On the evening of Wednesday, July 13, 1977, I was happily sitting in the crowded audience of Trent Gough’s Script Development Workshop . (Blessed be his colorful memory!) Located in a seedy building next to the Long Acre Theater on West 48th Street,  it was made up of actors, writers and directors. Some were wannabes (like me), others quite accomplished. Usually, the selected scripts were given to the directors a week or two before performance, actors were chosen, there was limited rehearsal and bare script-in-hand readings. On this night, however, work had been done. The actors knew their lines, there was lighting and there were props. The play was about the discovery of Booth and his accomplices. They were hiding in a barn. It was dramatic! Confrontation, shouts, shooting! An actor accidentally knocked over a battery operated lantern. Its light went out. Then the lights of the workshop, Broadway and the city went out. In the dark, the clumsy actor’s voice could be heard, “Oh, my God, what have I done?” The infamous blackout of New York City had begun.