The principle is expressed in the words of the song, “Everybody’s Doin’ It.” You go to the theater and hear a song. Next day at lunch the café singer is singing the same song. Blaring phonographs used for advertising purposes blat out the same song at you as you pass on the street. You walk past an afternoon band concert in the park—the band is playing the same song. If you are a normal person you have a feeling that perhaps something has been going on in the world while you were engaged with your own affairs. The song—you say to yourself frankly—is silly and the music trivial; but you keep your opinion a secret, because, after all, “everybody’s singin’ it.” Not long after you find yourself humming it. You go home, and your daughter is “practicing up” on the piece. It yells its way through your home and through your neighborhood and through your city and through your state until in sheer disgust, and in one day, the people pitch it bodily out-of-doors. But, behold, another song is waiting to take its place—a song fresh from Yiddish Tin Pan Alley. And the agony is repeated. _This occurs from 30 to 50 times a year._ That is the principle—repeat it until it becomes familiar; that gives it the veneer of popularity. Now, there is a method by which all this is done. Nothing “happens.” It is like the “mob risings” which have been practiced in some of our cities—there is always a well-organized center that knows the technology of riot and knows exactly what it is doing. There is a way of making “revolution” as common and as familiar a thought as the movies and popular songs have made “vamps” and “harems” and “hooch” and “Hula Hula.” The principle is the same—constant repetition for the purpose of familiarization. More than one tune has been deliberately rejected by the public, has not been “liked,” but the song-tinkers did not allow that little fact to intimidate them; they simply hammered it into the ears and memories of the public, knowing that “familiarization” was obtainable some time. “Whispering,” for example, did not catch on for a long time. Long ago it used to be known as “Johnnie’s Melody” because John Schoenberger wrote it—but finally it was driven home to its present popularity. There is this to say about it, it is far more deserving of its popularity than is 98 per cent of the so-called “popular” music. Having the principle, then, that _any song can be popularized by constant repetition_, the Yiddish music purveyors go about their business very systematically. The song is procured—by what means, it is not always possible to say. Perhaps one of the “staff” originates a catchy tune, or a girl who plays the church organ in a distant village sends in a pretty little melody. The girl’s melody is, of course, sent back as unsuitable, but if it really had a heart of melody in it, a copy is kept and “adapted.” In such ways are “ideas” procured.