ACCIDENTS WILL HAPPEN
Reading edition
He was a burly Dutch tenor, And I patiently trailed him in his waking and sleeping hours That I might not lose a story,— But his life was commonplace and unimaginative— Air raids and abdications kept his activities, (A game of bridge yesterday, a ride to Tarrytown), Out of the papers. I watchfully waited, Yearning a coup that would place him on the Musical map. A coup, such as kissing a Marshal Joffre, Aeroplaning over the bay, Diving with Annette Kellerman. Then for three days I quit the city To get a simple contralto into the western papers. Returning I entered my office; the phone jangled. The burly tenor was tearfully sobbing and moaning over the wire; Tremor and emotion choked his throat. This was his ominous message: A taxicab accident almost had killed him two and one half days ago; He had escaped with his body and orchid-lined voice— And not a line in the mornings or evenings! What could I do about it? Accidents will happen.