Loose Change

BY MOLLY ERDMAN, TUFTS STUDENT 1992-1996, ACTOR, CHICAGO, IL
Tony was the kind of instructor I had always imagined when I thought of going off to college, and at the same time, nothing like what I imagined. He was initially intimidating, and he always had such command of the classroom and the theatre. But on a personal level he was always helpful, frank, and funny. I especially look back fondly on the dinners he would host in his home, and when we buzzed his apartment he would warn us to "take a deep breath and climb five flights of stairs." One of the most fortunate things that happened during my time at Tufts was when only three people were enrolled in the directing class; I was disappointed and a little concerned at first, but shortly I was looking forward to having such personal attention from Tony for four hours a week. For all the experience he had, all the actors - students and professionals - he had worked with, I never felt intimidated by him, on stage or off. He had a knack for seeing the great things people had inside them, without being the touchy-feely acting teacher who wore a sweatsuit and insisted on lots of movement exercises. Thank God.

In a class Tony was teaching on comedy, we were all taking turns doing comedic monologues we had selected. Amy Rhodes did hers; I can't remember exactly what it was, but it was something different. When she was done, Tony exclaimed, in an American accent bordering on Texan, "That was weird!"

Tony was standing, speaking to our acting class with his hands in his pockets. He paused for a moment and we all heard something lightly clanging and then hitting the floor. Tony's loose change had fallen through a hole in one of his pockets, all the way down his leg. He looked up at us and said, "Well, that was an odd sensation."