My Fair Scalper

To Manhattan's public-relations firms, ad agencies and other business offices with important out-of-town clients, there is one kind of long-distance phone call that always means trouble. Says the voice: "Incidentally, I'll be in town next week, and the only thing the missus and I want to see is My Fair Lady." If the show is not My Fair Lady, sold out until April, then it is The Most Happy Fella, currently sold out for five or six weeks, or Damn Yankees, which after a year and a half on Broadway still sells out nightly. Such phone calls as these have led to one of the last great black markets in the U.S.a ticket market operated by scalpers and fostered by businessmen living in an expense-account economy, where price is no object.

Last week, as the 1957 Broadway season began picking up steam, Manhattan's scalpers never had it so good. Not only was My Fair Lady still going strong and bringing at least $60 a pair for tickets v. $26 a pair for The Most Happy Fella and $20 for Damn Yankees, but a whole series of surefire new hits were on the way. Opening next week, Auntie Mame, starring Rosalind Russell, has a million-dollar advance sale, is virtually sold out through March. Bells Are Ringing, with Judy Holliday, has rave out-of-town notices and a $750,000 advance. And the new Ethel Merman musical, Happy Hunting, which will probably have a record $1.5 million advance before it opens in December, should provide equally happy hunting for scalpers.

A Big Tip. Few out-of-towners have any idea what it costs a Manhattan company to grant their ticket requests. For their three-day sales convention in December, one company started a month ago to track down 72 tickets for My Fair Lady, had to pay $22.50 apiece. Another company, which forgot to order World Series tickets awarded to a contest winner, put in an urgent call to its New York advertising agency to find four seats, got clipped $208 over the box-office price. As one adman explained: "We have a perfectly honest agent who gets our tickets at regular prices. We have very little trouble-just tip him around $250 each Christmas."

To get enough good seats, the scalper has to tap several sources. He has friends mail in for tickets for potential hits, buys other tickets through theater benefits, paying the steep benefit markup. He also buys directly from the box office or from reputable brokers, often luring assistants to help him, since his money still speaks louder than the New York Department of Licenses, which has fruitlessly tried to end illegal ticket practices. Some small-timers find it profitable to sell their position in line for My Fair Lady's 30 standing-room tickets a day for as much as $10.

A Necessary Evil. The fact that so many shows are sold out for months in advance to benefit theater parties makes it easier for the scalper to operate, since the parties drastically curtail the supply of available tickets. In its first 3 1/2 months, for example, 54 out of the 120 Fair Lady performances were completely sold out to benefit parties. At the non-benefit performances, 80% of the balcony and 20% of the orchestra seats are sold through direct-mail requests. At best, the 70-odd licensed ticket brokers divide up the remaining 650 orchestra seats, are legally entitled to sell each ticket for a $1.10 commission. (In 1955 New York ticket brokers sold approximately $8.8 million worth of tickets, made nearly $1.5 million in commissions.)

Though they dislike the practice, few businessmen see an end to Manhattan's ticket black market. For most, getting tickets for important clients is a necessary evil, can easily be written off on the expense account. Said one Manhattan ad executive: "Frankly, I wouldn't pay those prices to see the Statue of Liberty do a tap dance-but what can you do when your most important client wants to see it?"

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