The other day I was looking at an on-line version of the Madison, Wisconsin newspaper I used to read when I lived up north. One column that caught my eye was an interview with the CEO of a major Wisconsin-based company. It was called "Talking With The CEO" or something. Don't you think they could dress that title up a little? Maybe "Banter With The Biggies" or "How's It Going, Headcheese?" or "Boss Bites" or "Nothing But Nice." Wait a minute. That last one was one of the phrases I used for a forecast page the other day. See what happens when work gets in the way of reading the paper? Anyway, this particular day, the Honcho in question had a very familiar name. It turned out to be a kid I went to school with all through junior and senior high. We were actually fairly good friends. In fact, now that he is a highly-paid, well-respected mover and shaker, I think it is more accurate to say we were very, very, very bestest friends.


He was always an extremely smart person with a great, dry wit. When we graduated he went right into college. Did well. Got a good job and worked his way up to running the place. (I moved to Las Vegas and was a front desk clerk in one of the few hotels that didn't have gambling or a restaurant or entertainment. It was not the kind of place where The Rat Pack would have hung out ...not even their elderly aunts would've hung out there.) As I read about my former classmate's success, I thought back to an episode from junior high. The spring play was going to be You're A Good Man, Charlie Brown. Now, the lead role had already been pretty well promised to another friend of mine because he really did have a nearly perfectly round head and a shirt with a stripe on it. Also, he could make his lips do that squiggly stuff the Peanuts characters could do. The part of Snoopy was being played by another kid who always walked around his desk three times before sitting down and had fleas. That left Linus to be cast. I talked my bestest friend...one day to be a corporate titan...into auditioning with me. The truth be told, I figured he didn't have a chance. He really wasn't interested in show biz. He was rather quiet and reserved. Frankly, I assumed I would look that much better by comparison. We both read the lines and sang a song. I walked out of the cafeteria feeling quite sure I would be Linus! Well, the cast-list came out and there it was: He was Linus. I was listed as "chorus." I told myself it was because he just looked more natural carrying a blanket. I was too manly and macho to be believable as quiet, cerebral Linus. Of course, that excuse lost some of it's punch when I was asked to be the understudy for the girl playing Lucy.

I'd like to say that the night of the performance, all the lead characters got stage-fright and the obviously incompetent director turned, with tears in her eyes, to me "Can you ever forgive me for not casting you in the first place? We need you now. Please, carry us to the final curtain!" Being a charitable sort, I played all the roles myself. Then, toward the end of the play, when the crowd wanted more, segued smoothly into my version of the one-man show Mark Twain Tonight, which was heralded by Hal Holbrook as "much better than my sorry efforts!" Well, I'd like to say all of that...but it would be a lie. The show went off without a hitch. Everyone did a great job. I sat, with the other six kids in the "chorus" out in the hall next to the cafeteria. It was the first and last time the kid who played Linus ever went out for a play. Obviously, he had bigger fish to fry involving things like trig, calculus, chemistry, business, world domination.

Now, decades later, "Linus" is the head of a billion-dollar telecommunications company that employs thousands in nearly 30 states. He is on the cutting edge of the very technology I find frightening. Still, I can't help but think that he never would've made it without the confidence- boosting experience of playing Linus back in junior high and he never would've had that chance without his very, very, very bestest friend, Joel Nichols there to encourage him. It seems to me that may be worth some sort of on-going consultant position or lump-some payment or, at least, some free cell-phone minutes.