Edward G.

 

Twice I crossed paths with actor Edward G. Robinson. Not much, just a little, but both times it was a somewhat particular experience. The first time happened in a department store in Columbus Ohio in the mid 1960s. He was in the city to perform in a play. I remember I’d happened to see something about that in the newspaper.

On an off shopping day, like a Tuesday or maybe a Thursday, There was something I had to pick up at the department store and just left the second floor riding down on the escalator, when I noticed across on the escalator on the other side, coming up toward me was Edward G. Robinson.

The store was nearly empty whatever hour it was. We were riding along, albeit in opposite directions, as we came closer. It took only a second and I’m sure the recognition began to show on my face as we stared at each other. No doubt he was used to the reaction, a questioning look that turns into a smile of recognition. He smiled back as we crossed and continued our separate ways. I was delighted by that chance encounter.

A few years later, and two thousand miles away I was at Los Angeles International Airport, again alone on an escalator, when I glanced across and there, on the opposite escalator, also alone, heading my way was Edward G. Robinson. Again few people were anywhere near.

I had turned a half second before him this time and the benefit of that split second was time enough for recognition. I knew who he was as he turned his head toward me, and was already staring at him.

In that instant he saw me I had it in my mind that he recognized me from our previous trip on an escalator together because that first time we were quite alone in the store and looked at each other quite hard.

As we passed each other this time he turned his head back and kept eye contact a bit longer than was necessary, with a questioning look on his face, as if trying to remember where he had seen me. This time he was riding down and I was heading up. I smiled and nodded in passing. It was a goodbye to him.

I wanted to turn and tell some one, anyone who would listen, what had happened. But what could I blurt out to a total stranger in ten seconds that would tell the story, how it was, how I felt about the unlikely strangeness. Nothing. I had to digest the event alone and keep going. Let Edward G. Robinson figure it out and smile at the incongruity.