reeked of liquor, was next to give his blood, but was refused. Paul watched the pathetic man crumble. “He got down on his knees and begged and cried,” Paul said. He vowed he would never forget that scene, “But you do,” he admitted.
Paul gave his blood, rested a bit, and left. His head hung low as his feet pounded the pavement. For one flickering moment he thought about throwing his dream away: he would settle for becoming a teacher. Then he saw a nearly six-foot-tall man in a reflection of a store window. At first, he only saw the chubby face and a large belly. Then he remembered what his mom used to say to him when he was a young boy, “You hold it well.”
The determination he felt a while back returned to him. He smiled with his titanic teeth and thought, “I am going to be rich and famous.” He wanted a drink and some food, and so he headed towards the village. He looked at the only money he had: the five dollars blood money that was clutched in his hand. He thought of one of the lines he recited in college, when he played the role as Scarlet O’Hara: “As God is my witness, I will never go hungry again.” And he wouldn’t.
Coradon Lynde, Paul’s brother.
Paul’s father, Hoy Coradon Lynde.
Paul’s mother, Sylvia Bell Doup Lynde.
Chapter 4
Beyond Therapy
“That’s one woman I could have married.”
Paul Lynde
A 250-pound Paul walked alone on the crowded streets in Greenwich Village. It was the day before Thanksgiving, and the city was swarming with tourists arriving to see the premiere of Guys and Dolls. He ached to be in a Broadway show like that. He couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t getting any call backs from the auditions he had gone on.
It had been two years since he walked out of Northwestern University with the best actor of the year award, and he couldn’t believe he wasn’t a big star yet. He thought that by now he would have had some real recognition. This was New York; he just couldn’t understand what was taking so long.
Paul was tired of living in a dump and being broke, he felt ashamed that he had conned his father into sending him money to help him with his “career,” but had used it all on excess eating and drinking. There would be no more money coming in. Those days were gone. So were his father, mother, and his favorite brother. The three of them abandoned him, almost all at once. Paul wasn’t giving up; he knew he was meant to be rich and famous.
He arrived at One Fifth Avenue, a supper club he frequented, and got himself a drink. Someone at the club suggested Paul enter their amateur contest, which they were having the following night. When he saw the prize money, he immediately ran back to his apartment and, in a frenzy, wrote an outlandish, dark, humorous monologue he called “My Four Swell Days in Africa with the Trip of the Month Club.” After a sleepless night, Paul returned to the club and grabbed a drink, hoping it would help calm his acute anxiety. Then he stepped on the stage to become Carl Canker, appearing before the audience with his head wrapped in bandages, with his arm in a sling, and leaning on a crutch. In his nasal Midwestern twang and sarcastic tone, he recounts his safari adventure, in which he gets gored by a rhinoceros, goes over a waterfall, and his wife gets eaten to death by a lion…yet he is determined to finish the tour:
We had been tramping on the trail about four or five hours, when my wife complained of her feet. The only shoes she had were those high-heeled sling pumps, she just couldn’t take it. So we had to leave her there out on the trail. A couple days later on the way back, I found this piece of her dress along with her purse and gloves and to this day, I don’t know what happened to her (lets out a cynical large Lynde Laugh) but what I really remember about that day was, it was the only day it didn’t rain, and I got to take some dandy snapshots…
The audience and judges loved this twenty-four-year-old
Paul gave his blood, rested a bit, and left. His head hung low as his feet pounded the pavement. For one flickering moment he thought about throwing his dream away: he would settle for becoming a teacher. Then he saw a nearly six-foot-tall man in a reflection of a store window. At first, he only saw the chubby face and a large belly. Then he remembered what his mom used to say to him when he was a young boy, “You hold it well.”
The determination he felt a while back returned to him. He smiled with his titanic teeth and thought, “I am going to be rich and famous.” He wanted a drink and some food, and so he headed towards the village. He looked at the only money he had: the five dollars blood money that was clutched in his hand. He thought of one of the lines he recited in college, when he played the role as Scarlet O’Hara: “As God is my witness, I will never go hungry again.” And he wouldn’t.
Coradon Lynde, Paul’s brother.
Paul’s father, Hoy Coradon Lynde.
Paul’s mother, Sylvia Bell Doup Lynde.
Chapter 4
Beyond Therapy
“That’s one woman I could have married.”
Paul Lynde
A 250-pound Paul walked alone on the crowded streets in Greenwich Village. It was the day before Thanksgiving, and the city was swarming with tourists arriving to see the premiere of Guys and Dolls. He ached to be in a Broadway show like that. He couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t getting any call backs from the auditions he had gone on.
It had been two years since he walked out of Northwestern University with the best actor of the year award, and he couldn’t believe he wasn’t a big star yet. He thought that by now he would have had some real recognition. This was New York; he just couldn’t understand what was taking so long.
Paul was tired of living in a dump and being broke, he felt ashamed that he had conned his father into sending him money to help him with his “career,” but had used it all on excess eating and drinking. There would be no more money coming in. Those days were gone. So were his father, mother, and his favorite brother. The three of them abandoned him, almost all at once. Paul wasn’t giving up; he knew he was meant to be rich and famous.
He arrived at One Fifth Avenue, a supper club he frequented, and got himself a drink. Someone at the club suggested Paul enter their amateur contest, which they were having the following night. When he saw the prize money, he immediately ran back to his apartment and, in a frenzy, wrote an outlandish, dark, humorous monologue he called “My Four Swell Days in Africa with the Trip of the Month Club.” After a sleepless night, Paul returned to the club and grabbed a drink, hoping it would help calm his acute anxiety. Then he stepped on the stage to become Carl Canker, appearing before the audience with his head wrapped in bandages, with his arm in a sling, and leaning on a crutch. In his nasal Midwestern twang and sarcastic tone, he recounts his safari adventure, in which he gets gored by a rhinoceros, goes over a waterfall, and his wife gets eaten to death by a lion…yet he is determined to finish the tour:
We had been tramping on the trail about four or five hours, when my wife complained of her feet. The only shoes she had were those high-heeled sling pumps, she just couldn’t take it. So we had to leave her there out on the trail. A couple days later on the way back, I found this piece of her dress along with her purse and gloves and to this day, I don’t know what happened to her (lets out a cynical large Lynde Laugh) but what I really remember about that day was, it was the only day it didn’t rain, and I got to take some dandy snapshots…
The audience and judges loved this twenty-four-year-old
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