NYC In Situ

Going through this blog's almost 2400 posts, I realize that I have never posted a comprehensive map of the five boroughs. So here goes:

Thanks to me you can now find all of the major parks, highways, museums, hospitals, stadiums, shopping centers, golf courses, and other vital points of interest in this fair archipelago.

And we truly are a city of isles, an eclectic array of floating landmasses (except for the Bronx), our geography and topography and demography and any and all "ographies" combining to make a triumphant whole, the nation's biggest city by far.

We are also connected in spirit. Not only do bridges and buses and subways and ferries bind these disparate parts of the city together, but the city is also kept together by "magic." 

At least, that's what popular culture tells us.

I direct your eyes to this lengthy, somewhat incoherent, somewhat interesting, article that examines the role of TV shows portraying this gentrifying, unequal, and diverse city as a place where people from all walks of life happily cohabitate. Increasingly shows set here want us to believe that NYC is a place where New Yorkers take active interest in each other, where we float into each other's lives, where we learn about each other. The article cites the show "High Maintenance" where different lives converge over a shared love of NYC and pot.  


It's a nice idea that popular culture is selling us, even if it's not entirely true. That is the real "magic", the real fantasy -- that, I guess, and weed.

My Public Access Memory Anecdote

Memory is a tricky thing: we remember some things very well, some things somewhat well, and some things not at all. 

Obviously we always remember the big things very well -- moving residences, graduating schools, getting and leaving jobs, taking interesting trips, losing virginity's, witnessing (or participating in) historical events like big elections or news stories, etc. Then there are things we do in our lives that are interesting but somewhat memorable: usually one-off things like seeing a good show, taking a short trip, having a  date, having good conversation, etc. Then there's everything else that we either can't remember or choose to forget -- like traumas.  

File this under "remember somewhat well", an interesting one-off: the one and only time I hosted a public access TV show. 

My recent post about public access television jogged this almost seventeen year-old memory. It's something I did completely on lark, enjoyed it, and, for reasons I cannot understand or remember at all, never did again. 

By 2003 I had been watching too much public access. It cured my boredom. Late at night there would be lots of call-in shows, where an assorted array of quirky New Yorkers would sit before a camera in a studio with poor acoustics and take calls from the freaks watching. I even called in  a few times myself -- just to have someone to talk to. After watching more than my fair share of this junk, I thought "Hey! I could do this!" So I contacted Manhattan public access, filled out some form, went down to their studios on West 59th street, took a short "training class", and then got an one night half-hour time slot in July of that year.

The idea for the show I proposed, that the public access station let me air one time and then, for reasons that were never explained to me, never again, was to take calls from New Yorkers where they would air their confessions. In fact, I was going to call the show "Nighttime Confessions".

Around 11:30 one Wednesday night, I went into a small TV studio and stood behind big table. Two cameras behind a glass shield pointed at me. There were lights overhead, blazing. I had written down the name of the show and the phone number to call in on a piece of paper and taped it to the table. I even included my email address. As soon as 11:30 hit, a red light went on. I smiled for the camera, briefly told the audience what the show was about, and started taking calls.

To my shock, the calls poured in.

I had never been on-air before, I was completely unknown as a host, and yet people were just itching to talk to me. Many of the calls were people just yelling or telling me that I sucked, and I quickly hung up on them. One guy, who I assume was gay, was very flirtatious. Then a girl called in for love advice, talking about how some guy had just gotten her pregnant. She asked me for advice and I don't remember what advice I gave but then the next call was another girl who scolded me, remonstrated with me, told me that I had no business giving anyone advice. And then ... the show was over. 

I left the studio, got in a cab, went home, and then ... nothing. I never got another shift and never did another show. 

And that was it -- a complete and total anti-climatic memory. Fortunately, after that, I started having more success with "da' ladies" and stopped watching so much public access. 

Footnote: I did get an email from someone after the show, a really nasty picture. I deleted it and that was that. 

Dr. Who in NYC

To be honest I'm not the biggest Dr Who fan but WHO the hell cares what I think? The show has been a huge global hit for literally more than half a century, it's survived numerous iterations, multiple doctors, and a countless number of dopey plotlines. 

It's the Energizer Bunny of TV shows -- annoying as hell and it just keeps going and going and going and going ... ad infinitum.

Certain members of my family are big Dr Who fans so that makes me a Dr Who adjacent fan. So it was cool to see that a recent episode had the good doctor and her mates visit NYC. Other doctors have visited the city in the past too. Here are some examples:

WHO knows? Maybe one day the Tardis will materialize here yet again!

Would You Hire This Man to Watch Your Dog?

Close(d) Captioning

A deaf Brooklyn man has recently sued an adult site because its naughty movies do not include closed captioning. This is actually a very interesting constitutional questions and it'll be fascinating to see if this winds up before the Supreme Court. In the meantime, let me help out with the closed captioning:

"We're out here looking for hot moms. Oh wait, look, there's one right now!"

"You know, your grades aren't good. In fact, you're failing."
"Please, I really need to pass this class."

"Honey, can you drive the babysitter home?" 

"You brought me a plain pizza? I ordered it with sausage!" 

"What's going on -- oh! Young lady! You are in SO MUCH trouble! When your father gets home ..."
"Please don't tell my dad! Please don't tell my dad!"
"You should be ashamed of yourself!"
"Please, please, I'll do whatever you want!"
"Well, your boyfriend is kind of cute ... I have an idea!"

"Where is that cable repair man?"

Remembering "Beyond Vaudeville"

Long before YouTube and the Internet allowed everyone to become a "content creator", the only place where you could find oddballs and fringe characters producing weird and uncommercial stuff was on public access TV.

In NYC, on Manhattan Public Access, there was a show that merged the amateur and fringe with the more mainstream -- called Beyond Vaudeville, it ran from 1986 to 1996, and was hosted by an Andy Kaufmanesque guy named Frank Hope. It was a talk/variety show where a number of randomly assorted guests would talk while Frank and his hyper sidekick David would say or do outrageous things that got amazingly cringey reactions from their guests.

Although Beyond Vaudeville was on for ten years, it only aired 75 time. The show did not have a regular schedule, it would just pop-up every so often, and its guests were beyond eclectic -- they included the dwarf from Twin Peaks, Barry Williams from The Brady Bunch, NYC talk show host Joe Franklin, WNBC news anchor Sue Simmons, actor Fred Williard, Grandpa Al Lewis, Tom Arnold, Oscar-winners Shirley Jones and Kim Hunter, Tiny Tim, as well as strange comedians, dancers, jugglers, and others. 

Others who appeared on the show were Mr NYC favorite Alison Steele and as well as Mr NYC interviewee Michael Musto.

I've posted a few episodes below -- watch them and take a peak at this memorably weird show at a time when NYC was still memorably weird.

Gotta Love New Yorkers

If you look at today's New York Times, you'll find two very different articles about two very different New Yorkers who are, in my opinion, the quintessential examples of what makes this city great.

The first is an obituary for Nina Griscom -- someone you may not have heard of but was an "only-in-NYC" type. She was a model, a TV host, a designer, a socialite, an "It Girl" of the 1970s and 1980s. Her career was varied, as were her marriages, and she lived a full, exciting life. Sadly she died recently from ALS but reading about her, and her unconventional path, was both heartening and inspiring.

The second is someone who is very much alive -- and thriving: Bowen Yang of Saturday Night Live. He's the first Asian cast-member in the show's 45 year history and he's become a huge breakout star. He's very funny and a brilliant mimic. Also, like many New Yorkers, he's a transplant -- making the little town blues melt away and making it big here.

They couldn't have lived or thrived anywhere.

Manning Retires

Byford Resigns

A Little Birdhouse in Your Soul: They Might Be Giants' "Flood"@30

Two weeks in the year 1990, and two weeks after I turned thirteen, a previously unknown band from Brooklyn called They Might Be Giants released their album Flood -- and made history.

It was the first big alternative album to go mainstream, with an array of hits like "A Little Birdhouse in Your Soul", "Istanbul (Not Constantinople)", "Minimum Wage", "Your Racist Friend", and many others. Along with The Simpsons, which had premiered on television only a couple of weeks earliers -- and later on Seinfeld and Nirvana's Nevermind -- this album announced that the 1990s had arrived. It was going to be a more funky, more ironic, less conformist than the conservative 1980s that had just ended. Soon enough Bill Clinton would be president and Tarantino movies would be in theaters, and the new decade would have a feel and sound all its own.

Flood is a perfect album of great songs that still hold up thirty years later. As my young adulthood commenced those decades ago, this album came with me through it, a friend that never went away. And I still listen to it today -- like folk music, the music feels like it was never new and it never gets old.