Posted by DSOB
on 1/19/2009, 3:10 pm, in reply to "The Passing of "Candy Man""
The following is from the DECATURIAN ONLINE of 2-15-2005
Al the Candy man, a living legend at Millikin
Twelve years in the front row
Emily Evans
staff writer
My first memory of “Al the Candyman” is from my freshman year, on the opening night of Vespers 2001. I remember looking out into the audience the moment the last chord was struck. The sound had not finished ringing before a man seated in the center of the front row slowly stood to a standing ovation. His hunched body was silhouetted against a sold-out audience. Then, taking his lead, every person began to stand. From the stage it looked like waves from all directions – with a single man as their leader.
I later became acquainted with Al McGlennon, as most theatre and music students do, with a handful of tootsie rolls, root beer barrels and peppermints. I began to notice him in the front row of every recital, concert, Pipe Dream and Mainstage production I attended.
I knew exactly where to find Al to interview him for this article. I simply went to a recital in the music building, and sure enough, he was in the front row. After the recital we talked for a while. He told me stories of his travels to Cairo, London and Paris as a member of the Military Police in the Ninth Air Force during World War II.
“I’ve slept in a desert sandstorm on the coast of the Mediterranean Sea,” he said, recalling a memory from 65 years ago.
Today, Al lives in Riverton, Illinois, which is 32 miles from Decatur. Although he does not enjoy driving, he still travels to campus almost every day. Al told me he didn’t get his driver’s license until he was 48 years old, when his wife finally asked for it as her Christmas present.
If you have ever talked with Al, he has most likely mentioned his wife, Lena. He met Lena on a blind date, and she is certainly the love of Al’s life. Lena enjoyed the arts, and it was she who took Al to see the Decatur Park Singers for the first time in 1980.
“It was the first time I had seen them, and I thought it was the greatest thing I’d ever seen,” Al said, according to a Decaturian article from October 17, 2000.
When Al drives to and from campus, he listens to a tape of the Decatur Park Singers in his car.
Unfortunately, just after their 49th anniversary, Lena passed away in 1991 of cancer.
“I didn’t know what to do,” Al said. Recitals and shows “are somewhere for me to go.”
For the past 12 years Al has been coming to Millikin to “admire” student work. He does not play a musical instrument, act or dance, but he loves live entertainment.
I asked Al if he has had a favorite production over the past 12 years, but he did not even stop to think.
“I like them all,” he replied.
Al the Candyman isn’t shy about offering students sweets. If you come up to him after a show, he’ll already have a handful of candy ready. In fact, the trunk of Al’s car is filled with candy. Every time he comes to campus he fills his pockets, and when his supply gets low he drives out to Sam’s Club to re-stock.
One day I saw Al between recitals and I asked him what he was up to. He said he had a candy errand to make, and then he’d be back for the next recital in a couple hours.
Al has even given candy to famous people. After our interview he walked up to Alan Held, an international opera star and Millikin alumnus who was on campus to give a master class. Al shook his hand, and gave him some candy.
“I remember you from when I was on campus five years ago,” Held said.
According to the 2000 Decaturian article, one of Al’s crowning achievements was when he gave candy to Miss America at a theater in Sullivan.
“Not everyone could say they have given candy to Miss America,” Al said with a smile.
Al started giving candy when he stopped smoking cigarettes. After smoking for 45 years, Al quit ‘cold turkey’, and began saving his cigarette money for candy money.
Al has certainly become an important part of the Millikin community. When I was at the library archives to request a copy of the article about Al, the librarian paused.
“Nothing has happened, right?” she asked, as she noticed what article I was requesting. She was relieved when I assured her that Al is fine.
Later, I found out I didn’t have to go to the library to get a copy of that article. I could have just asked Al for it—he carries the two-page article with him everywhere, folded up in his pocket.
Al even goes to graduation.
“I just found out five or six years ago that I could go. I wish I would have known earlier. Now I get a ticket and sit on the end, so I can shake students’ hands as they walk by.”
And Al knows many students, thanks to his sharp memory.
“He always calls me by my name,” sophomore vocal performance major Emilie Stanley said.
And Al doesn’t forget you once you’ve graduated. Junior music and business double major Amanda Boller was introduced to Al by her older sister, now an alumna of the Millikin theater department.
“Just the other day I was in the coffee shop, and he came up and asked me how Rachel was doing, and if she had been performing anywhere,” Boller said.
Junior music business major Bernadette Boyko sums it up well when she says, “Al holds a special place in my heart.”
But the biggest Al fan on campus is senior musical theater major Sara Bauer. In the fall of 2003, Bauer helped organize “Al Day” with the theater fraternity Alpha Psi Omega, of which Al is an honorary member.
“We went out to dinner like usual (Bauer and Al usually have dinner together at least once a week) and then went to see ‘You’re A Good Man Charlie Brown’ on campus. The whole thing was a surprise for Al. I announced it was ‘Al Day’ before the show, and everyone gave him a standing ovation. He started crying because he was so happy. I think that’s my favorite Al memory,” Bauer said.
A reception for Al followed the show with a “Happy Al Day” cake, and of course, candy.
Alpha Psi Omega is thinking of holding another Al Day this semester.
“It’s been a hard year for Al,” Bauer said.
His sister recently passed away, and his back has been causing him problems. But at 83 years old, somehow he still manages.
Every Friday, Al goes to his friend’s house for a fish dinner, and every Saturday night, to the country opery. He still attends all the Thursday recitals and Pipe Dreams. He spends the holidays with his niece in Springfield, and occasionally his 57 year-old son visits him from Kankakee.
Al told me that if his stepdaughter were alive today, she would be 65 years old. She was a nurse, and died of cancer, like her mother, in the early 1990s.
“He’s had a good life,” Bauer said. “He loves people.”
She told me about a side of Al that not many students get to see.
“Al has a hilarious sense of humor. We always joke around. Sometimes he’ll sing funny songs, or I’ll tell him ‘I’ll race you to the stairs—he just wants to have fun.”
After our interview, Al got something to eat at Common Grounds and then drove home. I didn’t join him because I had to run to a night class.
While I walked towards Shilling, I started to think about the hundreds of students Al McGlennon has inspired over the past 12 years. Like the many before me, I’ll never forget Al. Years from now, whenever I think about Millikin, I’ll see Al slowly rise to a standing ovation, and it will still bring tears to my eyes.
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