Super Size

While still in college I moonlighted as an actor playing bit roles with The Association of Performing Artists, a fine repertory company specializing in the classics and graced by the beauty and talent of Rosemary Harris, the British actress who would become one of the reigning monarchs of the American stage. Also in the company was a wonderful actor named Thayer David. Thayer was, in a word, heavy, but somehow it seemed natural since his girth was so much an inseparable part of his joyous persona. I recall once when the company was gathered around a large table in a restaurant for the post-performance supper that is so often a fixture of the working actor's day. Thayer, as was his wont, was piling into a huge plate of roast beef and mashed potatoes, onto which he was piling gobs of butter and rich gravy. "Thayer," one of the actresses asked, "do you try to be fat?" "No," he said grinning, "I just enjoy it."