Part 2 (2/2)
How much of the great, wholesome public, hard-working and normal, To whom the final appeal must be made Frequents our first nights on Broadway?
Costumers, friends of the author, and critics, Scene painters, all of the tradesmen concerned, Kinsfolk of mummers even to the third generation, Wine agents, hot-house ladies, unemployed players, Hearty laughers or ready weepers ”planted.”
Most of them there prepare for a funeral; Their diversion is nodding to friends and acquaintances, And he or she who nods the most times Is thereby the greatest first-nighter.
Some managers open to hand-picked audiences, Others strive to escape the regulars; But the majority seek for the standardized premier faces That really mean so little in the life of the play.
Listen to the comments during intermission: ”It doesn't get over!” ”It's a flop!”
”What atmosphere!” ”An absolute steal!”
”Such originality!” ”Not a bit life-like!”
”That author has a wonderful memory!”
”He copped that lyric from Irving Berlin!”
”He's as funny as a crutch or a cry for help!”
”They grabbed that number in London!”
”She's one of his tigers!”
”From a Lucile model, my dear, but home-made!”
”I can't hand him anything on this one!”
”Some heavy-sugar papa backed the production!”
”Isn't my boy wonderful!”
”Yes, but my girl is running away with the piece!”
”If you like this, you're not well!”
”What could be sweeter!”
”What large feet she has!” ”His Adam's apple annoys me!”
”She must get her clothes on Avenue A!”
”They say she was born there!”
”What an awful sunburn!”
”Best thing in years!” ”The storehouse for this one!”
”Did you catch her going up in her lines?”
”Yes, and he's fluffing all over the place!”
”Splendidly produced, don't you think?”
”I think the stage direction is rotten!”
So I suggest the old Roman fas.h.i.+on of presenting, The artists, like gladiators crying: ”We, who are about to die, salute you!”
THE DRAMATIST
I've put one over at last!
My play with the surprise finish is a bear.
Al Woods wants to read all of my scripts; Georgie Cohan speaks to me as an equal And the office boy swings the gate without being asked.
I don't care if the manager's name is as large as the play's Or if the critics are featured all over the ash cans.
I'm going to get mine and I'm going to live.
A Rolls-Royce for me and trips ”up the road,”
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