If I get married, I think I'd pick out a newspaperman rather than

“If I get married, I think I'd pick out a newspaperman rather than a millionaire. A newspaperman is a regular fellow.” So declared Anna Held, the French-born stage performer whose beauty, wit, and spirit captivated audiences at the dawn of the twentieth century. Though she lived among the glitter of fame and fortune, her words shine with rare humility and discernment. In this simple statement, she reveals a truth that reaches beyond her era: that character outweighs wealth, and authenticity is the true measure of worth in love. Her voice, though playful, carries the wisdom of one who has seen through the illusions of glamour and found that the heart yearns not for riches, but for genuineness.

To understand Held’s words, one must remember the world she lived in—a world where fortunes dazzled, and the stage was filled with those who sought to rise above poverty through charm, talent, and grace. She herself became a legend not merely for her performances, but for her famed relationship with the showman Florenz Ziegfeld, whose extravagance helped shape the golden age of Broadway. Surrounded by opulence, she learned firsthand that wealth does not guarantee warmth, nor luxury bring love. When she said she would choose a newspaperman, she was speaking of a soul grounded in truth, in daily struggle, in the honesty of work—a man who sought stories, not status; understanding, not admiration.

For the newspaperman is a symbol of the common man, the seeker of truth who lives close to life’s raw realities. He listens to others’ stories, walks the streets where joy and sorrow mingle, and sees the world not from the towers of privilege but from the heart of humanity. Such a man, Held believed, would not be seduced by glamour or blinded by vanity. He would be steady, kind, and real—a “regular fellow.” In contrast, the millionaire, surrounded by flatterers and possessions, risks losing touch with humility and the simple joys of companionship. Thus, her quote is not merely about professions or class—it is about the spirit of sincerity over the illusion of grandeur.

History offers many examples of those who chose simplicity over splendor and found peace where others found only emptiness. Consider Saint Francis of Assisi, who cast aside the riches of his family to live in poverty, saying that the poorest man who walks with love is richer than the king who reigns in loneliness. Or think of Abraham Lincoln, whose humble heart, forged in hardship, won the affection of a nation more deeply than any title or treasure could. These figures remind us that to seek the company of the “regular fellow” is to seek a partner rooted in reality, in kindness, in the shared dignity of being human.

Anna Held’s sentiment also reflects the eternal struggle between appearance and authenticity. The world dazzles us with what glitters—the wealth, the fame, the promise of ease—but it is the unseen virtues that sustain love: empathy, humility, humor, and faithfulness. A newspaperman, in her imagination, stands as a metaphor for one who listens and understands; he lives not to be adored, but to discover meaning. In choosing such a companion, Held elevates substance over spectacle, and integrity over indulgence. She suggests that love must be built upon understanding and truth, not upon the fragile sands of wealth or vanity.

Yet there is also tenderness in her words—a longing for connection beyond the superficial. The “regular fellow” is not perfect, but he is real; he may stumble, but he speaks from the heart. In this, Held gives voice to a universal desire: to be loved not for one’s beauty, fame, or fortune, but for one’s humanity. To marry the newspaperman is to embrace a life of conversation and shared discovery, to live among stories rather than trophies, to seek adventure not in luxury but in companionship. Such love, though humble, is enduring, for it is built on respect and understanding, the pillars of lasting joy.

So, my listener, take heed of her wisdom: do not be seduced by the glittering illusions of this world. When you seek a partner, look not for riches, but for truth of heart. Listen to how they treat others, how they speak of life, how they listen. Seek the one whose laughter rings honest, whose kindness needs no witness. For gold may dazzle the eyes, but only goodness nourishes the soul. As Anna Held reminds us, a “regular fellow”—or a regular heart—is worth more than a thousand fortunes.

Thus, let her words stand as a gentle counsel to all generations: love is not a transaction but a union of equals; not a prize to be won, but a friendship to be tended. Choose the one who walks in truth, who sees you not as an ornament but as a companion in life’s story. For when riches fade and fame grows silent, it is authenticity, not affluence, that keeps the flame of love alive. And in that simple, steadfast light, you will find what Anna Held herself sought: not perfection, but peace.