I went to my 8th grade class reunion this past weekend(class of ’61!, do the math!) and one of my childhood friends is a tree surgeon. In Northwestern Connecticut where we grew up there are a lot of very famous people. He was cutting up a tree that had come down on a large estate just last week when a car stopped, the man got out and politely asked him how long he was going to be working there(with a chain saw). Mike assured him that he’d be done within the hour. “Well,” the man politely said,” Martha Stewart is going to be filming at my house tomorrow morning and the crew can’t have noise like that in the background. Are you sure you won’t be working tomorrow?” Mike assured him a second time that he would be done soon and wouldn’t be back the next morning. The man smiled and thanked him, then reached out to shake Mikes hand. “I’m Placido Domingo,” he said to Mike.

There’s a famous story about the great conductor, Sir Thomas Beecham. This happened I’m guessing in the ’30s or ’40’s. He was in a department store buying some shirts when a very well dressed young woman, early 20’s perhaps, came over to him and asked if he wasn’t Thomas Beecham. He said yes, he was. She then asked him, in very upper crust tones, how his father was. The cheek thought Beecham. But he answered that his father was well. “That’s wonderful,” she said, “And what is he doing these days?” the young woman continued. Beecham, taken aback at the forwardness of this woman, but also perplexed as to who it was, said” Oh you know, he’s still very occupied with his factory.” “Oh I’m so glad to hear that,” the young woman said. Beecham decided to pursue this further, so he said to the woman,” And how is your father?” “Oh he’s very good thank you. He’ll be so happy to hear that you asked about him.” ” And what’s he doing these days?” Beecham continued. “Oh, you know, he’s still king.” she answered. The young woman was Princess Margaret and had met Beecham when he received his knighthood at Buckingham Palace!

About 3 years ago there was a revival of Edward Albee’s masterpiece WHO’S AFRAID OF VIRGINIA WOOLF which ran for 3 weeks in Boston before going on to New York. I had seen the movie several times but never the play, so I went on opening night. The play is much longer than the movie and is divided into three acts that are each about an hour long. Towards the end of the first act, having drunk too much coffee at dinner, I ‘had to go.’ Nature wasn’t calling, it was screaming. And I knew that if I didn’t get to the Mens room at the very begining of intermission, I would have to stand on line for 10 minutes or more. So as the curtain fell on act one, I bolted up the isle, through the lobby, down the stairs to the lower lobby and into the Men’s room. I was the first one there. No more than 10 seconds after I got there the second man came in. It was Edward Albee. As we stood there side by side, I thought of all the stupid things I coulde say to him and fortunately rejected them all. Finally I said,”Do you still get nervous on opening night?” “Nah,” he said, “I’ve directed it too many times.” As soon as he said that, the room filled with more men, and we went our seperate ways.