"I left my home in Detroit to seek out a career as playwright. I had studiously read back in Detroit issue after issue of Theatre Arts magazine with articles by Alan Schneider on American plays and theater in general. This man was the man I would like to meet if ever I should go to New York. I was a young, filled with dreams, but mostly, young. I packed my belongings, slim as they were, and made my way.
After an enriching experience working as an audio consultant two years at Sam Goody’s on 49th Street, I had spent a few months at Hudson Radio & TV on 48th when a short man mounted the mezzanine stairs.
He was looking for a music system and it was my job to sell him one, which proved to be most fortuitous. We began with a series of indefinites. He was looking for a “general” system, playing all kinds of music, not “too” large, for an apartment. We listened to loud-speakers: Bozak, Wharfdale, GE, University. He seemed to prefer, if I remember correctly, the Bozak. He wanted to be able to play LP records successively, and, so, chose a Garrard changer. Then a Bogen ten watt amplifier satisfied him and I knew the system to be a simple one. I led him to the sofa with a cocktail table, bid him be seated.
On a prepared and simple form, the comfortable seating was for closing the sale. I asked his name. “A. Schneider,” he confided.
“Is that Alan Schneider?”
“Yes,” he smiled. My left pant leg, most certainly, turned dark; I was sure I looked silly. I remember mumbling something about having looked for him for two years at Goody’s.
“Well, you were in the wrong place,” he smiled. Not knowing how to proceed, I quickly returned to the matter of his music system. I noted his choices, their prices and his total. For the life of me, I don’t remember whether he gave me a check, credit card or a note calling me a damned fool, but I hurried past the obstacle of his system and blurted out:
“Mr. Schneider, I’ve read many of your articles,” telling him where, “and I’ve written three related one-acts. Would you do me the honor--?”
“Of course,” he said still smiling. And, for my life, I cannot remember the next days for my excitement--how I got the plays to him, whether I ate, slept or drew breath, but I do seem to remember that it was a meager three days when Schneider entered the store again and, waving the bound manuscript overhead, yelled from the lower main floor,
“Bob, I’ve got a production for you!!”
There was a moment of electrical shock in my body that de-volted slowly and I was told that the production was at Lucille Lortel’s White Barn in Westport and that I was to meet Audrey Wood there, Tennessee William’s agent. I was in my twenties and looking at my first production as a playwright."
Robert Manns 8/22/09
