Every Dog Should Have His Day

Steyn Online ^ | May 13, 2019 | Mark Steyn

[rightwingintelligentsia]

In the early hours of this morning, Doris Day died at her home in Carmel, California. Only a week or so back, my old boss Conrad Black and I were affectionately contemplating her hundredth birthday, but she fell, alas, a little short: Ninety-seven. It was a splendid run, notwithstanding that she chose to spend the last half-century taking care of her dogs rather than her fans. The song below is from half a lifetime ago, but was one of her last public performances:

[Doris Day: The Way We Were]

Below, from my book The [Un]documented Mark Steyn, is my reflections on a long life if too short career divided between pictures and pooches:

Doris Day's first public performance was in kindergarten, in the olio to a minstrel show. The olio was a sort of warm-up to the main bill, and, in the late Twenties in Cincinnati, little Doris was supposed to do a recitation which began:

I'se goin' down to the Cushville hop
And there ain't no niggie goin' to make me stop!

"I was in a red tutu," she told me, "and they kept us backstage so long that I wet my pants. And, when I went on, you could see it - the red satin had turned black. I burst into tears after the second line and ran off stage. Some debut. Maybe that's where it started."

[Montana_Sam]

Thanks

[Rummyfan]

RIP Doris.

[sparklite2]

I’se goin’ down to the Cushville hop
And there ain’t no niggie goin’ to make me stop!

---

Shall we start the “Kate Smith Count Down Clock?”

[rightwingintelligentsia]

The same thought occurred to me.

Hopefully there aren’t any Doris Day statues around.