In 1922, Edwards appeared in the revue “A Fantastic Fricassee.”  Alexander Woollcott, then drama critic for the New York Times, singled him out as one of the highlights:

“An enchanting little marionette show and some diverting lyrics by one Robert Edwards, said to be the Greenwich Village cut-up — those two items constitute the oases in the proceedings instituted last evening at the Greenwich Village Theatre…

“Mr. Edwards, faithful to the village in that he carries a ukulele and wears a bit of rustic shirting, has several charming songs.  There is one done in the manner of an Arabian lament which runs something like this:

“The Sultan’s wives
Have got the hives
Oh, Allah, be merciful!
The Sultan’s laundress
Has the jaundice,
Oh, Allah, be reasonable!

“And then he had another elegiac piece.  It avers that he wearies of ‘Greenwich Village flappers in their dirty batik wrappers,’ and is sung in memory of a ‘sweetie from Tahiti.'”

This production, by the way, was also noted for featuring the young Jeanette MacDonald; and for being prevented from appearing before the inmates at Sing Sing, due its underdressed dance numbers.

A few years before that, Edwards performed in the first edition of the “Greenwich Village Follies,” which went on to become more commercial (and to have less and less to do with the Village) in its later incarnations. Again, the Times (this time an anonymous critic) gave particular attention to Edwards (7/16/19):

“There were several specialty numbers that made a hit last night. Cecil Cunningham was on twice with songs, and Bobby Edwards, who may be described as the real Greenwich Villager in the ‘Greenwich Village Follies,’ made musical comments aided by a well-tamed toy guitar. Each had a hard time getting off the stage.”

I assume that the last sentence meant that Edwards was called back for encores, not he overstayed his welcome. And note that the representative of the paper of record couldn’t identify a cigar-box uke; it was ever thus.

Edwards was the M.C. in this show; his big number was “Why Be an Industrial Slave When You Can Be Crazy?”

(Posted by Doug Skinner. The self-portrait with adoring fans is from his 1917 Song Book.)