Monahan: Orson, amateur politico, proves BO (box office)
Drama critic finds actor packs more appeal at rally than in stage realm
By Kaspar Monahan
As a self-confessed amateur politician, actor Orson Welles holds more box-office appeal in the hurly-burly realm of politics than as a practitioner in the sock-and-buskin trade.
That was demonstrated conclusively last evening at Syria Mosque which was jammed from top to bottom with folks who came to see and hear Mars’ most notable, not to say its most indispensable, citizen.
Of course, there were some high-ranking politicians on hand, including Senator Truman, who is running for Vice President on the Democratic ticket. But obviously, last evening it was Orson Welles who was the major drawing card, no matter what the program had to say about top billing, as they used to call it in the old vaudeville days.
In the words of the better drama critics, actor Orson wowed ‘em. He wowed ‘em so completely that even Mr. Dave Lawrence, an old and experienced gladiator of the political arenas, wound up the occasion by refusing to make an oration of his own.
Lawrence foregoes talk
Quoth Mr. Lawrence, slated as last speaker on the program:
It would be an imposition to keep you good folks here after you have listened to that orator of orators, Orson Welles.
The huge assemblage cheered at Mr. Lawrence’s succinct summary of the situation – then the young females on hand made a wild rush for the exits. They wanted to get Orator Orson’s autograph before he vanished from his scene of triumph.
This reporter couldn’t help but contrast this local reception for actor-orator Orson Welles to the one accorded him not many months ago when he made his initial entrance in Jane Eyre, which is a movie.
Then – in shadow – Mr. Welles was wearing a flowing, ebony cloak and he was riding a horse, a real horse. And by his side was a huge dog, the size of a small cow, and the dog was baying and snarling and scaring the daylights out of poor Joan Fontaine, who was playing the title role in this movie.
The audience – comprised solely of Dewey supporters, of course – snickered. Snickered, hell – they howled and guffawed.
Such uncouth conduct did not mar last evening’s triumphant debut of Orson the Orator. This time he did not wear his flowing, ebony cloaks. He had no horse and no wolfhound. Furthermore. he had – for him – a close-clipped haircut. Nothing bizarre about him, except, perhaps his big, bulging tie, tucked beneath his flaring collar points.
He was broad-shouldered, burly, impressive. And his Shakespearean voice boomed valiantly as he flung hefty verbal broadsides at Tom Dewey. Unlike the other major speakers of the evening, Orator Orson, the erstwhile boy wonder, spoke extemporaneously. No notes. He made it up, it seemed, as he went along.
It was a swell performance – his most effective in the opinion of this reporter, who has observed him, not always favorably, in many a movie and stage piece.
Right off he slashed violently at an editorial appearing in this newspaper the other day – an editorial which implied that, maybe, it would be better if Hollywood’s beautiful people would stay in Hollywood and just go on making endless variations of boy-meets-girl fables, instead of traipsing about the nation making campaign talks.
The slumberous eyes of Orator Orson blazed. One big hand shot out over the rostrum. And he tossed into this political rally a classic bombshell by bringing up the name of Pericles (At this point the party’s big shots on the stage stirred uneasily – for up to now Pericles’ name has not been made an issue in this campaign, and some wondered which side he was on).
“It reminds me,” boomed Orator Orson, “of Pericles speaking over the Athenian dead.” Now I don’t know Greek but he said something like this: “We hold those men who do not meddle in affairs of state as worse than nothing.”
Welles explains
That meant, as Mr. Welles was quick to elucidate, that plumbers, dentists, boilermakers and even movie actors had a right to get up on their hind legs and take sides in a political campaign.
There were cheers from the packed audience – more than 4,000 inside and a couple thousand outside. Pericles knows his onions – and no fooling.
“I suggest” (still quoting Orson) “the Republican Party doesn’t exist.” Then he swiftly sketched highlights of the 1940 campaign, commenting on “the men who scuttled the Republican Party in 1940,” and everybody looked sad and shook their heads over his skullduggery of four years ago.
His resonant powerful voice lit into the GOP claims of Communist infiltration into the Democratic Party, the alleged Hillman-Browner alliance, saying “Why, Hillman and Browder have never met each other.” And he said, “Isolationism isn’t dead – it haunts the speeches of Dewey and Bricker,” and he drew a parallel between Lincoln and Roosevelt, and bitterly blasted the “professional wreckers of peace.”
He would up for a stirring “curtain line” by calling not only for a Democratic victory but for a “Roosevelt landslide,” urging everyone to sit up with their friends who insist on voting for Governor Dewey. “They are sick,” he said. “Do something for them.”