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Wage War for More Dress Shirts and Caviar and Less White Collars and Applesauce at the Plymouth


WHITE COLLARS, A Comedy of American Life at the Plymouth. It was produced by MISS ANNE NICHOLS, so the Author's Name was Printed on the Program in Type Too Small to Read.


"Heigh ho" said Mr. Meneken, "So it's 'White Collars' tonight. Shall we razz it good?"

"If it's bad" said Mr. Nathan, closing the taxi door, "which it will be," and added smugly, "We must try to be fair".


The first act was half over.

"It's a parody," declared Mr. Mencken.

"No," said Mr. Nathan solemnly, "I actually believe they mean it".

"A-w-w" said Mr. Mencken, sneezing into his handkerchief.


The second act was well under way.

Mr. James Bradbury Jr., the talented Swiss comedian, was being sobered up off stage, and Mme. Dorothy Hall as stenographer Joan Thayer rested her head against the shoulder of her millionaire husband, impersonated by Mr. John Warner, and cooed "My d-a-r-l-i-n-g".

As one man, Messrs. Mencken and Nathan exchanged a bilious fish eye, carefully adjusted their elegant opera cloaks, gave a final pat to the knap of their ritzy beaver bats, donned their immaculate white capeskin gloves and stalked up the aisle amid envious glances.


The third act was progressing.

But the distinguished critics were not there to see it.

Ensconced at a table in Jakey Wirth's swell beer saloon they were partaking of hohn kukken and tongue blood pudding.

"I view that play with alarm," declared M. Mencken.

"Something should be done about it," asserted Herr. Nathan.

"Let us write to our Congressman."

"On the contrary I favor a statement to the press."

So, with the aid of Herm the waiter, the following manifesto was indited:

"In the interests of fair play, we, the undersigned, feel called upon to rise in defence of the voiceless middle classes. The middle classes have-never done anything to the playwright. On the contrary they have been very nice about buying tickets and even sitting through entire productions. We wish Miss Nichols and her pals would lay off Apple Sauces, Abies Irish Roses, and White Collarses and give us more dress suit dramas. We favor uplift. Yah! "Y'rs.   "GEORGE.   "HENRY.   "HERM."

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