The Life and Times of A 95%er

This may sound strange coming from someone who has just written a memoir, but I have been asked to write a few words about myself, and I have no idea of what to say and suggest you read my book! In professional theater, unless you are a star, you don't usually get consistent work. In order to pay the rent, food on the table, etc., I have held a multitude of different jobs. I owned and ran a trucking company for thirty years, bartended, drove taxis and limousines, and more, as did my wife, in just as wide a variety. In New York, I had an extraordinary piece of luck. I got an apartment in Manhattan still under rent control for $37 a month. Yes, that's what I said, $37 a month. This allowed us to keep the place while we were on tour, saving us the hassle of finding a new place when returning from a six- or nine-month theater job. Both my wife, Jan, and I loved cooking fancy dinners and often made dinners for friends from the theater, school, and jobs. Afterward, we played poker and a Louisiana game called bourree (pronounced booray). These games were always penny, nickel, and dime because most of us were usually hovering just above broke. Jan had a huge tell. She had never played poker before and had a hard time remembering the ranking order of hands, so I had written a list--straight flush, four of a kind, etc. She didn't understand or approve of bluffing, so when she picked up the list, everyone knew she had a great hand and immediately folded! I knew James Earl Jones lived only a few blocks from me but didn't know where. I have a good bass-baritone voice, but I think he will go down in history as one of the best ever. I hoped to see him out sometime but never did. If I ever become famous, I hope to be left alone by autograph seekers in restaurants and would never push myself on anyone else. Present company excepted. I have been lucky to get advice from many people with two in particular. In my first professional appearance, I was a thief, stripping an apartment behind Judd Hirsh on the phone. Determined not to be accused of upstaging the star, I was really mousing around. After the show, he came to me and said, "Hey, kid, what's the matter wit' chew? You're only out there for a couple of minutes. Make the most of it! Give me somthin' to work wit!" I shall always remember that generosity. Another was Pat Corley, who, over the course of the rehearsals, gave me much sage advice. When I'm gone, I have asked to be cremated. I have loved fishing all my life and think it only fair to return the favor.