ed the scripts!
Grabbing a wonderful line, a peach of a scene,
A gem of a finish
Out of the rubbish that struggling poor devils
Borrowed money to typewrite and mail to us.
It's like opening oysters looking for pearls,
But pearls are to be found and out of the shell heaps
Come jewels that, polished and set by a clever artificer,
Are a season's theatrical wonder.
Finally came my own big idea.
I wrote and rewrote and cast and recast,
Convinced the manager, got a production.
Here am I young and successful,
And Walter and Thomas and Selwyn have nothing on me.
Press agents are hired to praise me.
Watch for my next big sensation,
But meanwhile I hope that that play-writing plumber,
Who had an idea and nothing else,
Never sees this one.

TYPES

They've got me down for a hick, bo,
Sam Harris says I'm the best boob in the biz,
And that no manager will cast me for anything else.
Curses on my hit in "'Way Down East"
That handcuffs me forever to yokels,
And me a better character actor than Corse Payton!
That's how it is they're stuck on types,
And the wise guy who plays anything
Isn't given a look-in.
Listen to me, young feller, and don't ever
Let 'em tab you for keeps as a type.
It's curtains for a career as sure as you're born.
Why, there's actors sentenced to comedy dog parts,
To Chinks, to Wops, to Frenchmen and fluffs.
There ain't no release for them.
The producers and managers can see only one angle,
And you may be a Mansfield or Sothern.
It's outrageous that's what it is, that make-up
And character acting should be thrown in the discard.
You can sit in an agent's office for months
Before a part comes along that you fit without fixin'.
This natural stuff puts the kibosh on art
And a stock training ain't what it used to be.
Say, if ever I rise to be hind legs of a camel
Or a bloodhound chasing Eliza, I'll kick or I'll bite
The type-choosing manager.

GEORGE M. COHAN

Blessed be Providence
That gave us our Cohan;
Irreverent,
Resourceful, prolific, steady-advancing
George M.
Nothing in life
Better becomes him
Than his earliest choice
Of Jerry and Helen
For father and mother;
Bred in the wings and the dressing room,
The theatre alley his playground,
Hotels his home and his schoolhouse,
Blessed with a wonderful sister,
And in love with a violin.
From baby days used to the footlights,
With infrequent teachers of book lore
In the cities of lengthy engagements
Showing him pages of learning
That he