Previous sections:
1.—Introduction. Writing and production
2.—Reception
Ruth Gordon's memoirs
The next documents of importance to trace the history of the production are Ruth Gordon's memoirs and autobiographical books, especially My Side: The Autobiography of Ruth Gordon (1976). Ruth Gordon (1896-1985) had a long career in Broadway and Hollywood, crowned with an Academy award (Rosemary's Baby 1969) and two Golden Globe awards (Inside Daisy Clover 1965, and Rosemary's Baby), all as Best Supporting Actress.
In 1918 she and Gregory Kelly had played Lola Pratt and Willie Baxter in the theatrical adaptation of Booth Tarkington's Seventeen. During that time they became a couple and eventually got married in 1921. The huge success of that play, fueled mostly by Kelly's performance, was expected to boost the chances of Piccadilly Jim: practically every notice of PJ makes sure to remind the reader of the connection between the two plays and Kelly's evolution from Willie to Jimmy. Seventeen continued on tour when PJ was launched, with Tommy Kelly replacing his brother Gregory in the lead.
Gregory Kelly and Ruth Gordon, apart from being co-leads
in Piccadilly Jim, were also a couple in real life.
Photos from The Delmarvia Star, November 30, p. 15.
Her opinion of the tour's schedule reveals misgivings that are naturally not reflected in the local notices:
In Minneapolis, we left Seventeen. The company continued to the Coast; Tommy Kelly played Willie Baxter. We were off to New York, to the Algonquin, to rehearsals for Piccadilly Jim.
"We play Christmas week in Wilkes-Barre," said Stuart.
Gregory looked startled. '"Wilkes-Barre's a one-nighter!"
Stuart looked bleak. "That's what the booking office has given us."
"What about trying the Klaw and Erlanger office?" I asked.
"I'm with the Shuberts."
"What do they offer after that?" asked Gregory.
"They'll give us their new Washington house for New Year's week."
"Not the Belasco?"
"Their new."
"The Shuberts built a Washington theatre?"
Stuart looked pained at being pressed. "It's one they're taking over."
"The National?"
"The Garrick."
"That old burlesque dump?"
He became the well-bred Kentuckian. "I have no idea."
Several of the reviews highlight Mr. Pett's role, played in Indianapolis by Aldrich Bowker. As Bowker did not go on tour, his replacement proved complicated:
Some shows have luck, some have trouble. Piccadilly Jim had trouble. The next best part to Gregory's was the rich old man. Stuart engaged James Bradbury; salary, four hundred a week.
"Hey, that's a lot!" said Gregory.
"You'll need his support, Greg; the play's on the weak side."
"I only got two-fifty for Willie Baxter."
"That's Bradbury's salary and we need him."
First rehearsal. James Bradbury brought a lot of color. Everybody felt it. A good choice for the rich man. When we stopped for lunch, Gregory and I and Stuart walked over to Childs; food delicious, also quick.
"Anything but the vegetable soup," I said. "I had it every night when I was job-hunting."
When we got back to the theatre, outside the stage door was the stage manager. "Mr. Bradbury handed in his part." He held out the blue-covered pages and a Lambs Club envelope.
Thanks, but I don't believe I would be worth the money.
James Bradbury
Stuart was furious. It's tough when someone important walks out. "Marie."
Fat Marie came.
"Where's our second list?"
"In Indianapolis. You told me we were set."
"Well, go to Indianapolis and get it. At your own expense." Stuart was on the boil.
"What about William Sampson?" How did Gregory think so fast? Had he hoped Mr. Sampson would play it?
"He's nothing like Bradbury."
"But good."
"Get William Sampson," Stuart said to Marie, and left us.
Sampson was the right choice. Here we see the first appearance of Guy Bolton being involved in the production:
Trouble. Everybody sensed it. Everybody felt insecure. Everybody scowled. Mr. Sampson walked on stage and everyone relaxed.
Small, thin, every gray hair in place, perfectly cut blue suit, white shirt, elegant dark tie, he impressed by his total perfection.
"Mr. Sampson will join us," Stuart announced. "We will go through the first act. Does that please you, Mr. Sampson?"
"Sure."
He didn't sound like an actor. He sounded like people.
The stage manager explained which kitchen chairs were the doors, which the windows, which the desk.
"Ready?" asked Stuart.
There was a stir, stage right.
"Oh, Mr. Bolton." Stuart went over to him.
Why hadn't he come to Indianapolis?
Mr. Sampson, pince-nez on, looked over his part.
"You were wonderful in Be Calm, Camilla," I said.
"Good part. This one isn't."
Gregory saw trouble. "It plays better than it reads. We did it in Indianapolis this summer."
"Who played it?"
"Aldrich Bowker."
Mr. Sampson thought about that. "He must be good."
"Gregory says people are good if they have a good part."
"Everybody doesn't know that."
Stuart walked center stage. "This is Mr. Guy Bolton."
"Don't let me disturb you. Please go on."
Can a voice sound luxurious? Guy Bolton's sounded like Monte Carlo, Palm Beach, the Ritz. Why go to Indianapolis in the summer just to see your play? In summer it's Newport, Deauville, Saratoga, Southampton, depending what month you're discussing.
Mr. Sampson read from his part.
"I'll wager—'"
"Hold it, Greg." Stuart motioned to the stage manager. "Give Mr. Sampson the new lines Mr. Bolton wrote."
"Yes, sir."
Mr. Sampson took a pencil out of his vest pocket. "What's the line?"
The stage manager politely held out the script.
Mr. Sampson adjusted his pince-nez and read, "Well, that's about as welcome as an ice cream freezer would be to an Eskimo in—' Oh, I can't say that stuff."
There was a moment.
Did Stuart dread another Lambs Club letter? "Let's omit that," he said. "Greg, give Mr. Sampson his cue again."
No more Lambs Club letters.
Gordon's memory is not perfect when it comes to the places and dates of the tour: she puts the Wilkes-Barre performances toward the end of December instead of the beginning. However, we can rely on her impression of the general atmosphere. later on she gives us the only glimpse of Wodehouse in the whole story, not very uplifting:
We checked in Saturday, nothing to do till dress rehearsal Sunday. See the play that was closing here? It was a war play starring William Harcourt. We watched it from stage box right. Stage box left, Bolton and Wodehouse watched. The first scene over, stage box left was empty.
"Harcourt'll expect me to come round; I knew him when I was with Mr. Belasco." A reference to Belasco made Stuart feel even more above us.
"Good God, I pity you!" Big, ruddy, white-haired Harcourt shook his head. "This is a dog town—why are you here a week?"
Stuart and Gregory and I walked back to the hotel through cold black streets, not much to say.
"Life on the stage is hard," people say. We didn't say that, but we could have. Very appropriate to anyone playing Christmas in Wilkes-Barre.
In the lobby sat Bolton and Wodehouse, staring.
"Shall we have something?" said Stuart.
Bolton looked at Wodehouse, who looked as if he might burst into tears.
Stuart dealt with the situation. "We'll feel better once we get to work. The crew starts setting up at eight, at ten a line rehearsal in the ballroom."
Wodehouse looked astonished. "This hotel has a ballroom?"
"Ah, yes; all hotels have ballrooms, don't they, Greg?"
"I'm afraid so."
Stuart pointed to what had been the bar. "Let's go in."
A listless waiter was leaning on a small table.
Can you fool yourself? I can. "Mr. Wodehouse, a hot lemonade gives you quite a kick."
"It does?" He was more astonished.
"Want to try?"
"By all means."
Too bad. It didn't succeed. Nor did the play. Bolton and Wodehouse left for New York. "We'll come to Washington," said the note.
Knowing that Piccadilly Jim wasn't going anywhere, Kelly and Gordon started hunting around for alternatives, even though the beginning of a season was not the right time to jump ship. But William Sampson put them in contact with George Tyler, whose company was rehearsing Tarkington's next success Clarence, and naturally welcomed the chance to get the Seventeen leads in it. Gordon conveys Tyler's bluntness on the phone in this way:
"Look here, Kelly, I'll play ball with you. Sunday you and your wife get the morning train out of Atlantic City, I'll call rehearsal for one o'clock. Sunday night, take the sleeper to Washington, open that rattrap Monday, take the sleeper back to New York and I'll call Tuesday's rehearsal at nine-thirty, then you and your wife take the two-thirty that gets you to Union Station at seven. Have dinner on the train, play your lousy show and the two performances Wednesday, and take the sleeper, I'll call Thursday rehearsal at nine-thirty, take the afternoon train to Washington, after the show get on the sleeper, take the afternoon train back for Friday's show, play your lousy two on Saturday, close, take the sleeper, rehearse Sunday morning and next week leave for Chicago. I'll give you five hundred a week, first billing; your wife one-fifty. Talk it over with her and call me, Bryant 1113. Remember I'm counting on your goddam show closing! Don't let me down, Kelly! Goodbye."
The end came as foreshadowed, with relationships strained and everybody just waiting to be out of it all and with their mind in the future rather than the play they were performing:
Five nights on the sleeper, three dinners in the diner, four suppers at the Union Station lunch counter, five Clarence rehearsals at the ideal Hudson Theatre, six nights of Piccadilly Jim at the awful Shubert Garrick, the company feeling blue. Stuart didn't speak to us, I paid a hundred dollars for the sapphire blue velvet evening gown, and the final curtain fell.
"Last act," called the stage manager, and it was.
Some talk that Stuart would reopen with "somebody more suited; Greg is out of his depth."
Nobody believed it. Everybody wrote letters and called up Packard's Agency and Chamberlain Brown, read Variety to see who was casting what.
Afterlife
The production as such died here, but still had a sordid afterlife of litigation over the money invested and lost.
We first read in Variety, January 9, 1920 p. 15 about "a three-cornered fight on between the Shuberts, A. H. Woods and Stuart Walker" concerning Kelly's casting, which could account for the Shuberts' lack of support for the play toward the end: "Woods and the Shuberts had the piece and leased it to Walker. They did not, however, agree with Walker that Gregory Kelly should play the principal role. When Walker persisted the bookings for the future failed to materialize and the play was forced to close." In the January 31 issue, p. 14 "Stuart Walker denies the prevalent rumors there has been between him, A. H. Woods and the Shuberts, a three-cornered fight over 'Piccadilly Jim.' Mr. Walker says he brought the show back to New York to make certain changes he felt were necessary." This proved to be a false hope.
One and a half year later we learn from Variety, June 24, 1921 that Kelly had filed a suit against Walker:
The feud between Gregory Kelly and Stuart Walker, who have been engaged in a stock war here all summer and who are understood to have been at outs for the last year or so, reached the courts last Friday, when Kelly filed suit for $1,000 against Walker.
Kelly claims that Walker owes him the money for a one-fourth interest in "Piccadilly Jim," which they produced together during the 1919 season. The complaint, which was filed in Superior Court, alleges that Kelly gave Walker a check for $1,000 for a one-fourth interest in the show on Dec. 5, 1919, and that subsequently Walker bought it back but never paid for it.
But next year Kelly had to dismiss the suit, according to The Billboard for June 24, 1922 p. 24: in a cross-complaint Walker argued that "the play was not a success, and the company lost money. He said Kelly's share in the cost of preparation of the play was $1,122.85, and that his share in the loss on the production was $2,625.36. After subtracting $1,000 on the sale of the interest, Kelly still owed $1,625.36."
Wodehouse and Bolton were not involved in this, but Wodehouse still had losses connected with the play. In a letter to W. Townend on February 28, 1920 (Ratcliffe pp. 125-126) he wrote:
I am doing quite a lot now with the [motion] picture people. Not original stuff, but selling them my novels. There's a lot of money in it. I got $8000 for Piccadilly Jim, – only to have to disgorge 6000 of it to Comstock, who claimed that it belonged to him because he had commissioned a play on the novel.
Comstock, it will be remembered from the opening post of this series, was Elliot, Comstock & Gest, who first announced PJ in mid-1917. Although we do not know the exact terms of the contract, it may be assumed that he had more solid grounds for his claim than Wodehouse's wording suggests, or else he might not have "disgorged" such a large sum without a fight.
The (lost) 1919 movie Piccadilly Jim featuring Owen Moore to which the letter refers is beyond the scope of this research, but we should note that it was not based on the script of the new play but directly on the book. B. Taves in P. G. Wodehouse and Hollywood (2006) p. 143, based on contemporary plot synopses, has concluded that it remained faithful to the novel.
The last we hear about PJ in terms of production is a failed attempt on Wodehouse's part to interest actor-manager Robert Courtneidge in putting on a London production. He wrote to his daughter Leonora on 15 June, 1921 (Donaldson pp. 21-22):
Courtneidge wants to put on the Archie play—to my acute disgust as I think it's rotten. I am trying to double-cross the gang and get him to put on Piccadilly Jim instead.
This failure may have been what prompted Wodehouse to give up on the play and salvage what he could of the new material for his next novel. Note that when he wrote to Leonora on December 21 of the same year he specifically mentioned PJ as a source of inspiration for Leave It to Psmith (Donaldson p. 23):
I have been spending the last two days in a rush of ideas for a new novel. It will be on the lines of Something New and Piccadilly Jim, and it is coming out amazingly.
This relationship will be the subject of the last installment of this series. Before that, it is necessary to reconstruct the plot of the play, as far the quotations and references found in reviews allow us.
Next sections:
4.—Reconstruction of the plot
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