridicule which met his work in literary circles caused him embarrassment. His wife, aware of his dissatisfaction, encouraged him to explore new creative directions. Thus Davis, aware that in spite of his popular fame he was not taking seriously as an artist, made up his mind to leave sensational fare altogether. Other considerations entered into this decision as well. A clever cartoon character by the name of Desperate Desmond, a parody of the villain of the melodramas, had helped to bring the overly simplistic qualities of his writing into focus for the public and painfully for the author as well. Davis saw in "Desperate Desmond" the ultimate death knell for his melodramas. If the public could laugh at these plays through this caricature of the stock "heavy man," Davis realized that in order to succeed his future writing would require more subtle shading of character. Although abortive efforts were made to pro­ duce even more spectacular "super-mellers" in order to 73

f o r e s t a l l the in ro ad s being made by film s, Al Wood sum­ marized the condition of the proponents of sensational melodrama in the popular theatres when he declared, "We pQ killed the cow that had the golden fleece.1,0:7 Only the flamboyant Woods could phrase the problem in such terms, but the point was valid. A major problem which also hastened Davis' decision to leave the Bowery theatres was the conduct of the theatre managers. Numerous contractual disputes had broken out between managers, producers, and playwrights of the melo­ dramas; and as these disagreements expanded, the potential for cooperation between the business and the artistic facets of circuit melodrama grew increasingly limited. Davis felt sure that he could write a successful Broadway play. Weighing the experience gained with The Wishing Ring and viewing Broadway fare as essentially the same as the Third Avenue material which he had been writing (except more subtle), he decided to try again. He determined that humanity was always at the heart of work for the theatre. Big, dominant emotions undergirded suc­ cessful manuscripts whether they were played on Broadway or in the popular houses. The more sophisticated approach required for uptown presentations provided new impetus for the emerging abilities of Owen Davis as a play craftsman.

89 Al Woods, American Magazine, March 1911, p. 609. 74

He felt adequately prepared to undertake the less overt style of v/riting that he observed succeeding on Broadway. An o p p o rtu n ity came in March o f 1911 a t th e Lyceum Theatre. Under the aegis of Daniel Frohman, Davis' play Lola was granted a single matinee performance. It starred Laurette Taylor and proved to be an odd mixture of crude melodrama and solid craftsmanship. Davis himself referred q n to it as "a queer sort of fish." The play generated no excitement at the time, although later Ward Morehouse recognized it as a major turning point in the career of q i Davis. He called it a kind of "frenzied reformation" in a 19 33 article in the New York Sun when he recalled its opening. Still later, a virtual war erupted over this script when copyrights on the property were violated. The court battles involved Leta Vance Nicholson, Theda Bara (who was to play the leading role in the plagiarized ver­ sion) , and Davis. But so far as is known, Lola, in its original form as presented in 1911, was never performed again. In 1911, Davis worked in Richmond, Chicago, Rochester, and Memphis in addition to New York. These engagements began to produce critical accolades which referred to

90 Owen Davis, I 1d Like To Do It Again, p. 110.

^ Ward Morehouse,’ New York Sun, 6 February 19 33 (CF, LCTC). "unexpected genius"92 in the playwright. A production of a play called Driftwood93 on October 8th at the Lyric Theatre in Memphis, Tennessee is considered an important transitional work carrying Owen Davis away from melo­ drama.^ ‘Barry B. Witham praises it as exemplary of the increasing sensibility of the author. He admires the choice of subject matter and the subsequent handling of it. He says, "Driftwood is the story of a man and a woman who drift apart. She 'waited, and worked, and wanted. ' Desperate, she turns to a second man. Then the first returns. Should she tell? She keeps her guilty secret and it returns to haunth e r . "95 The Memphis Commercial Appeal agreed that something new was happening with Owen Davis. Responding enthusi­ astically to Driftwood, the critic deemed the play "not good enough for the big houses, yet too good for the popular priced theatre."^6 Davis had, the article con­ tinues, "never written with more virile strength, with more adroit shading, nor with such a liberal display of

92 Memphis Commercial Appeal, 15 October 1911 (CP, (CiCTC) . 93 Owen Davis, "Driftwood," 1911 (UT, LCTC). 94 Barry B. Witham, "The Dramaturgy of Owen Davis," Diss. Ohio State University, 1970, p. 73. 95 Memphis Commercial Appeal, 15 October 1911 (CP, lctcTT 96 ibid. 76 human sympathy."97 Although some critics found Driftwood difficult to categorize, they concede that this strange problem play with no apparent lesson was a stride forward for Davis as a writer. But even though they praised his craftsmanship, they faulted his lack of moral concern. Such views seem strangely narrow today, b u t they were commonplace in 1911. Driftwood has an intriguing plot: the heroine's guilty past pursues her all the way to Brazil. In his climax, Davis allows a fallen woman (his old "Magdalen" formula) to be granted a second chance, only to fall again. This unusual treatment of the traditional theme apparently puzzled many viewers and sparked immediate controversy. Davis' approach to his other charactesr in this play was also somewhat u n tra d itio n a l. The second man, not clea rly a v illa in , is drawn w ith a d e ft touch, making him an innovative threatening force that is difficult to categorize. He is certainly not the "Desperate Desmond" of Davis' previous practice, yet he supplies ample antagonistic interest for the frustrated central charac­ ter. It is in the shading of this character and the heroine that the transitional quality of Driftwood is most evident.

97 Memphis Commercial Appeal, 15 October 1911 (CP, LCTC). 77

In 1912 William A. Brady enthusiastically assembled a first-rate company to undertake Davis' newest work/ Making Good. The play, intended to be "'uptown" melodrama in the manner of Clyde Fitch, was designed to display the emerging skills of Davis as he completed his transition to Broadway. Doris Keane^ and William Courtleigh were engaged to play the leading roles, and the production opened on a legitimate Broadway stage (the Fulton Theatre) on February 5th. The title turned out to be ironic: the production received universally negative critical reviews. The C incinnati Times, noting th a t New York c r it i c s had con demned the play, said th a t Making Good had been "more liberally, brutally and viciously panned than any other play of th is y e a r ." ^ The New York World remarked, "When a playwright invites the public to exchange real money for the privilege of seeing the first performance of a sample of his work so uncompromisingly bad as the one which Owen Davis inflicted last night upon the helpless audience at the Fulton Theatre, he should be more tactful in choosing a title . "-1-00 After a run of only eight performances, Making Good

Q O Miss Keane la te r scored a major success in Edward Sheldon's Romance. 99 The C incinnati Times, 9 February 1912 (CF, LCTC). 100 iphe flew York World as reported in The C incinnati Times, 9 February 1912 (CF, LCTC). 78 closed. Davis later admitted, "To be absolutely honest about it, .Making Good was terrible. It wasn't the first time I had been the laughing stock of Broadway and I am afraid that it wasn't quite the last, but this time it really was a very nasty laugh, and although I had been 'down' before, this was the closest to being 'out' that I ever had been."101 Davis retreated with his wife and sons (Owen Davis, Jr. had since joined the Davis family) to Yonkers, where it took him almost a full year to gain the courage to face the painful "smirks and insults" that had resulted from this experience. The respite allowed him time for reflec­ tion and reevaluation. As the new year began, Owen Davis' main concern hinged on the nagging doubt that critics would ever be willing to dissociate him from his past Eighth Avenue "m onstrosities" and judge him on the m erit of his current and forthcoming practice. He acknowledged that the popular priced melodramas had been killed because they were not fit to live, but he wondered if his own career was to perish with them?

101 Owen Davis,' My F irst Fi'ftv Years in Theatre, p . 58. Chapter II Owen Davis Becomes a Legitim ate Broadway Playwright, 1913-1923: From The Family Cupboard to Icebound

Nowadays Hr. Davis is w ritin g more carefu lly and slowly, turning out only two or three plays a year. And, if earnestness and sincerity make for success, he is going to be a regular two-dollar playwright.1

When The Family Cupboard opened at The Playhouse on 21 August 1913, it was unique in at least two ways: it attained the status of an important play deserving serious consideration; the playwright had conscientiously analyzed his approach to the new work, specifically tailoring it for Broadway audiences. S t il l su fferin g the hum iliation of Making Good, he submitted The Family Cupboard to a broker, but stipulated that no name appear on the manuscript until it was sold. The broker, unaware of Davis1 past career, promptly took the play to William A. Brady, who liked it and eagerly accepted it for production. When the producer discovered the name of the new author, he had, Davis

^ Franklin P. Adams, "Interesting People," American Magazine, March 1911, p. 609. 79 80 recounts, "something very like a stroke, but'in time he forgave me." Louis Sherwin later reported in the New York Globe that "Mr. Brady's pride in having stood by Owen Davis for so many years despite failures almost quite disastrous is. quite . . justifiable." *3 The Family Cupboard deals with a skeleton in the closet. The innovations in’subject matter were significant in two areas. When the young man who is the central charac­ ter is told by the "cocotte" that it was his own father who had originally seduced her, he strikes the older man. His later remorse when he discovers that the girl had lied to him fails to vindicate him adequately in the minds of the audience. This creates a disturbing and unusual kind of protagonist who falls into a gray area of heroic expectation and naturalistic behavior. The second innovation in The Family Cupboard concerns the complex characterization afforded the central female figure, Kitty Clair. When Irene Fenwick gained favorable reviews in the role, Davis began to recognize the validity of his now more clearly defined char­ acter work and dedicated himself to a greater emphasis on it in the future. The traditional theme of the sins of parents visited upon their children allowed him ample opportunity to create unconventional responses in his characters. Even

2 Owen Davis, I'd Like To Do It Again, p. 114. 3 New York Globe, 23 August 1913 (CF, LCTC). 81 before the play had opened, it was heralded as "different,” not only for the playwright, but for the season. The New York Telegram stated that the sponsors of the play, "look forward to a sensation, inasmuch as the story deals with 4 incidents not usually discussed in mixed assemblages." The writer predicted that The Family Cupboard would be the most daring venture of the season. In fact, Davis' skills in the development of dramatic conflict were gaining such distinction that by the time the production came to the boards in 1913 he received nearly unanimous critical acclaim. Davis had set out to write an important play, and with The Family Cupboard he had succeeded without becoming either pretentious or derivative. In his own assessment of this breakthrough into the ranks of legitimate commercial theatre artists, Davis remarked, "I have studied ray own small ta le n ts and developed them and trie d to make up fo r a lack of the real fires of genuis by an honest admission of that lack and a true enthusiasm for the work that at the moment came nearest to expressing my attitude."^ This unassuming evaluation of his new stature as a regular "two-dollar playwright" typified Davis' view of his art. Throughout his career he never overestimated his importance, and he remained always a hard worker without the affectations that often came with success. Other reactions

4 New York Telegram, 30 July 1913 (CF, LCTC). 5 Owen Davis, I'd Like To Do It Again, pp. 122-123. 82 to his transition were more expansive. Among these is the following comment by Clayton Hamilton in the October Bookman of 1913:

This is the best play that Mr. Davis has written since he forsook the realm of cheap melodrama and aspired to the higher regions of dramatic art. Not only does it reveal the hand of an accomplished craftsman of the theatre, but it shows a commendable s in c e rity in i t s endeavor to realize an important aspect of contemporary l i f e . 6

Thus in 1913 when Davis began receiving this kind of recognition as a truly legitimate author, he again found time to take stock of his progress. He saw that he had not yet become an established man of letters in spite of his relatively superior educational background and vast experience. He existed rather in that nebulous category called "up and coming." Only too aware .that he had used the bag of tricks which had employed in the melodramas in a more subtle and so p h isticated manner, he now faced the need to write something that would completely dispel all doubts about his right to consider himself an "uptown" playw right. The creation of such a play became h is immediate goal. The Broadway of th a t era catered to three major kinds of plays: farces, musicals, and serious dramas. The

6 Clayton Hamilton, Bookman, October 1913, p. 134. 83 complexion of the New York stage was decidedly commercial; European influences which eventually produced the art theatre movement in this country had only begun to be noticed. The serious drama of the second decade of the twentieth century was dominated by a kind of social melo­ drama which had undertaken to bridge the gap between scenic realism and social comment. This served as a kind of prelude to naturalism in this country. These often overly didactic plays, popular with the uptown audiences at the time, convinced Davis that his best chance for a long Broadway run lay in th is genre. As usual, his sensitivity to what audiences wanted plus a thorough-going study of the work of other successful playwrights provided him with material to inspire his next project. Though Davis was still a neophyte in his craft, his desire to emulate established authors marked a step forward in his development as a serious playwright of importance. Among the playwrights carefully observed by Davis was Clyde Pitch. An outstanding exponent of the kind of "social melodrama" which Davis had decided to attempt, Fitch used corruption, greed, high finance, and immorality as major subjects for his work. Clayton Hamilton had recognized in The Family Cupboard the comendable endeavor "to realize an important aspect of contemporary life," and saw in its. author a writer who was, "establishing himself as capable of better things."7 But the playwright's ability directly to address social issues had not as yet been tested. Thus, a drama of social concern presented a thematic challenge to an artist who still felt new and insecure in the Broad­ way milieu. He addressed himself to a regimen of steady s e lf-d is c ip lin e , aware of h is need to work more carefu lly and to institute a more thoughtful analysis of human motiva­ tions into his work. He decided that one way to improve his craft was to experiment with productions outside of. New York City; consequently, at a meticulously slow rate for Owen Davis, he began to conceive the form of three new plays to be presented for stock operations. These efforts brought him little acknowledgement in the area of artistic growth in the journals and contemporary reviews of 1914, but they apparently served to assist him in stretching his technique. Beggars On Horseback (9 February 1914) was prepared and mounted in Hoboken. Robin Hood** opened in Kansas City that season, and an Al Woods production with John Mason called Drugged (28 September 1914) was polished for a Boston show­ ing and a subsequent tour later in the year. In New York, Davis presented an unusually elaborate production called Big Jim Garritv. This play was an experiment with higher

7 Clayton Hamilton, Bookman, October 1913, p. 134. 8 Owen Davis, Robin Hood (New York: Samuel French. 1 9 2 3 ) . ------priced melodrama, or "dollardrama"9 as George Jean Nathan termed it. Reactions were generally negative. Vogue called Big Jim Garrity vulgar, concluding that it was a reversion to the artist's earlier sensational techniques. Also, said Vogue, "it is impossible to show first rate acting to advantage in a fourth rate play."10 In 1914, Davis began to be a regular contributor of a rtic le s to the New York Times and other p e rio d ic a ls. These theatre commentaries and personal career studies (lik e "Why I Quit W riting Melodrama" and "No Bushel Can Hide the Light of a Good Play") circulated widely and gained for the playwright additional recognition as an erudite journalist of theatre practice. In such articles, Davis discusses the state of play- writing in general, often providing insights into the stages of his own development. His conclusion on one occasion th a t "the day is gone when p re tty good is any good"11 and his support of the view that "a little more patience, a deeper knowledge of human life, and simple clarity"1^ constitute the central attributes of good

9 "Smart S et," Theatre, December 1914 (CF, LCTC).

10 V o g u e , 1 December 1914 (CF, LCTC). 11 New York Times, 4 October 1914, VI, p. 9. 12 ibid. 86 writing demonstrate the seriousness of his new attitude toward his work. His apparent adherence to these new philosophies gained positive results for him in the preparation of his next play. Sinners13 opened at The Playhouse on 7 January 1915. The public flocked to the production, and it gave him his long-awaited extended run (220 performances). But the critics failed to respond favorably to Davis' efforts, and their views of the new play were not only negative, but condescending. Davis admitted in retrospect that the script about a virtuous girl from New Hampshire and her vulnerability to the evils of big city life was "stilted and old fashioned. But the continuing references to his infamous "hack" reputation in the ten-twenty-'thirt field rather than objective criticism of his current plays must have been disheartening. For instance, an article in Life implied thatDavis had tried the play out on the inmates of Sing Sing prison as a captive audience before allowing, as the reviewer put it, "the chaingang of professional critics" to have their turn at it.15 It was, in fact, actually played at Sing Sing for a convict audience as a

13 Owen Davis, "Sinners," 1915 (UM, LCTC). 14 Owen Davis, My First Fifty Years in the Theatre, p. 67. 15 Life, 21 January 1915, pp. 112-113. 87

special project initiated by the playwright's longtime friend, R. H. Davis. The Life respondent apparently knew this, but chose to capitalize on the event in a contemptuous manner. A major objection to Sinners, as well as to many of his earlier works, centered on the way Davis tended to equate country folk with goodness and city dwellers with inherent evil. Mary Horton, his heroine in Sinners, is from Great F a lls . She was drawn too transparently akin to the central figures in sentimental melodramas like Way Down East to escape comparison. One critic termed the play "a good old fashioned melodrama which was intended for the public of smaller cities than New York."18 Perhaps such comments had validity. Davis' penchant for oversimplification was certainly an obstacle to the more sophisticated style to which he aspired. Current Opinion magazine concluded that the play was "surely no worse, even if it is not conspicuously better than others of its kind."17 The writer called attention to the author's reliance on an "elementary formula of playwriting.1,18 Certainly, that formula, devised in his melodrama days, lingered in the overdrawn good and bad

16 Clayton Hamilton, Bookman, March 1915, p. 177. 17 Current Opinion, March 1915, p. 177. 18 Ibid. 88 characters and in the inordinate attention given to the wholesome qualities of the central figure. Although his new characters conversed better and were more sophis­ ticated, they remained essentially the heroes, heroines, and heavies of his earlier practice. The thesis of Sinners, contrived and overly sentimental, dealt with what were purported to be actual social problems in a realistic setting. The play was, in spite of this, a reversion to his old melodrama. A remark in Vogue serves to summarize the reactions of the journals. The article declared that Owen Davis "talked utter rotw e l l . "19 Produced by William A. Brady, Sinners starred Brady's daughter Alice, who became one of the great American actresses of the early twentieth century. Although the production met with manifold objections from the critics, Miss Brady was declared "brilliant." The play justified the faith of both the playwright and the girl's father in her ability to sustain a major dramatic role. Critics and public alike warmed to her sensitive portrayal of the small town girl led astray in the big city and ultimately saved by her dying mother.20

Vogue, 15 February 1915 (CF, LCTC). 20 Many more Davis-Brady collaborations came in the years which followed, and the affection between these two men grew into a strong bond of support and mutual confidence. 89

By 1916, a new facet of psychology, the "unconscious'1 was being widely discussed and studied. The influence of the "unconscious" upon conscious states of behavior was a relatively new concept, and it quickly gained the atten­ tion of Davis as a good subject for a script. The result was Any House, referred to by one critic as Davis1 first psychological excursion. The subject of Any House is the split personality or "other self," portrayed in the Davis script by a second actor who urges the central character into various kinds of damaging behavior, including the disavowal of both his daughters. Ultimately, through the malevolent influence of his alter-ego, he ruins himself. The material, a collaboration with Robert H. Davis, called for ingenious staging techniques. For example, the cur­ tain was already up when the audience entered the theatre, allowing the first drop to function like a curtain during street "preludes." Although commonplace today in theatre practice, in 1916 the device was a novelty. From the time the play opened at ’the Cort Theatre on 14 February, audiences left confused and uncertain about it. Although David L. Sievers, in his study of psychologi­ ca l realism on Broadway, points to Any House as sim ilar to the early psychological realism of a r ti s t s lik e Eugene O'Neill,21 critics and patrons found themselves unable to

21 David L. Sievers, Freud On Broadway (New York: Hermitage House, 1955), p. 17. 90 empathize with a hero so totally errant in his behavior. This lack of empathy contributed to the short run of only fourteen performances. The f i r s t collaboration of Davis with O liver Morosco also occurred in 1916. Together they mounted Mile a Minute Kendall/22 which opened in November at the Lyceum Theatre. Morosco, in his biography. The Oracle of Broadway says that he enjoyed his professional relation- o 3 ship with Davis. Previews of the production in Cleveland drew negative criticism concerning the sim­ ilarity of the work with a manuscript of Winchell Smith. Guy Price, writing in the Los Angeles Herald, liked the actors, but had little positive to say of the derivative script.^ Although actually written and rehearsed in under three weeks, the play had a strong plot line, and with the skillful direction of Morosco, it achieved con­ sid erab le success despite the c r i t i c s . Morosco la te r insisted that the play would have gained more distinction except that the staid Lyceum was not the proper house for

22 Owen Davis, Mile a Minute Kendall (New York: Samuel French, Personal duplicated copy, undated), 23 Helen M. Morosco and Leonard Paul Dugger, The Oracle of Broadway (Caldwell, Idaho: The Caxton Printers, Ltd., 1944), p. 71. 24 Los Angeles Herald as reported in Helen M. Morosco and Leonard Paul Dugger, The Oracle of Broadway, p . 71. 91

i t , and several of the acto rs, among them Tom Powers and a youthful Eva Le Gallienne, were "not right" for their ro le s. Late in 1916, Davis and his family set out on their first trip to Europe. In taking stock of his career, Davis found it was relatively easy to earn a livelihood in the theatre, but extremely difficult to write a real play, as he was now calling his ideal script. The European trip was designed for rest and adventure, but his mind remained on his next theatrical ventures all the while. He pon­ dered his own limitations as a writer and wondered if he had already accomplished what his talents would permit. While on the trip, he had the opportunity to meet Katherine Cornell and Guthrie McClintock. He also saw the first London appearance of Will Rogers, a figure with whom Davis would work many times over the next twenty or more years. In 1917, the war in Europe was beginning to loom ominously; Davis and his wife and sons decided to sail home earlier than planned. Since Davis was too old and too much overweight to be seriously considered for army life, he channeled his energies toward a new project with Arthur Somers Roche, a play to be titled A Scrap of Paper. It dealt with a bit of incriminating evidence that blows out a window and is pursued by assorted characters

^ Los Angeles Herald as reported in Helen M. Morosco and Leonard Paul Dugger, The Oracle of Broadway, p. 2 73. 92 for nearly three hours. It was* in short/ another crim­ inal "crooks and bulls"26 melodrama. In other words/ the formula was at work again. But as had happened earlier when he created Kitty Claire, Davis introduced a singular fictional character. The news reporter, as portrayed by Robert Hilliard, secured praise from the New York critics as a unique and exciting heroic type. This was due mainly to the fact that he was an uncommon mixture of good and bad personality traits, making him less one-dimensional than the traditional heroic figure. Davis also mounted in 1917 an Arabian Nights, which later appeared with the new title of Let Him Come and Let Him Look. It failed to gain any measurable attention. But in 1918 a significant play emerged. Forever After,27 a "lucky play,"2 P ° was instantly successful from the time it opened on 9 September 1918. Barry Witham contends that this was Davis' supreme accomplishment in his first decade in the legitimate theatre.2^ Forever After traces the story of sixteen-year-old lovers in Vermont through the war years. In a unique variation on the "love

28 Life, 4 October 1917, p. 549. 27 Owen Davis, Forever A fter (New York: Samuel French. 1928). 28 Owen Davis, My First Fifty Years in the Theatre, pp. 82-83. ; 28 Barry B. Witham, "The Dramaturgy of Owen Davis," p. 75. 93

conquers all" theme, Davis creates a dramatically inter­ esting couple. The girl is socially superior to the boy, but because of the war, they are able to overcome the pre­ vailing caste system and find a life together. The production returned Alice Brady to the attention of New York's audiences, this time as a star of the first magnitude. Forever After continued for 312 performances as the first attraction in the new Shubert theatre, the Central. It is Davis' first play which completely sets aside sensational subject matter. No longer dependent upon the conventional tricks of his earlier work, the author presents an unpretentious, simple and direct love story with little reliance on spectacle. The straightforward "poor boy, rich girl" theme, augmented by relatively new "flashback" devices, made the play compelling to sophisticated city audiences. Using techniques he had acquired from exposure to Elmer Rice's On Trial and from a conscientious study of the films of D. W. G riffith (B irth of a Nation [1915] and Intolerance [1916]), Davis achieves a time flow between past and present action which was recognized as one of the major dramatic innovations of th a t Broadway season. His use of musical transitions was also praised. Most contemporary journalists agreed that this was Davis' best work to date. Miss Brady was declared the unqualified star of the show, but Conrad Nagel in the role 94

of the wounded hero Ted was also well received. Note­ worthy is Davis' refusal to rely upon his traditional stereotypes. The central character (Jennie) changes within the action of the play (a new development for Davis); Jennie moves from a rigid and unyielding young woman to one who will sacrifice everything for love. Davis' creations, which had always beeh "fixed" through­ out the plot, were becoming complex, the stereotypes of the melodramas were finally disappearing from his art. Forever After vaguely poses as a play addressing itself to serious social problems (the constrictions that soci­ ety often places on young love), but in reality it is a thinly veiled romantic fairy tale. The play, Davis said, was about life and youth as he saw it, and he admitted freely that his view was/ as always, uncompromisingly optimistic. While most of the critics concurred with the public appreciation for Forever After, some reiterated old slights about the playwright's origins. One harsh critic suggested that all Davis had really done with this script was to contribute to the birth of another generation of unintelligent, "ten-twenty-'thirt" audiences. In fact, the only redeeming factor that Life's reviewer could find in the production was the performance of Miss Brady.

30 New York Times, 6 October 1918, p. 24. 31 Ei'fe, 19 September 1918, p. 417. 95

The year 1918 marked the birth of Actors Equity. The actors' strikes of that year created a difficult season for many playwrights, including Davis. One of the productions not closed by the pickets was the Davis-Brady mystery-melodrama At 9:45.^ The strike had less effect on Davis than on many of the other writers because he had conducted a personal crusade on behalf of theatre artists against the machinations of unscrupulous theatre managers and booking agents. In 1918 Davis was the last president of the dissolving and ineffectual Society of American Dramatists and Composers. The merger of the Authors League of America and The Dramatists Guild pro­ vided a new platform from which he could wage his battle. His deep involvement with these organizations and others will constitute a later portion of this thesis. By the end of World War I, Davis had become an estab­ lish ed Broadway playw right, popular with h is peers, and an important voice in the American theatre. But judge­ ments like "the best paleontologist of all of America's playwrights"^ still bothered him and rubbed salt into old wounds. His desire to be considered a serious man of letters remained uppermost in his mind even as his overall reputation continued to grow.

32 Owen Davis, At 9:45 (New York: Samuel French, 1928). 33 New York Times, 3 August 1919, IV, p. 34. 96

In 1919/ Detroit audiences saw Davis' new comedy/ Peerqy# Behave. In Stamford/ Connecticut/ The Flaming Soul premiered on January 2 4, and at the 48th Street Theatre in New York, a sentimental play about the blind called Those Who Walk in Darkness opened on 14 August for a brief run of twenty-eight performances. In 1920, he attempted another social melodrama called Opportunity.^ This play concerning high finance contained some of the most realistic episodes that Davis had yet created. Opening in late July with Nita Naldi in the role of a siren, it had a respectable run of one hundred and thirty-eight performances at the same 48th Street Theatre where Those Who Walk in Darkness had run the year before. Alexander Woollcott reacted negatively to the acting in Opportunity, calling it a "hammer and tongs"3 *5 J performance; but championed Davis' script remarking that it "deserved better treatment."^ In September, Marry the Poor G irl, another collaboration with Oliver Morosco, was mounted. This piece suf­ ficiently pleased New York audiences that it was moved into Winthrop Ames' Little Theatre for an extended run.

34 Owen Davis, "Opportunity," 1920 (UT, LCTC). 33 Alexander Woollcott, New York Times, 27 September 1920, p. 18. 33 ibid. 97

No other productions have been verified for 1920.3 7 By this time the dramatic scene was changing. European influences had created complex new challenges for the writers for the theatre. Broadway now talked about Freud and the subconscious and about Expressionism. The play that merely entertained was becoming more sus­ pect, and playwrights looked to new voices like that of Eugene O 'N eill fo r in sp ira tio n and guidance. The experimental genius of O'Neill, along with the Little Theatre movement and the avant-garde influences from abroad, created a new kind of psychological realism in the theatre, opening a new era for the American stage in both technical and performance practice. Earlier the Washington Square Players had been formed; the Neighbor­ hood and the Provincetown Playhouses were already pro­ ducing realistic plays. Arthur Hopkins and Robert Edmond Jones' concerted efforts with psychological realism had begun in 1918, and throughout the eastern United States, experimentation in Expressionism was already in vogue.28 Davis, viewing this development, concluded that he must eliminate any facile conventions which might s till

37 The death of Davis' father on 8 October 1920 may have accounted for the slowed activity at the end of the year. 28 The period just beginning was so dominated by the New Realism that eight of the ten Pulitzer Prizes awarded from 1917-1927 fall into the genre. 98

linger from his days as a writer of sensational melo­ drama. The Great War had "disturbed and sobered"39 Davis; he wished to address himself to a more serious-minded public by creating work in the new realistic manner. He discarded the artificial forms of the "well made play" in favor of experimentation in the new realm of detailed realism . He read Ibsen, Gorki, and Hauptmann and studied the techniques they employed in their examinations of complex human behavior and its relationship with its environment. Davis believed his own Maine background could provide an excellent source for characters shaped by environmental forces, and he became excited about the prospect of creating a drama out of such m aterials. Meanwhile, he remained plagued by doubt about the qual­ ity of his dramatic talent; was he actually capable of creating significant and meaningful drama? His next effort reaffirmed his faith in himself. In 1921, he began to develop a plot concerning the struggle of characters trapped in a narrow and confining environ­ ment to free themselves. The play, called The Detour,^ met with unexpected and immediate critical acclaim.^

39 Owen Davis, I'.d Like To Do It Again, p. 131. Owen Davis, The Detour (Boston: L ittle, Brown and Company, 1922). Current Opinion, November 1921, reported that "critics as a unit are applauding this Shubert production," p. 603. 99

The New York Times praised it as a "thoughtful, human play filled with wisdom, kindly humor, and knowledge of folks."4^ In the same article, Alexander Woollcott declared that Davis had at last disdained any recourse to "the gaudy colors and frayed stencils"4** of his old work­ shop. The New York Telegram asserted that the playwright had renounced his "factory"44 while the Tribune recanted its earlier negative attitude toward Davis, joining the other journals in congratulating the author for his new step forward. In his personal memoirs, Davis later asserted that The Detour, The Gambler of the West, and The Nervous Wreck were each, in their unique ways, representative of his most significant work. Davis later said that although Icebound (19 23) won a Pulitzer Prize, The Detour was the superior play. While it never made the profit that some of his other works did, it earned for Davis the respect of serious theatregoers, the critics, his wife, and per­ haps most significantly, himself. Although The Detour had a short run (forty-eight performances), it secured recognition as an impressive realistic play, and gained

42 New York Times., 24 August 1921, VI, p. 12. 42 Ib id . 44 Undated review of The Detour, New York Telegram, c. 1921 (CF, LCTC). 45 Undated review o f The Detour, New York Tribune, c. 1921 (CF, LCTC). 100 for the playwright a new kind of distinction. The Detour opened in New York a t the Astor on 23 August 1921. Davis had engaged the popular Augustin Duncan to d ire c t as w ell as s ta r along with E ffie Shannon (the girl with "the Christian Science smile"46) , Willard Robertson, and Minnie Dupree.4^ Davis considered Duncan a great artist and respected his sensitive and devoted work with the script. In fact, the entire cast apparently succeeded in discovering in the material the elemental prejudices, inward struggles, and quiet nobility of its characters. But for the critics, Duncan fell short as a contributor to the success of the play; his acting, they said, was faulty, although not his direction. Neverthe­ less, the overall reception of The Detour was not only positive, but oftentimes extravagant. Kenneth Andrews, in reviewing New York's entire 1921 season, wrote in Bookman that the first new play of genuinely thoughtful intent had come, as he put it, from the "tireless" typewriter of Owen Davis.4® The play was not only honest and thoughtful in its purpose, but

46 Life, 15 September 1921, p. 18. 4? The work of Ms. Dupree was extravagantly p raised by Ruth Osborne Ewan in the New York Times 17 Julv 1921. VI, p. 1. 48 Kenneth Andrews, Bookman, October 1921, pp. 147-148. 101 consistently expert in its craftsmanship. But the comment that must have satisfied the author most concerned the ch a racters. Andrews described them as "drawn w ithout haste, and with a thriftiness of detail born of accurate, facile technique."49 The play met with such favor that it attained the runner-up position in the Pulitzer Prize com­ petition for 1921. y The plot line of The Detour is simply and clearly focused. A woman, the wife of a Long Island farmer, reaches middle age ready to rebel against the drudgery of her monotonous life. When the dreams she has for the future of her only* daughter as an artist become thwarted, the stoical mother, undaunted, looks to her unborn grand­ child. Through Davis' careful selection of the plot's details, he tells a story and delineates character with­ out relying heavily on the element of spectacle which had been so prevalent in his earlier work. The story line revolves around the essential differences among its three pivotal figures: Stephen Hardy, his wife Helen, and Kate, their daughter. Davis, choosing a unique, circular plot pattern, allows Helen to begin and end the play, indulging in idealistic dreams of vicarious escape from her common­ place environment, initially through Kate and, in the final moments, through the future grandchild. Helen's

49 Kenneth Andrews, Bookman, October 1921. pp. 147-14 8. 102

unwavering optimism in the face of harsh realities con­ stitutes the major part of the story. The irony that her . chosen method of escape (through Kate's assumed artistic talent) should prove an unfounded "pipe dream" intensifies the stubborn optimism and strength of the central c h a ra c te r. Stephen Hardy, though not antagonistic, by a steady acceptance of life's realities, is the nemesis to Helen's dream. But Helen's fantasy is necessary to sustain her in what she views as a state of servitude and drudgery. Although she has given up any dreams of broader horizons for herself, she clings tenaciously to them for her daughter. Kate, having inherited at least part of her father's more practical, homely nature, fantasizes only half-heartedly to satisfy her mother and humors Helen's prospects for Kate's future. But Kate, already con­ strained by her upbringing in rural Long Island, imme­ diately retreats when challenged in her efforts to travel to New York to study art. She does not share her mother's ambitions for her strongly enough to sacrifice her local swain and the security of her familiar environment. Surprise, in the form of the ultimate irony of expert Dana LaMont’s admission to Kate's lack of talent, makes The Detour an excellent example of classic organization and form. The reversal becomes the theme of the play. When the characters return from their respective "detours," they are able to proceed with a new knowledge of one 103 another and impulses toward renewed effort in support of their various choices. The characters of The Detour are/ in fact, its strongest asset, particularly the mother, Helen Hardy. The frustrating ambition which besets the central character in this script provided Davis with an opportunity to delve into complex characterization in a way which'he had avoided in the past. Mrs. Hardy's behavior is credibly consistent with the psychological makeup of such restrained personalities; she and her family are skillfully drawn portraits which convincingly reflect hereditary and environmental influences. It is in Helen's "unquenchable determination" to outwit environment and transcend her circumstances that her character achieves consistency with the American sp irit as Davis envisions it. She recognizes the importance of dreams, of hopes in human endeavors. A dream which fails is better than having no dream at all. She says, "I'd rather have one real dream than be a millionaire. Neither her position nor Stephen's primitive struggle with the soil can be interpreted as entirely right or wrong. Both are defensible positions. Tom Lane may seem a rather contrived character, but he serves the dual purpose of providing Kate with a reason for staying in Northport and in giving Stephen his

50 Owen Davis, The Detour, Act II. 104 potential land alliance. He is carefully drawn to sug­ gest a younger version of Stephen, and the fact that Kate, having inherited much of her father's inordinately practical nature, chooses him, provides the final irony in the defeat of Helen's inprobable dream. Although the central figures stand up well under critical scrutiny, the minor characters, especially Weinstein and his foolish son, fall somewhat short of expectation. Even though these are apt comic characters, they seem removed from Davis' theme and his stated inten­ tions. They seem to represent throwbacks to his earlier writing and at times appear superfluous. Davis' apparent inability to keep the moral senti­ ments mouthed by his characters from seeming overly artificial sometimes weakens the script and recalls his facility with a melodramatic turn of phrase. In spite of this, the characters display an economy of detail which had not been evident in the playwright's work before 1921. At one time, Davis would probably have been tempted to send his Kate to the "big city" to try to make good; her return to the warm embrace of her rural hearth would have provided an excuse for sentimental moralizing about the merit of a pastoral existence. When he avoided this kind of pitfall, he displayed a significant step toward m a tu rity . Davis had been quoted in 1914 as seeking to achieve three important qualities as a writer: more patience, a 105

deeper knowledge of human life, and simple clarity.51 With the creation of the characters in The Detour, he made significant advances in all of these categories. He demonstrated patience in his careful preparation of the script, including detailed attention to his character work. His interpretation of human life created in him the maturity which allowed him the courage to write about lives which were a part of his own personal experience. Clarity was perhaps his primary accomplishment with The Detour. Each moment in the dialogue supports effectively the overall plot, adhering to the cause and effect pat­ terns which were a hallmark of a realistic playwright. Contrivance and visual effectiveness at last fell into a proper perspective for Davis and he acquried the confidence to allow his characters to unfold parallel with the action as he visualized it. He apparently enjoyed the new vistas this opened up for him. Exercising acute powers of selectivity, Davis sifted and pruned his recollections of the rural "folks" and their concepts and values, arriving finally at the realization that his artistic instincts were good and that he could not only • trust, but draw freely upon his unusually facile sensibilities. Davis grew enthusiastic about allowing psychological values like personality and motivation

51 New York Times, 4 October 1914, VI, p. 9. 106

become dominant. This focus made his characters and his plot elements successfully combine with the events in his plays related to locale and conditions. The title, The Detour, illuminates not only the play's theme, but describes this stage in the playwright's own career. He concurrently addressed himself to the events in his drama and to his own departure from the easy road of the commercial fare with which he had been so long associated. Even within the play, the word "detour" takes on special meaning. For Helen, it requires definition:

Kate: It means a turning. Dora: Another way around to get to the same place.32

When reminded that the road is rough when a detour is calied for, Helen characteristically responds, "Oh, well, so long as a person gets where they want to go, I guess a detour don't matter much."^ Dora LaMont agrees with Helen's implications, but reminds her that her interpretation is valid only when the turning takes you where you wish to go. The possibility • that it would not never occurs to the optimistic Helen Hardy. The detour becomes definable in the play only from the philosophical perspective of the person who encounters

CO ^ Owen Davis, The Detour, Act I. 53 Ib id . 107 it. Since the mother is indomitable in her ambition for Kate, this determination sustains her in what would otherwise be a meaningless existence. For her "the detour" is not the turning from the confines of "this kitchen" to the opportunities afforded in New York, but rather a reassessment of the destination with the future grandchild as the necessary replacement for Kate in the plan. The "detour" in Helen's dreams, which cannot be thwarted by any obstacles is simply the brief moment required to reestablish the goals. After the turning, she will reappear on the road, moving affirmatively in her own direction. She w ill accept no departures which might carry her off the track outlined by her vicarious ambition. The events which result in detours for the other central figures put them back where they were when they started, each with some positive gains from his own viewpoint. Stephen has his additional land and a promising son-in-law, and Kate has the security of a husband and a home, all she ever really wanted for her­ self. Only Helen could be considered a loser, but her spirit has redefined the defeat as a kind of crucible for testing her dream, just as her own youthful decision to spend her own savings on wedding things had proved. She emerges stronger than ever in her resolution someday to escape. It is ironic that even in the area of art, it is Stephen who shows the most insight and recognizes in 108 primitive fashion what LaMont later affirms relative to Kate's lack of any real talent. "It don't look just like it was alive, somehow, does it? It's grass, but it ain't growing grass; there's the spring wheat, but you can't somehow think of its ever ripening, like wheat does."^4 Although all he can see in the painting is the land, he draws an unconscious, but accurate parallel with his daughter's ambitions. Tom, on th e o th e r hand, is a m ajor ste p away from Stephen Hardy. He is a rural entrepreneur and ambitious in his way, not for land, but in the world of local business. His gasoline business w ill someday be success­ ful, and he w ill overcome the brief setback of the detour, even though he would have proved the most seriously damaged had the order for the road alteration not been changed. He is obviously cut from the same cloth as Stephen in his life's values. When Kate decides to cast her lot with him, she recommits herself to the very soil which her mother views as imprisoning her. Tom disdains imagination and escapism in any form (he denigrates films and books, except for account books). But in spite of this, he possesses a kind of energetic drive. His ambi­ tion, dependent upon his love for Kate, needs her to remain alive. This represents an approximation of a

54 Owen Davis, The Detour, Act III. 109

dream for Tom, and it appears within his reach. He angrily reminds Kate that whatever Helen’s views and goals may have been, they do not equally apply to her. He has, of course, stumbled upon the essential error in dreaming for others—the simple fact that since no two dreams ever coincide, no goals ever exactly match. Con­ versely, Helen is wise enough to sense the threat of Tom's interest in Kate, even though she errs when she minimizes it in her own enthusiasm at the prospect of finally gaining the remainder of the New York money. An open confrontation between Helen and Tom near the end of the first act sets up the two powerful forces vying for Kate's allegiance. But Kate has already indicated that she lacks the motivation and strength possessed by her mother, and w ill falter under even minimal pressure. Tom cries out to Helen, "Nobody's got a right to spoil another person's life!"55 to which Helen responds:

That's why I ain't going to let anybody spoil hers! . . . Youth's all she's got that's fine, and you want to take it for yourself! You want to make her stay here and do ugly things, dirty things with her hands, all day long—and I want her to go where she can be big, and free—and use her hands just to make things that's b e a u ti f u l .56

55 Owen Davis, The Detour, Act II. 56 Ibid., Act I. 110

But Tom understands Kate, even better than her mother does. Although he lacks imagination, he appraises his intended wife as more like her father than like her m other, ”... slower thinkin' like him and more set, more contented. She's quieter than you, but she ain't so s m a r t . "5 7 Perhaps audiences today would be offended by Tom's chauvinistic attitudes concerning a "woman's place," but his character is credible, given the framework and locale of the play in its rustic New England environ­ ment. His sacrifice in saying he will let Kate go even when he holds within his grasp the ammunition with which to force her to stay (since he had already been seriously courting Kate, an appeal to her father would have ended all discussion and Kate would have been considered betrothed) is perhaps his most admirable action in the l a s t a c t. Kate, on the other hand, seems to have little mind of her own. Her mother has unconsciously promoted this con­ dition. At one point, the daughter weakly concludes, concerning Helen's overriding ambition for her, "How can I help wanting to go where someone can teach me to be what she's so hungry for me to be?"**® But she proves herself to be in no way driven like her mother. Furthermore, she does not share Helen's elemental fear of becoming enslaved

57 Owen Davis, The Detour, Act II. 58 Ib id . I l l by the land. Rather, she respects the soil and looks for­ ward to her involvement with it and herlife with her

future husband. In fairness to Stephen, he does finally given Helen the r ig h t to the money she has so s la v is h ly c o lle c te d , b u t this comes only after she has been reduced to calling him a thief and he has determined to throw her out of his home. He argues that if Kate is to leave against his will Helen is obliged to go with her. When Helen weighs the alterna­ tives, she obstinately agrees to leave so that Kate may •have the opportunity to follow what Helen views as her life ’s goal. At this point, near the end of the second act, as the women pack to leave, Davis runs a calculated risk by resorting to sentimental melodrama once again. He chooses to open his next act with rustic comic relief totally reminiscent of his old practice. The third act begins with Tom and Stephen discussing the climactic s itu a tio n :

Tom: It's a serious thing when a man's wife leaves him. Steve: . Yes. Tom: It's awful when she takes a thousand dollars with her159

This kind of dialogue, along with scenes displaying Stephen's abortive attempts at cooking for himself, is

59 Owen Davis, The Detour, Act III. 112 indicative of Davis' early work (these lines could have appeared in The Confessions of a Wife), but they serve to lighten what might have been maudlin sentimentality. Tom remarks to Stephen as they discuss the problem, "I got to give you credit for one thing; everything you say is always true, even if it ain't veryinterestin'. This may raise spectres of early ''humours1' comedy, but since the die has been cast at this point in the plot and all the antagonistic forces are drawn together in the Hardy kitchen awaiting the imminent arrival of art expert Dana LaMont, the digression may serve a dramatic purpose and relieve tension. The comedy, no matter how contrived it may seem, provides a comfortable escape valve for over­ wrought audience expectations. One other melodramatic lapse outside the area of comedy lies in Helen's overly sentimental treatment of the romantic souvenirs in her trunk, including the ''painfully thin" packet of love letters from her courtship days with Stephen. This scene culminates in her tearful admission "If he wanted me, I'd stay, just so long as he'd let you go."®^ Later, when Stephen professes that it was Helen's "business" to know that he loves her, a pleasant scene is established involving reminiscences and his shy, but admiring acknowledgement of her red dress. We discover

60 Owen Davis, The Detour, Act III. 61 Ib id . 113 that his images of his wife had never been less in terms of beauty than when they had met. Her interpretation of his love was the only thing that had altered. When LaMont declares that Kate's painting lacks artistic potential and that attempting a professional career would be foolhardy for her, a major climax occurs. Kate, crushed, turns immediately to Tom. In a fine ironic twist, Davis has Tom's dilemma established in such a manner that only Kate and the use of her money can save him from ruin. Although this superficially also rings of the melodrama, it works effectively in setting up Kate's choice to give the money, not to Tom directly, but to her father. He, in turn, is able to use it to buy the land he wants, much to the satisfaction of everyone but Helen. Tom says to her, "Everybody w ill have what they've allers wanted; nobody w ill lose nothin' at all, unless maybe it's you, and all you'll lose is just a dream. ^ Just a dream. But Helen's investment in her dream is far from lost. When Stephen gives her the egg money at the conclusion of the play, she envisions the new life that w ill spring from her daughter's marriage to Tom. Helen is again at one with the positive force of life's continuity, and the play is allowed to come full circle,

62 Owen Davis, The Detour, Act III. 114

and "life sort of keeps goin'on forever, don't it?"®'* The diction in The Detour complements the other ele­ ments. Since Davis knew firsthand these kinds of people and had vivid images of the environment in his mind when he began writing, his sensibility enabled him to capture the cadences of their speech, their colloquial expression, and homely phraseology. The language given each character supports the main theme of confinement by the soil. His metaphors, especially in reference to the soil, are appro­ priate to the environment and to the earthy philosophies of the characters. In The Detour, Davis relegated spectacle to the least significant aspect of the play. This was true to such a degree that he would find it necessary to pull back in the other direction in order to put the visual into proper per1 spective in his more successful Icebound. In The Detour, he conscientiously de-emphasized spectacle in order to develop plot and character more fully. The playwright later admitted that he had consciously undertaken to pro­ duce a kind of play which would take the theatre world by surprise. He said that he "consciously went to work to write a play which would disdain to resort to tricks of the stage—which would tell a relentless tale of narrow

63 Owen Davis, The Detour, Act III. 115

existence struggling to set itself free.”fi d His work with this manuscript, beyond its obvious debt to the early work of Eugene O'Neill (specifically Beyond the Horizon), has been compared with the earlier realistic plays of James A. Herne, such as Margaret Fleming (189 0) and Shore Acres (1892). Alexander Woollcott, who had seen many of Davis' pre­ vious plays, saw in this drama evidence that Davis was c 5 "turning over a new leaf." Although he praised the work, Woollcott also perceived the machinery underpinning the script and drew attention to the fact that Davis' departure from his old practice, although admirable, was not com­ plete. A reading of this play makes it clear that Woollcott was correct and that contrivance, however sophis­ ticated it may have become, remained an integral part of the work of Owen Davis early in the 1920's. Davis declared that the artistic success of The Detour had still failed to satisfy inpulses which continued to urge him to higher achievement. He said, "Realism such as I attained in The Detour is not the whole end of art. There is something more for the artist to attempt. You may say that in my play there is a suggestion of a golden

64 Montrose J. Moses, "The Metamorphosis of Owen Davis," Theatre, May 1922, p. 300. 65 Alexander Woollcott, New York Times, 2 4 August 1921, VI, p. 12. 116 stra n d o f hope."**® But, struggle against a hostile environment was not to constitute the heart of the kind of realism that Davis hoped to write. Unlike much of OrNeill or the Russian and Continental models, Davis was beginning a lifetim e crusade to write a simultaneously realistic, yet optimistic play. He viewed spiritual exaltation as a prime element in American playwriting, and he earnestly strove for a demonstration of this premise in his work. Perhaps it was his conscientious effort in this direction that eventually prevented him from attaining greater critical acclaim in the later stages of his career. Perhaps his own optimistic spirit had made obligatory the happy ending which could corrupt the honesty of a work professing to be totally realistic. Many critics of The Detour attack it as a lifeless kind of warm-up or trial run (an "incentive" manuscript) preparatory to Icebound, his Pulitzer Prize winning work of 1923. But Davis himself, even in the later years of his career, expressed a strong preference for the earlier work over Icebound as his best effort in the new psycho­ logical realism dominant in the United States in the 1920's. For Davis, the play's ultimate optimism and its confidence in life's continuity as a positive force are

66 Montrose J. Moses, "The Metamorphosis of Owen Davis," Theatre, May 1922, p. 300. 117 significant achievements. But Davis feared that the realistic style which he employed in The Detour might lead to an unconscionable kind of pessimism. A rtistically, he had proved that he could, without trickery, write about the grim realities of life, but he prefered to create a drama which provided, "that broad band of spiritual exaltation."6 7 He now felt the impulse to emphasize in his art the positive ideals upon which his own lifestyle was predicated. He wanted his audiences to leave the theatre not only "intellectually entertained, but spiritually glorified."*’® Now that he had, as Woollcott had reported, "shaken recourse to the gaudy colors and frayed stencils"69 of his old workshop, the critics and public alike wondered what ■ kind of manuscript would follow The Detour. The journalists who had been so strong in their praise for Davis' study saw his four plays of the 1922 season as unworthy of the promise shown in their predecessor. Up the Ladder, The Bronx Express,70 Dreams For Sale, and an adaptation of the Capek's The Insect Comedy called The

87 Montrose J. Moses, "The Metamorphosis of Owen Davis," Theatre, May 1922, p. 300. 68 I b id . 69 Alexander W oollcott, The New York Times, 2 4 August 1922, VI, p. 12. 70 Owen Davis, "The Bronx Express," 1922 (UM, LCTC). 118

World We Live In71 had respectable runs in New York, but to most respondents, they seemed an unfortunate reversal to his earlier "formula" approach to playwriting. The first of these, Up the Ladder, opened on 6 March at The Playhouse. Woollcott termed the new work, "blunt and crude"72 although he was more generous in his assess­ ment of William A. Brady's mounting of the production and the efforts of the "fine" cast in a script which was suf­ ficiently controversial to offend some civil authorities. Although Up the Ladder ran for over one hundred per­ formances, critics viewed it as merely another melodrama, and Davis' artistry was once again called to task. Neither did his second new effort enhance his posi­ tion artistically. In April, he adapted a Yiddish manu­ script by Ossip Dymov, which he called Dreams For Sale, and engaged Charles Coburn and his wife to produce and star in it. A fantasy involving living subway placards, it included such unlikely characters as Aunt Jemima and the Smith Brothers. Its tenure at the Astro was mercifully short. Woollcott called it "infantile"73 and

7^ Owen Davis, The World We Live In (New York: Samuel French, 1933). This play was copyrighted e a r l i e r (1922) to W illiam A. Brady as The In s e c t Comedy. 7^ Alexander W oollcott, New York Times, 7 March 1922, p. 11. 73 New York Times, 14 September 1922, p. 24. 119

suggested that it was perhaps the worst work that Davis had produced since his dramatic breakthrough into serious writing circles. The only redeeming feature of the produc­ tion was the outstanding acting of newcomer Helen Gahagan. . Beyond this, Dreams For Sale was the fiasco of the year. For his adaptation of Karel and Josef Capek's The Insect Comedy, Davis secured the backing of William A. Brady once again and prepared an extravagant production. But the piece fell short of critical expectations. Although enhanced by contributions of poetry from Louis Untermeyer and spectacular settings by Lee Simonson, this "bug-eyed view of the human race"7** proved too pessim istic for Davis comfortably to relate to or generally too despairing of the human condition for most viewers. Grudgingly given some attention as a novel venture, the play did little to regain any critical support for Davis, who, according to John Corbin in the New York Times, had "libelled the insects."7^ In 1922 Davis became actively involved in metro­ politan politics for the first time when he challenged the power structure of city government in New York on the principles of censorship and artistic autonomy. Davis contended that creative artists like playwrights could and should censor themselves. As a result of his

7^ New York Times, 1 November 1922, p. 16. 75 Ib id . 120 outspoken views, the famous "play juries" controversies began and continued to appear in the entertainment pages in Manhattan for many months. Davis' attention to these debates typified his energetic and zealous efforts on behalf of fellow authors and other artists of the t h e a t r e . ^ Meanwhile, many journalists remained unwilling to grant Davis recognition as anything but an artist studi­ ously imitating the work of O'Neill. They viewed The Detour as a minor work and a once in a lifetim e effort. Once more, the poetic vision of Owen Davis was called to question. At the same time, Davis was observing that with the draining away of less discriminating theatre patrons by the popular entertainment offered by the movies and the potential in radio drama, a new kind of theatre audience was emerging. Just as writers in previous years had been required to abide by certain fixed conventions, Davis watched successful playwrights of the 1920's breaking away from them. Davis' awareness of the theatre's new directions and his sense of audience needs led him to his next major work. Again casting aside his dependence on previous proven techniques and formulae, Davis boldly

These debates w ill be examined in the final chapter of this study. 121 began writing a second realistic play based on a sympathy born of kinship to his sturdy Maine fore­ bearers. By 1923, Icebound was ready for production. With this play came another giant stride forward in the direction of artistic fulfillment for playwright Owen D avis. Chapter III The Maturity of Owen Davis, 1923-1936 Prom Icebound to Ethan Frome

Something mighty, like a miracle, took place last night at Ford's when the playwright responsible for Nellie, the Beautiful Cloak Model turned out an American play that would do credit to a Eugene O'Neill with a sense of humor—if you can imagine such a thing.

The majority of critics agree that Icebound repre­ sents Owen Davis' consummate achievement in the field of 2 playwriting. John Farrar, writing in Bookman, called it "one of the finest plays ever written by an American."3 Alan Dale in the American suggested that Icebound should be selected as a representative American realistic play to send to Russia in return for the celebrated visit of Stanislavsky's Moscow Art Theatre earlier in the season.^

1 The New York Times, 21 January 192 3, VII, p. 1. 2 Owen Davis, Icebound (Boston: L ittle, Brown and Co., 1923). 3 John Farrar, Bookman, September 1923, p. 59. 4 An undated article by Alan Dale in The American (c. 1923) (CF, LCTC). 122 123

Icebound had found its production in a strange manner. Davis decided to submit the manuscript simultaneously to three producers, Edgar Selwyn, A. H. Woods, and Sam H. Harris. Ironically, all three promptly accepted the script. But since Harris was quickest to respond, his organization gained production rights to what would become that year's Pulitzer Prize drama. The Pulitzer- citation described the play as "the best representative of the edu­ cational value and power of the stage in raising the standard of good morals, good taste, and good manners."^ This definition must not only have pleased Davis, but have reinforced his confidence in himself as an artist. Icebound opened on 10 February 192 3 at the Sam Harris Theatre and ran for 170 performances. The contemporary reviews were mixed, with John Corbin of the New York Times and Kennedy MacGowan of The Globe joining the critics of '.the Evening World, the Evening Sun, and .the Morning Tele­ graph in a warm reception; some, like Alexander Woollcott and Percy Hammond, remained less enthusiastic, though still affirmative, in their support. Historians now recognize it, along with the work of O'Neill, as repre­ sentative of New Realism in the United States. The plot, revolving around the grim effects of Puritanical attitudes on a "hard-bitten" New England

5 Current Opinion, July 192 3, p. 49. 124

family, demonstrates themes of emotional repression and frigidity. The Jordans are as narrow and unforgiving as the surroundings in which they are placed. In his Foreword to Icebound, Davis wrote of his intentions:

With the production of The Detour, about a year ago, I managed to secure some measure of success in drawing a simple picture of life as it is lived on a Long Island farm; endouraged by this, I am now turning toward my own people, the people of northern New England, whose folklore, up to the present time, has been quite neglected in our theatre. I mean, of course, that few se rio u s attem p ts have been made in the d ire c tio n of a genre comedy o f th is l o c a l ity . Here I have at least tried to draw a true picture of these people, and I am of their blood, born of genera­ tions of Northern Maine, small-town folk, and brought up among them. In my memory o f them is little of the "Rube" caricature of the conven­ tional theatre? they are neither buffoons nor sentimentalists, and at least neither their faults nor their virtues are borrowed from the melting pot but are the direct result of their own heritage and environment.®

This statement clearly demonstrates Davis' fam iliarity with the naturalistic approach to playwriting and reveals an interest in perpetuating the "folk" heritage of his home a re a . The plot presents the Jordan family, gathered in Veazie, Maine for the purpose of watching over the death of rich old Grandmother Jordan. The assemblage includes

® Owen Davis, Icebound, Foreword. 125

Emma, wife of Henry, who is one of the two sons of Grand­ mother Jordan; Nettie, daughter of Emma by a former mar­ riage; Sadie, a widow, sister of Henry; Ella, an old maid, another sister of Henry; Orin, the ten-year-old son of Sadie; Jane Crosby, a distant cousin of the Jordans and the heroine of the play; later, the ne'er-do-well younger brother of Henry, Ben, is introduced. The matriarch understands her family only too well:. " [They are] waiting for me to die, like carrion crows around a sick cow in a pasture., watchin1 till the last twitch of life before they pounce."7 As the plot unfolds, the clan members reveal themselves as cold, unfeeling, and uniformly greedy. Only Ben, the outcast with an indictment for arson hanging over him, seems to possess any measurable character differences from the other mem­ bers of his family. He is able to be present for the reading of the w ill because he had escaped arrest temporarily by being two years in the army in France. His appearance creates a disturbance among the clan mem­ bers until the news is brought that Grandmother Jordan is dead. When the family discovers that the w ill leaves every­ thing to Jane Crosby, they are enraged. After bitter debate, Jane takes possession of her inheritance and

7 Owen Davis, Icebound, Act I. 126 immediately aids Ben by standing bail for him in return for his aid on the farm. As time passes, bitterness within the Jordan family increases as they try to borrow from Jane and ridicule Ben as "Jane Crosby's white slave." Jane has predictably fallen in love with Ben, but through a series of misunderstandings has come to the conclusion that he loves Nettie. In a family meeting, Jane reads another letter from the dead matriarch which indicates the old woman's desire that Jane reform Ben to ready him for acceptance of the inheritance, which she apparently had intended for him all of the time. Jane transfers the property to Ben. After a short time, Ben suddenly dis­ covers what had been true all along without his knowing it, that he is in love with Jane. He begs her to remain with him; he cannot run the farm without her. She agrees and the play ends. In Icebound, Davis allows his people to develop dimen­ sion through credible incidents. Even with its obvious debts to O'Neill, the script's skillful representation of Henry, Ella, and the other Jordans (with their inherent potential for vicious behavior, when contrasted with the forthright portraits of Ben and Jane Crosby), reflects a playwright s till experimenting and testing new ground with each new manuscript, yet gaining confidence with each new effort. In juxtaposing these characters in Icebound, Davis demonstrates a more subtle and sensitive artistry than in any of his previous work. That such people were 127 a part of his background, that he tinderstood their makeup the play demonstrates. This newfound empathy in charac­ terization had been hinted at in The Detour, but it becomes remarkably expanded in this script. Icebound reaffirmed Davis' belief that the theatre's greatest strength resides in its visual impact. He became certain that his power as a playwright could best be demonstrated when he utilized the visual in combination with keen character development. Several critics did fault the play. For example, Life insisted that it was the acting which made the play, g describing the book as merely serviceable. Another said that the play was simply not interesting, that nothing happened. John Farrar accused Davis of having learned too much from stage experience and too little from life. Thus for him, Icebound sacrificed sincerity of purpose for theatrical effectiveness. Farrar granted a comparison to O'Neill and specifically to Beyond the Horizon, but saw the playwrights as similar only in their handling of faith- Q ful regional dialogue and mood painting. When the Pulitzer committee awarded its prize in May, 1923, a storm of controversy surrounded it. Icebound won over plays like Elmer Rice's The Adding Machine and

® Life, 1 March 1923, p. 81. 9 John Farrar, Bookman, May 1923, pp. 317-318. 128

Somerset Maughm's Rain, each of which had strong support among New York's professional critics. The newspapers and journals debated the award for months afterward. Davis was notified of his award by a voice from his "lurid" past when his "melodrama factory" partner A1 Woods rang him up with the words, "Listen, sweetheart, who do you think cops the Pulitzer Prize this year? You'd never guess—neither would I—a guy told me—it's you."^® Woollcott and Percy Hammond were perhaps the most out­ raged of the dissenting critics when Icebound was selected for the prize. This was partially because they each per­ sonally favored other plays, but their inordinate anger at the committee (composed of Lyon Phelps, Clayton Hamilton, and Owen Johnson) leads one to suspect that they were V still among those unwilling to forget the artistic waste­ land from which the playwright had emerged.^ . It seems ironic that for many years following the 1923 Pulitzer Prize debates, Davis became America's only major dramatist who was consistently invited to serve on the Pulitzer Prize selection committee, an honor which he accepted with great satisfaction and enthusiasm.

10 Owen Davis, T'd Like To Do It Again, p. 141. 11 Woollcott had favored Texas Nightengale by Zoe Akins while Hammond had seen Channing Pollock's The Fool as the best work of the season. Among other plays receiving support were Merton of the Movies by Kaufman and Connelly and George Kelly's The Torchbearers. 129

Owen Davis insisted throughout his career that if a playwright knows his craft, possesses a capacity for feel­ ing, and has a profound understanding of character he can create worthwhile drama. In trying to leave the social and political facets of the art to be debated on other platforms, Davis obviously ran the risk of alienating partisan writers. Those realists who viewed their work as lessons in social consciousness were abhorrent to Davis. His personal sensibilities rebelled at the pes­ simism which appeared to be at the heart of the New Realistic approach as it developed both in America and on the continent. He would try for thirty years to wed the New Realism with his own optimistic spirit. But the wedding proved elusive. The season of 1923 and 1924 became the peak of Davis' most successful period. After Icebound, the Pulitzer Prize, and acceptance into the prestigious National Institute of Arts and Letters, more success came in the form of a highly acclaimed popular farce, The Nervous Wreck,^ called by the playwright "the terrible play which made us a l l r i c h . "-^3 Icebound had earned $9000.00 weekly. The Nervous Wreck earned approximately $21,000.00 a week

12 Owen Davis, The Nervous Wreck (New York: Samuel French, 1926). 13 Owen Davis, "Dr. Owen Davis Prescribes a New Tonic for the Movies," Theatre Magazine, June 1927, p . 43. 130

for an entire season. Augmented by subsequent revivals, a d a p ta tio n s, m usical v e rsio n s (Whoopee in 1929-1930^4 and Up In Arms in 1943), and'film rights (which totaled over $200,000.00), the play became the most lucrative as well as the most popular of all the works of Owen Davis.^ The farce, which he considered the most difficult of all dramatic forms, took him eleven months to complete. It-revolves around a variation on the psychological detec­ tive story and word association tests. Davis claims that the idea for the play grew from offhand remarks made by friends on the golf course. He later contradicts this in his autobiographical accounts when he attributes the idea to a short story by E. J. Rath, and still later to a piece by Pearly Sheehan called "The Wreck." Whatever the original source may have been, it was clearly Owen Davis1 expansion and dramatization which put the "flesh and bones" on the classic hypochondriacal anti-hero, Henry Williams. This shrewd and rollicking role provided such actors as Edward Everett Horton, Otto Kruger, Taylor Holmes, Eddy C antor, and Danny Kaye, and o th e rs w ith memorable opportunities for comic portrayal. After a tryout on the West Coast which nearly ended

^4 In the summer o f 19 78 (June 20-August 26), a revival of Whoopee was performed at the Goodspeed Opera House, E ast Haddam, C onnecticut. 15 New York Times, 27 November 1923, p. 2. 131 the venture (the actors thought it was a disaster), Davis expressed strong misgivings about its future. But Los Angeles theatregoers liked it, and as a result, a second preview was scheduled for Atlantic City.16 Dissatisfied with his script, Davis worked on at least seven revisions; he set up more previews in cities like Washington and Baltimore before the production was finally allowed to open in New York. A major problem for Davis was his own inability to come to grips with his third act. In desperation, he decided to steal the last act of another of his works then in progress called The Haunted House, ^ which solved his dilemma. John Corbin described the play as one of the few truly overwhelming farce successes he had ever witnessed: "The melodramatic Bowery embraced Mr. Davis of yore as a protagonist of millrace and buzzsaw, and of late Broadway has accepted him as Pulitzer champion of artistic drama. But he has never been more welcome than as an exploiter and satirist of advanced psychology."I8

16 The West Coast cast included Otto Kruger, Albert Hackett, and June Walker. When the play reopened in Atlantic City, Edward Everett Horton and Prances Howard (Mrs. Samuel Goldwyn) had taken over the central roles. Owen Davis, The Haunted House (New York: Samuel French, 1926). 18 John Corbin, New York Times, 21 October 1926, VIII, p. 1. 132

Certainly The Nervous Wreck contained several of the funniest and most original situations that had yet appeared on the American stage. It lampoons both Freudian psychology and the wild and wooly West. Corbin called the dual personality hero a masterpiece of comic writing. Davis eventually had three companies of The Nervous Wreck playing in the United States and one in London, and in one form or another it has been on the screen ever since.19 ? The plot of The Nervous Wreck is inextricably bound up in the personality of its protagonist, the classic hypochondriac Henry Williams. It is as much Williams' s tru g g le w ith h is own n a tu re as w ith human a d v e rsa rie s that provides the conflict. Set in Black Top Canyon, Arizona, the script recounts the zany adventures of Williams and his lady friend Sally Morgan as they are pursued by her irate father, by a jilted fiance, and by various Western desperadoes. The split personality of the nervous hero and his agility and resourcefulness in tight situations create the basic premise for the plot. By setting The Nervous Wreck in the West and keeping it remote from the experience of New York's cosmopolitan audiences, Davis had special success in devising

^ Whoopee w ill re tu rn to Broadway in th e 19 78-1979 season, after its engagement at the Goodspeed Opera House. 133 outlandish confrontations and plot complications. The "badlands" drama was then in vogue, and by placing the bumbling anti-hero in juxtaposition to various Western stereotypes, the playwright was able to lampoon with unprecedented license. The play unfolds a sequence of coincidences and mistakes which lead finally to a most unlikely hero bravely defending and winning the girl, whom he finds, to his surprise, he loves. The plot provides a series of delightful comic moments and an exceptional vehicle for a "top banana" comic performer. The acclaim given Eddy Cantor and Danny Kaye in later versions of this play illustrates the staying power and quality of the role. The basic plot line places Williams and Sally out of gas and stranded in the mountains of Arizona. In short order, the pill-addicted Henry discovers that his passenger is not, as he had been led to believe,.riding with him merely to catch a train; she has actually run away from a stern father and a forced marriage to the county sheriff, Bob Wells. To make matters worse, she has left a note stating that she has eloped with Williams. When a car representing potential rescue comes along the road, Henry undergoes his first transformation. A gun is accidentally placed in his hand, and he changes into a cold, hard, gun-spinning highwayman who steals his needed gasoline from the Underwoods, forcing them to drain their own tank and flatten the tires on their car. 134

Henry and Sally then appear at the Bar M Ranch which inopportunely turns out to be the home of the very same people who had been robbed earlier. Evasive tactics and disguises become significant elements in the complication of the plot since Henry could be recognized by any of the four occupants of the Underwood car upon their return to the ranch. Henry and Sally have been welcomed vigorously by ranch hands Andy and Mort, who, desperate for a replace­ ment cook, see their arrival as an act of Divine Provi­ dence. By hiding their car Andy forces them to remain as domestic help. When the Underwoods arrive back home, the story of the highway robbery has been exaggerated out of proportion and continues to grow throughout the play, setting up one of Davis’ reversal devices in the final act. Although Henry's disguise works, much of the humor revolves around his inability to keep quiet and to refrain from nosing into everybody's diet and health. The compli­ cations mount with the arrival of the sheriff (Sally's fiance) and Sally's father. At this point Henry inadvertently becomes an infamous fighting man when he bests Mort (quite by accident) and knocks him senseless. The complications keep multiplying: H arriett Under­ wood shows an unusual romantic interest in Henry; Under­ wood gets involved with Henry's remedies; Chester Under­ wood's interest in amateur science and psychology is revealed, and various members of the Underwood household 135 are suspected, each in turn, of being part of the now inordinately large holdup "gang." Each of the robbery victims has by this time embellished the adventure to such an extent that it is impossible to verify the involve­ ment of Henry and Sally without losing face. Sally diverts Sheriff Wells and her father by convincing each of them that the other is a liar. She tells the sheriff that her running away was a test of his affection. By now it is evident that both Henry and Sally, could have serious prob­ lems. When she warns him that they could be jailed for twenty years for what they are doing, he characteristically responds, "The joke's on them! I can't possibly live more than three months."20 When Sally's father and Wells confront one another, they slowly recognize that they have been gulled. By the end of Act Two, there are at least three characters ready to k ill Henry, but he once more finds a revolver and asserts himself, sending everyone on stage for cover. The final act provides a merry-go-round of false identifications and accusations culminating in the famous association-of-ideas test, conducted by the pseudo­ scientist Chester Underwood. Before he goes into the test, Henry is reassured by Sally that his ailments have been simply "Christian Science turned upside down," and

20 Owen Davis, The Nervous Wreck, Act II. 136

that he only thinks he is a shattered man. To prove her point, she has discarded his precious bag of medicines. The climactic moment, as Chester readies twelve plates for his applied psychology experiment, hinges on whether Henry's nervousness w ill make him appear guilty in the test or whether he can, for once in his life, control h im self. Since the test proves everyone guilty, it is finally Underwood's unwillingness to press charges (the necessary result of the enormous lies told by all the victims) that transforms the final scene from a trial into a wedding. The plot, more complex than this brief sketch can demonstrate, owes much of its charm to its richness of detail. But perhaps it suggests how efficiently Davis uses a train of causal incidences to create the complica­ tions as well as to prepare for the denouement. The action remains credible within a satirical framework which welcomes the improbable. An example of this would be the ironic results of the climactic test when the focus is switched from Henry's likely failure to the nervousness of all the other characters for various other reasons. The reversal and recognition scenes are compounded in The Nervous Wreck, yet each new development seems to fit into place and has its preparation in earlier exposition. By taking this satirical slant on the popular western plays and filmscripts of the time and by using the rela­ tively new science of psychology and its application to 137

the detection of crime, Davis succeeded in framing a truly timely and funny farce plot. In Henry Williams, Davis created one of those original characters who become a prototype for comic portrayal. For Davis' screwball hero Henry Williams remains the unique achievement of the play. The irate father, Bob Wells (a variation on the braggart warrior), the various comic types provided by the ranch hands and the Underwood family, and the other conventional figures (with the possible exception of Sally with her faith in Henry) are merely skillful portrayals of roles Davis had successfully managed before. Henry Williams, a new and singular stage figure, was to be emulated on stages for many years after the debut productions of The Nervous Wreck. The thought and diction of the play are appropriate to the locale and the people, even when a little heavy- ihanded in the satirizing of Western stereotypes. The play­ wright reveals in his treatment of this sunny play the optimism which he found difficulty in handling in the more somber realistic ventures in the early 1920's. He appar­ ently believed in the innate goodness of people, even his villains, as in The Nervous Wreck; but he granted the obstacles to happiness that face everyone. In his world view, however, antagonistic forces exist to be overcome. Thus, the theme of not only The Nervous Wreck, but also the majority of his mature work depends upon his continual 138

optimism/ even in the face of overwhelming odds. The humor which stems from his central character reflects his optimism. By keeping Henry's intentions clear and com­ prehensible/ Davis managed to provide a script which reportedly plays even better than it reads. On 21 August 1923, the banner headline for John Corbin's review of Davis' next play (Home Fires) read "Thawed/" suggesting a negative response and a play on words hearkening back to Icebound. In fact/ Home Fires was well received despite its conventional depiction of a stalwart mother keeping the "home fires" burning by virtue of her fortitude and moral strength. Actress Frances Underwood pleased the majority of critics in the role of the mother/ and Lillian Ross' portrayal of the flapper Betty won uniform praise. The play was about life in the suburbs. In attempting to differentiate between realism and pessimism, Davis succeeded in expressing an optim istic theme in a somewhat squalid setting. Corbin seemed to realize what Davis was about and supported the attempt, even if he did not champion the play itself; the critic sensed, too, the depressing quality of much of the realism of the day and apparently wanted to encourage Davis in his search for a realistic drama of optimism. Both men were certain that the unique moral spirit of this country needed this kind of literature. 139

Undaunted by the lack of success afforded Home Fires, Owen Davis was ready with another play when the theatre season of 1924 opened. Reshaped from a play he had formulated in 1919 and worked on again in 1923, it was initially titled Find the Woman. It demonstrated anew Davis' satirical view of the still relatively infant field of applied psychology. The new version, called Th£ Haunted House, opened in early September and ran for just over one hundred performances. Billed as a "farce in three complexes,"2 it might have been better received had its contemporary critics and audiences been more aware of its author's satirical propensities. Instead, it met with considerable perplexity and some overt out­ rage. This resulted mainly from the fact that the entire play, in which the murder victim is a cow, seemed an elaborate joke on the audience. Davis claimed he had written this play especially so that Wallace Eddiger might play the hero-novelist. Eddiger, a fine comic actor, received good notices in the role, although the play was spurned by the critics, who saw nothing to admire in a hodgepodge mystery-farce, with seances, truth serum, and "whodunit" devices. Davis was accused of operating well below his recently acknowledged high literary standard.

21 Stark Young, New York Times, 3 September 1924, p . 12. 140

Later in September, after an Atlantic City preview, Lazybones opened at the Vanderbilt. In spite of admirable staging by Guthrie McClintock and a first rate cast headed by George Abbott in one of Davis' best shaded rural comic roles, the Sam Harris production foundered after eighty performances and closed. Peacocks, the only other work to be mounted in 1924, played the Shubert in Chicago beginning on 16 October. The Daily Journal generously called it "some of his best w riting,"22 but Davis never brought it into New York. The Chicago cast included Edna Hibbard and Theresa Maxwell Conover. Davis' decision to put aside revision on this production may have been a result of the demanding prepara­ tion of the' London version of The Nervous Wreck. Following an uninspired script called Ma Pettinqill at Chicago's Shubert Theatre in September of 1925, the New York production of Easy Come, Easy Go23 became Davis' first successful endeavor of the new season. Again turning to the theme of the hypochondriac, Davis multiplied his solitary "nervous wreck" into a group of health farm zanies. Robert Benchley, who decided arbitrarily that this was Davis' one hundredth production, liked it and admitted that even though it was still somewhat in vogue to "lift

22 Chicago Daily Journal, an undated news clipping (CF, LCTC). 22 Owen Davis,' Easy Come, Easy Go (New York: Samuel French, 1926). 141 the lip"^ at Owen Davis' work, his latest effort was a genuinely funny script. Otto Kruger and Victor Moore headed the able cast which opened in the play on 26 October and continued for 180 performances. Picking up on Benchley's pronouncement, the New York Times' review indicated that if Davis had truly written one hundred plays, Easy Come, Easy Go belonged in the top five.25 The hilarious adventures of glamorous crooks delighted audiences to such an extent that it prompted a musical revival only four years later called Lady Fingers. In December, Beware of Widows2 S was prepared for the Maxine E lliott Theatre. Given a trial run in Pittsburgh, the play came into New York under the aegis of Crosby Gaige. A flimsy farce, it ran for slightly over fifty performances to tepid critical and popular support. It did, however, provide a springboard for the career of its s t a r , Madge Ke nnedy. When the 1926 season opened, Davis once again decided to experiment. The result was Sandalwood, a languid reworking of an earlier collaboration with the novelist Fulton Oursler. The play received little attention except for the performance of Pauline Lord and the stage settings

24 Robert Benchley, Life/ 19 November 1925, p. 20. 25 New York Times, 27 October 1925, p. 20. 26 Owen D avis, "Beware o f Widows," 1926 (UT, LCTC). 142 which had been prepared by Cleon Throckmorton. Miss Lord had already enchanted the critics with her portrayals in Sidney Howard's They Knew What They Wanted and O 'N eill's Anna Christie•, and many of her supporters saw the central role in Sandalwood as an exceptionally strong vehicle for her talents. A program note explained the title of this unusual play: the sandalwood tree was said to impart its fragrance even to the axe that hews it. Davis' decision to make this image analogous to a satirical view of Babbitry failed to engage any enthusiastic critical i n t e r e s t . 27 Two additional plays, The Gentle Grafters and The Man Who Forgot, also fell short of public or critical support. The first of these was considered daring in its subject matter; the tight, crisp dialogue wa§ lauded, but the overly contrived plot did not please anyone. The second play never gained a New York mounting and closed out of town. Davis, by the middle of 1926, had become aware that his scripts were becoming less acceptable, and he decided to slow down his working methods in order to get a better grip on his waning capacity to please. One unidentified clipping said of his impotence at this juncture:

It's no secret that Mr. Davis isn't at all pleased with the way in which his . . . two

27 The program note was reported by Joseph Wood Krutch,' Nation, 13 October 1926, pp. 384-385. 143

pieces of the present season, Sandalwood and The Gentle Grafters, turned out. He doesn't blame the producers. He has no censure for the actors. He thinks the audiences were all right. The fault, he feels, might reasonably be his own. Perhaps he has been in too great a rush. So he is now resolved and insists that he is quite serious, to proceed just a little more slowly hereafter. 8

The r e s u l t was a cu rio u s p r o je c t to adapt a German novel called, Gespenster Schiff, which had evidently caught the playwright's interest. Davis' stage version, called The Phantom Ship had its tryout in Asbury Park with Ruth Gordon and Edward Arnold listed as cast members. The New York Times called it "clever,'' but had little else to say in its favor.29 The novel by Rudolph Lothar and Oscar Retter apparently did not lend itself to dramatic inter­ pretation? Davis soon lost interest in the project and attempted no Broadway production. The Phantom Ship, even though an artistic failure, reflected a renewed interest on the part of the playwright in the art of adaptation, an art which culminated in his Ethan Frome ten years later. But 1926 also marked a second effort in adaptation, his highly acclaimed The Great Gatsby, called by Percy Hammond of the New York Tribune, "the best dramatization I have ever seen."20

28 An unidentified news clipping, c. 1926 (CF, LCTC). 29 New York Times, 27 June 1926, VII, p. 3. 30 Percy Hammond, New York Tribune, 27 June 1926 (CF, LCTC). In a personal telephone conversation with Jed 144

The ability to remain philosophically true to a source and yet keep material dramatically workable provided an artis­ tic challenge to Davis. The Great Gatsby, produced by William A. Brady, on its debut on 2 February at the Ambassador Theatre, was hailed as an exceptional example of how dramatic material may be gleaned from other sources. Davis admired the Fitzgerald novel and respected the orig­ inal material. Since this was true of all the works he selected for adaptation, therein lies a large measure of his success at it. Holding fast to the ironic spirit of the novel, the playwright was able, according to J. Brooks Atkinson, to maintain both the sincerity and perspective of his source and at the same time emphasize the idealist Gatsby over the criminal.The peculiar glamor of the central character remained intact in the stage version, lending additional credentials to Davis' growing claim as the most skillful and resourceful dramatist in America. The Great Gatsby starred James Rennie as its ill- fated hero and Florence Eldridge as Daisy; a superior sup­ porting cast was gathered under the hand of director George Cukor. The production settled in for a comfortable Broadway run of 113 performances.

Harris (March, 1977), the significance of The Great Gatsby was emphasized when he also called it, "the best adapta­ tion I have ever seen." ^ J. Brooks Atkinson, New York Times, 7 February 1926, VII, p. 1. 145

In July, the New York Times mentioned a production in Atlantic City of a Davis play called The Shelf. It featured Frances Starr in what was reportedly her first production not handled by David Belasco.22 The play never came to New York, and no further mention of it has come to light in a survey of the major journals of the time. Besides The Great Gatsby, the major success of 19 26 was The Donovan Affair. Perhaps in retaliation for some of the irate reactions to The Haunted House with its lack of "human'1 corpses, Davis literally filled this puzzling drama with bodies. Including four murders, frequent black­ outs, and other scare tactics, Davis created a first-rate thriller. Ward Morehouse of the New York Sun called it "the best of all the find the killer pieces that thundered along in the wake of The Bat. The play was produced by A1 Lewis and prepared in collaboration with Donald Davis. Atkinson saw The Donovan Affair not only as entertaining, but demonstrative of still another facet of the "many sided and unflagging Owen Davis.The element to which he referred was the

32 New York Times, 4 July 1926, VII, p. 3. 33 Owen Davis, The Donovan A ffair (New York: Samuel French, 1930). 34 Ward Morehouse, New York Sun, 6 February 1926 (CF, LCTC). 35 j. Brooks Atkinson, New York Times, 31 August 1926, III, p. 15. 146 spirit of the lampoon. One other significant honor came to Owen Davis in 1926 outside the area of professional theatre. He was offered a chair in dramatic literature at the University of Michigan, but felt compelled to turn it down in order to pursue his manifold writing projects. In considering the appointment, his emphasis on the practice of theatre over the discussion of it weighed heavily in his decision to remain in the professional ranks. In 1927, Davis produced The Triumphant Bachelor, which opened on 15 September at the Biltmore. Valiantly combatting the noise of a new subway being constructed on Eighth Avenue just in front of the theatre, the trans­ parent farce quietly closed twelve performances later. Robert Ames' review, for the most part negative, ended with the words, "Drama, in general, is not so good these days."3® Perhaps part of the reason that drama was not appearing so good was the fact that a great many of the more talented playwrights were being tempted to give Hollywood a try. Davis himself decided in 1927 to accept a two-year- contract with Paramount Studios. This agreement with the giant film studio was, in many ways, reminiscent of his famous melodrama pact with A1 Woods. He certainly was

New York Times, 16 September 19 27, p. 3. 147 given more considerations than any film w riter had been given before him. His only previous direct connection with the movie industry had been a sale of a trunkful of some f i f t y stag e s c r ip ts to The Old World Film Company.37 When Davis joined Paramount in 1927, it was his initial effort at writing directly for the screen. At the urging of William LeBarron, one of Paramount's asso­ ciate producers, Davis entered into negotiations with Adolph Zukor, Jesse Lasky, and Walter Wanger. They awarded Davis what must have been the most liberal con­ tract ever given to a Hollywood writer. Beyond their regard for Davis' abilities, the Hollywood moguls recog­ nized his potential influence in bringing other Broadway authors West. They saw his high reputation for his work with the dramatists' professional organizations as pro­ viding themselves with a liaison with New York. Thus it appears in retrospect a well thought out maneuver on the part of the studio. He was immediately employed to write scripts for established stars like Tommy Meigham and Claudette Colbert? and although he found the physical process of writing for the films little different from work for

37 The first Davis story to be viewed on the screen was Hearts in Exile with Clara Kimball Young. This was followed by' Broadway After Dark, according- to Marguerite Tazelaar in the New York Herald-Tribuhe, 20 March 1938, p . 17. 148

Broadway, he soon discovered that what was ultimately done with the material after its initial preparation was an altogether different matter. Davis came to Paramount with the understanding that, in addition to his film work he could write and produce one legitimate new play each year. This condition and his pleasure at renewing old acquaint­ ances w ith h is many sta g e frie n d s who had made th e t r a n s i ­ tion to movies made the contract more acceptable for the outspoken playwright. Finding people like Alice Brady, Tallulah Bankhead, and Charlie Ruggles, all now firmly established members of the film community, was a joy to him. But Davis was never socially active, and in spite of regular dinners with old friends like Douglas Fairbanks and Mary Pickford, he never enjoyed the life style of the West Coast and was always happiest when he returned to New York. In spite of some misgivings, Davis' tenure at Para­ mount was busy and exciting for him. Ultimately, however, he felt the need to reject the monetary enticements of Hollywood. Not only did the studios use up material too rapidly, but he resented the lowly and powerless position of the writer in the film studio hierarchy. This was a condition he observed in the activity around him. For himself, almost from the moment of his arrival, he had been welcomed as an integral part of all script discussions and production meetings. He was aware that this was not 149

the usual treatment afforded the screenwriter, and despite his own comfortable, even luxurious life there, he believed his creativity was stultified. In short, he became professionally unhappy, depressed by the uninportance of the writer in the Hollywood milieu, the rituals, the unwanted artistic interference of studio executives, and the overindulgent generosity of his superiors. He became irritated with his partial prostitu­ tion of himself. When his movie contract finally expired in 1930, he was greatly relieved. The stage work which Davis undertook while he was employed at Paramount was not impressive. Two productions were recorded in 1928. Both plays, Carry On and Tonight at Twelve, employed the acting talents of the playwright's second son, Owen D avis, J r . Young D avis, w e ll re c e iv e d in both ventures, was considered promising as a leading player. The earlier of the two plays, Carry On, was described by J. Brooks Atkinson as certainly "not a jewel o g m the Davis coronet,1 1 but a reasonably solid script. Staged by Clifford Brooke at the Theatre Masque, it con­ cerned the narrow distinction between family honor and v a n ity .

38 His best film work was done with the scripts which he prepared for Will Rogers. Davis wrote Rogers' first talking picture, They Had To See Paris, and later, So This Is London. 39 j. Brooks Atkinson, New York Times, 24 January 1928, p. 26. 150

Tonight at Twelve, with its more serious overtones, ran longer (sixty performances) in spite of an unsat­ isfactory third act. The play starred Spring Byington and played at the Hudson Theatre. By mixing two of the most popular dramatic themes of the day, mystery and infidelity, the playwright succeeded in recapturing some measure of enthusiastic popular applause. A musical version of one of Davis' earlier plays found a highly successful mounting in 1928. Florenz Ziegfeld had gathered his usual monumental budget and hired William Anthony McGuire to stage an extravaganza called Whoopee. Based on Davis' popular farce script, The Nervous Wreck, it featured the famous comedian Eddy Cantor. Gus Kahn was engaged to handle the music, and all was going well until McGuire fell ill. Owen Davis was then engaged as a kind of play doctor and interim director. He managed to produce a highly polished musical interpretation of an already successful comedy. Whoopee went so well that after a short respite to secure replacements and renew existing contracts it reopened to enthusiastic audiences in 1929. The presence of young Helen Morgan in the cast provided a still greater reason for the success of the second venture.**0

40 This production was the first of other successful adaptations of this play. The culmination probably came in the mid-1940's with U£ In Arms starring Danny Kaye as the oddball hero. 151

In January, 1929, Davis busied himself with a musical of his own, Spring Is Here, which proved a total failure. He later admitted that musical comedy was the most elusive genre for him since he viewed the score as dominating the book, putting the writer of the libretto in a position of little or no control. At any rate, his book (derived loosely from one of his unfinished works called Shotgun Wedding) was eagerly accepted by Alex Aarons and Vinton Preedly for production. Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart were secured to create the score, and work began. The working relationship between Davis and Rodgers and Hart proved easy and cooperative, but it was not enough to hold the production together. Some of the songs gained popu­ larity ("Yours Sincerely" and "The Song of My- Heart") and the individual performances of Glenn Hunter, Charlie Ruggles, Inez Courtney, and Joyce Barbour, were praised by critics like 0. D. McIntyre in L ife,^ but the book faltered, and the overall production was deemed a dis­ appointment. Davis next opened what he had hoped would be an important serious psychological drama in Atlantic City. The production, called Dread, failed to survive long enough to warrant consideration for a New York engagement, and what Davis considered a significant work was construed

^ 0. D. McIntyre, Life, 12 April 1929, p. 25. 152 by the critics as merely a Davis contrivance, concerning

A O a supernatural triangle. "Kleptomania set to music"^ describes Lady Fingers, one of the two remaining plays of 1929. The musical comedy v ersio n o f Easy Come, Easy Go, i t s ta r r e d Ruth Gordon and Eddie Buzzell. The other play, Me For You, opened out of town with Rodgers and Hart providing the music to support its stars, Victor Moore and Ray Bolger. The subject was bootlegging, but in spite of its obvious topicality in 1929 (and a pleasant score), it closed where it opened, in Detroit. A distinction for Davis in 1929 was an invitation to deliver the commencement address to the graduating class o f the American Academy o f Dramatic A rts . This engagement provided him with a platform from which to reinforce his unfaltering view of optimism regarding the future of the American theatre. It is strangely ironic that just down the street on the same evening, William A. Brady, in an address to Actors Equity, was predicting the total demise of legitimate theatre within three years.44 In 1930, after'celebrating the expiration of his film

42 The original production had Spencer Tracy in a leading role. 43 New York Times, 13 January 1929, VIII, p. 2. 44 Both speeches are recorded in the New York Times, 24 March 1929, X, p. 2. c o n t r a c t ,45 Davis turned to an unpublished story by A. H. Woods called The Voice Over the Radio for his next stage venture. He called his version The Ninth Guest46 and opened it on 25 August at the Eltinge Theatre/ where it ran for seventy-two performances. William Courtleigh played the pivotal role in the play in which the "ninth guest" at a bizarre dinner party is Death. A mystery- melodrama, the production was staged by Davis himself. The play features the methodical extermination of a group of g u ests m y sterio u sly summoned to g e th e r in a remote house. This plot was still novel in the early 1930's, and Davis' devices of mysterious telegrams and a threatening and mystifying voice over the radio predicting murders met with popular interest and applause. After The Ninth Guest closed/ a Flatbush tryout of The Wife1s Away with E lliott Nugent opened and closed in November of 1930. A statement by Percy Hammond from his New York Tribune column typified reactions to Davis' next play. He s a id : "Owen D avis, who is known as a benign ra th e r than a furious man, lets the whips of a righteous exasperation fall with considerable energy upon the 'racketeer,' in his

45 A second cause for celebration was the marriage of Owen Davis, Jr. to the daughter of sportsman Grantland Rice. New York Times, 26 January 1929, p. 17. 46 owen D avis, The N inth G uest (New York: Samuel French, 1932). new play, Just To Remind You. The New York Times con­ curred, referring to Just To Remind You^8 as a courageous, if overly melodramatic topical play decrying gang rule.'*9 In fact, most of the critical responses agreed that the point of view of the playwright was admirable, even while the play was not.98 With Paul Kelly, Sylvia Field, and Owen Davis, Jr. in the cast and the innovative Cleon Throckmorton designing, the play ran for only sixteen per­ formances at the Broadhurst Theatre. The critics, noting the social position taken by the playwright, saw in the stand a new facet to his work. The forthright wrath and satiric elements of the new play, unexpected from Davis/ seemed to puzzle many journalists who had previously labeled Davis as a passive writer, nonpartisan and unwill­ ing to attack social problems in print. But if some approved of his topical attack on local corruption, most rejected the script itself. The sermonizing posture, uncommon- and uncomfortable for the playwright, resulted in superficial writing in many respects. The New York Times concluded that in Davis' fervor to address a true social

^ Percy Hammon, New York T rib u n e, 7 September 19 31 (CF, LCTC). ^8 Owen Davis, Just To Remind You (New York: Farrar and Rinehart, 1931). 49 New York Times, 8 September 19 31, p. 39. 50 Owen Davis referred to Just To Remind You as his "318th" play. New York Times, 6 September 1932, VII, p. 1. 155 problem/ the playwright had reverted to wooden stock pieces from an earlier time/ forcing facile characters (such as the dewy lovers and the incredibly villainous Judge Higgins) to emerge in lieu of the more believable figures of his recent efforts. A production of The Harbor Light at the University of Iowa, which was subsequently reworked for Skowhegan, Maine,51 occupied the early months of 19 32. Melville Burke had written Ward Morehouse in New York that this play had, in his opinion an excellent future on Broadway. Burns Mantle, who had also viewed the Maine production, was extravagant in his praise for the script and acknowledged the "particularly responsive tryout audience" at Skowhegan. Actor-manager Prank Conroy decided to buy the property, but no further traces of the work can be found; no New York production of The Habor Light is recorded.5^ Collaborating with his son Donald in 19 32, Davis pro­ duced a complex interpretation of Pearl Buck's Pulitzer Prize novel, The Good Earth55 as the in itial offering of the Theatre Guild's fifteenth season in New York. The

51 It was Skowhegan's first play premiere of the 1932 season. 5^ John B. Oblak, Bringing Broadway To Maine (Terre Haute, Indiana: Moore-Langen), p. 90. 53 Owen and Donald D avis, "The Good E a rth ," 1932 (UT, LCTC). 156 production opened on 17 October under the leadership of the Guild's Philip Moeller, Lawrence Langner, and Lee Simonson. In the central role of O-Lan was the Russian actress Alla Nazimova. Claude Rains and Sydney Greenstreet were among the other prominent players in the large cast. Davis and his son had spent an entire year preparing the script, and everyone connected with the production was optifnistic about its prospects. But critical reaction seemed to indi­ cate that enthusiasm for the project had outweighed care and thought; perhaps the narrative sweep and pageantry of the novel proved too broad to be encompassed by the stage. Although the Davises had succeeded admirably in the realm of characterization and in adhering to the spirit of Miss Buck's work, the total transition into stage terms could not be realized, and the production fell short of its aims. Owen Davis characteristically praised the contribu­ tion made by his son (making his Broadway debut) for the adaptation. After the production received good reviews in Philadelphia, it opened its New York run. Since the Guild subscription series was not designed to accommodate extended runs, The Good Earth closed after its scheduled fifty-six performances.^ In February of 1933, Ward Morehouse wrote, "Owen Davis rolls on—serene, continuous, recurrent, inevitable. He's

Ward Morehouse, "Broadway After Dark," New York Sun, 6 February 19 33 (CF, LCTC). 157 a factory, a foundry, a powerhouse, an American Edgar Wallace, one of Manhattan's major industries.'1 55 Three plays constituted the season of 1933 for Davis. A Satur­ day Night champions the cause of the American housewife and represents another attempt by the playwright to create a script of optimistic realism while addressing social problems. When Richard Lockridge reviev/ed this play in the New York Sun, he characterized Davis as "always on the C £ side of the angels" and praised the warmth and what he called the gentle humanity of the story. Other critics agreed. J. Brooks Atkinson called it "a family play by a family man,"57 featuring decent people full of good feel­ ing. It opened on 28 February at the Playhouse and ran for forty performances. Peggy Wood performed with Owen Davis, Jr., in the drama about a middle-aged wife who plans a special celebration of her birthday with her husband. Into her plans intrude her son's basketball injury, her tipsy daughter, a former suitor, her husband's confession of an infidelity, and other frustrating prob­ lems. However, in spite of all the mixups, the wife con­ cludes that family is more important than self, and the

55 Ward Morehouse, "Broadway After Dark," New York Sun, 6 February 1933 (CF, LCTC). Richard Lockridge, New York Sun, 6 February 19 33 (CF, LCTC). 57 j. Brooks Atkinson, New York Times, 1 November 1933, p. 13. 158

play ends on a happy note. A Saturday Night was directed by Melville Burke. December 19 marked the opening of a short run Of Jezebel^® at the Ethel Barrymore Theatre. The brilliant Katherine Cornell had been engaged to portray the Southern belle, Julie Kendrick, and her husband, the prominent director Guthrie McClintock, was retained to stage the production. But misfortune plagued the preparation of the play. Miss Cornell was forced to withdraw due to a mixup involving previous commitments and Tallulah Bankhead was secured for the role. When Miss Bankhead became ill, she was replaced with Miriam Hopkins, also an experienced actress. Hopkins lacked the passion needed to bring off the selfish heroine. The result was a compromise and a saccharine rewriting of the part by Davis.60 When Jezebel finally opened, it proved "a spectacular f a i l u r e ."60 Only Percy Hammond responded positively to Miss Hopkins in the title role, while the other critics saw her interpretation as shallow and uninteresting. Magnificent sets had been prepared by Jo Melziener, but in spite of the admirable production values and effective

58 Owen Davis, "Jezebel," 1933 (UT, LCTC). 50 The playwright later declared that only with Bette D avis' Academy Award screen p o rtra y a l in 19 38 d id the "Jezebel" that he had originally written emerge. 60 Barry B. Witham, "The Dramaturgy of Owen Davis," p. 120. 159 performances by supporting players like Joseph Cotten and Owen Davis, Jr. to Hopkins' now watered-down siren, the play was not a success. It apparently lacked the sense of "lyric virtuosity" necessary to capture the spirit of the ante-bellum South and Davis' belle became simply "a Bowery trollop at heart."61 Helen Deutsch, in her observations on Jezebel in the New York Herald-Tribune, praised the research and the two years of conscientious effort that had gone into the preparation of the script. Davis had more thoroughly docu­ mented the background of this play than any he had done in the past. Deutsch also described some of the ideas that Davis told her he had pondered before his decision to place his vamp on a Southern plantation. For example, he had considered setting Jezebel in rural New England and even in India.62 The year of 1933 also initiated Davis' most active involvement in the Lakewood Theatre in Skowhegan, Maine. Davis describes this operation as the oldest theatrical organization in America? he spent every summer there from .1927 to th e end o f h is l i f e , ex cep t fo r th e war y e a rs . John B. Oblak records in his history of the Lakewood

J. Brooks Atkinson, New York Times, 20 December 1933, p. 26. 62 Helen Deutsch, New York Herald-Tribune, 17 December 1933 (CF, LCTC). 160

Theatre that many of Davis' plays had been presented there prior to 1933.63 On 9 August 1933, Davis supervised a production of his play, Spendthrift Lady, there, thus beginning a series of regular summer stock ventures which provided him with enormous personal pleasure and creative relaxation. Davis' love for this summer retreat is documented in his autobio­ graphical accounts where he provides detailed descriptions of his many pleasurable activities there, and notes the valued professional friendships of many who joined him for summer respite and experimentation. William A. Brady, Grace George, Groucho Marx, Max Gordon, Ed and Keenan Wynn, Humphrey Bogart, Vincent Price, Charles Coburn, Howard Lindsey, and Dorothy Stickney are only a few of his stage friends who became "regulars" at Skowhegan. During the period from 1925 to 1941, the Lakewood Theatre operation earned the title "Broadway in Maine" and was one o f the e a r l i e s t and most im portant summer th e a tre s in America. Herbert Lindsey Swett, who developed the Lake­ wood Theatre, had been born in Bangor, Maine, and had been a childhood playm ate o f Owen D avis. When, in 1925, Howard Lindsey took over as director and Robert Sparks took

63 John B. Oblak records that Davis' Sinners had been staged there as early as 1920. The Nervous Wreck and The Haunted House had both- appeared in the 1925 season, and in 1925, The Man Who Forgot. Just To Remind You had been presented in 1931, and The Harbor Light in 1932. 161

control as manager and publicity agent, the theatre took on a new form, becoming a summer tryout center for New York stage productions and a theatrical colony of singular importance to the actors, directors, playwrights, and producers of the Broadway theatre. Through Lindsay's artistry and the management and publicity skills of Sparks, Lakewood flourished, attracting performers and audiences from all over the country. Of the theatre's significance, Oblak records that, "William A. Brady, the famous theatri­ cal producer, called the Lakewood Players, '.one of the finest dramatic organizations he has ever seen in some forty years of contact with the theatre'."64 The Boston Evening American noted as early as 1929 that "the smartest of Gothamite impressarios lean heavily upon Lakewood for test, experiment, and of course, final decision."65 The highly controversial Hamlet, staged by Norman Bel Geddes in the 1928-1929 season at Lakewood, provided the kind of serious national recognition that had been required, and from that point forward, the Skowhegan theatre complex remained a popular laboratory for playwrights trying out new scripts for New York. Another Boston journal, the Boston Sunday Globe, noted the keen desire of the New York actor to come to Lakewood

64 John B. Oblak, Bringing Broadway To Maine (Terre Haute, Indiana: Moore-Langen), p. 48. 65 'Ibid., p. 49. 162 and to participate in the prestigious company for the summer season:

It is no longer necessary to seek actors of ability to take part at Lakewood. To be invited to do so is regarded by the profession as a compliment. It is impossible to crash the gate into Lakewood. You've got to be somebody in the world of the stage and letters in order to get there. Near-actors waste time applying. It is a real playhouse, staging the best of plays with the best of casts.60

The New York Times supported this attitude as well by stating, "There is perhaps no other theatre in the country (Broadway excepted, of course) which is so swamped with applications from actors for a place in the company."6 7 It is clear that Owen Davis' participation in the Lakewood program was considered important. He had apparently agreed to write a play to premiere at Lakewood during the 1926 season, The Man Who Forgot. Davis attended the opening on 21 June 1926 and was reportedly delighted with the actors, environment, and the whole theatre colony. In 1931 the prominent New York director, Melville Burke became the managing director of Lakewood, thus enhancing its magnetism and reputation even more. It was Burke who introduced the policy of hiring the children of

Boston Sunday G lobe, 11 June 1927 (CF, LCTC). 67' New York Times, 12 September 1927 (CF, LCTC) . 163 established stage and screen personalities. This device did much to interest the public in the doings of the theatre colony. It was also Burke who hired Owen Davis, Jr. as an actor at Skowhegan. The combination of Davis, Sr., the playwright, and Davis, Jr., the actor, marked the beginning of a long association between the Lakewood Players and the Davises. Bums Mantle once remarked of Lakewood that he saw there an interesting compromise between old and new forces in the theatre profession. He saw in Maine, he said, "Theatre people and plays . . . being presented under standards of production equal to those of the top theatres in A m e r i c a . "68 Owen Davis' work was eagerly accepted for performance in Skowhegan, and he seemed always ready to experiment at what his friend Will Rogers once called "the best stock company in America."69 To illustrate the high regard in which Davis' work was held by the management at Lakewood, two of his plays (Indian Summer and Love and All That) were selected for the 1939 season for the express purpose of combatting the competition feared by the nearby World's Fair. His plays joined scripts like Our Town and You Can't Take It With You to help sustain a successful summer season. The

68 John B. Oblak, Bringing Broadway To Maine (Terre Haute, Indiana: Moore-Langen), p. 89.

69 I b id . , p . 91. 164 efforts of Owen Davis and the development of the Lakewood Theatre in Skowhegan were complementary for many years. Meanwhile, during the regular Broadway seasons, Davis continued to write as prolifically as ever. He was quoted in 1934 as being hard at work on what he termed both an Icebound and a Nervous Wreck type play. Aware that his recent practice had been substandard, he said of his cur­ rent efforts, "They must be good because it seems to me almost time I came up with something worthwhile." 70 In spite of this, no significant productions emerged from the 1934 season. Too Many Boats and Spring Freshet both suc­ cumbed quickly in New York. The former, based on Charles L. Clifford's novel, suffered from a lack of unity and closed after only one week's run. The play was another Yankee character study featuring a hard old Maine matriarch who interferes in the life of her grandson. The New York Times called it "a base on balls"71 for Davis. The New York Sun's Richard Lockridge saw considerable vitality in the characters, but found little else good to say about th e p la y .7^

70 New York Sun, 7 February 19 34 (CF, LCTC). 71 New York Times, 12 September 1934, p. 26. 7^ Richard Lockridge, New York Sun, 7 February 1934 (CF, LCTC). 165

Spring Freshet was more interesting. Davis claimed to admire this study of New England characters he had grown up observing. He directed the production of Spring Freshet himself, but it met with critical and public indifference. Percy Hammond admitted that while Davis "knew his people" he had painted them awkwardly in his script. 73 Hammond also faulted Spring Freshet for reminding audiences that "facts are poor storytellers in the theatre."74 Emphasiz­ ing that authenticity of detail is not always synonymous with dramatic truth, Hammond found little positive to say on behalf of the new Davis play. But Davis himself thought he had worked his way back into good form with Spring Freshet. Of it, he said: "I am more enthused about Spring Freshet than anything I've written since Icebound. I think Spring Freshet is a better play. In a way, it's a sequel to Icebound, using the same small town Maine locale. But the characters are different, the time is twelve years later and the grim despairing note of Icebound has given way to a more hopeful and cheerful atmosphere."7^ Since its reception remained tepid, the play soon closed. Although none of his plays gained major acclaim

73 Percy Hammond, New York Herald, 5 October 1934 (CF, LCTC). 74 I b id . 75 A p la y b ill d ated January, 1934 (CF, LCTC). on the stage in 1934, Davis had begun to experiment again. One of the areas he found fascinating was the field of radio drama. He created a popular weekly series for Proctor and Gamble called "The Gibson Family." This syn­ dicated series was a variation on musical comedy and was produced in cooperation with Arthur Schwartz and Howard Dietz. The program continued for thirty-nine weeks, but echoing his Hollywood experience, Davis grew weary of the rapid rate at which the new medium devoured material. Soon his in itial enthusiasm faded, and he gave up active participation in the development of drama on the air. His conviction that literature must evolve more slowly than radio's demands could allow precluded any further long­ term interest in it for hin. Davis did, however, gain several valuable skills from his attempts at writing for radio audiences. He learned that the slower pace required for this kind of writing demanded a clear line of action and disciplined artistic control. In a broader sense, he discovered that since radio was free and already in the home, it was a threat not only to the movies, but to the legitimate stage as well. He concluded, however, that the film industry would feel the impact most, and later prophesied that film and the new medium of television would complement one another. Thus Davis' short tenure in radio drama taught him firmer discipline and forced him to reassess his position as a 167

"yarnspinner." Meanwhile, Davis had begun careful preparation upon his forthcoming adaptation of Ethan Frome. Probably, this work occupied much of his time during 1935, for he had no plays produced during that period. Ethan Frome was to prove Davis' best adaptation and probably his finest work. It combined all the skills which the playwright had been refining for almost forty years in the theatre and would provide his most enduring literary monument. Chapter IV The Final Twenty Years of the Career of Owen Davis: Ethan Frome (1936) to His Death (1956)

In 19 35, Owen Davis was sixty-one years old. In 1934 he had sealed a pact with Edith Wharton to prepare a stage adaptation of her powerful novel Ethan Frome. In 19 35 and 1936 he and his son Donald undertook this complex transla­ tion. Empathy with the New England characters was, of course, a strong consideration in his decision to work with the Wharton material; but Davis' admiration for the novel, in spite of its inherent despair, went much beyond simple kinship with the locale. Davis declared, "I'd have done it [Ethan Frome] for nothing. I l.ike it that much."'** The admiration was reciprocal on the part of Wharton. She had admired Davis' Icebound; when Jed Harris approached her about a possible staged version, she imme­ diately suggested that Owen Davis was the appropriate playwright to do the job.

New York Times, 9 September 19 34, IX, p. 1. ltj.8 169

Ethan Frome^ was not an easy dramatization. In fact, the preparation took over sixteen months of arduous labor. Wharton’s novel does not lend itself well to a staged treatment. Much of the story's detail is left to the reader's imagination; the dramatic confrontations are minimal and often told by characters other than the central figures. The problem facing the Davises was that of how to preserve the simplicity and austerity of the novel and still make it dramatically workable. The pivotal charac­ ters in the novel are described and talked about, but seldom speak for themselves. Mattie Silver, for example, never actually appears in the book as a speaking character. This made the task of the playwright especially difficult in attempting to devise a script which could convey the honesty of Wharton's cryptic plot. After playing to enthusiastic audiences at Phila­ delphia's Garrick Theatre for the three months [prior to its official New York opening], Ethan Frome opened in New York on 21 January at the National Theatre. Directed by Guthrie McClintock and designed by Jo Mielziner, the play featured Pauline Lord as the cruel and whining hypo­ chondriac Zenobia, Ruth Gordon as Mattie Silver, and Raymond Massey as the solemn Ethan. C ritical reactions ranged from "sincerely good" to "magnificent." Even

2 Owen Davis and Donald Davis, Ethan' Frome (New York: Charles Scribners' Sons, 1936). 170

J. Brooks Atkinson, who had previously expressed reserva­ tions about the stage adaptability of novels, admitted that the transfer in this case was no "scissors and paste job, but superlative." Davis had deliberately held close to the source, adding no new dramatic incidents. This decision proved valid, and the strong dramatic con­ frontations suggested in the novel translated effectively into dialogue. With Ethan Frome, Davis regained much of his waning stature as a writer of serious work. Its crit­ ical acclaim and commercial popularity made it one of his most successful plays. Ethan Frome is similar in many respects to Icebound, Davis' first experiment in serious realism. Both are set in Maine and both emphasize man’s conflict with the soil. Both plays use the bleak landscape as a parallel to the severity of central characters. Ben and Jane in Icebound and Ethan are comparable since the potential for a kind of renaissance exists in all three figures. The fact that Ethan does not realize his potential is part of what makes the grim reality of the play more credible. The plot of. Ethan Frome has Ethan trapped by Zenobia, a harsh and selfish wife. Her imaginary illnesses have forced her husband into an untenable position both financially and personally. Although he is a young man,

3 J. Brooks Atkinson, New York Times, 7 January 1936, p . 24. 171

Frome has become a bitter farmer with a joyless existence. Into this situation arrives Mattie Silver, Zenobia Frome's cousin, who has come to help nurse.Zeena. Vivacious, warm and loving, Mattie transforms Ethan; but in doing so she antagonizes the jealous Zenobia, who attempts to dismiss th e younger woman. Ethan s tru g g le s to keep M a ttie , b u t his love for her conflicts with his sense of duty to his wife. The obstacles to their love become so extreme that Ethan and Mattie spontaneously try to resolve their dilemma in a double suicide. Both survive the attempt, but Mattie is crippled. Ethan is then left facing a bleak future, chained now to two invalids for the rest of his life. He cries in despair as the play ends, "The Fromes're tough, I guess. The doctor was sayin1 to me only the other day . . . 'Frome,' he says, 'you'll likely touch a hundred'."^ The scene provides a grim and ironic conclu­ sio n . But in Ethan Frome, as in much of Davis' more mature work, the plot is not the script's major strength. It is rather in the development and orchestration of all three of the pivotal characters that his excellence as a serious writer of realism is best illustrated. Ethan's frustra­ tion at his inability to deal with the ethical and environ­ mental forces which have produced his situation furnishes

4 Owen Davis and Donald Davis, Ethan Frome, Epilogue. 172

the central conflict. But Zeena's pitiful struggle to cling to what little she has and M attie's devotion to Ethan provide additional evocative characterizations. Wharton's tale of Ethan had moved Davis. He added nothing and changed very little beyond the actual representation of Mattie, choosing rather to devise technical means (flashbacks, for example) to help the characters articu­ late their feelings. In the Davis play, the dialogue had to do what pages of subjective text had done in the novel. In order to achieve this, Davis opens the play with a short prologue showing a youth renting a wagon from old Ethan for a trip from Starkfield to Carbury. After this expository section in which Frome's condition is revealed, Davis moves into the earlier period, immediately prior to the arrival of Mattie Silver. The action then unfolds sequentially through the suicide attempt, leaving an epilogue to describe the horror of the abortive death ride on the m oonlit h i l l s i d e . This d e c isio n to move away from a sim ple emulative retelling of the tale is one of the major factors contributing to the script's success on the stage. But it is the psychological examination of the motiva­ tions of three profoundly pained human beings that elevates the play above his previous work. Ethan is caused to come full circle before the final resolution of the story. He is embittered and in despair before he is transformed, even transfigured, by Mattie's love. But through a cruel 173

Providence, his consummate destiny is an even deeper despair than that from which he had emerged. Early in the play, his attempts to endure his life with Zenobia provide Ethan with a kind of stoic nobility. Never a complainer in spite of his misery, he is convinced that he is responsible for his role in life. His dogged fidelity to his pact with Zeena and the bitter reality of his poverty are simply, to him, unalterable truths of his existence. But with the arrival of Mattie Silver, Ethan discovers a side of himself which had been long submerged, even frozen. He expresses the joy of his discovery to Mattie, "I want to do for you and care for you like you need! I want to put out my hand and touch you . . . I want to be there if you're sick and when you're lonesome."5 But even his devotion to the effer­ vescent Mattie fails to allow him the freedom of spirit to thwart his wife, his Puritanical morality, and the soil, all of which have combined to subdue him. He accepts the world and what it brings to him. Possessing a capacity to endure in the face of hardship, he refuses to act in any positive way to escape his entrapment. Zenobia represents the dark, antagonistic forces which lim it Ethan's free choice. Wharton describes her as a "rather drab and humorless woman," who by her own

5 Owen Davis and Donald Davis, Ethan Frome, Act II. 174

viciousness and selfish hypochondria prevents Ethan's escape. Like the bitter New England landscape, she is relentless. Her cruelty seems almost impersonal and inherent to her nature. This makes it difficult to identify her actions as matters of personal choice. Davis' Zeena, less starkly evil than the model provided by Wharton, seems a more human creation. She can "decide to be pathetic" at will, or she can be relentlessly firm with the declaration that "whatever happens, she ain 't to be left alone."® Her maladies do not render her ineffec­ tual, however. In many respects, she is the strongest character in the play. She is certainly the most willful and most resourceful. This, coupled with her clever 'capacity for turning events to her own advantage, especially when she can work on Ethan's sense of guilt, makes her a formidable adversary. When Ethan courageously confronts her with his dream of a "fresh start" and expresses honest willingness to live up to his vow of seeing her cared for (even offering her the mill and farm which he had struggled so long to keep), she crushes him; and in a final act of cruel retribution, initiates the dismissal of Mattie Silver. Well aware of the strength of her claims on Ethan, she wishes to destroy for all time any hope Ethan may have for a life that does not include

® Owen Davis and Donald Davis, Ethan Frome, Act II. dependence on her. She can succeed since she lives in a Puritanical world which supports the superficial display of the trappings of social respectability. She uses this to restrain her desperate husband: "If you got any sense a t a l l —you'11 buckle down and tend to your business and n stop all this stuff and nonsense." The "stuff and nonsense/" as Zenobia views it from her threatened posi­ tion, is not only Ethan's desire for Mattie, but also any glimmer of hope for a better life. Confident of her power, Zenobia even deliberately leaves the two alone together in order to torment Ethan further with the realization of what might have been. The red dish, broken in her absence, was sacred (like other of her "things") to Zenobia, that is to say, not to be used. Perhaps the only truly sym­ pathetic moment provided for her in the entire script comes when she cries into her wedding dress after confront­ ing Mattie; this image is an addition by Davis to make her seem more human perhaps. Contrary to Zenobia, Mattie Silver is open, candid, and self-effacing, and possesses in abundance the quality which Zeena thoroughly lacks, joy. Her youthful exuberance has not been dulled by her condition in life, even though her poverty is equal to that of any character in the drama. She kindles in Ethan not only personal romantic yearnings, but a more optimistic world view. Mattie is compelling

7 Owen Davis and Donald Davis, Ethan Frome, Act II. 176 because of her naivete and her candor/ which are reluctant to yield to the frigid Maine environs and the adversity and meanness of Zenobia Frome. She is, in fact, so open in her behavior that some critics have interpreted her as unduly foolish. But given her age, her background, and the situa­ tion into which she falls, her actions do not appear incon­ sistent with her personality as both Wharton and Davis draw i t . Relentless is a word which has often been used to describe the plot of Ethan Frome. Never before had Davis more effectively ordered his action and used the linear cause-and-effect devices of the New Realism. The reader is aware at the outset how illadvised is the course of action which Ethan and Mattie decide to follow. A kind of fatalistic pall settles on the play quite early in the first act. The actual relationship of the two is developed slowly and with subtle touches and erupts into passion only in the moments immediately prior to the mounting of the toboggan in a perverted desire for release through death. Davis used visual devices to complement rather than to replace other elements. Through the powerful contribution of designer Jo Mielziner, Davis found new ways to emphasize interior truths by means of profound visual images. The visual comes to the front in this play partially because of the nature of the characters themselves. Since they are reticent, it is necessary to employ highly specific stage 177 directions to assure meaningful performance values. The subtext, the unspoken dialogue, is a significant part of the play's action. Much of the power of the play stems from Davis' capacity for the demonstration of emotion in visceral terms. Zeena illuminated in the doorway upon Ethan and M attie's guilty return after the dance is a good example of this; it represents a scene reminiscent in form of the old "breakthrough" moments in melodrama. A more cultivated taste now allowed him to incorporate such scenic devices to meet the specific demands of a more sophisticated genre. It was not until the Wharton adaptation that Davis was able to succeed in wedding plot, character, and spectacle. Supporting characters are well drawn in Ethan Frome, but tend to pale before the power of the central trium­ virate. The other figures in the play primarily furnish a part of the background against which Ethan, Mattie, and Zeena function. Denis, for example, is a "snappier" ver­ sion of a young Ethan, Ed is a stereotypical protective father, and Jotham, the "half a handyman," a provider of limited comic relief in the manner of the old melodrama humours comedians. Davis' ear for dialects .and his dexterity at record­ ing speech patterns enable him to create in Ethan Frome a language rich in rhythm and colloquial usage. Avoiding naive symbols and expansive metaphors, Davis created a 178

credible diction which complemented his theme of repres­ sion and entrapment. Ethan Frome was as near as Owen Davis was ever able to come to a meaningful balance of the art and the craft of theatre and the coalescence of aural and visual elements in theatrical production. With its masterly demonstration of complex characterization, this script proved his most remarkable contribution to contemporary theatre. Joseph p Wood Krutch called Ethan Frome "overwhelmingly powerful." Critics for most of the major journals hastened to agree with this pronouncement. Davis claimed credit for "laying out" the manuscript for Ethan Frome, but he was quick to acknowledge the con­ tribution of his son, Donald. The senior Davis had focused his attention on plot construction and character • motivation. Donald, the older man asserted, did the major share of the work in the areas of dialogue and style. Owen Davis probably exaggerated his son's contributions. In an attempt to evaluate his son's approach to the material, Davis remarked:

My son, you know, isn 't what you'd call a commercial playwright. He's interested more in what he has to say than in how the public will receive it, but I've never managed to achieve that degree of objectiveness in my viewpoint. Perhaps that's the result of

8 Joseph Wood Krutch, Nation, 5 February 1936, pp. 167-168. 179

Q my term as company manager.

Mrs. Wharton spoke in glowing terms of the life which had been breathed into her New Englanders. The play was nominated for a Pulitzer Prize in a season which had boasted Maxwell Anderson’s lyrical tragedy W interset and Robert Sherwood's Idiot's Delight, which won the award. Ethan Frome was the climax of the playwright's career. The remaining years of his life were dominated by abortive creative efforts and increasingly ill health. Ethan Frome captures even more aptly than The Detour and Icebound the psychological nuances of environment and its influences on the characters enmeshed in it. Few other playwrights have been in a better position to empathize with a novelist. Both Icebound and Ethan Frome, as serious dramas of the New Realism, demonstrate a kinship with the psychological themes of Edith Wharton's novel. Davis' Maine upbringing and his understanding of people like Ethan, Zeena, and Mattie allowed him to translate Wharton's novel more honestly perhaps them any other work of his career. Davis' dedication of the play reads, "To Edith Wharton—We dedicate this attempt to translate into our own medium the story she has told so beautifully in h e r s ."10

0 George Ross, "So This Is Broadway," New York World- Telegram , 24 January 1936 (CF, LCTC). 10 Owen Davis and Donald Davis, Ethan Frome, Foreword. 180

When Wharton first read the play version, she responded, "I found myself thinking at every page, ’Here at least is a new lease of life for Ethan,' and the discovery moved me more than I can say."11 She later continued her praise stating:

I imagine few have had the luck to see the char­ acters they had imagined in fiction transported to the stage without loss or alteration of any sort. I should like to record here my apprecia­ tion of this unusual achievement and my profes­ sional admiration for the great skill and exquisite sensitiveness with which my inter­ preters have executed their task . 12

The artistic cooperation between the two artists was a unique example of respect and admiration among authors. The stage version of Ethan Frome remains a popular property today and is performed frequently in theatres around the w orld.13

11 Owen Davis and Donald Davis, Ethan Frome, Foreword. ^ Ib id . 12 As with much of the work of Owen Davis, later interpretations appeared. There was an excellent Bette Davis film and several Off-Broadway revivals of Ethan Frome. But a 1965 television airing of The DuPont Show of the Month became an object of great controversy, ending in a heated court battle. The television adapta­ tion was apparently a flagrant infringement on Davis' copyright. Donald Davis, as his father's executor, chose to pursue the violation with the same kind of zeal that had characterized his father's struggles for the rights of authors. Once again, the Davis interests prevailed and served to help clarify through litigation the legal position of America's dramatists. A summary article may be found in the New York Times, 20 August 1965, p. 43. 181

Ethan Frome constituted Davis' only important con­ tribution to the theatre scene in New York for the next several years. With the exception of a production in September of 1937 of a musical play with Laurence Stallings called Virginia, Davis' next three years were devoted almost exclusively to summer productions in Lake­ wood, Maine. Virginia did secure a New York mounting. It had emerged from special funding provided by the Rocke­ fellers and was presented at the cavernous Center Theatre. Billed as an American musical romance, the plodding book detailed the adventures of the theatre's pioneering Hallam family in Williamsburg, Virginia. Arthur Schwartz pro­ vided the score and Lee Simonson the sets. Both of these aspects of the production earned high critical praise, as did the efforts of the large cast, which included Gene Lockhart, Nigel Bruce, and the ebullient John Bubbles. Recognizing that his book was undermining the potential for the production, Davis closed the show and attempted a thorough revision. He then reopened it in October of the same season. But the book was called to task for a second time, and the show was forced to close for good. Outside of New York, one of the Lakewood ventures that year, called Two Time Mary, had been predicted to have the hilarious potential of The Nervous Wreck. In

14 New York Tim es, 12 September 1937 (CF, LCTC). 182 one week over 6,500 people saw the new play, including Burns Mantle and representatives of the Shubert offices, but no further productions materialized. By 19 38, Davis, now sixty-four years of age, had declined in health. His eyes were failing, and internal disorders plagued him constantly. On 1 January 19 39 he entered New York's Lennox Hospital in a serious condi­ tion. He was confined there for five months. After his release and an unduly short recuperative period, he applied himself with renewed vigor to stock productions and what he construed as the lighter pressures of the Lakewood theatre. Indian Summer,^ Love and All That, and Let's Never Change were produced during this period, but none attracted sufficient attention to warrant a New York production. In fact, Love and All That drew some of the most negative reactions of Davis' later career. Billboard and Variety had both sent representatives to Maine. The play was accused of being so "straw-hat" that it was beneath the level of serious consideration. The play lasted only eighty minutes and demanded such abrupt and unmotivated action that it met with little positive response of any kind, even at Skowhegan, where Davis was immensely

15 Owen Davis, Indian Summer (New York: Samuel French, 1 940). 183 p o p u lar. 1 ° The amount of work undertaken by Davis at this time proved to be overindulgent for a sick man, and he was soon forced to return to the hospital. But by 1941, he once again felt strong enough to undertake several new projects. In the early part of the year, he became enthusiastic about the escapades of the fictional detective team of Mr. and Mrs. North. These adventures by Prances and Richard Lock- ridge had long been a popular favorite in The New Yorker magazine. Lockridge, at that time a drama critic for the New York Evening Sun, was an old acquaintance of Davis'. When the playwright expressed the belief to Lockridge that the almost forty stories might adapt well for the stage, an agreement was reached allowing Davis to attempt the p ro je c t. Mr. and Mrs. N orth,1 7' a high comedy-mystery play based primarily on "The Norths Meet Murder," was tried out successfully in Maine. It was then brought to Broadway at the Belasco Theatre on 12 January 1941. Staged by Alfred DeLiagre and designed by M ielziner,. the production caught the fancy of many of the critics. The dizzy sleuths,

John B. Oblak, Bringing Broadway To Maine (Terre Haute, Indiana: Moore-Langen,• ), p. 119. 1^ Owen Davis, Mr. and Mrs. North (New York: Samuel French, 1941). 184

Jerry and Pamela, were portrayed by Albert Hackett and Peggy Conklin.*8 Owen Davis, Jr. filled a supporting role, and an attractive assemblage of prominent New York players made up th e r e s t .-of th e c a s t. Richard Watts of the Herald-Tribune praised the char­ acterization,^ and the Sun's Herrick Brown saw the whole evening as "entertaining and breezy."20 Treating murder as a subject for comedy had come into vogue in the early 1940's. Mr. and Mrs. North opened within two weeks of Arsenic and Old Lace, thus providing 1941 with two major stage successes built on lighthearted dealings with murder. J. Brooks Atkinson was one critic who remained skeptical about this, but since Arsenic and Old Lace finally sustained a run of almost 1,500 performances, his concern about the grisly subject matter' was apparently not shared by theatregoers. The Davis play had an engage­ ment of 163 performances. Later the play was expanded into a very popular radio series, a television script, and a sequence of entertaining Hollywood films. Mr. and Mrs. .North did have a major tragic overtone,

-1-8 Davis had approached Ruth Gordon about the part of Pamela, but was unable to secure her for it. The later film versions, which were also scripted by Davis, featured Gracie Allen as the indomitable firs. North. Herrick Brown, New York Sun, 13 January 1941 (CF, LCTC). 20 Richard Watts, New York Herald-Tribune, 13 January 1941, p. 23. 185

however. It marked the last stage appearance for Owen Davis, Jr., who later died in a bizarre yachting accident.21 The play also represented the senior Davis' last substantial successful play. Up to this point, Owen Davis had managed to present at least one play or more on Broadway for almost forty years. But the efforts which followed Mr. and Mrs. North were sad shadows of what had gone before. Following a brief sojourn back at Skowhegan as the war years began, Davis undertook an adaptation of Richard Shattuck's novel (with regards to Lewis Carroll), The Snark Was a Boojum. This comedy about pregnancy proved to be an incomprehensible mixture of styles which succeeded only in puzzling audiences. After five evenings, it closed. A Lakewood stock tryout version of a comedy called Fam ily Honeymoon based on Homer C roy's novel o f th e same title appeared in 1941. Like most Davis premieres, it had drawn prominent visitors to Maine from the New York scene and the film community. Among these visitors was Vinton Freedley, the New York producer. He and his associates had hoped to produce Family Honeymoon in New York, but the play was apparently such a disappointment that the project was shelved and eventually discarded. Elinor Hughes,

21 Full accounts of the strange disappearance and death of Owen Davis, Jr. may be found in the New York Times of May 22-May 26, 19 49. 186 writing in the Boston Herald, said that the play failed on several counts. The principals, she said, appeared too youthful in their roles and the entire script was in serious need of rewriting. She also strongly urged recast­ ing many of the parts. She concluded that the play lacked the potential for a Broadway engagement. A By 1944, Davis was once again spending much of his time in hospitals. On 30 October of that year, however,, his last effort to find professional production opened at the Cort Theatre. Davis had tried to use his personal experiences and observations while in the hospital to make a socially significant statement about medical ethics. The result was ironic. It proved to be a reversion to almost pure melodrama. Entitled No Way Out,22 the new play was staged by the author and Robert Keith. Lewis Nichols, writing of the play in the New York Times, said, "the operation was successful, but the play died."2'* The script so resembled his early melodramas that Robert Garland suggested renaming it, Barbara, the Beautiful pc Doomed One.

22 Elinor Hughes,' Boston Herald, 29 June 1941 (CF, LCTC). 23 Owen D avis, "No Nay O ut," 1944 CUT/ LCTC). 2i* Lewis Nichols, Hew York Times, 31 October 1946, p . 23. 25 Robert Garland, in an unidentified clipping (CF, LCTC). 187

Manuscripts called No Pockets In Shrouds and All Blood Is Red, planned in 1946 and 19 47, were apparently completed but never produced. In 1948 Jose Ferrer revived The World We Live In (Davis' adaptation of the Capek Insect Play), hoping it would make some statement concern­ ing World War II in much the same manner that it had about World War I three decades before. But the message seemed stilted and overly didactic. The overdrawn situations and superficial symbols were too naive for modem audi­ ences. Despite strong portrayals by Ferrer and George Coulouris in difficult roles, and an exceptional chore­ ographic treatment by Hanya Holm, the production by the New York City Theatre Company failed to make the play relevant or even interesting. Suffering increasingly from diverse forms of illness . and demoralized by his son's untimely death in May of 1949, Davis busied himself with the preparation of a second set of memoirs called My First Fifty Years in the Theatre. He concluded this chronicle with the typically optimistic s plan to write of his second fifty years, but his death in New York City Hospital on 14 October 1956 at the age of eighty-two prevented this. The death of the "dean of American playwrights"^ went relatively unnoticed in the theatre community, but his life, as much as that of any

26 New York Tim es, 12 Ju ly 1950 (CF, LCTC). 188 figure of his era, had been integral to the formulation of the theatre scene in the United States. Chapter V The Organizational Work of Owen Davis

Throughout his professional career Owen Davis opposed "turning over to anybody the right to change one syllable without the author's written consent."^ This view furnished the essence of the minimum basic agreement which emerged from the "fair and reasonable division of profits" battles between the playwrights and the managers in the 1920's. This pact finally gave to the dramatist an enforceable agreement and solid legal status as well as protection for his created property. The basic agreement of 1925 was the work of The Dramatists Guild of The Authors League of America, and that guild was, to a large measure, the work of Owen Davis. In fact, Davis was given the distinction of moving the acceptance of the basic agree­ ment when the ultimate acceptance was called for. Davis remained in the vanguard of theatre artists striving for autonomy for many years. He served on the Guild's Advisory Council until his death in 1956. He was

^ New York Times, 21 October 1936, II, p. 3. 169 190

an outspoken champion for the diverse causes which culminated in the new rapport between dramatists and producers and manager's groups which came into existence in the 1920's. One illustration of this was the Manager's Protective Association. The managers had been guilty of dealing with the playwrights through benevolence and caprice. No agreed-upon terms and conditions had ever really existed for the handling of dramatic properties. Davis waged his fight through personal pronouncements in the press, but more effectively, by his assumption of active leadership roles in theatrical organizations. He had occupied the presidency of the old socially-oriented Society of Dramatists and Composers. From that base, he moved to a position of co-founder and first president of The Dramatists Guild, active committeeman, and eventually president of The Authors League of America (the first dramatist ever to hold that position), and a strong spokes­ man for The National Institute of Arts and Letters. Expanding his fields in which to do battle with unscrupu­ lous managers, narrow-minded civic authorities, and dishonest copyright thieves, he sponsored the unique play "jury” program in New York City, initiated numerous anti­ censorship campaigns, and unwaveringly pursued into court

2 These juries operated on the premise that creative artists should be judged only by panels composed of other creative people and not by civil authorities. 191 anyone guilty of tampering with his personal copyrights. He was counted among the vanguard of those who stood with the Shuberts, Fiskes, and Davis Belasco in their opposi- tion to the powerful machinations of the theatrical syndi­ cate. In short, Owen Davis became one of the strongest organization men in the American theatre in the early twentieth century.^ Davis' dexterity at gaining influential positions rested on two factors: the favor of his friend Augustus Thomas, who preceded him in many of the responsible posts, and his untarnished ethical reputation. He inspired trust, not only among his fellow dramatists, but within the ranks of the managers as well. Known as non-political and con­ servative in his professional endeavors, he avoided most of the usual abrasive labor tactics and subsequently suc­ ceeded in providing unprecedented communication between opposing parties in contractual disputes. Davis participated in every step of the evolution of The Dramatists Guild as it organized in an attempt to improve conditions which permitted extensive managerial abuse. The problem w ith the managers had e x is te d fo r many years. Many managers maintained favorite playwrights in a kind of exclusive stable. This situation made it difficult

3 The other most influential figure in this area was Augustus Thomas. 192

for new writers or those less favored to work. Davis, as early as 1908, had taken a stand deploring advertisements like "Belasco's latest" or "Charles Prohman presents," believing that the writer should not allow himself to be submerged by the producer.4 Individual contracts and working conditions were often heavily weighted on the side of th e manager. Although Davis and Thomas had a tta in e d sufficient status not to be personally hurt by these con­ ditions, they chose nonetheless to strike out on behalf of their fellow artists who did stand to suffer. These two figures, along with Belasco, represented the chief links of the 1920's to the past, they understood the early developments that had brought about the conditions against which the writers were struggling. Davis had begun writ­ ing when Bronson Howard was A m erica's c h ie f d ra m a tis t. He remained active until Tennessee Williams gained that distinction some thirty years later. But his experience and reputation had placed him in a unique position of leadership among his colleagues early in hisc a r e e r . ^ The organization of The Dramatists Guild had actually needed the catalyst of the 1918 Equity actor's strike to gain the impetus toward regrouping and the search for a

4 Columbus D isp atch , 1 November 190 8 (CF, LCTC). 5 George Middleton, Owen Davis. A memorial pamphlet published by the Dramatists Guild of the Authors League of America, 1956. more powerful rallying point. The actors had displayed unexpected solidarity in opposing the vicious standards of the business end of the theatre and were finally gaining ground. Since the authors/ even though financially . stricken by the theatre closings precipitated by the strike, generally favored the cause of the actors, they began to consider the possibility of action on their own behalf. Davis was called upon to preside at these deliberations, partially because he was president of the impotent Dramatists and Composers organization and partially because he had three productions on Broadway and understood the need for action only too well. What then occurred was the merger of the old organization into the Authors League of America. The new group was to be a separate organ (the new and stronger Dramatists Guild) and operate under the umbrella of the conglomerate of authors. Owen Davis was unanimously declared its first president, serving from 1918 to 1922, when he resigned to become president of the parent body. Among those most actively involved in the early days of the guild were James Forbes, Rupert Hughes, Channing Pollock, Rachel Crothers, and Augustus Thomas. These figures and others, under Davis' leadership, secured a new status for American writers for the theatre.^

6 The boundaries of film rights, loans, temporary problems, and homes for aged and indigent actors were just 194

The w riters' groups, however, made up only part of the organization work performed by Owen Davis. The "play jury"^ was an admirable illustration of his desire to see the art govern itself. Davis and his colleague Thomas had the fortitude to voice widespread protests when New York civil authorities attempted to assume a position which could dictate the moral acceptability of dramatic material. Davis' play in response argued for voluntary policing, and if necessary, censorship by the dramatists themselves through an appointed, but artistically knowledgeable jury. His objection to the civil approach was that civic magistrates could be politically biased or simply too unin­ formed to judge effectively. A great dispute ensued and lasted for almost four years before the city decided to p drop its plans. Davis had insisted upon voluntary censor­ ship as the only effective deterrent to abuse. Three men (Thomas, now representing the producers and managers, John Cromwell, a manager, and Davis) had gone directly to the public protesting civil interference in the art of the

a few of the areas addressed by the work initiated by Davis and the guild. 7 Continuous articles pro and con appeared in the New York Times from 1922 through 1925. 8 The "jury" alternative proposed by Davis never really became viable, but political leaders were prevented from exercising undue power in artistic matters. 195 theatre. William A. Brady soon joined them and they united to oppose New York Police Commissioner Enright and Commissioner of Licenses Glatzmeyer. Thomas had taken the position that theatre laws should parallel the book laws and that no censorship should be considered unless initiated by offended citizens. The idealistic Davis strongly voiced his agreement stating/ "I never saw a dirty play succeed if it had no other value. Authors must compete with them [the potential censors] or work to suppress them. Davis maintained further that the stage had never assumed the role of establishing morals, but rather, of reflecting them. No man, he said, is qualified to impose his standards upon o th e rs . By June, 1926, Davis had been made chairman of the play jury committee which was attempting to prove it could function effectively. Plays like Bunk of 1926 underwent scrutiny from within the theatre community. Joseph Wood Krutch went on record as opposing all censorship, but Davis' advisory jury had apparently satisfied all factions until it was no longer needed. Davis predicted that "the censor in the end will disappear not wholly because he is no longer needed but because he will be no longer

9 Owen Davis, New York Times, 27 November 1923, I, p . 5. . 19 6 understood."^-® Also, he said, "the thing that should be unlawful in the theatre is bad taste, and good taste is the result of education, not of restriction. He saw new theatre audiences as increasingly sophisticated and believed that standards must evolve independently of any external pronouncements. "Censorship," he declared, "is wrong in theory and ridiculous in practice."12 In the realm of copyright protection for dramatists, his most publicized court battles ranged from Theda Bara's Blue Flame litigation through the television infringement case involving Davis' Ethan Frome rights, which was fought in 1960 by his son Donald. Davis' autobiographies insist (and press coverage supports the opinion) that Davis never went to court for personal gain. He remained, however, unremitting in pursuing his own copyright violations in order to demonstrate the new position of security which had been so recently gained for American playwrights. Of th e two cases a llu d e d to above, the form er illustrates his ongoing effort. Leta Vance Nicholson had written a novel called Lola. Purchased by Al Woods, it was reconstructed by Davis and released in 1911 as a play at Lyceum T heatre fe a tu rin g L a u re tte T aylor. A play c a lle d

New York Times, 28 February 1927, p. 21.

1 1 I b i d * 12 Ib id . 19 7

The Blue Flame/ prepared as Theda Bara's Broadway debut, was a bastardized version of Davis' Lola. The production of The Blue Flame elicited from Nicholson a disavowal of any connection with the "crude and witless vulgarity"^ she saw enacted. Davis however, chose not to let an obvious infringement go by unchallenged. The case centered on what was to be considered the legitimate source of The Blue Flame, the Nicholson novel or its legal recon­ struction by Davis for the stage.14 Davis fought the case vigorously and ultimately won appropriate damages. In addition to his ongoing struggles for the guardian­ ship of authors' properties, Davis also spoke out strongly on other matters. His views on the influence of the great Syndicate upon the American theatre scene illustrate this. He admired the structure which the builders of this "imposing" organization had created, but saw no way to use it. Distrusting businessmen and organizers in the roles of artists, Davis joined those who applauded the Syndidate's demise. He readily admitted that the Frohmans, Klaws, Erlangers, and Nixons had served a necessary unify­ ing purpose, but added that only artists of the theatre should be entrusted to make decisions in the theatre. Davis credits Lee Shubert with the primary influence in

New York Times, 28 February 1927, p. 21. 14 Miss Nicholson was totally unknown when Woods bought her script. She had given Davis permission for broad rewriting. 198

the defeat of the conglomerate, but saw the work of The Theatre Guild, Arthur Hopkins, and Jed Harris as provid­ ing intelligent alternatives to the commercial advances th a t had been made by th e businessm en. Davis also became involved in short-lived attempts at projects like a national theatre and a drama school. Either of these ventures, had they proved successful, might have provided a major contribution to theatre in America. The national theatre scheme was the idea of Augustus Thomas and although it proved too altruistic to be practical, a single venture in Washington, D.C. did gain production. The university project resulted in the formulation, with Winthrop Ames (another Harvard man), of the Cambridge School of Drama. Neither endeavor managed enough support to survive. Ames, in h is l a t e r p o s itio n as Chairman o f th e Commit­ tee of Theatre Managers, offered Davis the office of political head of a managerial organization. This would have been a job not unlike that of baseball commissioner. Although honored by the respect and trust the offer car­ ried with it, especially from his former adversaries, Davis was compelled to refuse. All of the above activities, along with his energetic work with The P l a y e r s ^ and the Pulitzer Prize Selection

15 Owen Davis was proposed for membership in the prestigious Players by Robert H. Davis on 4 November 1936. 199

Committee serve to demonstrate the enormous energy and influence of Owen Davis in areas not always directly related to his own artistic output. When Augustus Thomas enthusiastically praised Davis' work in these areas, the playwright modestly stated, "For some reason [Thomas] got the idea that I had a good business sense and some skill for organization and executive direction, and he drafted me into many opportunities of exercising these great gifts that existed in his own highly developed fancy."16 Had he never written a major play, his exertions in the area of organizational practice alone would have earned for him a noteworthy place in the history of American theatre.

He was elected on 28 December of the same year. 16 Owen Davis,' My F irst Fifty Years in the Theatre, p. 45. C on clu sion

This study has traced the career of playwright Owen Davis from its early stages in sensational melodrama through his maturity as a serious writer and to his sub­ sequent decline and death. The early portion of his artistic life was spent producing lurid "melodramas" for what was then called the "ten-twenty-'thirt" house of the popular-priced theatre circuit. Relying exclusively on stereotyped characters, a successful writing formula, and an intuitive respect for the power of visual theatre, Davis soon became America's foremost practitioner in this genre. This apprenticeship in the theatres of New York's Bowery provided him with valuable experience and a practi­ cal appreciation for a theatre which emphasized spectacle over all other elements. His burgeoning skills, the arrival of the silent movies and their subsequent infringe­ ment upon popular spectacular theatre, and an earnest desire to mature as a writer brought Davis to a decision to attempt to rise from the ranks of the purveyors of lurid melodrama. This proved a very difficult task. 200 201

His drive for acceptance as a legitimate dramatist was a slow process. But the social melodramas then popu­ lar in Broadway’s theatres provided him with good transi­ tional material to aspire to. He succeeded and became an accepted "two dollar" playwright. This period in his development was characterized by not only better plots, but more importantly, maturing character work. Unfortunately, although these uptown melodramas gave him considerable commercial success, they did little to keep him from constantly returning to the romantic simplicity of his earlier practice. His personal optimistic world view also tended to support his dependence upon plots and characters that elicited critical comparison to his work in the "ten-twenty-'th irt." Nonetheless, maturation con­ tinued and by the early years of the 1920's, he was riding the crest of popular and critical acceptance. Between 1921 and 1926 he produced two distinguished works in the New Realistic mode then associated with the ascendant work of Eugene O'Neill (The Detour and Icebound) and two first rate farces (The Nervous Wreck and The Haunted House) . These efforts earned him acceptance into the National Institute of Arts and Letters and a Pulitzer Prize. His next decision proved to be artistically disastrous. He chose to work toward the creation of a realistic drama of optimism which would be consistent with his view of the unique character of the American 202

experience. His quest for a script in this vein proved fruitless and probably contributed heavily to his inability to follow up his initial realistic successes with addi­ tional manuscripts of high quality. A major exception to this decline came in 19 36 when he was responsible for the adaptation of Edith Wharton's novel Ethan Frome. Adhering closely to the source and holding his own naive personal optimism in abeyance, Davis succeeded in translating the grim reality of the Wharton novel into an impressive stage production. This play, a collaboration with his son Donald Davis, probably repre­ sents the best work of Owen Davis' career. After Ethan Frome, his artistic reputation waned; he vainly sought success with a kind of romantic realism. But, for his critics, his plays seemed naive and repeti­ tive. A pleasant drawing room comedy, Mr. and Mrs. North, highlighted his work as late as 1941; but by then the playwright was already plagued with illness and failing eyesight. The great portion of the remainder of his life he spent in New York hospitals. He died in 1956, having, failed to produce any work of real merit in the last fifteen years of his life. Was Davis a great playwright? Davis himself probably answered this best. "I myself," he said, "have always written for the love of the theatre rather than from any art impulse and I am the first to admit that my love of 203 the theatre has always been more compelling than my love of the drama, if ^ ju follow my distinction. I have studied my own small talents and developed them and tried to make up for a lack of the real fires of genius by an honest admission of that lack and a true enthusiasm for the work that at the moment came nearest to expressing my attitude."1 Davis' overwhelming productivity (over 160 plays, nearly all of which were produced), and those notable exceptions to his "factory melodramas," along with his organization work, make Davis a unique figure in the history of American theatre. Certainly, the sheer bulk of his writing is impressive. Pew playwrights have succeeded in seeing so much of their work professionally performed. American audiences viewed new plays by Owen Davis every season for four decades. This prolific writing and his reputation as a commercially popular playwright for a lifetime in the theatre are also significant. Davis began writing plays when Bronson Howard C1842-190 8) was s till America's leading dramatist. His career did not end until Tennessee Williams (1911- ) had assumed that mantle forty years later. During that time, his activities were interwoven with the lives and work of most of the major figures in our theatre's history. The memoirs of Owen

1 Owen Davis, I'd Like To DO It Again, pp. 122-123. 204

Davis read like chronicles of Broadway for half a century. At. least four of Davis' plays deserve a lasting place in American dramatic literature. His two realistic plays (The Detour and Icebound) in the manner of O’N eill's Beyond the Horizon are independently fine dramas. His farce, The Nervous Wreck, is still being revived at the time of this study. The Haunted House falls only a few paces behind The Nervous Wreck as an effective situation comedy. But perhaps his major contribution w ill prove to be his dramatization of Ethan Frome. Its subject, its setting, characterization, and its skillful coordination of all the elements of theatre make it a classic American p la y . Since many critics of his day considered Davis second only to O'Neill in the art of the New Realism, he must be credited with strongly influencing the regional drama of the 1920's and 1930's. His use of New England backgrounds stands as an excellent model for the popular "folk drama" of that period in the development of indigenous drama for a young country. Although it addressed a strictly proletarian audience, Davis' sensational melodramatic art represents a tangible aspect of his achievement. These plays are especially valuable as social documents about the theatre practice of another time. From them, we can gain insights into the audiences and technical practices of the period. It must

•4 205 be remembered that he was the best, as well as the most prolific of his peers in the genre, and these plays reveal much about popular theatrical appeals on the American stage. If as dramatic literature, these plays offer little, as chronicles of the popular farce of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, they are invaluable. Adaptation is an art in itself. Owen Davis' versions of The Good Earth, The Great Gatsby, Mr. and Mrs. North, and Ethan Frome, represent this special skill refined to a degree not often attained. A short independent section of this study has been devoted to an overview of some of the widespread organiza­ tional work of Owen Davis. His efforts on behalf of his chosen profession and his fellow artists represent dis­ tinguished contributions to the betterment of the American th e a tre . His personal "ethos" was so exceptional that it must be mentioned in weighing his significance. In the process of extensive research for this study, I found no material which faintly suggests negative personal reactions to the man. His reputation throughout his career remained untarnished, which placed him in positions of leadership, and trust impossible for figures of lesser stature. Yet in spite of his many achievements, historians have given him little attention, and most contemporary 206 theatre students do not know his work at all. Part of his obscurity lies in his lack of success in the later years of his life. Owen Davis was a consummate craftsman of theatre# writing always with an eye to the visual power of the live performance. His practical experience and the fact that he wrote always with production foremost in his mind lend credence to a claim that he understood theatrical audi­ ences better than any man in America. His productivity, versatility* and willingness to experiment in many writing styles and forms added to his maturing into a highly successful commercial playwright. His acute observation, his sense of timing and empathy with trends and con­ temporary events made him popularly, if not always critically, acclaimed. His earnest desire to seek higher ground artistically should be co n sid ered among h is s tre n g th s . T his re s u lte d in innovative, yet popular story lines. His growing skills in characterization paralleled his understanding of the proper place of spectacle in relation to plot, making many of his mature plays uniquely effective in production. Unfortunately, many of these strengths may have also contributed to his lack of universal appeal. The "contemporaneous" quality of his work often made it ephemeral and too closely tied to its immediate period to carry any lasting significance. His open and optimistic 207 nature contributed to his lack of a social consciousness in his writing, resulting in accusations decrying his unwillingness to take positions in the majority of his plays. As a practical man of the theatre, Davis appeared to find more satisfaction in seeing his work produced on a stage than in hoping for its encasement in anthologies. His was a living and breathing the-atre, and his work sought the performance for its completion. Owen Davis, perhaps more than any other playwright in the first half of the twentieth century, represents in his art the unique spirit of America, from its humble beginnings to its growing maturity and sophistication. The naivete and innocence of his early melodramas paralleled the spirit of the age from which they came. When that stage is left behind, much is gained in maturity, but much is also lost in simple faith and trust. The audience sense of identity as a community and the spontaneous interaction in collective responses to mass appeals had provided Davis with a unique laboratory in which to develop his early practice, but with the more complex demands of the New Realism and his own literary maturation, the playwright discovered that the inherent optimism of his practice failed to achieve any consistent critical success. The career of Owen Davis spanned some of the most important years in the development of theatre in America. 208

Plays prior to 1890 tended to be derivative, often based on English models. Davis’ career paralleled our growth from the dependent fledgling theatre of the years just before the turn of the twentieth century to the diverse and independent art which was born in the 1920's and has flourished since. If Davis lacked the isolated "magnum opus" that is often prerequisite to a place in history, his cumulative contributions more than make up for it. An erudite and earnest Harvard man, Davis, perhaps naively, sought for almost sixty years, an expression of the unique spirit of the American theatre. In the search he achieved an exemplary career, both in terms of productivity as a playwright and as an influence on other artists and organizations. In his candor, he could say of his futile search for his interpretation of the American expression, "I simply wanted to say that life was worth living because that is the way I have found i t.1,2 In the moving memorial pamphlet prepared for the Dramatists Guild commemorating Owen Davis, George Middle­ ton recalled Davis' saying, "This is the best play I've ever written, George." But then, Middleton continued, "this was what he always said to me about each play he was working on.1'3

* 2 Owen Davis, I'd Like' To Do It Again, p. 186.

3 raid-/ P- 193. 209

In the concluding pages of his 1931 memoirs, I ’d Like To Do It Again, Davis said:

For thirty years I have had at least one play produced in New York each season. I'm going to have one produced for as many more seasons as I can, more than one if I can, and as good plays as I can. It may well be that this thing of producing plays isn 't as wonderful a thing as I think it i s , b u t it's my trade. I have served the theatre joyfully for a long time and if a good fairy appeared before me to-day and offered me the famous "one wish" I am sure that I should say, "Please, good fairy, I'd like to do it a g a in ." 4

The total commitment of Owen Davis to the practice of theatre and playwriting provides the strongest evidence of his significance in the history of theatre in America. He was a figure of great stature for a half a century, and his obscurity is undeserved. This study has attempted to correct that injustice.

4 Owen Davis, I'd Like To Do; It Again, p. 193. Appendix A Compilation of the Plays of Owen Davis

Johnson 'Briscoe achieved recognition as a casting director for Winthrop Ames. Among his other accomplish­ ments was his interest in threatre research and free­ lance writing. One of his articles appeared in the New York Sun in 1933 and professed to lay at rest for all time the exact number of plays that had been written by Owen Davis.^ The following is Briscoe's list, based on his personal research and exhaustive conversations with the playwright. Immediately following the Briscoe listing, which takes the reader through early 19 33, it is a complete list of the plays published through 1956. Together, these should provide a total picture of the Owen Davis canon.

Year Play Producer

1898 For the White Rose Stock (Peaks Island) 1899 Through th e B reakers Gus H ill

^ Johnson Briscoe, in Ward Morehouse's "Broadway After Dark," New York Sun, 18 February 1933, p. 27. (Immediately following the Briscoe list will appear a compilation of all the available chronological lists that the research for this study uncovered.}

210 211

Year P lay Producer

1900 Reaping the Whirlwind Cooke and C olien 1901 Lost in the Desert Gus H ill Under Two Flags Stock (Rochester) The Gathering Storm Stock (Rochester) 1902 A Gambler's Daughter R. L. Cresey My Old Kentucky Home Stock (Rochester Between Love and Duty Stock (Rochester) My Lady Nell Stock (Rochester) In the Hands of the EnemyStock (Rochester) 1903 A Great Temptation Forrester and Mittenthal The Lighthouse by the Sea Vance and Sullivan Her Marriage Vow Vance and Sullivan Her One False Step Stock (Rochester) Over the Quarry Brink Stock (Rochester) 1904 Tracked Around the World A. H. Woods On Thanksgiving Day Vance and Sullivan 1905 How Baxter Butted In Vance and Sullivan The Confessions of a Wife A. H. Woods The White Caps A. H. Woods A Corner in Coffee Tim Murphy 1906 At the World's Mercy A. J . Spencer Ruled Off the Turf A. H. Woods Ten Thousand Dollars Spencer and Aborn RewarcT A Marked Woman A. H. Woods 212

Year Producer

1906 Chinatown Charlie A. H. Woods The Gambler of the West A. H. Woods Nellie, the Beautiful Cloak A. H. Woods Model Secrets of the Police A. H. Woods The Burglar * s Daughter Vance and Sullivan At Yale Jules Murry 1907 The King and Queen of A. H. Woods Gamblers The Great Express Robbery A. H. Woods C onvict 999 A. H. Woods Edna, the Pretty Typewriter A. H. Woods A Chorus G irl's Luck in A. H. Woods New York Since Nellie Went Away A. H. WOods A Race Across the Continent A. H. Woods Tony the Bootblack A. H. Woods Broadway After Dark A. H. Woods Deadwood D ick1s L ast Shot A. H. Woods I t1s Never Too Late to Mend A. J . Spencer The Wire Tappers Stock (Philadelphia) 1908 The Battle of Port Arthur Hippodrome On Trial For His Life A. H. Woods The Prince of Spendthrifts A. H. Woods The Opium Smugglers o f A. H. Woods ''F ris c o 213

Year P lay Producer

1909 The Millionaire and the A. H. Woods Policeman * s Wife The Wishing Ring The Shuberts 1910 The Lamb William A. Brady The R ejuvenation of Stock (Milwaukee) John Henry 1911 An Everyday Man H. H. Frazee Lola Daniel Frohman 1912 Making Good W illiam A. Brady 1913 The Family W illiam A. Brady What Happened to Mary? Lee Morrison 1914 Beggars On Horseback Stock (Hoboken) Big Jim Garrity A. H. Woods 1915 -Sinners W illiam A. Brady 1916 Any House Sargent Aborn Mile a Minute Kendall John C ort 1917 The Scrap of Paper A. H. Woods The Arabian Nights Arthur Hopkins 1918 Forever After W illiam A. Brady 1919 Those Who Walk in Darkness The Shuberts Peggy / Behave Stock CDetroit) The Flaming Soul Tryout (Providence) At 9:45 W illiam A. Brady 1920 O pportunity William A. Brady Marry the Poor Girl Oliver Morosco Page Mr. Cupid The Shuberts 214

Year P la y Producer

1920 The Wedding Ring W illiam A. Brady A Weekend Marriage Tryout (Stamford) 1921 The Detour The Shuberts 1922 The Bronx Express The Coburns Dreams For S ale W illiam A. Brady Up the Ladder William A. Brady The World We Live In W illiam A. Brady 1923 Home F ire s The Shuberts Handcuffed Stock (San Francisco) Icebound Sam H. H arris The Nervous Wreck Sam H. H arris 1924 The Haunted House Lewis and Gordon Find the Woman Tryout (Hartford) Lazybones Sam H. H arris Peacocks Lewis and Gordon 1925 Beware o f Widows Crosby Gaige Ma Pettingill Stuart Walker Easy Come, Easy Go Lewis and Gordon (with Sam H. H arris) 1926 The Donovan Affair Al Lewis and Donald Davis Gentle Grafters Sam H. H arris The Great Gat'sby W illiam A. Brady The Phantom Ship Al Lewis Sandalwood (with. Robert Milton Fulton Ousler) 215

Year Play Producer

1926 The Man. Who Forgot (with Al Lewis S. N. Behrmanl 1927 The Triumphant B achelor The Chanins 1928 Tonight at Twelve Herman Shumlin 1929 Spring Is Here Aarons and Freedley 19 30 The Ninth Guest A. H. Woods 1931 Just To Remind You Sam H. H arris 19 32 19 33 Saturday Night William A. Brady

Omitted from the Briscoe list are other Davis plays through 1933:

1900 Over the Fence 1901 Circus Day 1902 Lost At Sea 1902 Driver From Home Far Away 1903 Queen of the White Slaves 1904 Man Proposes Father of Her Child When All The World Was Young Mut t and' J e f f 1905 A Double Life 1907 Fallen By the Wayside Cupid at Vassar 216

Year play

1908 Anita, the Singing Girl False Friends The Creole Slave1s Revenge 1909 Sold Into Slavery The Convict's Sweetheart The River Pirates Sal, the Circus Gal 1910 Cherub Divine The Prodigal Father The Chinatown Trunk Mystery (probably w ritten e a r lie r ) 1911 An Old Sweetheart of Mine A Fugitive From Justice D riftw ood Another Man's Wife Gringo 1912 A Man' s Game Shorty McCabe 1914 Robin Hood Drugged What Might Have Been 1915 Chest of Gold Cupid and Mr. Jordan *Fraid Cat Unwelcome Guest 217

Year P la Z

1915 When the Shadows Fall 1916 Key to Room 10

Speed Up What Did i Tell You 1917 Her Dearest Friend School in the Tenderloin 1918 When Our Bovs Come Home One- of the Million 1919 Lucy Wouldn't Like It 1920 No P lace Like Home At the Switch 1925 Fear 1926 Blow Your Own Horn 1928 Carry On Shotgun Wedding 1929 Dread 1930 The Wife*s Away Arm o f th e Law She Never Knew 19 32 The Good Earth The Harbor Light 1933 Spendthrift Ladv Jezeb el^

2 Jezebel had not been produced at the time of the Bris coe articTe. 218

Documentation from 1933 until the time of Davis' death is much more accessible. Davis had used numerous pseudonyms in the early stages of his career and had often deliberately disclaimed some of his less successful scripts. By 1933 however, he was an established author in the legitimate theatre.

Year Play 1934 Too Many Boats Spring Freshet 1935 Forever Back Again Ten Mile Shanty 1936 Ethan Frome Starlight, Starbright (Three plays, Mr. Tutt Comes Home, Beginners Luck, and Yippi were prepared but not produced.) 19 37 Two Time Mary V irg in ia 1938 Let's Never Change 1939 Indian Summer Love and All That 1941 Mr. and Mrs. N orth Family Honeymoon 1942 W histle Stop CThis was n o t produced.) 1943 The Snark Was a Booj'um (A one act play called "Three Day Pass" was pre­ pared, but not produced.) 219

Year Play

1944 No Way Out 1946 All Blood Is Red (This play was not produced.) 1947 No Pockets in Shrouds (This play was not produced.) Bibliography

Books

Adelman, Irving and Rita Dworkin. Modern Drama. New Jersey: The Scarecrow Press, 1967. Allen, Frederick Lewis. The Big Change. New York: Bantam Books, 1965: Atkinson, Brooks. Broadway Scrapbook. New York: Theatre Arts, 1947. Blum, Daniel. A Pictorial History of the American Theatre. New York: Greenburg Publishers, 1950. Booth, Michael. English Melodrama. London: Herbert Jenkins, 1965. Brady, William A. Showman. New York: E. P. Dutton Co., 1937. Churchill, Allen. The Great White Way. New York: E. P. Dutton Co., 1962. Crawford, Mary C aro lin e. The Romance of the American Theatre. Boston: L ittle, Brown and Co., 1925. Davis, Owen. I’d Like To Do It Again. New York: Farrar and Rinehart, 1931. My First Fifty Years in the Theatre. Boston: Walter H. Baker Co., 1950. Dickinson, Thomas. Playwrights of the New American Theatre. New York: The Macmillan Co., 1925. Disher, M. Willson. Melodrama: Plots That Thrilled. London: Salisbury Square, 1954. Downer, Alan S. Fifty Years of American Drama. Chicago: Henry Reghery Co., 1951.

220 221

Dukore, Bernard P. A Bibliography of T. A. Published in England. Gagey, Edmond. R evolution in American Drama. New York: Columbia University Press, 19 47. Gassner, John, ed. Best American Plays 1918-1958. New York: Crown P u b lish e rs, 1963. ------, ed. Readers Encyclopedia of World Drama. New York: E. P. Dutton and Co., 1969. Gilder, Rosamond, ed. Theatre Arts Anthology. New York: Theatre Arts Books, 194 8. Gordon, Max. Max Gordon Presents. New York: Bernard Geis, 1963. Harlow, Alvin P. Old Bowery Days. New York: D. Appleton and Co., 1931. Hart, Rollin Lynde. The People at Play. New York: Ives Washburn, 1930. Hartnell, Phyllis, ed. The Oxford Companion to the Theatre. London: Oxford University Press, 1967. Heath, Oscar M. Pulitzer Prize Winners: The Drama. Chicago: The Holland Press, 1930. Himelstein, Morgan Y. Drama Was a Weapon. New Jersey: Rutgers University Press,' 19{T3. Hubenka, Lloyd H. and Reloy Garcia. The Design of Drama. New York: David McKay Co., Inc., I S l T . Hughes, Glenn. A' History of the American Theatre. New York: SamueT F rench, I5’5l. Joseph, Bea, ed. Biography Index. New York: H. W. Wilson C o., 1960. Krutch, Joseph Wood. The American Drama Since 1918. New York: Random House, 19'39'. Kunitz, Stanley J. Authors Today and Yesterday,. New York: H. W. Wilson Co., 1933. ------—• Twentieth Century Authors. Leverton, Garrett H. The Great Diamond Robbery and Other Recent Melodramas. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1940. 222

Lewisohn, Ludwig. The Drama and the S ta g e . New York: Harcourt, Brace and Co., 1922. MacGowan, Kenneth and William Melnitz. The Living Stage. New Jersey: Prentice-Hall, Inc., 1955. Malevinsky, M. L. The Science of Plavwriting. New York: Brentano’s Publishers, 1925. The Technigues of Drama. Mantle, Bums. Contemporary American Playwrights. New York: Dodd, Mead and Co., 1939. Martin, Boyd. Modern American Drama and Stage. London: The Pilot Press, 1943. Matlaw, Myron. Modern World Drama: An Encyclopedia. New York: E. P. Dutton and Co., 19 72. Mayorga, Margaret. A Short History of the American Drama. New York: Dodd, Mead and Co., 1932. McClintock, Guthrie. Me and Kit. Boston: Little, Brown and C o., 1955. Meserve, Walter J. An Outline History of American Drama. New Jersey: L ittlefield, Adams and Co., 19 65. Middleton, George. These Things Are Min&. New York: McGraw-Hill Book C o., 1961. M iller, Jordan Y. American Dramatic Literature. New York: McGraw-Hill Book Co., 1961. Moody, R ichard. America Takes th e S tag e. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1955. Dramas From the American Theatre 1762-1909. New York: World Publishing Co., 1966. Morosco, Helen M. and Leonard Paul Dugger. The Oracle of Broadway. Caldwell, Idaho: The Caxton Printers, Ltd., 1944. Moses, Montrose J. The American Dramatist. Boston: L i t t l e , Brown and C o., 1925. ------. Representative American Dramas. Boston: L i t t l e Brown and C o., 1933. 223

Nannes, Casper H. Politics in American Drama. Washington: Catholic University Press, 1960. Nathan, George Jean. The Popular Theatre. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 195 8. National Cyclopedia of American Biography. New York: James T. White and Co., 19 62. New York Times Directory of the Theatre. New York: Arno Press Books, 19 72. Oblak, John B. Bringing Broadway to Maine. Terre Haute, Indiana: Moore-Langen Printing and Publishing Co., 1971. O'Hara, Prank Hurburt. Today in American Drama. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 19 39. Parker, John, ed. Who's Who in the American Theatre. New York: Pitman Publishing Corp., 1952. Quinn, Arthur Hobson. A History of the American Drama from the Civil War, to the Present Day. New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts, Inc., 1964. Rahill, Frank. The World of Melodrama. University Park: The Pennsylvania University Press, 1967. Rice, Elmer. Minority Report. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1963. Rigdon, Walter, ed. The Biographical Encyclopedia and Who1s Who of the American Theatre. New York: James H. Heineman, Inc., 1966. Sayler, Oliver M. Our American Theatre. New York: Brentano's Publishers, 1923. Sievers, W. David. Freud on Broadway. New York: Cooper Square Publishers, Inc., 19 70. Skolsky, Sidney. Times Sguare Tintypes. New York: Ives Washburn Publishers, Inc., 19 70. Tante, Dilly, ed. Living Authors. New York: H. W. Wilson C o., 1935. Taubman, Howard. The Making of the American Theatre. New York: Coward, McCann, I n c ., 1965. 224

Toohey, John L. A History of the Pulitzer Prize Plays. New York: The Citadel Press, 1967.

Periodicals

Adams, Franklin P. "The Convict's Sweetheart." Green Book Album, December, 1909, pp. 1200-1202. "Interesting People." American Magazine, 71 (March* 1911), 606-609.

% Bailey, Ralph Sargent. "Review of I'd Like To Do It Again." Theatre Magazine, 53 (April, 1931), 4. Browne, Porter Emerson. "The Mellowdrammer." Everybody* s Magazine, 1 September 1909, pp. 348-349. Davis, Owen. "The Ideal Stage Situation." Theatre, 22 (October, 1915), 179. "Playwriting." Saturday Evening Post, 203 (27 September 1930), 25. "Why I Quit Writing Melodrama." American Magazine, 57 (September, 1914), 251. Davis, Robert. "Owen Davis, A Study in Mass Production." Theatre Magazine, September, 1929, p. 17. "Dr. Owen Davis Prescribes a New Tonic for the Theatre." Theatre Magazine, 43 (June, 1927), 45. Eaton, Walter Prichard. "Why Do You Fear Me, Nellie?" Harpers Magazine, July, 1941, pp. 164-170. Gabriel, Gilbert. "How To Know a Good Play." Mentor, 15 (January, 1928), 35. Goff, Lewin. "The Owen Davis-Al Woods Melodrama Factory." Educational Theatre Journal, October, 1959, pp. 200- 207. "Gossip Shop." Bookman, 58 (October, 1923), 231. "How They Got That Way." American Magazine, May, 19 30, pp. 109-204. "Interview." National, 53 (September, 1924), 113, 132. 225

"Interview." Motion Picture/ 34 (27 October 1923)/ 88. Loud, R. 0. "America's Most Prolific Playwright." Green Book Album, A p ril, 1911, pp. 844-847. Moses, Montrose J. "The Emancipation of the American Drama." Current History, 26 (August, 1927), 736. ------. "The Metamorphosis of Owen Davis." Theatre, May, 1922, pp. 300-332. ------. "Owen Davis." Theatre Guild Magazine, December, 1930, pp. 42-44. "Obituary." American Annual, 1957, p. 219. ------. Time, 68 (29 October 1956), 100. ------Newsweek, 48 (22 October 1956), 74. "Obituary—Owen, Jr." Newsweek, 33 (May 30, 1949), 58. "Playwright Now Oversees the Gibson Family." Newsweek, 4 (24 November 19 34), 2 4. "Portrait." Stage, April, 1933, Volume 15. "Profile." New Yorker, 5 February 1949, p. 24. Rahill, Frank. "When Heaven Protected the Working Girl." Theatre Arts, 38 (October, 1954) , 80. Reniers, Perceval. "If I Were You." Theatre Magazine, April, 1925, p. 12. "Scrapbook." Life, 70 (4 October 1917), 549. Sedgwick, Ruth W. "Ethan Frome." Stage, 13 (February, 1936), 20-25. "Those Dear Dead Days of Melodrama." Stage, August, 19 35, pp. 38-41. "Some Playwright Biographies." Theatre Arts, July, 1927, p . 535. "When a Playwright Plugs a C ritic." Literary Digest, 1 November 19 30. "Why I Quit Writing Melodrama (Review)." Dramatist, October, 1914. 226

Witham, Barry B. "Owen Davis, America's Forgotten Play wright." Players, October-November, 1970. Woollcott, Alexander. "Up From 10-20-30." C ollier*s, 77 (2 January 1926),-7-8. "Wrangling Over the Pulitzer Awards." Literary Digest, 77 (9 June 1923), 30.

Newspaper A rticles

"Again Sues Lloyd." New York Times, 14 February 19 26. "Baffling the V illain." New York Herald, 3 October 1909. Briscoe, Johnson. "Broadway After Dark." New York Sun, 18 February 1933. Brock, H. I. "Review—I'd Like To Do It Again." New York Times, 8 March 1931. Cail, Harold. "Most Prolific Playwright." Portland Evening Express, 25 January 1947. "Two On the Aisle." Portland Evening Express, 4 August 1953. "Censorship Is Discussed." New York Times, 28 February 1927. "Censorship Survey." New York Times, 8 February 19 31. "Davis Claims Right to 'The Blue Flame'." New York Times, 13 March 1920. "Davis Death Accidental." New York Times, 26 May 1949. Davis, Owen. "Art vs. Playwriting." New York Times, 21 September 1924. "Change, But Not Decline." New York Times, 2 February 19 36. ------. "Finds Theatre Healthy." New York Times 27 November 19 23. "From a Confirmed Playwright." New York Sun, 23 October 1926. 227

------. "Golden Da£s of the Puritan Stage." New York Heraid-Tribune# 2 March 1941. "Living Down a Reputation." New York Times# 3 August 1919. "Making a Play From a Novel." New York Times# 28 March 1926. "No Bushel Can Ever Hide the Light of a Good Play." New York Times# 4 October ------"Play Topics Reflect Change in Audience." New York Herald-Tribune# 23 April 19 33. - — ------. "Screen and Stage Writing Very Much the Same." New York Times # 9 January 192 7. - —. "Youth in the Theatre." New York Times# 6 October 1918. "Davises# Pere and F ils." New York Times# 16 October 1932. "Drama on the Air Intrigues Veteran Playwright." New York Times # 13 January 1935. "Elected to Institute." New York Times# 7 December 192 3. "Ethan Frome Infringement." New York Times# 20 April 1965. Gilbert, Douglas. "Ten-Twent-Thirt." New York World Telegram# 21 April 1943. "Juries." New York Times# 12 June- 1926. "Keeping Up with Mr. Davis." New York Times# 9 September 1934. "Letter from Owen Davis." New York Times, 13 September 1927. "Lloyd Law S uit." New York Times, 12 October Middleton, George. "Letter." New York Times, 21 October

"Mr. Davis E x p la in s." New York Times, 26 O ctober 1924. Morehouse, Ward. "Broadway After Dark." New York Sun, 6 February 1933. 228

"Most Prolific of All Our Playwrights." New York Herald- Tribune, 19 September 1926. Nicholson, Leta Vance. "Letter." New York Times, 21 March 1920. "Obituary." New York Times, 15 October 1956. "Obituary: Owen W." New York Times, 10 October 1920. "Obituary: Mrs." New York Times, 25 May 1958. "Olga Petrova Returns." New York Times, 26 July 1924. "Owen Davis Heads Authors League." New York Times, 4 November 1927. "Owen Davis Tells of Writing for the Stage." Boston Post, 27 May 1923. "Owen Davis Waxes Optim istic." New York Times, 2 4 March 1929. "Owen Davis, Jr. Dead." New York Times, 22 May 1949. "Owen Davis, Jr. Death Unexplained." New York Times, 23 May 1949. "Owen Davis, Jr. Married." New York Times, 26 January 1929. "Play Jury Mass Meeting." New York Times, 21 February 1925. "Play Jury Seeks Panel of C ritics." New York Times, 8 October 1922. "Protest Enright's Play Censor Plan." New York Times, 8 November 1923. "Pulitzer Prize List." New York Times, 14 May 1923. Riddell, Gilbert. "Letter." New York Times, 16 September 1927. Ross, George. "So This Is Broadway." New York World Telegram, 2 4 January 1936. "Sue Lloyd on 'Why Worry'." New York Times, 2 4 November 1923. 229

Tazelaar, Marguerite. "Owen Davis Looks at His Record." Hew York Heraid-Tribune, 20 March 19 38. Webster, Harvey. "Review of Owen Davis J r .: 'Wanted-One- A cters'." New York Times , 23 January 1949. Winehouse, Irwin. "From Mailbag." New York Times, 30 January 1949.

Published Plays by Owen Davis

Davis, Owen. An Old Sweetheart of Mine. New York: Samuel French, 1911. At 9:45. New York: Samuel French, 192 8. At Yale. New York: Samuel French, 1910. Blow Your Own Horn. New York: Samuel French, 1926. Cupid at Vassar. New York: Samuel French, 1907. The Detour. Boston: L ittle, Brown and Co., 1922. The Donovan A ffair. New York: Samuel French, 19 30. Easy Come, Easy Go. New York: Samuel French, 1926. ------and Donald Davis. Ethan Frome. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 19 36. ------Forever A fter. New York: Samuel French, 19 28. —------. The Haunted House. New York: Samuel French, 1926. Icebound. Boston::L ittle, Brown and Co., 1923. In d ian Summer. New York: Samuel French, 1940. ------. Just To Remind You. New York: Farrar and Rinehart, 1931. 230

------. Mile a Minute Kendall. Samuel French, c. 1916. (The date of publication on this script is uncertain. A ditto manuscript is in my possession, but Samuel French no longer possesses copies. The script I have is intact, but lacks the page indicat­ ing the publication date. Previous studies of Davis' published plays have not included this s c r i p t . ) Mr. and Mrs. North. New York: Samuel French, 1941. The Nervous Wreck. New York: Samuel French, 1926. The Ninth Guest. New York: Samuel French, 1932. Robin Hood. New York: Samuel French, 1923. Three Day Pass. New York: Samuel French, 1943. ------. The Triumphant Bachelor. Minneapolis: Northwestern Press, 19 35. The World We Live In. New York: Samuel French, 1922.

Unpublished Plays by Owen Davis Housed in the Theatre Collection at Lincoln Center in New York City

Davis, Owen. "Abner White From Belfast." 1900 (Unpub­ lished manuscript). - . "At the World's Mercy." 1906 (Unpublished typewcript). "Beware of Widows." 1926 (Unpublished typescript). "The Bronx Express." 1925 (Unpublished typescript). - -. "The Confessions of a Wife." 1905 (Unpublished typescript). 231

--- —. "Convict 999." 1907 (.Unpublished manuscript of what was apparently an early draft. The later accounts in newspapers concerning this play do not coincide with the plot and characters described in this version). ------. "Driftwood.11 1911 (Unpublished typescript). ------and Donald Davis. "The Good Earth." 1932 (Unpublished typescript). ------. "Jezebel." 1933 (Unpublished typescript). "The Lighthouse by the Sea." 1903 (Unpub­ lished typescript) . ------"Opportunity." 19 20 (Unpublished typescript). ---- . "NoWay Out." 1944 (Unpublished typescript). "A Race Across the Continent." 1907 (Unpub­ lished typescript). ------# "Ruled Off the Turf." 1906 (Unpublished typescript). ------"S ecrets o f the P o lic e ." .1906 (Unpublished typescript). ------. "Sinners." 1915 (Unpublished typescript).

Unpublished Plays by Owen Davis Housed in the Harvard University Theatre C o lle c tio n

Davis, Owen. "A Scrap of Paper." 1917 (Unpublished typescript). ------# "What Happened to Mary?" 1913 (Unpublished typescript).

Pamphlets

Middleton, George. The Dramatists Guild. Published by the Dramatists Guild of the Authors League of America, 1966. 232

Owen Davis. A memorial pamphlet published by the Dramatists Guild of the Authors League of America, 1956.

Dissertations and Theses

Litto, Fredric M. "American Dissertations on the Drama and Theatre." Diss. Kent State University, 1969. Witham, Barry B. "The Dramaturgy of Owen Davis. Diss. Ohio State University, 1968.

Reviews

Over 400 reviews in newspapers and magazines have been used in the research for this study. The list is too long to enumerate in a bibliographical entry. However, many of the major primary sources are documented fully in the foot­ notes at the appropriate junctures in the dissertation.

Additional Indexes and General Resources

Beckerman, Bernard and Howard Siegman. On Stage. New York: Arno Press, 1970. Breed, Paul F. and Florence M. Sniderman. Dramatic Criticism Index. Detroit: Gale Research Co., 1972. Chicoral, Marietta. Theatre.Index to Plays. New York: Chicoral Library Publishing Co., 1971. Firkins, Ina Ten Eyck. Index to' Plays 1800-1926. New York: H. W. Wilson Co., 1927. Guernsey, Otis L. Directory of the American Theatre 1894- 1971. New York: Dodd, Mead and Co., 1971. Ireland, Norma Olin. Index to Full Length Plays. Boston: F. W. Faxon Co., 1965. Ottemiller, John H. Index to Plays in Collections. New York: The Scarecrow Press, Inc., 1964. Salem, James M. Drury'* s Guide to B est P la y s . New Je rse y : The Scarecrow Press, Inc., 1969. 233

A Guide to C ritical Reviews: Part One 1909- 1'969. New Jersey: The Scarecrow Press, Inc., 1973. Shipley, Joseph T. Guide to Great Plays. Washington: Public Affairs Press, 1956. Thomson, Ruth Gibbons. Index to Full Length Plays 189 5- 1925. Boston: F. W. Faxon Co., 1956. —------. Index to Full Length Plays 1926-1944. Boston: F. W. Faxon Co., 1946.

Special Collections

Theatre Collection at Lincoln Center: The Owen Davis Clipping and Letter Files.

Letters and Private Correspondence

Personal letters, telegrams and telephone calls aided greatly in many facets of the research undertaken for this study. Among those making these personal contributions are:

Eloise Armen, Secretary to Ils. Eva LeGallienne John Dobson, Librarian (Special Collections), University of Tennessee Richard 0. Fowkes, Dramatists Guild Lewin Goff Jed H arris Dan Hogan, Actors Equity Stephen Jasper, Samuel French, Inc. Eva LeGallienne David C. Libbey, Resident of the Lakewood, Maine community. Louis A. Rachow, The W alter Hampden Memorial L ibrary 234

Henry Richards, A minor player at the Lakewood, Maine theatre. Barry B. Witham, Miami University, Oxford, Ohio. Keenan Wynn Hortense Zera, National Institute of Arts and L e tte r s . V ita

June 11, 1935 Born—Fort Wayne, Indiana 1964 B.A., University of Louisville, Louisville, Ky. 1969 M.A., University of Louisville, Louisville, KY. 1969-1974 Executive Director, Steamboat Cabin Theatre, Jeffersonville, Indiana 1974 Equity Stage Manager, Actors Theatre of Louisville, Louisville, Ky. 19 74-197$ Teaching Assistant, Speech-Theatre Department, Louisiana State University, Baton Rouge, L ouisiana 1976-1978 Assistant Professor of Theatre, Northern Kentucky University, Highland Heights, Kentucky Major Field of Study: Theatre

235 EXAMINATION AND THESIS REPORT

Candidate: Jack Kendall Wann

Major Field: Speech

Title of Thesis: "The Career of Owen Davis (1874-1956) In The American Theatre"

Approved:

Majoil Professor and Chairman

Diyln of the Graduate Schgol

EXAMINING COMMITTEE:

^ ------

Date of Examination:

December 4, 1978