A new Indiana acquaintance for this old Texan asked, “Just how old are you?”
Reminded me of a story told by Max Randolph, the leading thespian in my 1946 Abilene High School graduating class. Max gave professional acting a try, was paid to act in New Orleans, but was never summoned to Broadway.
Max said in New Orleans there was a saloon across the street from the theater. The old actor playing ‘Grandfather’ went there between acts. When he staggered back to the theater, they carried him to the backstage dressing room.
Improvisation ensued before the delayed second curtain:
A stand-in, dressed as Grandfather, would stand behind the chair stage right, where the audience could not see his lips. The assistant stage manager would speak Grandfather’s lines from behind the scenery.
Then the stand-in Grandfather would move across stage and stand in front of the fireplace, back to the audience. Assistant stage manager would crawl the behind the scenery, position himself behind the fireplace and read the next Grandfather lines.
Oops. Assistant stage manager—crawling in the dark—hit his head against a steel support, and was stunned. Just as the leading man asked:
“Grandfather, just how old are you?” No answer. Leading man repeated the question. No answer. Some in the half-filled audience snickered.
“Grandfather! Just how old, are you?” No answer. Many in the audience laughed.
That’s when the leading man walked to front of the stage and addressed the audience. Said what I didn’t tell my new Hoosier friend:
“My Grandfather is so darn old, even he doesn’t know how old he is.”
Image by Mario Aranda at Pixabay
