Whistler's Grandmother (by Robert Finch) is almost as bad as its title. A young saloonkeeper, whose singer fiancée craves a wholesome family background, hires a lovable old rip to pretend to be his grandmother. She soon turns the backroomand the boys in itinto a God-Bless-Our-Home Victorian parlor and makes every one so happy that, when the truth comes out, they all vote to go on living a lie.
To all this, Playwright Finch brings no jot of extenuating talent. His play is as harmless, soporific and old-fashioned as a child's soothing syrup. Its big asset is that grandma is played by...
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