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From the Pit

The Blue Light

Tradition has it that Oliver Wendell Holmes, the younger, used to attend burlesque shows regularly. Possibly the performers of his day were able to realize the potentialities for earthy, uninhibited humor inherent in the Burlesque medium, or perhaps then the strippers really answered the ancient ery of the bald-headed row to "take it off," but whatever attracted the great man to the Scoally Square theatricals is no longer there.

Nowadays, when the head stripper of the show reaches the climax of her performance, the management turns a protecting dark blue light on the proceedings, wrapping the star in an indigo robe thick enough to confuse even the sharpest eyes; and one can never tell whether he is seeing the real thing or not. The humor is uninhibited only to the extent that it would be exceedingly embarrassing to take a girl to hear it, even for laughs. At intervals a motley band of women of all sizes and shapes troops back and forth across the stage, each with as much skill and expression as a Russian dancing bear. One suspects sometimes that these are visiting friends or relations of the management.

There is one part of the modern burlesque show, however, which is almost worth the price of admission: the management's between the acts sales line. The head huckster's is the greatest performance of all.

"Now, folks," he usually begins, "we've got a couple of special offers for you this evening that we know you don't want to miss. I have in my hand here a copy of the latest issue of 'Sex Thrills' magazine, filled with the spiciest photos an stories you've ever seen. Modesty forbids my reading you a selection from the true story I Was a Bar Maid in Phoenix City, Alabama,' but for just fifty cents, one half a dollar, you can read not only this revealing tale of a young girl's downfall, but a large number of other stories, special articles an features."

At this point the commodity is hawked up and down the aisles, with moderate success. Then cones the piece de resistance. A small yellow box is held up. "This carton I have here contains a new product of the Toe-Main Company, never before put on the market. Nossir, folks, you can't get this on the outside. Of course the candy alone is worth the fifty cents we are asking; but, in addition as a special introductory offer, the Toe-Main Company has placed a generous gift in each and every box. They include: a Remington electric shaver, a twelve jewel Hamilton wrist-watch, a genuine leather wallet containing a ten dollar bill, and a genuine leather wallet without the ten dollar bill. Now, we have only a limited number of these boxes, so it will have to be first come first served. Who's gonna be first? Whaddya say!"

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Piece by piece the audience begins to unbend, soon a species of buying hysteria overtakes them and for a whole there is a regular avalanche of sales. Proceedings cool down a bit, however, after it becomes clear that the so-called limited number of boxes are showing no signs at all of running out, and after a few of the lucky first comers have had a chance to see their prizes. At the end of the show after more blue lights. Russian dancing bears, and suggestive hip wiggles, there file out into the dismal Boston streets many proud possessors of genuine leather wallets (empty), any one of which will go right up in flames if a match is put to it.

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