1981

I was beginning to realise that the only way to make this evening bearable would be to 

Ask André A Few Questions. 

Asking Questions 

always relaxes me.

In fact, I sometimes think that 

my secret profession is that 

I'm a Private Investigator, 

A Detective. 

I always enjoy 

finding out about People. 

Even if they're in absolute agony, 

I always find it very interesting.

 The Life of a Playwright is tough. 

It's not easy, as some people seem to think. 

 

You work hard writing plays, 

and nobody puts them on. 

 

You take up other lines of work to try to make A Living... 

I became An Actor... 

and people don't hire you. 

 

So you just spend your days doing the errands of your trade. Today I'd had to be up by 10:00 in The Morning

to make some important phone calls. 

 

Then I'd gone to the stationery store to buy envelopes. 

Then to the Xerox shop. There were dozens of things to do. 

By 5:00pm I'd finally made it to The Post Office,

and mailed off several copies of my plays --

meanwhile checking constantly with my answering service

to see if my agent had called with any acting work. 

 

In The Morning, The Mailbox 

had just been stuffed with bills.

 What was I supposed to do? 

How was I supposed to pay them? 

After all, I was already doing My Best. 

 

I've lived in This City all My Life. 

I grew up on The Upper East Side,

and when I was 10 years old, I was rich, 

I was an aristocrat, riding around in Taxis, 

surrounded by Comfort,

and all I thought about was Art and Music. 

 

Now I'm 36, and all I think about is Money. 

 

It was now 7:00pm and I would have liked nothing better 

than to Go Home and have My Girlfriend Debby

cook me a nice, delicious dinner. 

 

But for the last several years 

our financial circumstances have forced Debby 

to work three nights a week as a waitress. 

 

After all, somebody had to bring in a little Money. 

So I was on My Own. 

 

But The Worst Thing of All was 

that I'd been trapped by 

an odd series of circumstances 

into agreeing to have Dinner with 

A Man I'd been avoiding literally for years. 

 

His Name was André Gregory. 

At one time he'd been a very close friend of mine, 

as well as My Most Valued Colleague in The Theatre. 

 

In fact, he was 

The Man Who Had First Discovered Me,

and put one of My Plays on the professional stage.

 

When I'd known André, he'd been at the height of his career as a theater director 

 

The amazing work he did with his company the Manhattan Project... Had just stunned audiences throughout the world. But then something had happened to André, He dropped out of the theater. He sort of disappeared, For months at a time, his family seemed only to know that he was traveling... In some odd place like Tibet... which was really weird because he loved his wife and children. He never used to like to leave home at all, Or else you'd hear that someone had met him at a party and he'd been telling people... that he talked with trees or something like that. 

 

Obviously, Something Terrible 

had happened to André --

 

The whole idea of meeting him made me very nervous. 

 

I mean, I really wasn't up for that sort of thing, 

I had problems of my own. 

 

I mean, I couldn't help André. 

 

Was I supposed to be A Doctor, or what? 

 

Sir, My Name is Wallace Shawn. 

I'm expected at the table of André Gregory. 

 

That table will be a moment, sir. 

If you like, you may have a drink at the bar. - Good evening, sir. 

 

Could I have a club soda, please? 

 

I'm sorry, sir. We only serve Source de Pavilion. 

 

Oh, that'd be fine, thank you. 

 

When I'd called André, 

and he'd suggested that we meet in this particular restaurant, 

I'd been rather surprised, because André's taste 

used to be very ascetic... 

Even though people have always known that he had some money somewhere. 

I mean, how the hell else could he have been flying off to Asia 

and so on, and still have been supporting His Family? 

 

The reason I was meeting André was that 

an acquaintance of mine, George Grassfield

had called me and just insisted that I had to see him.

 

 Apparently, George had been walking his dog in an odd section of town the night before, 

and he'd suddenly come upon André... leaning against a crumbling old building and sobbing. 

 

André had explained to George that he'd just been watching the Ingmar Bergman movie  

Autumn Sonata about 25 blocks away, 

and he'd been seized by a fit of ungovernable crying 

when The Character played by Ingrid Bergman had said... 

"I could always live in My Art, 

but never in My Life." 

 

Wally! 

 

Wow.

My God. 

 

I remember, when I first started 

working with André's company... 

I couldn't get over the way the actors 

would hug when they greeted each other. 

 

"Wow. Now I'm really 

in The Theater," I thought. 

 

Well, you look Terrific. 

 

 

Well, I feel Terrible.