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Updated: June 18, 2025
Instead he turned suddenly and walked down the hall to the double door which led into the reception room. He threw out his legs stiffly and came down rather flat-footed, the way George Cohan does when he's pleased with himself in the second act. "Hel-lo, Mack!" he called out jovially.
"I got a friend. My old boss is captain, and he's goin' to fix it up. I used to alley around politics chez moy. Compree?" The champagne came and Dan Cohan popped the cork up to the ceiling with dexterous red fingers. "I was just wondering who was going to give me a drink," he said. "Ain't had any pay since Christ was a corporal. I've forgotten what it looks like."
Her large firm breasts, neatly held in by the close-fitting blouse, shook a little when she laughed. Her cheeks were very red and a strand of chestnut hair hung down along her neck. She picked it up hurriedly and caught it up with a hairpin, walking slowly into the middle of the room as she did so with her hands behind her head. Dan Cohan followed her into the room, a broad grin on his face.
"I'll fix it up with Marie." Fuselli followed doubtfully. He was a little afraid of Dan Cohan; he remembered how a man had been court-martialed last week for trying to bolt out of a cafe without paying for his drinks. He sat down at a table near the door. Dan had disappeared into the back room. Fuselli felt homesick. He was thinking how long it was since, he had had a letter from Mabe.
A few days later, with some children, I went to the Hippodrome. And it remained for the Hippodrome, of all places, to give me the thrill I had not achieved abroad, the thrill I had not experienced since the first months of the war. Mr. George Cohan accomplished it.
In a similar manner, once the ice had been broken at the C. & E.I., Mitchell learned that the purchasing agent was at West Baden on his vacation; that he had stomach trouble and was cranky; that the speaker loved music, particularly Chaminade and George Cohan, although Beethoven had written some good stuff; that she'd been to Grand Haven on Sunday with her cousin, who sold hats out of Cleveland and was a prince with his money, but drank; and that the price on corrugated iron might be raised ten cents without doing any damage.
He wore a corporal's stripes and a British aviator's fatigue cap. Cohan made room for him on the bench. "What are you doing in this hole, Dook?" The man twisted his mouth so that his neat black mustache was a slant. "G. O. 42," he said. "Battle of Paris?" said Cohan in a sympathetic voice. "Battle of Nice! I'm going back to my section soon.
"What is this, anyway?" demanded Jock rather crossly. "A George Cohan comedy?" Emma McChesney leaned against the foot of the bed rather weakly. "What did you think " "What would you think if you heard some one come sneaking along the hall, stopping, listening, sneaking to your door, and then opening it, and listening again, and sneaking in? What would you think it was?
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.
I regret I never saw Vesta Tilley, with whom the old tops compare her so favourably. Superb girls all these, Fay, Ella, Cissie, Vesta, as well as Marie Lloyd, and the other inimitable Vesta Victoria. Among the "coming soon," we have Miss Juliet, whom I recall with so much pleasure from the last immemorable Cohan Revue. I wait for her. I consider myself fortunate to be let in on James Watts.
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