One of those gloriously triumphant moments.

It was sometime in the very early 1960s, and I was singing my regular gig at a Seattle coffeehouse called "The Corroboree." The owner (Stan James, a very fine singer himself--CLICKY) was a bit of an Austrailophile , hence the name. The Corroboree was a nice place, almost like a non-alcoholic night club (unless you knew where Stan kept the stuff) and it had a fairly wide-ranging clientele, from lots of folkies to the after-concert, after-show crowd later in the evening. I had been singing there since before Stan bought it, when was called "The Place Next Door" (owned by the man who also owned the Guild 45th, and art and foreign film theater next door, hence that name at the time).

Anyway, there was a guy named Alex who used to drop in every few weeks. Alex said he was an actor. But I don't know of anything he ever acted in. He seemed to be perpetually "between roles." And he was full of advice for all kinds of performers, including me. He tended to be quite pompous at times, and he DID have a strong stage voice. He could get quite loud at times and often made a real annoyance of himself when others were performing, as if HE wanted to share in the spotlight.

One evening Alex came in and joined a small group of people at one of the back tables, and while I sang, he kept up a running dissertaion on something, demonstrating his stage projection. Other patrons in the place kept giving him dirty looks and trying to shush him, and it was obvious to others that he was embarrassing his table companions.

Finally, I had had it! When I finished the song I was singing, I leaned into the microphone (which the Corroboree didn't really need because it already had very good acoustics) and said "Alex!" very loudly.

My voice boomed through the place like the Voice of God.

Alex looked up, startled.

"Alex! Shut the hell up!!"

His eyes popped and his chin dropped. After an initial second or two of shock, the rest of the people in the place burst into applause! About that time, Stan came out of the kitchen, picked up Alex's check, tore it up, and pointed to the door.

Hastily, Alex got up and walked out, with the audience still applauding.

The rest of the evening went very smoothly.

Not brilliantly witty, but VERY effective. I never saw him again.

Don Firth