That's how much I love Jerry Mathers, aka The Beaver, the former child star and American icon. He's now starring on Broadway as Wilbur Turnblad, Tracey Turnblad's heart-of-gold dad in the musical Hairspray. Mathers is fantastic in the show.

I saw the show on Wednesday, which turned out to be a daylong parade of television icons. It started at the matinee of Hairspray. I'd brought the wonderful group of students I mentor from Bayside HS in Queens. (I generally resist the term mentor. I'm many things, including "canny" and "whimsical." But "mentor" is a term reserved for the "wise," something I only aspire to right now.)

Anyway, at intermission I stepped outside for some fresh air with the student's teacher, Aida. Aida nudged me and said, "Look! It's the guy from Three's Company." Indeed it was actor Richard Kline, who brilliantly played Jack, Chrissy and Janet's sleazy upstairs neighbor, Larry. I loved that show and thought he was hilarious.

When I approached him, though, he wasn't terribly chatty. This is not a criticism. The truth is that I could have been more deft.

"Excuse me," I said, "but weren't you on Three's Company?"

"Yes," he nodded.

"You're very funny," I said nervously.

He nodded again, thanked me, and that was it. I felt a bit cloddish not using his name but I couldn't remember it. So he very well may have been annoyed at being addressed by his Three's Company affiliation. Perhaps the show has loomed too large, prevented him from being recognized for other projects. (This is just speculation.)

Years ago I spent an evening with the late Audra Lindley, who played Mrs. Roper on Three's Company. (She was the great-aunt of a friend of my friend Mario.) I remember the exchange vividly.

"How nice to meet you, Ms. Lindley," I said.

"Nice to meet you," she said. She was very elegant, dressed in a caftan not at all like the muumuus she wore on the show.

"I'm a longtime fan," I said. "I loved you in..."

She tensed up, her back arching, her smile tightening. She saw it coming. She didn't want to talk about that episode where she overheard Jack and Chrissy fixing a leaky toilet and mistaking it for wild sex - for the umpteenth time. And I knew just what to say:

"I loved you in The Heartbreak Kid," I finished, referring to the Neil Simon-penned Elaine May-directed film in which she played Cybill Shepherd's mother.

Audra sighed relief, as if she just had the best sex of her life - presumably the way she sighed after making love to actor James Whitmore, the love of her life. "Yes," she said like a veteran of the Old Vic, "it was a great thrill working with Elaine May. She was ingenious."

The experience served as a lesson: Don't refer to television icons by the series they're best known for, unless it's something like The Sopranos. If I ever meet Cindy Williams (Shirley in "Laverne and Shirley") I know just what to say: "I loved you in Francis Ford Coppola's The Conversation!"

AND YET...

... this is all preface to my very sweet interaction with Jerry Mathers. My students and I waited for him outside the stage door. When he came out, he signed autographs for everyone who asked. We waited for about 15 minutes. When he came to us, he graciously took a few pictures. Then I asked him:

"Do you ever get tired of people referring to you, I mean asking you about, Leave It To Beaver?" I stumbled on my words, worried about offending him. But he knew what I was asking.

He answered without hesitation, with young Beaver-like innocence:

"Why should I?" he asked. "It's been a blessing all my life."

What a lovely man! So grateful and happy for his good fortune. And let me tell you something: That open heart shows on stage.

Okay, I have to run now. In my next post, I'll tell you about running into Tyne Daly of 'Cagney & Lacey' just two hours after my summit with the Beav!