(The Playgoer is a regular feature of the Crimson, appearing twice a week with reviews of plays and motion pictures.)

Boston, hub of the universe, is famous, among other things for being both a theatrical "graveyard" and a red-headed baseball town. Plays that took New York by storm have come to Tremont St. to wither away like the smile of a Freshman waiting in the Dean's office, while ball teams that have not seen the light of the first division after July 15 in the memory even of a medical student still draw hordes of rabid fans.

The explanation of this paradox is that Bostonians are partisan to an absurd degree. This explains their insanity re the Braves and Red Sox. It also explains their disdain of New York Theatre critics. No play, or movie either, ever drew full houses for more than two or three nights on an outside reputation alone. Boston is polite but demands to be shown. Producers invariably face the problem of proving the merit of their production all over again. Boston audiences are discriminating; they have their favorites. Most of all, however, they like what they like.

Now for a word about the theatres themselves. Big hits, like "Green Pastures" and "Of Thee I Sing," usually show at the Shubert, Wilbur, or Colonial. Theatre Guild productions and plays casting favorite actors usually appear at the Plymouth or Hollis. First run movies like "Cavalcade" come to the Majestic. Almost anything is liable to happen at the Tremont. The Opera House is the scene of wrestling bouts, musical comedies, and opera. A good way to see a little opera is to get a job as an extra.

There is no doubt that as far as some plays are concerned, Boston is cruel, very cruel. But for Pulitzer Prize winners, motion pictures, wrestling bouts and champion hockey the Hub is the Town of Towns.