There was no holding the inspired Librettist and the talented young
Composer.
They knew that the eager Public in 48 States was waiting for the Best
Thing since "Robin Hood."
The Author went up to the City and found a Manager who had a Desk and a lot of Courage and a varied experience in risking other people's Coin. After the two Geniuses had mortgaged their Homes, the Impresario was enabled to get some Scenery built and rally a large Drove of Artists— most of them carrying Hand Bags.
During Rehearsals the brutal Stage Manager wanted to cut the Gizzard out of the Book and omit most of the sentimental Arias, but Mr. Words and Mr. Music emitted such shrieks of protest against the threatened Sacrilege that he allowed all the select home-made Guff to remain in the Script.
He thought it would serve them right.
When they gave the first Real Performance in a Dog Town on a drizzly evening in November, there was not Social Eclat to fill the sails.
The House was mostly Paper and therefore very Missouri.
Also a full delegation from the Coffin-Trimmers' Union with Cracked Ice in their Laps.
They did not owe any Money to the Author or have any Kinfolk in the Cast, so they sat back with their Hands under them and allowed the pretty little Opera to die like an Outcast.
The only Laugh in the Piece was when the Drop Curtain refused to work.