Activity

They are the windows of the room where some twenty-five years ago I used to meet a girl I shan’t name. The past is across the street from the present; the distance between, slight. Directly under those three windows a sort of daybed was placed, and there—with the shutters closed—we used to come tog…

Several of the company members were married. Had they noticed? If so, did they disapprove of me? They knew Molly, of course, and I wondered what they’d say to her. But I didn’t care. I was where I wanted to be, out in the open with the girl, as if I had no responsibility to anyone else. Besides, he…

Constance was nineteen and had every charm given to youth. She was a dancer, with those legs, had been in the chorus of a couple of musicals. She wanted to be a dramatic actress and was working as an usher at the Belasco, to watch our performances. Years later, when it was over between us, she beca…

More than any writer I’ve known, Clifford needed to be needed to write. He was like a high-powered automobile with an uncertain self-starter; our need turned him on. Luther and I began to hound him to write us a play, and we jibed at Harold, who, despite his sorry state at Wanger’s, seemed comforta…

READ this photograph with me. Here is a gathering of old friends who’ve been through a lot together and earned a rest. We’d just arrived at the Pinebrook Country Club, reassembled for another summer of work. Look closer: It’s probably hindsight, but I’d say that the passion that had once made us so…