Sounds like he might have done an Orson Welles later that night, though. 
A 22oz sirloin. It was on my birthday. It was too big and was room temp by the time I finished it. I ate at The Big Texan in Amarillo once, the home of the free 72oz steak, but no one tried it when I was there.
1975, Li’l Abner’s Steakhouse in Tucson, AZ. I was a skinny highschooler with a “hollow leg” as my mother used to say because I could eat so much. I had the 2 Pound Porterhouse “Cowboy” with all the sides and desert. They cooked outside over a mesquite grill, and we had a Texas Swing band serenading as we sat under the desert stars. Mmmmm, take me back!
Once, for breakfast the next morning, I did steak and eggs (with hash browns) from my wife’s leftover steak and baked potato. 
That’s unusual, though; I rarely eat breakfast on any day, and I usually would eat a lot less either the day of or the day after having something like a giant steak.
What I feel after eating that much: very peaceful and mellow, like everything in the world is the way it should be and nothing could possibly go wrong. I rarely have any kind of stomach upset or negative side effects. I suspect it’s the same sort of high that other people attribute to drugs like alcohol.
Probably about 10-12oz? I can’t imagine eating much more than that amount of meat (plus trimmings) in one sitting, and I’m a fairly tall and broad bloke.
Just 16oz., with some salad and frites and a paté for appetizer and a split of Merlot. Did not have dessert but a cordial and felt pretty darn mellow into the small hours…
I grew up on a cattle ranch. We did our own slaughtering, but hired out the butchering. Still, it meant we got the cuts we wanted.
Yes, I’ve ploughed my way through a thirteen inch steak, and plenty thick, too. (3/4 inch? Half inch? I couldn’t tell ya that part.) Anyway, huge effin slab of dead animal, fresh as fresh, and yummy as yummy can be!
(And, yeah, it’s kinda queer to eat of an animal you watched grow up from a li’l bicky wickle calf, gamboling on the lea. It’s one of those “circle of life” things.)
We ate Bob one winter.
Better to not name them if you plan to eat them.
28oz, but there was a bone…
You just reminded me of Arlo Guthrie’s Me And My Goose. Thank you.