Graduation Address

"Commencement Day Address" (27 May 1988). (UA Case 67, Box 2)

Your Honor, Madam Minister, Madam Chancellor, Mr. President, Madam Vice-President, Your Worship, Distinguished Platform guests, Ladies and gentlemen, Graduates of the class of ’88. I wish to express my warm thanks to the Board of Trustees for having conferred this honorary Doctorate of Letters on me. I’m happy to be here and be one of you. And to say a few words on this occasion devoted to the recognition of those who graduate this year from UNBSJ. I offer my sincere congratulations on this important moment in your lives.

I believe that speakers on these occasions should be brief. I also think one should be careful of the subject for discussion, since many of you have a great deal more knowledge of specific subjects than I do. So I will merely ramble a little.

For your graduates today is the end of one phase of your lives and the start of another. Some of you will go on to more advances studies and others will go directly into the work force. You will enter a world of complexity with more challenges than ever before, more opportunities and perhaps more problems. Technology will continue to bring us much change. The changes will come faster than we can comprehend at this time. You will share an exciting period.

Possibly during your years of study you have come under the influence of some dedicated person who has shown interest in your talents. I probably would not have become a writer if the late Louis Arthur Cunningham had not lived and written in Saint John during my youth. He encouraged me a great deal. He loved Saint John and most especially a spot which still exists, Holders’ Sail Loft on Water Street, where he found many of his stories about the old sailing ships and the men who sailed in them. His fine novel THIS THING CALLED LOVE offers the best picture of Saint John in the thirties that is available.

We all hope for success, whatever that means. But I must confess I must like the J.M. Barrie comment, "We are all failures, at least the best of us are." I have among my circle of friends, people in theatre, the academic scene, industry and finance. I assure you none of them are ever totally satisfied with what they have done with their success. And I am one of those still anxious to accomplish more.

I prefer the company of young people, whatever their ages may be. Because I think being young is very much a state of mind and has little to do with years lived. I went to New York to study theatre when I was nineteen. It was my dream to be a playwright or an actor. I think each of us should have a dream. Whether it seems realistic or not, a dream gives you a goal. And even when things go badly for you the dream will remain. The dream is within you and no one can take that dream from you. I must confess there have been times when I felt my dream was turning into a nightmare.

I had my first good summer theatre job when I was twenty-two. It was in a town a few miles from New York City and all the company were Americans except for myself. I became entranced by a lovely, young, blonde girl, who ran three miles every morning before breakfast. And at that time such running was a novelty rather than the fad it has become today. After we worked in a couple of plays together, she suggested it would be good for my health if I joined her in her three mile morning run. I was so dazzled by her I was ready to agree to anything. The first day almost killed me, and when I came stumbling up before the hotel where we were living, the rest of the company had gathered on the front steps to witness my collapse, but I managed to smile weakly and stagger into the hotel. I kept on running and soon it seemed less arduous. The blonde, realizing my limitations as a runner, either occasionally halted or slowed down. I’m sorry to say the exercise didn’t do my health any great good, but it did result in my making out well with the blonde.

For many reasons I think the most important requisite for a happy and productive life is health. Proper nutrition, exercise and moderation in all things. I’m not a food faddist. I see no value in paying so much attention to your health you’ve no time to enjoy it!

Having your dreams come true is a joyous experience. I think we should consider our talents and direct them in the field to which they seem best suited. No one should think of deciding to be a writer or an actor with the idea of becoming rich. A tiny minority have good luck and become stars, some far better than average, but most make a scanty living. I love my fellow writers and especially theatre people, they can be over-emotional and difficult at times, but they are truly the most generous and tolerant people on earth. The average yearly earnings for a writer in North America are about $7500, until a few years ago it was only $5000. I know this because I’m an active member of The Actors’ Fund and Authors’ League Fund, and almost all my charitable donations go to these two funds. Most actors and writers have to take day jobs to make a living, these jobs can range from being waiters to teachers. But even with modest incomes most of the ones I know are happy.

I’m not a hedonist but I think we should all strive to make ourselves and others happy. I’ve rarely met anyone who didn’t instinctively want to be vital, healthy and attractive. We can all improve on ourselves. And doing so should not be thought of as selfish egotism but rather commendable unselfishness. Improving yourself not only will offer you a happier life, but it will affect the people around you. If you have confidence in yourself and enthusiasm in your abilities you are bound to be more valuable in your work.

When starting a career, perseverance is a most important quality. Perseverance is often praised, but it is not so often realized that another quality must go with it, to make it of any value, and that is elasticity. To persevere in only one direction can lead to failure. But if you are alert to take whatever opportunity comes your way and adapt your plans to it, keeping your original goal in view, then success is infinitely more likely.

I’ll try to give you an example. No matter how carefully we plan there are bound to be pitfalls and pratfalls along the way. As a young actor I was offered a job at a Cape Cod Playhouse for eight weeks. I was out of work and overjoyed at the prospect of the job. When I arrived for an interview the director privately read me through scenes in several of the plays they were doing. When I finished he looked at me sadly and said, "You’re very good, but I’m afraid you won’t get this job." Puzzled, I asked, "Why not?" He said the leading lady owns the company and has the final voice in hiring. I said, "Is she a good actress?" "A fine actress," he assured me. Then I asked, "Is she a hard person to get along with?" He shook his head. "She’s pleasant, lovely and a fine actress, she’ll appreciate your talent but she will not hire you. You’ll understand at the rehearsal."

Later, when I arrived at the first rehearsal the leading lady was standing on the stage waiting for me. She was just as lovely as the director had said, but she was also over six feet tall. She gazed down at my five foot, ten with dismay. The director did his best to make us fit, we played our love scenes with her seated on a sofa and me standing behind it. The only way I could kiss her was to lean over while she was sitting down. After the rehearsal she came to me with genuine tears in her eyes, and told me she was sorry but I wouldn’t do. She’d tell the agency next time to send her an actor over six feet tall. Then she said, there’s another company about twenty miles from here, you might try them. I thanked her and drove on to the other theatre. I went directly to the office and saw the manager. He listened to my story and sighed and said, "Sorry, I can’t use an actor. The company is up to full strength." Then he added, "Too bad you don’t direct, our director is leaving at the end of the week and I haven’t found a replacement." I leaned across his desk and said, "I’m a director." After telling him where I had directed he gave me the job and I worked all season before returning to Saint John to organize my own company. By the way I hired a just under five foot leading lady.

It is hard to judge one’s own work. Early in my career as a writer I tried to sell some stories to the magazine section of a New York paper. It was called THIS WEEK and was one of the best markets for a short story writer. I sent them a story every week. And every week the story would faithfully be returned. I decided this market was not for me after about fifteen tried. I went on opening my morning mail and one of the envelopes contained a story that had been rejected by maybe eight or nine magazines. I stared at it and made a last minute decision. The manuscript was a bit wrinkled from repeated mailings but I’d never sent it to THIS WEEK, I didn’t expect them to buy it but why not give the market a final try. I mailed out the story and forgot all about it until two weeks later when I received a note of congratulations and a check for a thousand dollars.

Some of the rewards of a writing career have to do with satisfaction rather than monetary return. Having played a number of summer stock theatres I have written six or seven books about them. I wrote one about the Ogunquit Theatre in Maine, and dedicated the book to a pianist friend of mine and his wife. They are a handsome couple and had two lovely little girls. My friend played major New York hotels and with fine orchestras and taught music in between engagements. His wife also worked as a secretary. When his pretty daughter, Page, was old enough to decide on a career she announced she wanted to be an actress. Her father groaned and so did I, knowing the insecurity of show business. But she was determined and studied at the American Academy of Dramatic Arts. When she was twenty I saw her at the Plaza in New York where she was working part time as a waitress in the Palm Court. She told me she’d had small parts in several television soap operas. She also said that one night on her way home from the Plaza to her lodgings, she’d passed the theatre where my play Murder Game was playing, quite on her own she went in to see it. Last year her big break came when she was given a leading role in a touring company of Neil Simon’s BILOXI BLUES. Included in the tour was a week at the Ogunquit Playhouse. Her father told me she wanted me to be there on the opening night and come backstage to see her. I attended the play and I was proud of her performance. When I went backstage her eyes sparkled with happiness as she rose from her dressing table and threw her arms around me and kissed me. Then she laughed and said: "It’s happened tonight. Years ago when you dedicated that book to my Mom and Dad, I made up my mind I would be an actress and sometime play in the Ogunquit Theatre. You started me on my way and you’re here tonight." This time I hugged and kissed her.

For most of us, achieving success takes time. We think that those who are stars make it easily, not so. In conversation with Rex Harrison I said, "I’ll bet you were a success the moment you stepped on stage." The star of My Fair Lady and other stage and screen hits, shook his head, "Not at all," he said. "My first job was with the Liverpool Repertory Company and my first role required me to rush onstage as a young father and shout, 'Fetch the doctor! It’s a baby!' When the moment came for me to make my entrance I ran on and cried, 'Fetch the baby! It’s a doctor!'" He said, "In my next play I was a knight in full armor in a costume drama. The King was to come on and ask me the time. I was supposed to come to attention and intone, 'Tis One o’clock, sire.' I was so nervous I automatically raised the armor off my wrist and glancing at my wrist watch said, 'It’s ten after three.'" Rex went on to say, "At the end of the season William Armstrong the manager of the company took me aside and said, 'Rex, you have a small talent and a gangling sort of charm, but my advice is give up the stage.'" Rex thanked him and packed his bags and went to London to find another acting job. The rest you know.

Because of the impact of mass media the great danger threatening us today is mediocrity. The fact about human beings is that we are both a dime a dozen and we are special. If we believe on that we are special we become unhappily arrogant. But if we believe we are a dime a dozen we lose our reason for being, any motive to achieve excellence or to sustain the disappointments and losses that go with even the best of lives. We need to have a kind of heroism, the genius of Democracy is that we are all a dime a dozen but with the opportunity to be magnificent. So why resign one’s self to insignificance?

I often think of life as a kind of huge department store or a shopping mall. A place where you can buy a happy marriage, job success, love of music, a great tennis serve, love of the arts or warm friendship. But I see the currency used to buy all these things, not as money, but TIME. Every one of us has time doled out in the same way. We all have the same amount of time in each hour, in each day and in each year. It is not possible for us to be so rich we can enjoy every single one of the things which time can buy. So you must make choices. And the choices you make, added up, decide the sort of life you will build. I hope all of you make a lot good choices and build yourselves wonderful lives!

Thank you.