Earlier today, when I heard that Julie Harris had died, I immediately thought—ah, how well I remember seeing her on Broadway in The Lincoln Mask.

And I immediately knew I was going to tell you all about her performance, and how I stood outside the stage door of the Plymouth Theater waiting for her and her co-star Fred Gwynne (you can guess which of them portrayed Lincoln) so I could meet them and get their autographs.

I can remember the door opening and them stepping out onto the street.

I can remember handing over my Playbill and getting their signatures.

I can remember …

… well, not Julie Harris, because Julie Harris wasn’t in The Lincoln Mask.

As you can see by this cover to the October 1972 Playbill (I would have been 17), the autographs I got were of Gwynne … and Eva Marie Saint. Who is still very much with us.

So … no Julie Harris story.

But remind me someday, and I’ll tell you the story of how, decades later, I told Eva Marie Saint how difficult it became for me to watch On The Waterfront once I learned that Elia Kazan directed it as an apologia for naming names during the Blacklist—and she admonished me to just get over it.

That story I’m 100% sure I’m remembering correctly.

Trust me.