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A can of soup and bread made on a stick is no banquet —
unless you’re young and hungry as were those two struggling actors, Greg and Ken
BY KENNETH TOBEY
Greg — a man in his stride
SOME of the best adventures we have in life happen when we’re broke — usually because we’re broke. I think of that every time I see Gregory Peck. We had many a penniless adventure together when he and I were a couple of threadbare young actors in New York City. But I particularly remember one evening five years ago. Greg appeared at my door just as the rest of the city was eating dinner.
“Old Tobe, I’ve just lost my current home,” said he.
“Share mine,” said I. (One of us was always being evicted for nonpayment of rent. When that happened, the victim stayed with the other.)
“Also, I’m hungry,” said Peck. “But I regret to inform you I have only thirty cents to my name.”
“I have exactly zero to mine,” said I, “but at least there’s a kitchenette here. Let’s see if the last tenants left anything.”
They had left a cup of flour, and at sight of it Greg said triumphantly, “Bread! Can you make bread? I love bread homemade.”
“I can make Boy Scout bread — the kind you wrap on a stick,” I said.
all Greg needed to know. We promptly planned our list: Three eggs, one quart of milk, and one
it me and said mournfully, “My thirty cents will *gs and milk . .
I said, “Get out one of your coins and we’ll flip to see who nips the tomatoes.” Let me hereby say that hungry young actors begin losing their nobility about stealing food during the first bad spell of starvation. Greg and I had often survived on small easily-taken cans of food that fitted into overcoat pockets. But to get on with my yam:
I lost the flip. So while Greg bought the eggs and milk and kept the storekeeper busily engaged in conversation, I delicately removed a can of tomatoes from a shelf and dropped it into my overcoat pocket.
Then we bustled home again. And that dinner — fried eggs, tomato soup and hard twist wrapped around the broom handle — was one
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