I could easily write a book about my Hawaiian memories alone. One instance that I often recall with a smile is the night I went to the "KAHALA HILTON" hotel with some new friends for an evening of great entertainment. The Kahala is one of OAHU'S most prestigious properties.

I believe that it was a gentleman by the name of Danny something who was the featured performer. This particular memory is over twenty years old so some of the details have faded. What has stayed well fixed in my memory bank is the event itself.

It was a typical, marvelous Hawaiian evening, warm and comfortable. The rich scent of tropical flowers spiced with just a hint of sea breezes mingled the magical night air and the charming sounds of Hawaiian music floated on the ambiance of the night.

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When we arrived at the Kahala Hilton, there was a very long line of people waiting to be seated in the giant showroom for the first performance of the evening. I had really dressed for the occasion. I was wearing a custom made, white dinner jacket with black satin lapels, tuxedo trousers and patent leather shoes. All of this was topped off with a pair of Playboy sunglasses. At that time, my hair had not yet given in to age and turned white as it is now. All in all, as far as a fat man's ego can go, I felt pretty good.

I guess that I was not the only one who was impressed with the way I looked. In the midst of the music, all the activity and the conversation going on, I heard a voice call out. "My God, It's Orson Wells!" Now, I have been a great fan of Mr. Wells for years. The prospect of meeting him in person, perhaps even setting up an interview was very appealing to me. Like everyone else in the line that night I began to strain my neck and look around to see where Orson Wells was standing. To my surprise, everyone seemed to be looking directly at me. For what reason, I had no idea.

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The name Orson Wells was being repeated down the line and I spotted the maitre d' coming at a good clip in my direction. When he reached my side he stopped. He introduced himself and said, to my amazement " Mr. Wells, it is a great honor to have you with us sir, please come with me. We have a special table for you.

Before I had a chance to blurt out, "But I am not ------ ," I found myself along with my wife at the time and my friends being pulled along with several other tuxedo clad waiters clearing the way. Nobody in he line was protesting the preferential treatment and special show of obvious attention. After all, I was Oorson Wells, was I not?

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Being a broadcaster of many years, I was fortunate enough to have a voice to match my girth so I simply said, in a deep and resounding tone " thank you so much. As I did, I sat down at the table which just happened to be, front row center. I was told that I should consider myself, and my party, guests of the house. I was afraid that if I made them aware of their mistake at this point, I would be led away like a cheat to the door and kicked out, so I just played along. So did all the others.

Through out the evening, people came in flocks for an autograph, which I happily provided. I didn't think that Mr. Wells would mind. For me it was an outstanding evening and a fun memory. Once again, being fat had proved to be an advantage.

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I never did manage to meet Orson Wells but, at least for one wonderful evening I did get to be "Orson Wells."

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