Who can forget Hal Holbrook’s one man show, he was the embodiment of Mark Twain. It was extraordinarily hot and humid that night, no air conditioning, and everyone fanning with their program. It felt very southern. Soon we noticed small drifting chunks of flaking ceiling paint and plaster drifting atmospherically down and onto Hal. It all enhanced the performance and the actor embraced all the sweaty discomfort. The theatre was closed after his show for scheduled major renovations. My earliest memories include many girlish exploits with my best friend Shelia Smith. Most involve sneaky gradeschool behavior but our favorite was a bold impression of a bride and her attendants dramatically descending the grand staircase. The theatre was mostly unlocked during the day and made a fertile playground, the staff was indulgent.