I have met and interviewed many people in the course of my work as an author, host and producer. But lately it's the chance encounters of my youth that have been on my mind. Perhaps it is part of mid-life reminiscing; perhaps it's a recollection of things to pass on and help inspire others.

When I was a young theater student in New York City, I spent years around actors, pop musicians, instructors and a mogul here and there. And looking back, there were several interactions in my life that have remained pure and memorable vignettes.

I studied at New York University, in the studio program of the Circle in the Square Theater on Broadway. Our classrooms were downstairs, under the stage, and one of the perks of studying there was being able to sign up to see the current production.

One evening I went to see George C. Scott in “Present Laughter,” by Noel Coward. After the performance, I went backstage and sat down, pen and notebook in hand, with George and his wife, Trish Van Devere. We spoke for a while about the theater, his experience and background. I asked him where he had studied acting.

He said, in that great growly voice, “I learned from The School of Hard Knocks!”

We all grinned. I didn’t realize that behind me, as we talked, someone was waiting patiently in the doorway. When we concluded our conversation, I thanked them, stood up, turned around to leave, and nearly walked right into Lauren Bacall.

She stood tall, in a black suit, arms crossed over her chest, propped against the doorframe. I was shocked.

Her chin lowered, she smiled at me and said, “Hi, kid.”

Which is exactly what I was, in 1982.

At another production, Dustin Hoffman struck up a conversation and we learned that my instructor, Theresa Hayden, was the person who helped arrange his life-changing audition for “The Graduate.” He said that until then he had considered himself a character actor, not a leading man.

He wrote in my notebook, “Don’t stop.”

 Dick Van Dyke added, “God Bless You!”

You may know Bob Gunton from “24,” or perhaps “Evita,” in which he played Juan Peron. I knew him when I had a job at the Westside Arts Theater, off-Broadway, and he was in a riotous two-man show called “How I Got That Story.”

In that show, Don Scardino played a naïve newspaper reporter in war-torn Southeast Asia, and Bob Gunton played everybody he encountered – about 30 characters in the course of the play, from generals to geishas to a buckaroo American pilot, to the Empress. He was funny, sad and moving, with chameleon-like talent. 

Before a performance he and I sat in some orchestra seats in front of the stage and discussed the show, bouncing some ideas back and forth until we were laughing.

“You’ll do well,” he said. “You’re smart.”

I worked on some political campaigns when I was younger, too, and during the Mondale-Ferraro campaign (now I’m really dating myself), I received a postcard from Ted Kennedy Jr., the young man who lost a leg to cancer.

He wrote, “You see things the way I do – believing in possibilities, instead of impossibilities.”

That's very true. But I don’t know how smart I am, Bob.

The Museum of Modern Art once had an exhibit that included Vincent Van Gogh’s “Starry Night.” This painting has always been particularly meaningful to me. In fact, I’ll take Don McLean’s “Vincent” over “American Pie” any day.

I stood there in the sunny room, looking at the painting, surprised by how small it was. I peered closer at it. I saw the signature. My God, I thought, and reached out my hand, just touching his signature in brief connection.

Instantly I drew my hand back as though startled awake from a dream.
I turned to the woman standing next to me who had watched my misdeed with a great big smile. It was Yoko Ono.

“I’m so sorry,” I told her. “I know not to touch a painting. I just couldn’t help it.”

“I understand,” she smiled.

I believe she did.

There were many other conversations and memorable moments. And most of my dreams have come true since those days. Per Dustin's advice, I didn’t stop – but perhaps I changed course on occasion.

Until now I never thought of considering all these words as parts of the same message, expressed through different people.

So here they are, for you:

Hi Kid,

I understand.

I learned at the school of hard knocks.

You’ll do well. You’re smart.

You see things the way I do – believing in possibilities, not impossibilities.

So don’t stop.

And God bless you...