The reason I was meeting Andre was that an acquaintance of mine, George Grassfield, had called me and just insisted that I had to see him. Apparently George had been walking his dog in an odd section of town the night before, and he’d suddenly come upon Andre leaning against a crumbling old building and sobbing. Andre had explained to George that he had just been watching the Ingmar Bergman film, “Autumn Sonata,” about twenty five blocks away, and he’d been seized by a fit of ungovernable crying when the character played by Ingrid Bergman said, “I could always live in my art, but never in my life.”