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m u s i n g s
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The following was writen by Dorothy Stickney the first year she came to New York,
while waiting in a producer's outer office.
Ms. Stickney, born in 1900, made her New York debut in 1926. She appeared regularly
on Broadway for the next dozen years. Ms. Stickney has had a long career in Films and
television, as well.
You're Not The Type
By Dorothy Stickney
I looked for work in early fall
And could not find a part at all.
I looked and looked and looked and then
I looked and looked and looked again,
And looked and looked, and now it's spring,
And still haven't anything.
Too fat, too thin, too short, too tall,
Too blond, too dark, too large, too small.
An office boy my dream would thwart,
"You're not the type," I'd heard him snort,
So then I asked a big producer
"Oh, let me play a part for you, sir!"
And as my eye he saw me wipe,
He yawned and said, "You're not the type."
A playwright next I interviewed,
My heart with brightest hopes imbued.
He turned away and lit his pipe,
And shortly said, "You're not the type."
To see an agent then I went,
My shoes worn out, my money spent.
The agent smiled and said, "My dear, You're not the type.
Come in next year,
For doubtless then we'll be engaging."
And I departed madly raging.
So herewith my furnished room,
At last I face my awful doom.
I'll starve and go ( I hope) above,
And this is what I'm thinking of-
Perhaps if I am very good
And play my harp as angels should,
Saint Peter will be kind to me
And lend me once his Golden key.
I hope to see upon the Stair
Imploring for admittance there.
Producers, playwrights, agents, too,
And all the deadly office crew.
When my familiar face they see,
They'll say, "Don't you remember me?"
Then from the Pearly Gates I'll pipe,
"Oh, go to Hell! You're not the type!"
Hope you enjoyed it.
We'll all be there waiting for those types, won't we!!
Petrus
'Where are we?' 'Hog Valley.' 'Well that doesn't tell me anything!'