1978. When FINIAN’S RAINBOW transferred to Louisville from Denver I replaced the Coloradan who had played the sheriff out west. Couple of nice scenes, and one rehearsal to fit me in.

My first performance, first scene, I got a nice laugh as I’d hoped. But the other actor in the scene plowed ahead and covered my laugh. I was shocked. You don’t walk over a laugh, every actor knows that. The scene went on and I got another laugh. Again, the guy stomped all over it and went on with his lines. I wasn’t happy. Those were my laughs. I earned them, I WANTED THEM!!

Later that actor sought me out and apologized. “The guy in Denver,” he said, “never got laughs. I didn’t even know there could be laughs there.” Well…Okay then…I preened and puffed up at that and magnanimously forgave the chap.

Day or two later. Since it was an in-the-round theater, getting to front-of-the-house entrances required a journey: backstage into the bar, through the bar to the lobby, across the lobby to the top of the aisle, down the aisle, and onto the stage.

I made that journey for a scene in which I would lead the entire ensemble onstage, as they yelled adlibs at me and I adlibbed back.

Always early for entrances, I was first to arrive. Then a young lady showed up, the first of the ensemble. Then… then…uhhh…

Then nothing. No mob. I looked across the lobby toward where they’d be coming from. Nobody.

Maybe I was confused. Maybe I’d mistaken which scene this was. After all, it was only my second or third performance. So I asked the girl. “Is this the scene where we all go on together?” She said, “yes, it is.” 

    “Well,” I asked, “where are they?” She shrugged, “I don’t know.” We both looked across the lobby. Still nobody. 

Almost time to go onstage. Maybe 5 seconds till the cue. I said to the girl, “we’re gonna have to do this ourselves.” She nodded. The poor little thing looked terrified. I would just be playing my role, while she would be covering for a dozen missing people.

And … the cue. We head down the aisle, me saying “I got a job to do..”  and such.  My one-woman mob was squeaking “Sheriff…don’t do it…” and such. She could barely be heard, and I didn’t blame her. 

The actors onstage waiting for us were clearly confused by this meager mob. Maybe ten seconds into the scene we could hear --from Saskatchewan by the sound of it-- our lost crowd. They were shouting their adlibs from far far away. Eventually they appeared, running down the aisle at top speed. And the show went on.

How did this happen? I did ask. 

             Everyone had started on time for their entrance but then they sat down in the bar and began chat-chat-chatting and just…you know…missed it. All of them.

Over the decades I saw many missed entrances. It happens. But it happens with one single actor. Not with a 12-person ensemble. This was the only mass missed entrance of my career. I wouldn’t be surprised to find that it was the only mass missed entrance in theatrical history. 

It’s so weird that I’m kind of glad I experienced it…….. Once.