A slap-stick is so constructed that when a person is hit a light blow with it, a second piece of wood slaps the first and a surprisingly loud noise, as of a hard blow, is heard.  Children always laugh at the slap-stick clowns and you can depend upon many grown-ups, too, going into ecstasies of mirth.

Building upon this sure foundation, a class of comedians sprang up who “worked up” the laughter by taking advantage of the human delight in expectation.  For instance:  A man would lean over a wall and gaze at some distant scene.  He was perfectly oblivious to what was going on behind him.  The comedy character strolled out on the stage with a stick in his hand.  He nearly walked into the first man, then he saw the seat of the man’s trousers and the provokingly tempting mark they offered.  In the early days of the use of the slap-stick, the comedian would have spanked the man at once, got one big laugh and have run off the stage in a comic chase.  In the later days the comedian worked up his laugh into many laughs, by spacing all of his actions in the delivery of the blow.

As soon as the audience realized that the comedian had the opportunity to spank the unsuspecting man, they laughed.  Then the comedian would make elaborate preparations to deliver the blow.  He would spit on his hands, grasp the stick firmly and take close aim—­a laugh.  Then he would take aim again and slowly swing the stick over his shoulder ready to strike—­a breathless titter.  Down would come the stick—­and stop a few inches short of the mark and the comedian would say:  “It’s a shame to do it!” This was a roar, for the audience was primed to laugh and had to give vent to its expectant delight.  A clever comedian could do this twice, or even three times, varying the line each time.  But usually on the third preparation he would strike—­and the house would be convulsed.

In burlesque they sometimes used a woman for the victim, and the laughter was consequently louder and longer.  It is an interesting commentary on the advancement of all branches of the stage in recent years that even in burlesque such extreme slap-stick methods are now seldom used.  In vaudeville such an elemental bit of slap-stick business is rarely, if ever, seen.  Happily, a woman is now never the victim.

But it was upon such “sure-fire” [1] bits of business that the early vaudeville two-acts—­as well as many other acts—­depended for a large percentage of their laughs.  It mattered little what were the lines they spoke.  They put their trust in business—­and invariably won.  But their business was always of the same type as that “bit” [2] of spanking the unsuspecting man.  It depended for its humor on the supposed infliction of pain.  It was always physical—­although by no means always even remotely suggestive.

[1] Any act or piece of business or line in a speech that can be depended on to win laughter at every performance is called sure-fire.