Roamin’ in the gloamin’ (1928)

ROAMIN' IN THE GLOAMIN' 143 on my songs, my singing of them, on my legs and the way I walked with them, my nose and how I breathed through it ; it slashed, stabbed, and excoriated the British people for laughing at me and wound up by asserting that the free and discerning people of America would have none of "this Scots buffoon who had the insolence to call himself a comedian" — or words to that effect. Grinding my teeth with rage I went in search of John. You will remember that earlier in my memoirs I made the statement that I have seldom or ever read a newspaper criticism of my stage work. This is absolutely true. I have never been on the books of a Press Cutting Agency. Had I, like so many celebrities, been in the habit of reading everything said or written about me over a period of years, this snappy column by Mr. Dale might have amused me immensely. As it was it came to me like a blow on the jaw — and I saw red. Moreover I was in a highly nervous condition on the very eve of my inaugural performance in New York. I don't think I ever saw a boy laugh so much as John did when he read the Alan Dale criticism. "Pa, this is splendid," said John. "It's the funniest thing I've read in my life !" And he started to laugh all over again. "I'm glad you think it funny, son," I growled. "It doesn't sound at all funny to me. And if I meet this bloke Alan Dale I'll plaster him up against the wa' like an Answers poster." I meant it, too. I was still smarting under the sting and injustice of Mr. Dale's venom when we arrived at New York. As usual an army of newspaper men came aboard and they all wanted to interview me at once. Somehow or other I got it into my head that one of the bunch must be the Dale bird! So I refused to be interviewed until he stepped forward and confessed. "And I give him fair warning that I'll kill him on the spot!" I added. The press boys all laughed, assuring me that they had never heard of such an individual; in any case,