ABSTRACT
One brisk morning I found myself loading-in to a theatre in Macon, Georgia for a one-nighter. It was a beautiful old theatre and the crew was very proud to talk about its history. (The theatre even sold a coffee table book about the history of southern vaudeville houses, which I purchased and slowly checked the theatres off as I visited them.) The crew enjoyed showing off their trapdoors that were cut specifically for Houdini. As a touring stagehand I was fascinated by the thought of people touring in the 1920s, and that someone had to advance the theatre and tell them where to cut the trapdoors.
