Coronado Eagle and Journal, Volume 10, Number 12, 30 July 1921 — “THE LOCKED DOOR” v . ■ (By Elsie Hiland Fox) [ARTICLE]

“THE LOCKED DOOR” v . ■ (By Elsie Hiland Fox)

Of'course you have read “Main Street,” that much cussed and discussed novel of the small American town. Whatever your reactions to the story may have been, if you were present at the premier performance of Austin Adams’ play, “The Locked Door,” presented Wednesday night at the Sprockets Theater you witnessed the embodiment of Main Street and its reception of psycho-analysis plus cynicism. Main Street was there—all the way from “down East” in Maine to San Diego—wholesome, ordinary home folks, blessed with the saving gift of humor which persisted in bubbling out at the most unexpected places and in the most dramatic moments. Main Street, bless its heart, came to be amused, and remained to be amused in spite of hysteria, suicide and sudden death. Mr. Adams, in his entreacte speech, announced that he brought no lesson, pointed out no truth, had no belief. One wonders, however, if he expected just the reaction his play brought forth. Main Street was cordial, enthusiastic almost, in so Tar as playwright and actors were concerned, but it may be that Mr. Adams does not really know Main Street, not both the West and the East side of Main Street. Perhaps Mr. Adams failed to take into account, as did Sinclair Lewis, the fact that Main Street has not only a body but a soul—a soul that sent the sons of Main Street “over the top”-pa soul that found itself in the Argonne—a soul that accepts the Locked Door without hysteria, without melodrama, and with toleration for the futile vibes of those who are still without vision. Whether Mr. Adams intended that the play should be farce or tragedy, we shall never know. Until the melodramatic climax, the audience insisted upon accepting it as comedy, pure and simple. What lay behind the Locked Door troubled the onlookers very little. New York speculated as to the probable existence *of a “booze cache” behind its impressive front. Missouri scoffed loudly at the utter impossibility of two young American women resisting the temptation of chisel and hammer for so long. California guffawed heartily when the heroine became horror struck and developed cold feet at the moment when her curiosity might have been satisfied. Even the sleep walking scene brought forth only the audible comment, “Why don’t they use the spotlight?” Ten years ago, even five years ago, “Main Street” would have reacted in quite different fashion to Mr. Adams’ philosophy. The War brought forth at least one blessing —Main Street - can laugh at the Locked Door. From a technical point of view, the first act of the play was sadly jumbled by the poor diction of the actors. As is usual in Mr. Adams’ plays, stress was laid on the dialogue instead of action. When those delivering the lines fail to put them across in clear, concise form, when speeches are .directed toward the rear and the wings, when it becomes an acute physical effort to hear what it is all about, such an act falls very flat. “The Locked Door” was both better and worse than we expected. Whether it was a Lucid or a Lurid Interval remains a mystery which only Mr. Adams can solve. We suspect he likes to mystify people. We suspect he enjoys the spectacle of Main Street agape at his heretical philosophy. Perchance he has not yet discovered that Main Street is not so terribly shocked after all, that Main Street is tolerant and kindly toward Austin Adams because of that soul which even Mr. Adams can’t satirize out of existence. And so long as Main Street has that soul, so long as the-dear, dull, average American possesses that spark of immortality which triumphs over fear and horror and death, just so long will America believe that behind the Locked Door lies not oblivion but victory. Little Miss Anita Cheeseman is the guest of Miss Jane Chamberlain at her home, 737 C Avenue, for a couple of weeks, while Anita’s parents are touring the Yosemite.