But nobody said yes.
Nobody returned my calls.
The city seemed vast and unyielding, but I was determined to find my place in it.
jonbilous - stock.adobe.com
One day, while bicycling through Times Square, I decided I wanted to be an actor.
He had Tony Lo Biancos business card from meeting him at the Thurman Munson Awards charity dinner years prior.
He suggested I give Tony a call to ask questions about the business of acting.
Googling Tony Lo Bianco, I saw his legendary career and felt a mix of awe and intimidation.
Nervously, I dialed his number.
I was stunned when Tony answered and invited me over.
I showed up with a yellow legal pad filled with questions about acting.
The grandeur of his penthouse overlooking the Jackie Kennedy Reservoir was overwhelming.
Tony welcomed me in, saw the paper and said, Dont be silly.
Put that piece of paper away.
We dont need those.
I was taken aback but intrigued by his casual dismissal of my meticulously prepared questions.
But quickly realized he was a man that valued depth over formality.
Tony was observing and learning about me by the way I asked questions to that rock.
He saw my curiosity, creativity and thought processes through this simple, yet profound exercise.
Tony and I didnt talk about acting once.
We just talked about life.
As I was leaving, Tony asked, Chris, what are you doing for money next week?
I had been striking out with my video production efforts and didnt have a good answer.
Tony offered me some odd jobs around the house.
Tony didnt need the work done; he was looking for connection and so was I. Tony, a 74-year-old legend, saw part of himself in me, a 24-year-old newcomer…just beginning.
Through our time together, he poured a lifetime of wisdom, perspective, pressure and challenge into me.
He saw potential in me and took it upon himself to mold that potential into something extraordinary.
Its unclear who got more out of the relationship, him or me.
