Cutup, the well-known comedian, whom he has under contract. The
personality of Jasper is familiar to the author, so he works for a
month or two and remoulds the play to fit him. With the script under
his arm he staggers to the manager's office. The manager reads the
script--smiles--chuckles--thoroughly enjoys it. Then a cloud passes
athwart his brow. "There's only one thing the matter with this piece,"
he says. "You seem to have written it to star a comedian." "But you
said you wanted it for Jasper Cutup," gasps the author, supporting
himself against the water-cooler. "Well, yes, that is so," replies the
manager. "I remember I did want a piece for him then, but he's gone
and signed up with K. and Lee. What I wish you would do is to take
this script and twist it to be a vehicle for Pansy Glucose."

"Pansy Glucose?" moans the author. "The ingenue?" "Yes," says the
manager. "It won't take long. Just turn your Milwaukee pickle
manufacturer into a debutante, and the thing is done. Get to work as
soon as you can. I want this rushed."

All this is but a portion of the musical comedy author's troubles. We
will assume that he eventually finds a manager who really does put the
piece into rehearsal. We will even assume that he encounters none of
the trials to which I have alluded. We will even go further and assume
that he is commissioned to write a musical comedy without any definite
stellar personality in mind, and that when he has finished it the
manager will do his share by providing a suitable cast. Is he in soft?
No, dear reader, he is not in soft. You have forgotten the "Gurls."
Critics are inclined to reproach, deride, blame and generally hammer
the author of a musical comedy because his plot is not so consecutive
and unbroken as the plot of a farce or a comedy. They do not realize
the conditions under which he is working. If is one of the immutable