What's Next?

Will the Argentine Supplant Balieff and King Tut in Popular Favor? It is a subconscious maxim with Mr. Lee Shubert, Mr. George White and Mr. Florenz Ziegfeld that " -- the things you will learn from the yellow an' brown They'll 'elp you a lot with the white." They seek glittering material for their revues from the life of other worlds. Their stages became hothouses where strange exotic plants, emerald, gold and scarlet, are bought across the seas for a brief blossoming. For 20 years American producing gardeners have been transplanting color, sound and movement -- so great the volume of business that the original beds are wearing thin and weedy. Still, some of the imported seed has fallen into good ground and blossomed as permanent pictures on the American mind. We no longer think of Russia in terms of Cossacks, but in terms of wooden soldiers; Balieff is mightier than Lenin; and any American will give his oath that the Moscow artists are far more impressive behind their Smith Brothers beards than any Soviet that ever shot a princess. Russian restaurants are an established industry. Every dancer on the stage is stamped with the spirit of the Steppes. For a time it seemed as though the uneasy head of King Tut would be emblazoned on our banners of amusement. But the Russians were on the scene, well up in their lines, on the scene and shrewdly shepherded, and consequently the Egyptian did fairly well in dress fabrics, but was unable to snatch the torch of drama from Stanislavski. Yet there is not that maudlin excitement over the pilgrims from Petrograd which prevailed a year ago. If you casually remark to your laundrywoman that Stanislavski and Balieff will be back on Broadway her enthusiasm will scarcely unhinge her to the point of crowning herself with a flatiron. The Russian fad, a trifle overdone, is fading. Where then can the producer turn? Possibly to Argentina, which is receiving inordinate publicity of late owing to the successful business visit of Senor Luis Angel Firpo. Japan and China have been veterans since The Mikado. The Negro rage and the grass-skirt scare are already moribund. Spain and the clatter of castanets is gone. Covered with dust are the crinoline, the harem skirt, Scotch kilts. The stage of the American revue is rapidly approaching the end of the world. Without other worlds to conquer, Russia, Egypt and the influence of dusky Florence Mills must inevitably conquer the American stage. W. R.