I had now finished writing the lyrics of the song on a pad of yellow paper I had picked up in Conzelman's office.
"Where," I said, "did you ever come across that biscuit song?"
"Why," said Conzelman, "it was given to me by a theatrical agent who got together an act in which I was to appear with the Four Horsemen of Notre Dame. I was trying to line up the Four Horsemen for my professional team at Detroit, and the vaudeville tour was intended to make them a little extra money after graduation."
"What could the Four Horsemen do on the stage?"
"Oh," said Conzelman, "I think the plan was for Harry Stuhldreher to sing a song, and Jim Crowley was down for a tap dance, Don Miller was going to tell jokes, and Elmer Layden—I forget. I don't think Layden could do anything. Probably he was just going to stand there, clapping his hands and laughing."
"How did the act go over?"
It never got on the stage. The agent had some bookings lined up for us, but suddenly the whole thing had to be called off. The agent told me the Notre Dame authorities got wind of the plan. They considered the whole idea undignified and advised strongly against it."
"Then you have kept the biscuit song alive singlehanded?"
"As far as I know," said Conzelman, "I have never heard anybody else sing it. Or even express a desire to do so."
"How about your own compositions? Were they commercially successful?"