Page:The Tatler (New York) - Volume 1, Number 1.djvu/10

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HEODORE METZ, who won a reputation by writing, "There'll Be a Hot Time In the Old Town Tonight," walked into a song publisher's office the other day and said, "I've got the biggest hit that ever happened, and a wonderful title!"

"Fine," said the publisher, "what's the name of it?"

"John Smith," answered Metz.

"Gee, that's a rotten title," said the publisher.

"Rotten?" replied Metz, "you're crazy. If every John Smith buys the song we'll sell over two million copies!"

It takes more than words and notes to make a song.

At the time Loew's Metropolitan opened in Brooklyn, Sam Levy, the music publisher's Kewpie, was making his report to Max Winslow. After inquiring how certain acts went, Winslow asked him how the acoustics were. Sammy replied that they must have been on before he got there as he didn't remember them.

A favorite expression of Levy's in predicting the success of a singer or actor is, "He'll take 'em like Lincoln took Nebraska."

The 400 in New York can't be so exclusive when Woolworth can break right out on Fifth Avenue with a money-making 5 and 10c store. It wouldn't surprise us a bit to see the Astorbilts or the Crazyquilts come out with a five-cent bar of shaving soap or a ten cent ribbon for a $10,000 dog.

The first week Bert Kalmar was in the publishing business the manager of a quartette came into his office and said: "Listen, I know youse guys is new in the business, and I want to give youse a chance. First, I want youse to come in and hear the boys sing." Mr. Kalmar listened and all he could hear was the bass singer. After this marvelous demonstration he called Mr. Kalmar outside and said confidentially: "We open Thursday at Loew's, and we want you to do one little thing for us. We are getting the silk hats from Remick, and we're getting the kicks from Shapiro Bernstein, and all we want from youse guys is four full dress suits." When Mr. Kalmar came to he asked them if they had tried Gimbels or Sax.

1—Subjects and places that songwriters are least acquainted with furnish the material for their best compositions. Irving Berlin, born in Russia, wrote "I want to go back to Michigan." Jean Schwartz, born in Budapest, wrote "Bedelia" and "My Irish Molly O." Maurice Abrahams, born in Constantinople, wrote "Take me to that Swanee Shore," and Alfred Bryan, born in Canada, wrote "I'm on my way to Mandalay." Moreover, the writers not in the service wrote the most popular war songs.

2—Songwriters are worried now that there is a big war on against royalty.

3—The commander who ordered the allied troops to wear their gas masks while marching into the city of Cologne certainly knew his business.

4—Prohibition will cost bartenders the privilege of giving first hand approval to many writers' efforts.

5—To pay an income tax on the promises I received during the past year would force me to turn bank robber.

6—The difference between a successful music publisher and a successful song- writer is about $1,000,000, in bank balances.

7—A professional manager of a music publishing house can torpedo a writer's offering as cold-bloodedly as a U-Boat commander could destroy a hospital ship.

8—Sign in the window of an undertaking establishment in New York reads: "Welcome to our heroes."

9—The armistice caused the demobilization of more writers of war songs than there were soldiers on the western front.

10—Bolshevism's prominence in the daily headlines won't induce writers to use it as a song topic. It's just a camouflage term for poison gas and is more apt to inspire German composers.

11—It's funny how Col. Roosevelt's greatness was not evident to song writers until after he died.

12—The Kaiser was discouraged mostly by the songs which were written about him.

13—Yankee Jazz played on howitzers at Chateau Thierry started the boches on the only "shaking the shimmie" movement that has been publicly applauded since it's vulgar inception.

14—Some fun playing poker now that the war is over. The bunch doesn't start discussing the war just as you get a pat full.