Theater Parties

Producers have long tried to find a way of escaping the power of the Manhattan drama critics. In recent years they have found a lifesaver: theater parties. Critical condemnation can still be fatal, but more and more shows cheerfully survive a panning, thanks to theater-party cash.

Current examples: Goldilocks, having taken a trimming by the critics, is flourishing on three to four parties a week, is booked solid until January. Despite poor reviews, The World of Suzie Wong is sitting pretty, with 282 parties. Chances are that Rodgers' & Hammerstein's Flower Drum Song will be a hit anyway, but parties already account for $700,000 in advance sales. In fact, it is so hard for ordinary customers to get Broadway tickets that R. & H. have called a halt to further parties. Complains Renee Schonceit, one of Broadway's top ticket brokers: "Why, for Marriage-Go-Round, we can't get people tickets to the men's room; they've all gone to theater parties."

Be Nice to Baby. Hundreds of organizations, from the Girls' Service League to the United World Federalists, are staging parties every night because there is no easier way for a charity to make money. For $5,700 (and only 20% down), the Maternity Center Association bought up Marriage-Go-Round one night last week. It sold the tickets to members for $10 to $30, wound up with a profit of $16,000. Its major out-of-pocket cost: $210 for postage stamps. Why choose a broad sex comedy such as Marriage-Go-Round for the Maternity Center? Explains Director Hazel Corbin: "Because it turns out all right in the end. We always try to pick a play that is not disruptive of family life."

Such standards, critics charge, may turn the party business into a serious threat to the theater. Charities generally book a play because it has name actors, and producers are apt to hire stars for insurance, whether they fit the role or not. For partygoers, the play is far from the thing. They are apt to turn up high from preparty banquets; men do business in the aisles, wives gossip from row to row. Mary Martin once complained: "Their attitude is: 'I've paid my 35 bucks, now show me!'

Don't Be Morbid. Even worse is what charity audiences do not want to be shown. Last season The Entertainer with Laurence Olivier went untouched by charity groups--it was "English and too depressing." Also taboo: Shakespeare, anything "controversial" or avantgarde.

Last week Lenore Tobin, one of twelve agents who handle charity bookings (for a 6% commission) was doing a land-office business with every musical headed for Broadway. But for Daarlin' Man, response was spotty ("Can you imagine a Jewish organization going to an Irish play?"). Pleadingly, she tried to sell Tennessee Williams' forthcoming Sweet Bird of Youth: "No, I really don't think Williams is so morbid. A bit sexy, maybe. And it's got Paul Newman. Wouldn't you like an early night?" The charity man wanted none of it, leaving one night less on Broadway for Tennessee Williams.

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