One of my heroes, Alan Jay Lerner, tells a characteristic story about the idiosyncratic Katharine Hepburn. In late 1969, the Hollywood star Hepburn was already a living legend, holding four Oscars. Only then did she make her Broadway debut in Coco, a musical Alan had written with André Previn. The show was playing at the Mark Hellinger Theater on 51st Street. Across the street was a construction site, and on matinee days the noise was horrendous. One day Kate went to the site. With that unique voice of hers which could be heard for four blocks, she shouted up to the workers to come down. When they realized it was Katharine Hepburn, they dropped everything and assembled around her. "Now look here," she said. "You're ruining my play every Wednesday and Saturday afternoon. In the middle of the first act I have to sing a very tender song called Coco. Now you all know damn well that I can't sing. But whatever sound I produce is drowned by the racket you lot are making. That song goes on at 3:20. If you can't do anything else, for God's sake at 3:20 have the decency and shut up for just five minutes." From that moment on, on Wednesday and Saturday afternoons at 3:20, 51st Street became the quietest thouroughfare in the city of New York.