In the '80s The Vancouver Playhouse, under the late Walter Learning, produced Dry Rot, a farce in 3 acts. It takes place in a country inn near a racecourse where there is to be a horse race. Some inept London crooks show up. As does a French jockey who speaks no English. Me.
The set was what you would expect for a country inn on the English countryside. Including a grand staircase with an elbow turn that terminated downstage right.
The piece was directed by the late Ted Follows and I asked him if I could do a controlled stumbling fall down the stairs the only time I came down them. He agreed with the proviso that he could cut it if it didn't really work all that well. So I asked the set designer if the wooden ball atop the newel post at the elbow turn could be replaced with a rubber ball of a similar size. That was done and so my controlled fall included a head bounce off that ball at the mid-point. Whereupon I would gather myself, straighten my jacket and now cautiously resume my descent only to once again stumble down the remaining stairs. Ted never cut it.
And in I think it was the opening scene of the third act when, lights up, the jockey (me) enters the inn down right and to be greeted by the always cheerful buxom barmaid of English country inn legend played here by the wonderful Camille Mitchell who is leaning jauntily against the bar located all the way stage left.
The jockey, just inside the door downstage right, asks for "un bois de l'eau" in impeccable French. The barmaid, against the bar stage left, has no idea what he has asked and so he asks again. And again. And again. Eventually he begins a slow pleading near crawl across the bar to get a drink of water.
But one night, as the lights came up and the scene began, I noticed something small and circular lying on the stage about half-way between Camille and I and right in the path I was about to take. It was a much paler colour than the rug it was lying on and I was certain it would be visible to the entire audience. I didn't really know what it was yet but I knew I'd rather not have it there. So as I began my slow pleading progress across the stage I decided to just give it a little flick with my right foot and hope it scooted under the sofa that was there.
Instead it flew a perfect arc to land at Camille's feet. At which point I recognized what it was. As did Camille. It was one of the 'falsies' she wore to bolster the buxom barmaid image.
Her mouth fell open, her eyes grew wide with surprise and shock and her hands flew up to her bosoms to feel which of them was now less substantial. The audience howled. And howled some more as she leaned down, picked it up, turned away and stuck it back from whence it had flown. Camille was now bent over the bar top convulsing with laughter and I was doing the best Jack Benny takes I could manage while I quaked with laughter as well. It all must have lasted about 4 or maybe even 5 minutes because when we came offstage the rest of the cast had gathered in the wings to see what had caused the uproar. Then we continued and finished the play. Camille and I got a little extra applause at the curtain calls.
Otherwise it was an entirely forgettable production. About a year later I was in Toronto for the run of Talking Dirty at the Bathurst St Theatre and Ted Follows invited Norman Browning and I (Norman was in Dry Rot as well) for drinks at his pied a terre in Toronto. A whole bunch other actors were there and as often happens stories were told. Ted laughed so hard he had tears in his eyes when I related this one.
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