I left Northwestern University in 1964, in the middle of my sophomore year to return home to Michigan and beg my parents to allow me to go to New York City and study acting with a great teacher.  I was on fire, and so passionate and intense about this dream.  Nothing else mattered.  I needed to express myself as an actress.  I wanted to act in all the great plays and share, through the roles, my deep feelings about life.  I was extremely idealistic, high-minded and also very shy and non-verbal.  Acting answered an inner prayer for a life's purpose where I could give and express.  I was focused only on Theatre.  Never once did the idea of a film career engage my mind or desires.  It was strictly Theatre all the way.  My parents were not happy.  They let me stay home to "think about it". 

For six months, I cared for my young sister and brother, cleaned house, cooked and dreamed about New York.  Finally my father relented, and found me a small apartment.  They let me go to begin my studies in New York City with the Sanford Meisner, a truly great teacher.  Later in 1965, I moved to the Rehearsal Club for young actors ($100 per month for room and board), and continued working with "Sandy".  I was immersed at last in my dream.  I lived and breathed all of it.  I truly believed if I worked hard enough, I could achieve my goals.  When I wasn't in class, or rehearsing, dancing, or taking voice-classes, I was reading Kazanzakis or Teilhard de Chardin and daydreaming.  I had few friends.  I was too shy, serious and introspective.  I didn't date or "have fun" In a sense, I didn't know how; I simply wanted to keep studying and preparing my dream. 

In the fall of 1965, while registering for the acting program at the Neighborhood Playhouse, I connected with a girl I had met casually at Northwestern.  She had also dropped out of Northwestern University.  Her name was Lucy Saroyan, William Saroyan's daughter.  She was full of energy and talked non-stop.  She was so friendly to me I was delighted and relieved of my shyness by her outgoing and bright personality.  She invited me to her apartment for coffee.  I was thrilled at the prospect of a friend. 

At her apartment later that day, she was bustling about and talking in the kitchen, while I sat politely on the couch.  At one point I realized she had asked me a direct question and I had not responded.  I leapt up and ran to the kitchen to answer her, and on the way I ripped open my left leg on shards of thick broken glass stacked and hidden under a pile of laundry.  My immediate thought was "Oh no, I tore my stockings," and I couldn't afford to do that.  My second thought was that this event was an untimely way to start a new friendship.  I quickly saw that my leg was cut to the bone.  Blood was beginning to flow.  Holding my leg together, I asked Lucy for a towel please.  I was so calm and polite she handed me a towel and went on with the coffee.  Finally seeing I was still bent over, she asked what was wrong.  I said quietly, "I've cut my leg" She then saw the now unstoppable blood, forced me to let her look, screamed and called her family doctor for the nearest hospital. 

We bound me up in towels, hobbled to a cab that took us to Midtown hospital.  It was a tiny hospital, and for some reason, there were no doctors on duty.  There was, however, a Greek orderly who spoke no English who managed to sew me up with 32 stitches.  I could legally be given only 10 shots of Novocain in my leg because he was not a doctor.  This was harrowing experience.  Lucy was pacing outside the door calling out nonstop encouragement.  This event bonded us into a profound and enduring friendship.  I was told by the hospital to do no excessive walking for two weeks.  Lucy asked me to stay with her so I did.  She began to skip classes to be with me.  Somehow she thought I was interesting.  She was utterly fascinating to me.  She told me about her life.  Her mother was married to Walter Matthau.  Her father, William Saroyan, was an American literary legend who lived in San Francisco and Fresno, California.  Her godfather was Marlon Brando and her childhood friends were the Chaplins, the Vanderbilt's and the Minnellis.  I listened avidly to her stories. 

She in turn, was absolutely certain that I was destined to be a great actress.  She felt I should be working professionally at once, and no longer study.  She said that she would see to it that I got an agent.  At the end of my two-week recuperation, she called her close friend Jane Elliot (today she is a long standing star of daytime drama) who was 20 years old at that time and starring on Broadway with Alan King.  Lucy asked Jane to do her a favor by giving me a recommendation to audition for Stark Hesseltine, Jane's agent.  Stark was a renowned agent.  He had started the careers of many famous and fine actors.  He believed in young and talented people, and fought for them often to their great success.  His track record for picking "winners" was remarkable. 

Jane asked to come over to meet me.  She didn't want any unnecessary competition in the agency.  She came over.  I never spoke.  Once again I sat politely on the sofa and let them talk.  I nodded occasionally.  Jane left, assured I was no competition as I was clearly a mute with no personality!  A week later I auditioned for Stark in a scene from Neil Simon's Barefoot in the Park.  Stark represented the play, as well as it's stars, a young Robert Redford and Elizabeth Ashley.  Stark was impressed and excited with my audition, and signed me that day.  Within a week, I was going out to audition for major plays.  Six months later I was cast as the ingenue lead in a Broadway comedy directed by Gower Champion.  The play was called Three Bags Full.  This was Gower Champions first non-musical.  His previous great success was Hello Dolly.