Choking at Godot

Screw Stevie Dash and his son-of-Hitler movie. With one semester left to graduate, Harry had his own big role lined up in:

The McGill Theater Department's major annual production, a three-night run of the Samuel Beckett classic, Waiting For Godot, co-starring Harry as Estragon and Hazen Bones, a Barishnikov wannabe who wore leotards everywhere -- even in winter, as Vladimir.

Stars were born at the vaunted McGill theater production. The stuff of legends. Take Lionel Wolfe, the program's most famous alumni, who went on to strike fame and fortune as Captain Merkel on the hit cult TV series, Space Cadets. Lionel showcased his remarkable range by playing Lady Macbeth in an experimental transgender version of Macbeth. Phil Ferns, the fey head of the CBC television drama was in the audience opening night and was qq  smitten with Lionel's campy performance. The pay-off: Lionel Wolfe's first television appearance as Spuds McGee in the acclaimed CBC mini-series, The Potato Farmer.

Opening night of Waiting For Godot was a celebrated tour de force. Montreal Gazette theatre critic Gaston Bumstead wrote that Harry's performance as Estragon was, "Mesmerizing, spell-binding, the virtual embodiment of alienation and unarticulated angst that defines the futility of our existence." Second night met with more critical raves. Syd Sheinhart, the chatty entertainment critic of The Suburban wrote, "Harry Starr's haunting performance as Estragon kept me up all night thinking...Of course it also could have been the post-show nosh of pickled brisket at  Delly Boys, but oy! this Harry Starr with his sheine punim is the next Lionel Wolfe!! p.s. Just between us: thesp Lionel's mother, Doris, was my prom date way back when. And whst a kisser, what a gal!"

Final show: Harry's entree to the big break was sitting in the audience slobbering over a juicy smoked meat sandwich. The freezer was none other than the enigmatic New York talent agent, Manny Bloom, a living legend who discovered the Oscar-winning Justin Guffman and scores of other working actors.

Manny Bloom wasn't there just by chance. Personal matters led him to hightail it out of New York and seek refuge with his old friend, Professor Morris Dorfman, head of the McGill theater department and director of the play. Manny was hoping that a little amateur theater would lighten his spirits. He was going through a depression after barely surviving a bitter divorce from his ex-wife, Tessie Baker the Tennessee Terror, a shrewish foot model he discovered who rose to the top of her field in the corn and bunion market. Tessie not only cleaned Manny out of his life savings, she also dragged his good name through the mud by spreading vicious rumors that were completely true:

Manny was involved in a bogus invoicing scheme.

Manny could only make love to Tessie's pedicured feet, ergo a childless marriage.

Manny had been carrying on a decades-long affair with the first client he ever signed, one of the few to stay with him, the great balloon-folding artist, Minerva Foss.

But alas,  Manny's woes led to Harry's opportunity. Professor Dorfman, a huge fan of Harry, told Manny, "The kid reminds me of a young unpolished Cary Grant. But he isn't just a gorgeous hunk, this kid embodies the outsider's angst of our generation. After you see the show, you must seriously signing him on as a client."

"Fair enough, Morrie. The timing is right. Ray Beno, that ungrateful S.O.B, just left me for William Morris after they offered him The Tonight Show. And to think that when I discovered the putz when he was lucky to get a gig at a bar mitzvah."

It was without question that Manny Bloom had a refined nose for talent. But his devotion to his clients was legendary. He'd do everything for them from picking up their clothes at the cleaners to spotting them a few bucks when they were broke. The problem was that Manny couldn't keep his clients once they made it. They took him for granted, they wanted more glamour than he could give them in his rent-controlled apartment and his 'rusted '69 Chevy Nova. Manny the mensch just wasn't cut out for such a cutthroat business like talent management.

Manny sat there in the first row nodding approvingly, transfixed with Harry's every move. And while the scene where Estragon sucks on chicken bones whetted Manny's ravenous appetite,  Harry gagged. Tragically a greasy chicken bone accidentally slipped out of his fingers and got stuck in Harry's throat, causing him to choke on stage.

Fortunately there was a doctor in the audience who alertly bolted onto the stage and dislodged the bone from the back of Harry's throat. Unfortunately, Harry could not finish his performance.

Choking however was no stranger to Manny Bloom. Fortune had slipped away from him many a time on the cusp of success. It also allowed him to look beyond the stage disaster. Bungled performance or not, Harry was a talent that he needed to bolster his thinning roster.

"The kid's got it," he confided to  Dorfman over s heaping plate of chicken at Chalet Bar-B-Q. "He's young, as my late Uncle Menachem would say, 'Life is like a rubber ball, it's all about bouncing back.' I'm ready to sign Harry and to schlep him around Broadway on auditions. In fact, as luck would have it, I have a few upcoming productions in mind at this very juncture in time."

A month later, Manny was making the rounds with Harry inNew York.

The first audition was for, Hello Babe, It's Him, a new play by Tony award winning Sim Neilson. The director handed Harry the script, patted him on the back and wished him good luck. Harry sucked in a deep breath, cracked his knuckles and cleared his throat. But when he opened his mouth to read, his throat constricted and he gagged. A glass of water, several deep breaths later and the same result.

"Sorry, Manny," the director said.

Next stop,"Todd and Carol", a play about doomed lovers, a story about sixty five year old char lady in the twilight of her career who falls in love with a hunky young janitor with big ambitions. And despite the apparent chemistry between Harry and rita Moreno, the leading lady, Harry gagged again.

"Sorry, Manny," the director said.

"I need to shake him up, " Manny told Dorfman over the phone. "He's thinking too much on stage and like my late Aunt Bessie, a wonderful woman who looked disturbingly like a carp, used to say, 'Thinkers never prosper.'  I'm sending the kid on an audition for the chorus in "O Bombay! ? Let him worry about his schlong instead of his throat. Maybe stripping down on stage will banish those self-defeating thoughts?"

It didn't.

Later that night at The Carnegie Deli over bowls of chicken matzah ball soup, Manny came clean with Harry. "Sorry kid, but I can't take you on. As my late bar mitzvah teacher Gabor Schmeltzer -- a man who refused to cut his nostril hair -- used to say, 'Not now, but maybe later. Who knows?' "

Harry mumbled something seemingly unintelligible while chicken matzoh ball soup dribbled from his his mouth.

"Excuse me Harry, I didn't quite catch what you were trying to say."

Harry coughed up into his napkin and sipped on his glass of water."Nothing, Manny. Just a piece of chicken got caught in my throat.