A Time in My Life

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A Time in My Life (600 Words)

 

 

     One of my most cherished memories was a compliant received from the ex-wife of a noted playwright, “You captured the essence of his “Arab”… a breathtaking performance that I’m sure Bill would stand up and cheer for.” Okay, Okay, I know it sounds like a bit of self-aggrandizing, so let me backtrack, and go over those events that led up to that theatrical critique that left me popping at the seams.

 

     This is a tale that took place many, many years ago when I was young, good-looking and full of dreams…

 

     I just recently returned to New York with my tail between my legs. For the past three years my dreams of becoming a Hollywood legend in the land of California ended in disillusionment and disappointment. I decided to concentrate more on the theater, rather than the Movie or T.V career that I recently abandoned. With my G.I .bill in hand I enrolled in college and joined their Theater Arts program. I was accepted into the “Chapel Studio Players,” a prestigious repertory company, affiliated with the school. It was reserved for the more gifted of acting students.

 

     There were four productions a year performed in the main theater. These were all well received events. Being that the theaters proximity was just fifteen miles from Broadway many a high heeled theater patron would be in attendance. To get cast in one of the main productions, no matter how small, was a feather in ones cap.

 

     I was cast as “The Arab” in William Saroyan’s five act play “The Time of Your Life,” first performed on Broadway in 1939, winning the Pulitzer Prize as well as the New York Drama Critics Circle Award. He was one of the Greats.

 

     Although the part didn’t have many speaking lines except for one monologue, it was the only character that was on stage for all five acts. He mainly sat at the bar smoking cigarettes. The character also played the harmonica at the end of each act, which if played right, added a sad accent to the piece.

 

     I rehearsed the part for a month, learned to play a few licks, on the harmonica, dyed my hair and beard gray and learned how to do an Arabian accent and smoke unfiltered cigarettes.  My pivotal scene was in the third act, soon after the “Cop’ did his monologue, flicked his cigarette on the floor and exited. I ended the act with my monologue and did a fade playing the harmonica. A powerful scene… if done right.

 

     The first performance went well and when I came out for a bow I was nicely received. When I was backstage an actor friend came up to me and said, “You may have looked like an old man but didn’t move like one.” A light bulb clicked on.

 

     The next performance I slowed down my characters movements, considerably. In the third act when the ‘Cop” flicked his cigarette on the floor, I slowly got off my stool and slowly, very slowly, picked up the cigarette and with stooped shoulders, walked back to my stool, and smoked it… to the audiences delight. This time when I came out for a bow, I received a standing ovation. I made the “Arab” real and his story more poignant by being in the moment for the whole play. He became a real person to the audience, not a young man playing an old one. Necessity is absolutely the Mother of all Invention.

 

     So when Carol Marcus, a noted actress herself, said William Saroyan would applaud my performance, how could I not puff up like a peacock?