George M. Cohan’s Next Song and Dance: Make America a More Perfect Union

George M. Cohan, celebrated American singer, dancer, playwright, composer, lyricist, actor, theatrical producer, and above-all, patriot, has received renewed attention since Donald Trump has plunged onto the political arena. Some have misused his memory to liken Trump to Cohan.  But comparing Trump to Cohan is like comparing polyester or nylon to cotton or silk.  Each can be used to weave a flag, but even a discerning eye can sometimes be fooled into thinking that the artificial is authentic. In fact, Cohan and all he created became an authentic unifying force in the United States.  He therefore belongs to all Americans, with perhaps one exception—the Great Divider and master of fake news, Donald Trump.

As Cohan's great-granddaughter, I come to this view with a unique perspective on the man. According to family lore (and his World War I and World War II draft cards), Cohan was born in Providence, Rhode Island, on July 4, 1878, a mere 13 years after the Civil War, a war in which his father served. Together with his parents, Jerry and Nellie, second-generation Irish-American-Catholic-immigrants, and his older sister, Josie, the small, close-knit family comprised the vaudeville act, The Four Cohans. During his childhood, as the Cohans traveled throughout the ever-expanding United States, Cohan lived through a period of rapid industrialization and urbanization and witnessed waves of immigration under the eternal light of the Statue of Liberty, dedicated in New York when he was only eight years old.  Cohan, who received his education on stages in cities and towns peppering the States, met ordinary Americans—of all races and ethnicities—who experienced egregious working conditions.  Cohan, ever the gregarious and curious one, absorbed those stories into his being. Always a proud American, he still could not have missed the hurtful signs throughout America declaring, “No dogs, No Irish.”

Cohan, the hard-nosed musical genius, would never accept being “other.”  Believing he was destined for greatness—after all, he was born on the Fourth of July in a city called Providence and was named after our first President who united the 13 original colonies into one nation—Cohan wrote music and danced for the ordinary American with ordinary problems.  He broke the rules by creating his unique form of song and eccentric dance, which allowed him to break into New York, doing it his way and making his first million—an amount worth $30 million today—before he reached the age of 21.

These experiences shaped Cohan.  He was universally known for his magnanimous treatment of actors (paying them well-above market and even giving money to down-on-their luck actors) which is why he took the 1919 Actor’s Equity Strike as a personal blow to his heart.  Contrary to popular belief, he did not oppose unions. In an undated “Open Letter To The Members of The Acting Profession,” he expressed his opposition to the closed shop, not to unionization. And it was Cohan who brought in the mediator, ending that strike and delivering a more favorable contract than had been contemplated.

Cohan treated all he met (Irish-Americans, Italian-Americans, Jewish-Americans, African-Americans, Japanese-Americans, and all other Americans) as Americans first—not to be confused with “America First.” His best friend, business partner, and brother-in-law, Sam Harris, was Jewish.  His sister’s husband, Fred Niblo, was a French-Prussian American.  His valet and confidante, Michio “Mike” Hirano, with whom he shared a close personal friendship, hailed from Japan. Shortly after Pearl Harbor, Hirano was sent to a Japanese internment camp.  Cohan urgently telegrammed then-Attorney General Francis Biddle, stating, “I will personally vouch for Mike Hirano,” but that telegram fell on deaf ears, leaving Cohan bereft.  After World War II, Cohan’s children, who grew up with Hirano, searched for him, but could never find him.

Cohan himself experienced discrimination, not only for being Irish-American, but for being perceived as “other.”  He was denied entry to a country club because of his last name.  When Cohan told the desk clerk it was “Cohan” not “Cohen,” the desk clerk apologized.  “I’m sorry, I thought you were Jewish,” he said, to which Cohan replied, “Yes, and I thought you were American.”

Cohan’s patriotism served to unify Americans during desperate times. Always creating, he was inspired to write “You’re a Grand Old Flag” in 1906 when a Civil War veteran (who fought at Gettysburg), clutching a tattered flag, turned to Cohan, who happened to be sitting next to him, and said, “She’s a grand old rag.”  That song went on to be the first showtune to sell over one million copies.  In 1917, on the morning the United States entered World War I, Cohan wrote “Over There,” a song that sold two million copies, and then gave the proceeds to the Red Cross.  Cohan, whose name and works are synonymous with patriotism, received the Congressional Gold medal for his composition of these patriotic songs and their contribution to the American spirit.

Although the family remained apolitical (Cohan was friendly with politicians on both sides of the aisle), Cohan’s views were most closely aligned with Teddy Roosevelt’s progressive republicanism. Cohan, like Roosevelt, believed that being American meant that every person “big or small, rich or poor” was entitled to “a square deal.”  Even Irish Americans, considered racially and culturally inferior to Anglo-Saxon whites, were entitled that deal, which means justice, fairness, equality, and dignity.  Fast forward a century, and most Irish Americans seemed to have received that deal, but unfortunately, we can’t say the same for African Americans and other people of color. 

In contrast to Cohan’s self-made status, generous spirit, and focus on the ordinary person, Trump was born into privilege by a successful real estate developer and a former maid, who emigrated from Scotland.  But having inherited hundreds of millions from his father, Trump embraced his privilege, rejected his mother’s humble roots, and blew his fortune.  #BornToPrivilege.

In contrast to Cohan, who wrote a tribute to the U.S. flag, Trump hugs the U.S. flag and embraces treasonous Confederate symbols.  One shudders when watching footage of this vulgar, strangely intimate moment between the President of the United States and the nonconsenting flag.  This is the same man who called for a boycott of the NFL because Colin Kaepernick knelt before the flag in protest of the United States’ historically poor treatment of black Americans.  I ask you, which is more disrespectful to the flag, using it to protest racial grievances or molesting it? #DisrespectsTheUSFlag.

In contrast to Cohan, whose song “Over There,” is a masterpiece of diplomacy, promising our longest-standing allies, Britain and France, that “we won’t come back till it’s over, over there,” Trump has repeatedly alienated those very same allies, siding instead with dictators and demagogues. Our transatlantic relationship, once the cornerstone for spreading democracy throughout the globe, is now strained by Trump’s mismanagement. The European Union travel ban is only the latest fallout of Trump’s leadership gap. #LeadershipGap.

In contrast to Cohan, who dignified the military with his song and dance, Trump spits in the face of our military men and women by ignoring warnings that the Russian government had put bounties on the heads of American soldiers. #DerelictionOfDuty.

In contrast to Cohan, who gave away much of his fortune, Trump cheats workers, banks, and others out of their money, using other people’s money to create his persona of the rich New York playboy.  After his bankruptcies in the early 1990s, Trump could not obtain loans from New York banks and was forced to deal with Deutsche Bank and Russian financial sources.  And now in his role as POTUS, his mismanagement the COVID-19 pandemic has resulted in the worst U.S. economy since the Great Depression; like everything else he touches, the United States is also going bankrupt.  #ReverseMidasTouch.

In contrast to Cohan’s definition of American-style patriotism, “where there’s never a boast or a brag,” Trump incessantly broadcasts to all who will listen that he is the smartest, best, greatest, richest person in the world.  #Narcissist.

In contrast to Cohan’s optimistic spirit that America is great, but not perfect, and can only get better, Trump tells us that only he, and he alone, can make America great again. #Arrogance.

In contrast to Cohan and his family, who fought to reunite a divided America during the Civil War (his father was a Civil War veteran) and then used entertainment to help reunite a divided world, Trump uses entertainment to divide Americans and isolate us from our allies—allies we died for to create a world built on liberty, equality, and democracy, yet free from the extremism of fascism on the right and totalitarian communism on the left. #TheGreatDivider.

Having been born in the aftermath of the Civil War and having died on November 5, 1942, during the near destruction of humankind, George M. Cohan never surrendered his hope for America and Americans even when America disappointed us.  It is that spirit of generosity and inclusiveness which describes the very best that America can be.  It is the exclusivity of privilege and the tyranny of the “other” that defines the very worst excesses of who we are.  I, like Cohan, hope that we can find, within each of us, ways to include all who want to keep America on the path toward a more perfect union rather than to retreat to a past where extremism captured our worst selves.

Anne Marie Lofaso, great-granddaughter of George M. Cohan

Arthur B. Hodges Professor of Law

West Virginia University College of Law

Morgantown, WV

Harvard University, 1987; University of Pennsylvania, J.D. 1991; University of Oxford, D.Phil., 1997