Introductions
The Source
The setting was Crispin Lecture Hall at Illinois College. I’d been hired by the Student Activities Board to deliver the Homecoming convocation. “Something light,” they said, “funny…entertaining…you know.” I arrived ten minutes before the appointed hour to find a lecture hall full of students who 1) were desperate for convocation credit and 2) had little intention of actually listening. A little gal saw me in the hallway and shouted, “You the speaker?” After that warm and gracious greeting I told her that I was indeed the lion tamer they’d hired for the night. “This is the room,” she said, then left me to find my way in. Crispin Lecture Hall is well suited for speeches on chemistry and physics, but as a venue for an entertaining speech it has all the warmth of a meat packing plant. A chemical resistant lecture table and a chart of the Periodic Table of the Elements do not lend themselves to high comedy unless you’re a perverse chemist or an entomologist who gets his giggles by observing the home life of anthropoids. At the appointed tick of the clock the same little girl who’d greeted me so warming took the podium, grabbed a stapler, banged in on the wooden podium and shouted, “Come on! The quicker you quiet down the quicker we can get out of here!” That’s the absolute truth. I was being introduced as a root canal. She went on, “Our Homecoming Convo speaker is …uh…” She looked at me. “What was your name?” “Ken Bradbury.” “Yeah. Here he is.” Then she left the room. She left the room. Introductions. Gotta love ‘em. Sometimes the highlight of a speaking engagement is simply listening to the various ways you can be introduced. Speaking to the International FFA Convention in Chicago many years ago, I was introduced as “That famous writer, Ray Bradbury.” Although Ray is an Illinois native he’s lived in California most of his life and would have been hard pressed to hurry back and help me. The guy doesn’t even have a driver’s license and refuses to board an airplane. I apologized to the assembled throng for being who I was, spoke my speech and somehow found my way back downstate. (Irritating note to self: That speech was over 20 years ago and I still haven’t been paid.) Speaking to a civic group in Metropolis, Illinois, I was informed, “Here’s Ken Bradbury who will be playing the bagpipes for us tonight.” Interesting. No one told me and my pipes were hours away in Arenzville. Hired to do a piano gig in Lincoln I was introduced by the MC as “A guy you’ll never forget,” then he forgot my name. Sometimes the simple ambiance of the room is even more memorable than the introduction. It’s hard to do a piano program called, “The simplicity of Christmas” at the Beardstown Elks Club when Fat and the Havana Ducks country western band are playing full-bore in the room next door. Actually, it wasn’t even a separate room as the Baptists and the boozers were separated by only a flimsy pull-curtain. Playing the piano on the Spirit of Peoria Riverboat when the paddle wheeler passes a barge is exciting. The wake of the tugboat will cause you to change keys between verses one and two of “When You and I Were Young, Maggie.” Hired by the Decatur Park District to lead of group of inner-city kids in a theatre workshop at the Holiday Inn, I looked at the untamed crowd and wondered just how slowly the morning’s clock would be ticking. The leader of the group spent the first ten minutes simply getting the 200-or-so “actors” to sit down. After having finally achieved some semblance of order he introduced me. Then just as I rose to speak one of the Park District employees stuck his head in the door and shouted, “Hey guys! Jesse Jackson Jr. is in the lobby!” This bald, pudgy white guy from Arenzville lacked the drawing power of the Chicago political superstar and the rest of my presentation resembled a peacekeeping in Afghanistan. But sometimes it’s done well. So well, in fact, that an introduction can be better than the featured speech. Don Eldred, former Dean of Students at Illinois College, was the master of the introduction. He uses no canned publicity material. He does his homework on the speaker then presents a simple and fresh introduction. When he finishes you truly want to hear what the presenter has to say. But my favorite introduction… the little town of Benld, Illinois. I don’t remember the denomination, but the gathering was a delightful group of elderly ladies who’d dined on a bounty of homemade goodies and then retired to their sanctuary for my program. The dear old saint who was to introduce me had lost her notes and her hands were shaking as she stood before her 30-or-so congregants. She said, “I’m sorry. And I’m very nervous. And on top of all that I’ve lost my notes. But I just ate supper with him and he seems like a very nice man. Here’s Ken.” Simple, direct, and she didn’t even bang a stapler.