As far as tools to aid him in fulfilling his second goal in life, Ed was very well equipped (pardon the pun). I asked him once about his methodology for meeting those of the feminine persuasion who weren’t part of the theatre social group (and thus had no common ground for Ed’s attempts at future "social" interactions).
“Why, I stare at them. It’s like fishing. Some of them get freaked out and leave. Others take the bait and come over, kind of like to challenge me. Then I act all sad like my life is falling apart and I talk about wishing I could start over. Pretty soon they’re all trying to cheer me up and…”. He shrugged and grinned at this point as I recall, a big, confiding grin. “ Works everytime”. As Mozart was to music, Turing was to computing, and Aaron was to homeruns, so Ed was to the pickup; pure, natural talent.
Ed also had an innate ability to zero in on women who had at some point posed for men’s magazines. This was at the time when Hustler magazine (among others) was located in Los Angeles ( before the Internet explosion decimated the adult magazine industry) and the center of the American pornography industry was based out of the San Fernando Valley which was about 15 minutes south via the 101 freeway. I’d see Ed on Main Street (yes, the City of San Buenaventura’s main street is called Main Street), proudly escorting any number of eye-popping, jaw-dropping, fist-biting, pneumatically-endowed "models and actresses" someplace or another but generally one would assume to his "pad" (translation for our more youthful readers: "crib") or his van with the cringe-inducing mattress in the back.
