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

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 preferred wearing leotards over pants, as Vladimir. 

Stars were born at the vaunted McGill theater production. The stuff of legends, like Lionel Wolfe, who went on to strike fame and fortune as Captain Merkel on the hit TV series, Space Cadets. Lionel showcased his remarkable range by playing Lady Macbeth in an experimental transgender version of Macbeth. Phil Ferns, the fey programming director of the CBC television drama department, was in the audience opening night and was smitten with Lionel's campy performance. And it paid off big time with the young actor's first television appearance in the starring role of Spuds McGee for the acclaimed CBC mini-series, The Potato Farmer.

Waiting For Godot's opening night was a celebrated tour de force. Montreal Gazette theatre critic Gaston Bumstead wrote that Harry's performance 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. I.F Sheinhart, the chatty entertainment critic of The Suburban wrote, "Harry Starr's haunting performance as Estragon kept me up all night questioning the meaning of my own existence...Harry Starr, what a talent! The next Lionel Wolfe!!  p.s. Just between us: thesp Lionel's mother, Doris, was my prom date way back when. What a kisser, what a gal!"

Final show: Harry's Big Break was sitting in the audience chewing on a fat wad of bubble gum was New York's enigmatic talent agent, Peewee Ludwig. The man, all five-foot-two of him, was a living legend who discovered the likes of Oscar-winning Justin Guffman, Tonight show host, Ray Benzo and scores of other working actors.

Peewee Luwig 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 Chet Baxter, head of the McGill theatre department and director of the play. Peewee was hoping that a little amateur theater would raise his battered spirits. The little man was going through a depression after suffering the shame of a bitter divorce from his ex-wife, Tessie Baker, a shrewish foot model who owned the corn and bunion market. Tessie wiped out Peewee financially and dragged his good name through the mud by spreading vicious rumors that were unfortunately, completely true:

That Peewee was involved in a bogus invoicing scheme.

That Peewee would only make love to her feet.

That Peewee had been carrying on a passionate affair with Pena Petosa, New Jersey's great baloon-folding artist.

But the wheel of fortune turns round;  Peewee's woes opened a door of opportunity for Harry Starr. Professor Baxter, who was also Harry's academic advisor, told Manny that, "The kid reminds me of a young Cary Grant. Dashing, elegant, yet funny. True leading man material. After you see the show, Peewee, you should sign him up as a client."

"Fair enough, Harvey. The timing is right. Ray Benzo, that ungrateful S.O.B -- ten minutes after he became the new host of the The Tonight Show, dumps me for a posh Fifth Avenue agency. And to think that when I discovered the big piece of lard, he was still doing magic shows at bar mitzvahs."

It was widely accepted that Peewee Ludwig was a bird-dog for ferreting out talent, but his devotion, his absolute 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, to actually helping to deliver a baby. The problem was that Peewee couldn't keep his clients once they made it. They took him for granted, they wanted glamour, something that Peewee couldn't deliver running his shoe-box office out of his rent-controlled apartment and driving his '69 Chevy Nova with his "McGovern for President" bumper sticker.

On the last night of the Godot event, Peewee 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 Peewee's ravenous appetite,  Harry almost choked. Literally. A greasy chicken bone accidentally slipped out of his fingers and lodged itself in Harry's throat.

Fortunately there was a doctor in the audience who bolted onto the stage and dislodged the bone from the back of Harry's throat. Choking, figuratively speaking however, was familiar territory for Peewee Ludwig Fortune had slipped away from him many a time, usually on the cusp of great success. Sadly, misfortune allowed him to look beyond Harry's stage disaster. Bungled performance or not, Harry was a talent that he needed to bolster his dwindling roster.

"The kid's got it," he confided to Baxter over s heaping plate of barbecued chicken. "He's young, as my late Uncle Williard 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 know of a few upcoming productions auditioning at this very juncture in time."

A month later, Peewee was making the rounds with Harry on Broadway.

The first audition was for Hello Babe, It's Him, a new play by Tony award winning playwright, 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 Harry opened his mouth to read, his throat constricted and he gagged. A glass of water, several deep breaths later and the same result.

"Sorry, Peewee the director said.

Next stop,"Todd and Carol", a play about doomed lovers, a 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 the leading lady, Harry gagged again.

"It was the Lysol on her breath," Harry swore to no avail.
"Sorry, Peewee," the director said.

"I need to shake him up, " Peewee told Baxter over the phone. "He's thinking too much on stage and like my late Aunt Carmella, may I say a wonderful woman who looked disturbingly like a trout, used to say, 'Thinkers never prosper.'  I'm sending the kid on an audition for the chorus in "O Bombay were they dance buck naked! Let Harry worry about his dong shrinking on stage instead of his throat. "

It did and he still gagged.

Later that night at Captain Mack's over bowls of fish soup, Peewee came clean with Harry. "Sorry kid, but I can't take you on. As my late fencing instructor Gabor Honig -- a wonderful man, who despite refusing to trim his curling nostril hair -- used to say, 'Not now, but maybe later. Who the hell knows?' "

Harry mumbled something seemingly unintelligible while a stream of fish soup dribbled from his his mouth.

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

Harry coughed up a mouthful into his napkin and sipped on his glass of water. A hard fish tail had been caught in his throat.