As Louis Baker stepped from the stage, he knew he had hit the big-time. The cheering, standing ovation, the slaps on the back from other performers and stage hands, all told him so.
Out back of the theater, Louis Baker discovered even greater adulation as a crowd of several dozen flocked around him screaming, yelling his name and begging for his autograph. Women even slip their names in his jacket pocket hoping to be his paramour in the near future.
It was all very heady for the young actor as he headed up the block to his single room flat. Once there, he lay in bed dreaming of what his new-found fame-and-fortune would bring, including a luxury suite along Fifth Avenue.
The following morning Louis Baker rose and quickly dressed. The broad sheets would be out and he wanted to know what the critics thought of his performance.
He hurriedly walked down the sidewalk to the corner where the newspaper stand held his future. Yet, before he could get there, he had a small mishap, a misstep in all actuality.
The up and coming sensation stepped in a pile of dog droppings. Immediately, he sought to find something to wipe it from his Oxford’s.
He reached down and picked up a solitary piece of paper and used to clean-off his shoe. That’s when he noticed the handwriting on the fragment of parchment – it read: “All the best, Louis Baker.”