Remembering Anne Bancroft

It is hard to imagine that Anne Bancroft was 36 when she played Mrs. Robinson. However.........

More than 20 years ago, I was in southern California on some sort of a business trip, and arranged to have dinner with friends who live in Santa Monica. It was a weekday night, and we went to an upscale, but non-glitzy, neighborhood French restaurant on Wyoming. (I am told it is now closed; I do not remember the name).

It was a rather small restaurant, with a series of booths along one wall, with an aisle between the booths and another row of tables, largely tables for two. The restaurant was not too crowded.

At the table opposite the booth, there was a couple, both of whom looked very California. They were both slim and dressed all in black (he I remember in black slacks and a black turtleneck; she in a low cut black dress). The wine was ordered from our neighbor's private cellar. He made a point of telling her how expensive it was, that it came from an exclusive vinyard, and that he had bought a case. They each had a glass. It was time for a second, and the waiter began to pour it, when he said: "Tell you what. Let's open another bottle. It will be interesting to see if there are any differences between the two." And that is what they did. (I assume he was trying to impress her. I guess it impressed me. Not positively, but if I remember it 20+ years later, it must have made an impression.)

While this was going on, and my friends and I were catching up on things, four customers walked into the restaurant, were led past us, and sat down in the next booth, with my back to them. They were Anne Bancroft and Mel Brooks (whose backs were separated from mine only by the our adjoining seats, and Gilda Radner and Gene Wilder.

This was very exciting, because I knew that if I could hear our neighbors across the aisle discuss wine, I would surely here the conversation right behind me, and both learn about their inner lives, and be amused at their witty repartee.

Boy, was I disappointed. First, they seemed all to be normal people, talking about very normal things. Second, they didn't tell any jokes at all.

There was a lesson there, I guess.

The immediate result, however, was that I felt a lack of humor in the restaurant, and that I needed to make up for it. And, having had a glass or two of wine myself (from nobody's private wine celler), I began to say the funniest things I could think of. Whatever my friends said, I had a response that would make anyone laugh. If there was a lull, I had a hysterical story or two to tell, and did.

And, I was sure to talk loud enough that the table behind me could hear everything (by that time, the owner of the private stock of wine and his friend had left). I wanted to impress them (really, I guess I wanted to impress Mel Brooks) as to how clever I was. I am not sure why.

I am positive that he thought I was the funniest person he ever heard. I assume Anne Bancroft did as well. (Radner and Wilder may have been too far removed, on the far side of their table.) But Brooks can be poker faced, as you know. And Bancroft was too polite and reserved to engage me in conversation. So, the evening just sort of ended.

But I have always wondered. I have never seen The Producers, but I have always thought that I might have written a good deal of it.

Have I ever told you the story about what happened one time in the spring in Germany with Hitler??