First Person Singular: Dreams ring true

Like every red-blooded, American girl bred in the '50s, I was mad about Paul Newman. No one was better looking, no one more charming. Who could possibly have cooler, bluer, blue eyes• Who else stood for right like our Paul did, even when he played a bad guy?

So it was with dancing feet some years ago that I found myself sitting on an aisle seat in row 3 of the Booth Theater in New York City, breathless with excitement as Newman stood onstage just feet away. I was enthralled with the play, the actor and my wonderful luck. Playing the narrator in "Our Town" frequently put Newman stage left, just winking distance away, though, of course, he never blinked an eye.

Not even when a cell phone started to ring. Smack in the middle of one of his speeches.

"How annoying!" I thought. "How could people be so dumb, in a theater, with Paul Newman onstage!"

Unfortunately, no one heard my thoughts, although they did hear the continuing ring of the phone. Finally realizing that heads -- complete with daggers -- were turning my way, I reached down, mortified to learn the ringing was from my purse, from a phone I thought was off.

Shutting it down, I shrunk into my seat, peeking stageward to see if I'd be stabbed with sterling blue eyes, or suffer a disgusted shake of the head. Nothing. Not a stare; not a raised eyebrow.

Newman even hid the thoughts undoubtedly weaving through his brain, like: "Who's the dumb broad with the cell phone?" Lucky for me. If he had addressed me, suicide would have been my only out. Right then; right there. I'd have simply died of shame.

No, Newman continued in character, unabashed at the disturbance, with nary a dirty look. Class, the man was top class.

To this day, it marks a memorable experience. Not just anyone gets to see Paul Newman, onstage, in an American classic, standing so close at hand. And not just anyone gets to insult their lifelong idol, yet go away entertained and impressed.

It had been a day of memorable experiences. Busing to New York with friends for a quick 24 hours, I'd gone off alone to visit museums in deference to sightseeing. Stopping at the TKTS booth to see what was available for a Saturday matinee, I saw that Newman's show was not on the list, so I decided on a Tommy Tune dance revue.

Still, the possibility nagged at me. Newman was well into his 70s. I just happened to be in New York, when he was playing in New York, unusual in his acting experience as well as my travel experience. Maybe it really was meant to be.

Conferring by phone with travel buddy Annette, I was urged to try just once more. Newman's theater was on the way to Tune's performance. I sashayed right on up to that box office, looked sad, and asked whether they had just one measly ticket for that afternoon. Bull's-eye! Not only a ticket, but a great, great ticket.

I'd like to say I waited backstage to apologize for my cell's intrusion, but truth be told, I hunkered down in my seat after the finale, avoiding eye contact lest others in the audience wanted me tarred and feathered.

All clear, I checked my phone, seeing a message from my daughter, Liz. Very excited, she reported how she'd just managed to get tickets for an upcoming Billy Joel concert.

And yes, that one turned out to be memorable too, sans the blue eyes.

Camille Curro Baier is a freelance writer from Pine Township.