GASLAMP STAGE BEATS TAX CLOCK

The Gaslamp Quarter Theatre christened its new Deane Theatre this week with a raucous vaudeville revue, and in the process preserved $180,000 in investors’ income tax credits.

While the often outlandish revue, written by the theater’s business manager, James A. Strait, triggered guffaws from the well-heeled crowd, the real benefit went to a group of 43 profit-oriented investors, a limited partnership that put up $1 million for the project.

Because the new theater is a reconstruction of a 75-year-old building--the facade was rebuilt from the original bricks--it qualifies for income tax credits. In this case, the owners can receive $360,000 in tax advantages.

But the new federal income tax law that became effective this year would have changed that had there not been a performance before Jan. 1.

“When they changed the law, it scared the living hell out of us,” general partner Dan W. Pearson said. The new law halves the tax credits for buildings such as the Deane. Without Monday night’s performance, the investors would have lost half of the credits--$180,000.

(While the limited partnership is a profit-oriented venture, the Gaslamp Quarter Theatre is a nonprofit corporation. The theater will pay the partnership $10,000 a month in rent for the use of the Deane.)

In the theater’s debut, a rare ensemble of civic leaders, arts patrons, construction workers and actors joined forces for the revue, “Tonite at 8:32.” The title is a play on the name of Noel Coward’s “Tonight at 8:30.”

By turns irreverent, self-congratulatory, corny, clever and naughty, it was like a living scrapbook of the 6-year-old Gaslamp Quarter Theatre. Acts ranged from classic vaudeville tap dance routines to a takeoff of the Stephen Sondheim song, “Putting it Together,” from the musical “Sunday in the Park with George.”

Developer and philanthropist Ernest Hahn, sitting in a director’s chair stenciled Cecil B. DeMille, served as a gracious and humorous master of ceremonies. Hahn, who informed the audience that his presence on stage was “a triumph of vanity over lack of talent,” related the theater’s development, turning the pages of a scrapbook between the 15 acts.

One of those acts was City Councilwoman Abbe Wolfsheimer (a member of the theater’s board of directors), who donned a pith helmet and Cockney accent. Wolfsheimer recited “Charlie Deane”--”the lovely lord of dusty brick dust”--a sendup of Rudyard Kipling’s poem, “Gunga Din.”

It referred to Charles Deane, the former precious metals dealer who pledged $250,000 toward the theater’s construction, and is its namesake. Clearly a newcomer to the stage, Deane also performed, speaking rather than singing his part of a duet called “What Do the Theatre Folk Do?” (a takeoff of a tune from “Camelot”). Deane was joined by his wife, Pendry, who surprised the audience by singing in a lovely, full, mezzo-soprano.

Asked how he, a neophyte, was pressed into a performing before 250 people, Deane quipped: “When Kit asks, you don’t say no.” He referred to Gaslamp co-founder and Managing Producer Kit Goldman.

Goldman began her career in the theater as an actor, and returned to the stage Monday, along with most of the office staff, whom she had strong-armed into the revue. Goldman, development director Pat LaJoie and young playwrights consultant Deborah Salzer twittered through “Three Little Maids” from “The Mikado” before doffing their kimonos for chorus girl attire, and vamping through a sultry-comic “Hey, Big Donor,” satirizing their own success in fund-raising.

On the outrageous side, Wayne Tibbets donned swim fins for a letter-perfect performance of “Tap Your Troubles Away,” and in “The Gimmick,” DeeAnn Johnston, Liz Wunsch and Holly Babel revealed some interesting variations on the bump and grind.

Bob Johnston, DeeAnn’s octogenarian father, who once ran the former Lyceum Theatre as a vaudeville house, had the audience singing along to his stylish rendition of “Me and My Shadow.”

Even a group of employees from the theater’s contractor, M.H. Golden, took part in a satire of Artistic Director Willy Simpson. As the builders sang and danced to “Hello, Willy,” actor Paul Nolan, lampooning Simpson, sailed through the air on a swing, amid a profusion of lavender ribbons.

Not surprisingly, developer Dan Pearson, who is Goldman’s husband, was drafted as part of an act. When Pearson dropped a line, Hahn deadpanned: “It’s the first time I’ve seen a developer at a loss for words.”

“Tonite at 8:32” played for one performance only. The theater, which still requires some finishing touches, mainly outside, won’t open for its first play until Jan. 28, when Simpson presents Somerset Maugham’s “The Circle.”