T he first time I saw Charles Coburn, he was goosing a woman named Hutchinson . . . (stage biz, Mom, not a personal mannerism) during a performance of Master of the Revels by the late Don Marquis. The producing organization was the Mohawk Drama Festival (founded by Charles Coburn) and staged (under the supervision of Charles Coburn) outdoors on the campus of Union College, Schenectady, New York, in the year 1935. By an odd coincidence, Charles Coburn also happened to be the star of the company. Fitted out with a red wig, red beard and a monocle, he bounced all over the stage and said he was supposed to be Henry VIII.
By way of further statistics, I happen to have been in my early teens and Master of the Revels was my first glimpse of live, professional actors. I thought Coburn was the funniest thing I’d ever encountered and walked out after the curtain call wondering why he hadn’t been in movies. Mingling with the rest of the audience, I was puzzled to learn that not everyone shared my enthusiasm. Two men and a woman with a long neck (later identified as critics) were slicing him up into little pieces. The gist of their remarks being, “who the hell ever told him Henry VIII wore a monocle?”




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