“My Fair Lady” was the show to see at the time. The predawn lines for standing-room tickets were famous. Of course, we had to have a go, but there was no bus that would get us there early enough.

We devised a strategy: My mother and aunt would drive me and my friend across the bridge to the subway. From there, we could take the train to the theater and claim spots on the standing-room line. They would drive downtown and find a parking spot nearby.

As I recall, there were only 30 standing-room tickets each day. We lost out by two or three spots on line the first time we tried.

On our second attempt, my mother and aunt couldn’t find a space on the street, so they pulled into a lot.

They rushed to the street and spotted a taxi stopped for a light. They jumped in.

“Mark Hellinger Theater,” they said.

The light changed. The driver shifted gears. The cab turned the corner and stopped. Sitting on a blanket in front of the theater in the predawn silence, I heard the shrieks of laughter as it did.