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Broadways Miracle Man
The Story of Sam H. Harris, Americas Premier Producer
S AM H. HARRIS personifies Broadway. The
Broadway that is generous, daring, almost
reckless. The Broadway that is always on the
search for the new, continually on the qui vive for
a novel musical beat, an original step, the latest
technical device and machinery. The Broadway
for ever and ever stepping on the gas, trying
to reach a faster tempo, a jazzier rhythm, a
bigger display. The Broadway that wants to look
sophisticated but secretly wipes its tears when it
sees a good old melodrama. The Broadway that
gambles and has its own code of honor and ethics,
that has its loyalties, its superstitions and, above
all, its unbending pride. Broadway, which adores
a blinding color scheme; Broadway the happy
hunting ground for beggars, geniuses, fakers and
men with ideas; Broadway, which takes defeat
with a smile, hard luck with a grin and success
with a shrug of the shoulders. All that Broad
way is personified by Sam H. Harris, the pro
ducer of “Of Thee I Sing,” the Pulitzer Prize
Play, who started his climb up the ladder as the
manager of the fighter 'Terry McGovern, and
today is one of the very few theatrical men who
have fought the economic crisis to a standstill and
clubbed old man depression groggy.
Sam H. Harris is an East Side hoy who began
by shifting for himself when you and you and
you still played hide and seek. This is no P. A.
(press agent) tale. He .was a Western Union
messenger boy who ran his feet ragged to save two
bits to buy a ticket to some soul-stirring melodrama
in which the poor orphans were driven heartlessly
into the snow storm by a cruel landlord. And
there he sat, Little Sam, a Semitic-looking young
ster with a knife-sharp face that one remembers.
'There he sat dreaming of the day when he him
self would be producing such wonderful plays.
That was about half a century ago, when the East
Side was a real potpourri where Irish and Jews
fought and loved each other with intense fervor.
The Cohens were reputed to have the brains and
the Kelleys the punch. Sometimes it was just
the other way about, but somehow that was the
credo of the East Side.
Sam became the manager of 'Terry McGovern,
the Irish terror, a smaller edition of the great
Sullivan, only much faster and more furious. Sam
H. Harris (Sam always insists on his middle ini
tial, because there are quite a few Harrises in New
York and on Broadway) was then a lanky young
man—lanky but not tall—who took his pilotship
of Terry the fighter most seriously. He manipu
lated him so well that Terry became champion;
yes sir, champion of the world. For others this
even would have meant the end of a life’s ambi
tion. But to Harris it merely sounded the signal
for the start of a new race. His fertile mind con
cocted the idea of utilizing the box office appeal
of a fighter outside the boxing ring. Sam H.
Harris presented Terry McGovern in “The Bow
ery After Dark,” a melodrama of “real” life, and
cashed in on his ingenuity.
If we gave you the skeleton of Sam H. Harris’
career from newsboy to Broadway’s producer of
sophisticated plays you would wonder and wouldn’t
understand. The range of his activities is so tre-
A PORTRAIT INTERVIEW
By PHINEAS J. BIRON
From Newsboy to America's foremost producer
of sophisticated plays! This is the fascinating
story of Sam II. Harris, the producer of “Of
Thee I Sing” and “Face the Music.” Our Rov
ing Reporter unfolds to us Harris’ pictuersque
life and philosophy in this portrait-interview of
Broadway’s most colorful personality who grad
uated from the Jewish East Side of New York.
The Editor.
SAM H. HARRIS
... He was a messenger boy who ran
his feet ragged to save two-bits. . . .
mendous and the contrasts so striking that you
are bound to inquire: Are you sure that you are
still talking about the same Sam H. Harris?
After the McGovern chapter Harris went in
for producing in earnest. A whole string of melo
dramas, mostly written by Owen Davis, who a
few 7 decades later wrote successful modern bed
room farces for the same Harris. At that time,
however it must have been around the mauve
decade, or was it the yellow?—Harris, Tim Sul
livan (1 ammany politician) and Woods w r ere the
big three in the theatrical field; and instead of
competing against one another they worked as
partners, producing numerous cheap (they are
cheap now 7 , but they w 7 ere merely popular then)
melodramas.
Another chapter in the Harris book is his long
partnership w r ith George M. Cohan. An era pro
ductive of big theatrical achievements, one of them
“Little Johhny Jones,” with George M. Cohen
and his patents in the main roles, which set a new
box office record. In 1919 Sam H. Harris and
Cohan broke up their partnership and Harris be
gan his sensational record of Broadw r ay’s most
successful producer.
A few 7 names of the show’s he had sponsored
speak louder than any adjectives we can muster.
Welcome Stranger,” “Cradle Snatchers,” “Jazz
Singer, Cocoa Nuts and “Animal Crackers,”
W!th the Four Marx Brothers; “Once in a Life
time, Galsworthy’s “Justice,” “Rain”; and this
season, “Face the Music,” and “Of Thee I Sin
We have left out many titles, but those we m n
tioned will give you an idea of Sam’s uncai
flair, that instinct which Henri Bergson, the bob
bish Philosopher of Paris, calls intuition. He rec
ognizes a good play w’hen he sees one. If you
pause a moment and consider that Harris never
finished grammar school, that he is from head to
foot, a self-made, self-educated man—w 7 ell, you’ll
simply come to the conclusion that perhaps Ripley,
that famous Believe It or Not cartoonist, should
long ago have included Sam H. Harris in his
miracles.
But, as we intimated before, these few biograph
ical dates, plucked at random, will not give you
the right slant on Sam H. Harris. You may get
the w 7 rong notion that Sam is a plodder who ad
vanced cautiously and slowly on his conquest of
Broadway, saving the dimes and spending a small
portion of his income in accordance with the age-
old formula of success. One-tenth inspiration and
nine-tenth perspiration. But Sam H. Harris does
not belong to that category of successes.
The other day we had the privilege of facing
him—and so young and dapper does he look that
you are tempted to ask him whether he is Harris,
Junior or Senior. In the course of our conversa
tion it was revealed that Harris does not believe
in building brick on brick. He is of the spec
tator type that loves to risk all on one card. At
the age of twenty-one Harris was the ow r ner of
four racing horses. As he is a true artist, money—
in the last analysis—is secondary to him. 1 he
thrill, the suspense, the possibilities of a big coup or
a heavy loss mean more in his life than just money
making.
It happened to him more than once that he
lost his entire fortune on the last card of a stud
poker game or on a long shot at the racing track.
It is always then that the unbelievable happens.
Harris does not get downhearted or embittered.
He smiles, mutters to himself: “Gee, that was a
good game, or a close race.” And then he rolls up
his sleeves and gets down to business, creating re
sources almost like a magician, from the air. tap
ping his many sources, the results of staunch friend
ships through many years.
There is in Sam H. Harris much of the happv
w'arrior psychology of A1 Smith, w r ith whom, in
cidentally, he is very intimate. He takes knock>
like a sportsman. When, on the morn of a [ :t “"
miere, the gentleman of the fourth estate pan
show and predict a speedy trip to the sn
house, he does not shout “prejudice,” nor
he obstinately insist on making the critic* ”>'
foolish by “forcing” a success. He picks v '
show with the same gesture as he puts down
card and says: “Better luck next time.
Here you have one of the main reasons-—
the main one—why Sam H. Harris is uniu
liked. He knows when he is beaten and i>
for the new deal.
Today, however, Sam H. Harris is so Inti
the ladder of success that losses bother run
tie. He has arrived. His homes in Centr a
West and Great Neck are show pl*£ cs *
Theatre, “The Music (Turn to page -
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* THE SOUTHERN IS RA