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Updated: May 4, 2025
There had been a look of apprehension on Marie's face. She looked at Cohan's fist and shrugged her shoulders and laughed. Another crowd had just slouched into the cafe. "Well if that isn't wild Dan! Hello, old kid, how are you?" "Hello, Dook!" A small man in a coat that looked almost like an officer's coat, it was so well cut, was shaking hands effusively with Cohan.
So I assumed an air that mingled Solomon's with that of the general passenger agent of the Long Island Railroad. "Miss Lowery," said I, as impressively as I could, "life is rather a queer proposition, after all." There was a familiar sound to these words after I had spoken them, and I hoped Miss Lowery had never heard Mr. Cohan's song. "Those whom we first love we seldom wed.
She, too, had attained a good deal of celebrity in the musical-comedy world was to be one of the features of the cast. She'd come up from the ranks of the chorus. She'd been one of the ponies, years ago, in some of George M. Cohan's productions, and she was still just a chorus-girl. But a chorus-girl raised to the third, or fourth, or, if you like, the nth power.
He meets her on the corso or the strasse one evening and gives us ten pages of conversation. She reminds him of the difference in their stations, and that gives him a chance to ring in three solid pages about America's uncrowned sovereigns. If you'd take his remarks and set 'em to music, and then take the music away from 'em, they'd sound exactly like one of George Cohan's songs.
I would call it a part of the social system, just as much a part of the social system, and just as expressive of the national character, as the fine schools, the fine hospitals, the superlative business organizations, or Mr. George M. Cohan's Theater. A civilization is indivisibly responsible for itself.
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