The Broadway Anthology

NEW YORK DUFFIELD & COMPANY 1917
Copyright, 1917 BY DUFFIELD & COMPANY VAIL-BALLOU COMPANY BINGHAMTON AND NEW YORK
Acknowledgment is due to the New York Evening Post , Sun , Times , Tribune , the Boston Transcript and the Wilmarth Publishing Company for their kind permission to reprint some of the matter in this volume.
He was a burly Dutch tenor, And I patiently trailed him in his waking and sleeping hours That I might not lose a story,— But his life was commonplace and unimaginative— Air raids and abdications kept his activities, (A game of bridge yesterday, a ride to Tarrytown), Out of the papers. I watchfully waited, Yearning a coup that would place him on the Musical map. A coup, such as kissing a Marshal Joffre, Aeroplaning over the bay, Diving with Annette Kellerman. Then for three days I quit the city To get a simple contralto into the western papers. Returning I entered my office; the phone jangled. The burly tenor was tearfully sobbing and moaning over the wire; Tremor and emotion choked his throat. This was his ominous message: A taxicab accident almost had killed him two and one half days ago; He had escaped with his body and orchid-lined voice— And not a line in the mornings or evenings! What could I do about it? Accidents will happen.

He was a wonderful Metropolitan singer. His name had been blazoned over these United States, And in Europe it was as well known. Records of him could be bought in the smallest hamlet; Nothing but praise had been shed upon the glory of his name. In May he was scheduled to sing in Chicago At a festival where thousands were to foregather To do praise to him and his voice. Two days before he left, he came to his manager's office With a sickly expression all over his rotund face And a deathly gasp in his voice. One thought he needed a doctor, Or the first aid of some Red Cross nurses. He was ushered into the private office To find out his trouble. This was his lament in short; A friend, in the hurry of the moment, Had procured tickets for him on the Twentieth Century Which demanded an extra fare of six dollars,— And he wanted to ride on the cheapest train. So we got him tickets on another road Which takes thirty six hours to Chicago and perhaps more, And the great singer, whose name has been blazoned over these United States And was as well known in Europe, Walked out contented and smiling like a young boy.