If you’re one of those people who’ve long harbored a secret desire for a career in the performing arts, you might as well get one thing straight right from the get go: Even if you’re fortunate enough to find full-time employment (a big if) you’ll soon discover that some of your performances are, well, how shall I put this ... a bit more “memorable” than others.

It might help if I explained that the word “memorable” as I used it a moment ago, was meant to be construed euphemistically. If and when you “make it” in in show biz, you’ll no doubt encounter this particular conversational anomaly on a fairly regular basis. In fact you’ll probably hear more euphemisms-per-minute of backstage of gossip than anywhere else on the planet.

So, when you’re hanging out at the CBS Canteen and you overhear someone describing a show (perhaps even one of your shows) as having been “memorable,” what they’re really saying is: “That was weirder than anything we could possibly have imagined.”

Over the years I’ve shared the spotlight with plenty of characters, among them the great, the near-great and the just plain grating. I’ve performed with folks from every conceivable walk of life and socio-economic stratum, from the sublime all the way up to the ridiculous and back again.

Take the politicians. This single category has brought me into contact with everyone from the president of the United States to members of Congress, to the dog catcher, to that guy with the tin foil hat campaigning for mayor on the Save The UFO’s platform.

Naturally, if you play your cards right and hang around long enough you’ll eventually rub elbows with some genuine movie stars and TV celebrities. Yet, despite their considerable star power, most A-Listers will prove far less memorable than their lesser counterparts.

I don’t want to give you the wrong impression by implying that all or even most of my memorable onstage moments have been unpleasant. They’re just weird is all. Like the time I worked with Bill and Susan Hayes. I’ll confess I had no idea who these people were prior to meeting them. But the capacity crowd that came to see them at Waterville High School auditorium sure did!

By the time I met Susan Hayes she’d already been playing the character Julie Williams on the NBC Daytime Drama “Days of Our Lives” for a couple of decades. Her husband Bill also possessed a distinguished film, stage and television resume. But the jaw dropper came when we were chatting backstage and Bill informed me that he had sung the lead vocal on the 1955 #1 hit record, “The Ballad of Davey Crockett.” For a kid who’d spent the entire summer of 1955 wandering around wearing a coonskin cap singing “Davey, Davey Crockett!” at the top of my lungs, that was a huge deal!  

Lest I become jaded from such encounters, dame fortune has always managed to find some clever, creative way to keep me well, grounded in reality. This generally comes about as a result of sharing the stage with some quirky local celebrity such as, oh I don’t know, how about a killer whale?

Ah yes, “The Orca Episode” I thought you’d never ask, a classic example of a memorable show biz moment if ever there was one. This one happened many years ago when I was hosting a fancy black tie fundraiser at the newly renovated aquarium in Mystic, Conn. I was about 10 minutes into my spiel and everything was going along swimmingly (ouch! sorry about that) when the crowd suddenly lurched backwards and drew in a collective shocked gasp.

This was followed almost immediately by what must have been a 12-foot wave of seawater gushing from the tank situated directly behind me. This mini-tsunami struck like a jackhammer, nearly knocking me off the stage while simultaneously soaking the first several rows of formally attired patrons.

It was later revealed that, unbeknownst to me, or anyone else attending the event, the secret underwater door leading from the performance area to the holding pen of the aquarium’s resident orca (aka killer whale, aka Olde Herring Breath) had been left ajar by an absentminded (and now conveniently absent) custodian.

The unscheduled and impromptu marine mammal performance managed to instantly transform what would otherwise have been a fairly routine charity fundraiser into one of my top 10 memorable performances of all time.

Upon returning to my hotel room I realized that the paycheck I’d tucked into the pocket of my rented tux was completely soaked. Fortunately it dried out in time to facilitate another memorable moment with my bank teller back in Maine.