It was lunchtime on a gray and unseasonably cold Friday with a touch of snow in the air. Our intern Sherida and I were heading to a business lunch with an account executive from the Fox TV network at Pietrasanta, a nearby restaurant at the corner of 9th Ave./46th St. As we walked the four blocks from our office at Worldwide Plaza (we worked at ad agency NWAyer) we noticed a plume of smoke rising in the distance from lower Manhattan. There was also a lot of noise from the blaring horns and sirens of fire trucks racing down the street.
After returning from lunch I heard the news about a truck bomb exploding in the underground parking garage of the North tower of the World Trade Center and realized that was where the smoke was coming from. It was chilling to hear speculation that the goal of the bomb was to collapse the North tower and have it fall into the South tower. Unfortunately, as bad as this attack was (6 died, more than 1,000 injured), it was just a prelude to the horror of the attacks on 9-11.
February 22, 1987 was an unusually social Sunday for me. I spent the early part of the afternoon at a brunch in the West Village at the apartment of my friend Marc, a fellow I dated briefly the previous year. (We met when he walked up behind me at Uncle Charlie's bar and snapped the back of my suspenders).
After brunch a group of us went to a mid-afternoon tea dance at a club in Chelsea called Tracks. From there I taxied down to SoHo to attend a 5th anniversary celebration for GMHC (Gay Men's Health Crisis) held at the Puck Building. That was followed by dinner at Taste of Tokyo and then a brief visit to the club Palladium on 14th St.
I didn't get home until late and when I sat down to watch the 11:00 news I was shocked to learn of Andy Warhol's death. He died from complications after having simple gallbladder surgery. He was just 58. (Somewhat overlooked was the death on the same day of talk show host David Susskind.)
I felt somewhat of a connection to Warhol because, like me, he grew up in Pittsburgh and was of Slovakian parentage (my maternal grandmother was born in Slovakia). 7 years after his death, while I was in Pittsburgh to attend my father's funeral, I visited the newly opened Andy Warhol Museum (pictured, left) with my brother, his fiance and my two young nephews. It was ironic that the museum (at the time the only one in the U.S. devoted to one artist) was here because Warhol apparently was ashamed of his Pittsburgh roots.
(Many books are available about Warhol's life and his body of work. One in particular that got a lot of press when it was published in the early '90's was The Andy Warhol Diaries.)
It was Friday night and after work (I was an assistant media planner at ad agency Scali, McCabe, Sloves) I poked my head into a few bars in the vicinity of my office on Manhattan's East Side. At Cowboys & Cowgirls on 53rd St. I was idly chatting with an older fellow (I was 22 at the time so most everyone qualified as "older") who teasingly mocked my choice of cocktail, a Tom Collins, as being an "old man's drink". That may have been, but I was a novice and still familiarizing myself with mixed drinks.
While standing at the bar we overheard that the U.S. hockey team had beaten the Soviet team 4-3 at the Winter Olympics in Lake Placid (which made the victory even sweeter). It was a huge upset and took some of the sting from the the Russian basketball team's controversial defeat of the U.S. at the 1972 Summer Olympics.
Shortly afterwards I met up with a few friends from work and we went to the dance club Stix (formerly the Barefoot Boy) which was a few blocks north of the Queens-Midtown Tunnel on 2nd Ave. Two particular songs I remember dancing to were Vertigo/Relight My Fire and Don't Cry for Me Argentina (from the classic Disco Evita album). We stayed until the wee hours and since I lived in New Jersey at the time (Bayonne) I slept over at my friend Phillip's place in the Lower East Side.
Although the U.S.'s victory over the Russians was a huge accomplishment it wasn't the end of the story. In order to win the gold medal they still needed to win one more game. That match was played two days later on Sunday - and they prevailed over Finland. This provided a huge boost to a nation whose pride had taken a serious hit a few months earlier as a result of the Tehran hostage crisis - which continued for nearly another year.
Renowned environmental artist Christo's widely publicized outdoor installation known as "The Gates" was unveiled in Central Park on February 12, 2005 (a Saturday). At my friend Tom's suggestion we hopped on the #1 subway at noon and went up to the park to experience it for ourselves (that's me in the photo).
I didn't quite know what to make of this "art" and didn't find it particularly pretty. The "gates" were made from a canvas-like fabric which was a safron/orange color, giving the gates somewhat of a harsh, industrial look (but ING Bank was probably delighted to have its corporate colors on display without paying for a sponsorship). Nonetheless, there was a sense of wonderment to this ambitious undertaking and its 7,500 fabric gates covering twenty-three miles of the park. Tom and I each got one of the small square fabric samples handed out as keepsakes.
Because the sky was overcast the colors really popped. This was great for picture taking and it's likely that most everyone living in Manhattan has a stash of photos snapped (or video clips posted on You Tube) at this out of the ordinary exhibit. After spending nearly 90 minutes wandering park trails a chill finally settled into our bones and we took our leave and went to lunch. We were two of the estimated one million visitors who had come to gaze at "The Gates" in its opening weekend. Later on during the installation's second, and final, week it took on a softer look after two significant snowfalls blanketed the park. All in all, it was a unique and pleasant diversion in the dead of winter.
Despite a cold start the winter of 2005-06 had turned into a relatively mild one. In fact, during a 7-week period beginning just after Christmas temperatures averaged nearly 10 degrees above average - and January was the thirdrd mildest on record. So it was somewhat of a shock when a major snowstorm came calling.
The first flakes began falling Saturday evening just as I was leaving a movie in the Lower East Side. (Steven Soderbergh's indie film Bubble). By midnight about three inches had fallen. The snow continued until mid-afternoon Sunday, but the bulk of it fell in a 6-hour period between 5-11AM when an incredible 18 inches fell (a ski resort-like snowfall rate of three inches/hour). The storm's total was 26.9", breaking the old record from December 26-27, 1947 by one-half inch. Since NYC was in the "bullseye" no other locality received nearly this much. At around noon on Sunday I ventured out with my camera and spent an hour or so in Washington Square Park snapping photos.
Interestingly, although the blizzards of January 1996 and the post-Christmas blizzard of 2010 dumped seven inches less than this 2006 storm, the City seemed more crippled by them. And to me this record snow seemed no deeper than those storms. It could very well be that the accumulation in my Greenwich Village neighborhood, about three miles south of Central Park, was different.
This would be the only snowfall of February. It ended up accounting for two-thirds of the winter's total snowfall.
If you'd like to read about other New York City snowstorms, I've written a post on my weather blog, NYC Weather Archive, that recaps the snowstorms we've experienced since the winter of 1978/79. To go to it please click here.
I was 11 years old at the time and living in Pittsburgh - and greatly annoyed that we got hardly a snowflake from this snowstorm. Meteorology was a new interest of mine and I didn't yet understand the dynamics of weather systems, e.g. East Coast storms often don't affect Western Pennsylvania because the Appalachian Mountains act as a barrier. (As was the case with the post-Christmas blizzard in 2010.) The 15.3" that fell on New York beginning Sunday, February 9, 1969 brought the city to a virtual standstill for a number of days. It was front page news in the Pittsburgh papers, and I eyed the photos enviously. (Like the one to the right showing mostly foot traffic on 2nd Ave. near 45th St.)
It became known as the "Lindsay snowstorm" because New York's mayor John Lindsay (pictured, left) was blamed for not getting streets plowed quickly enough, especially in the boro of Queens. It nearly cost him re-election later that year, but he won running as an independent. (10 years later a series of crippling snowstorms in Chicago was largely responsible for the defeat of its mayor.) At the time it was the City's tenth biggest snowstorm - since then eight subsequent storms have had larger accumulations.
This snowstorm was the inspiration for two episodes of the sitcom That Girl (starring Marlo Thomas). In a two-part storyline Ann and boyfriend Donald were stranded at JFK by the snowstorm after accompanying her parents to the airport. This threatened a Broadway audition Ann had later that day - which she eventually did over the phone. Later, Donald, a writer for the fictional Newsview Magazine, wrote a story about Ann's experience. These episodes aired on ABC on October 30 and November 6, 1969. (They are from the show's fourth season which is available on Amazon.)
Anyone who had a teenage sister probably has memories similar to mine when the Beatles made their first American TV appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show, i.e. shreiking, screaming, perhaps even sobbing. I was in the first grade at the time and on that Sunday evening in the winter of 1964 I was sitting in the living room behind my 13-year old sister Linda who was seated on the floor in front of the TV set. Occasionally I'd look up from my coloring book. Even if I wasn't interested how could I not look up at what was creating such a commotion?
Even before this telecast I was aware that the Beatles were a big deal. (I remember my mother returning from a shopping trip to downtown Pittsburgh and bringing back the Beatles' first LP, Meet the Beatles, for Linda.) I was just 6 years old at the time and completely unaware of any same-sex inclinations, yet I remember thinking that Paul was cute. (When I turned 13 and preparing for my Confirmation I wanted my Confirmation name to be Paul, but instead I was talked into choosing George, which had family significance.)
Of course, the telecast drew a huge audience. Today, nearly 50 years later, its 45.3 household rating still ranks as one of the 25 highest rated telecasts of all time. (Nowadays only the Super Bowl gets that kind of rating.) The following week the Beatles made a second appearance on Sullivan's show and it provided another ratings bonanza. (The complete telecasts are available on Ed Sullivan: The Beatles' Telecasts. Additionally, a documentary by Albert & David "Grey Gardens" Maysles, The Beatles 1st US Visit, is also avaialble.)
I had spent much of February 8, 2007 at a meeting discussing a joint Nielsen-Arbitron project I was consulting on. The meeting concluded mid-afternoon and I walked to the gym (Crunch Fitness) to do a cardio workout on the elliptical. Upon arriving I noticed most of those using the various cardio machines had their TVs tuned to CNN. It turned out news had just been reported that tabloid mainstay Anna Nicole Smith had been found dead in her hotel room in Hollywood, Florida.
I was disturbed that this news warranted non-stop coverage and that most around me were transfixed by it. I couldn't care less and instead watched an uplifting episode of Oprah about The Secret, a new way of positive thinking that was sweeping the nation.
Although viewing choices in the primitive 1960's were limited to just three broadcast networks they produced an abundance of programs to choose from when reminiscing about favorites. And what I remember best about some shows isn't necessarily individual episodes but, rather, peripheral aspects - which I've written about below.
I'd be getting ready for bed when the Andy Griffith Show aired on Monday evenings. Funny, but what I associate most with the show is a commercial for Maxwell House coffee that seemed to air every episode. It showed coffee starting to perk in the little window atop the coffee pot and a catchy jingle derived from the sound of the rhythmic perking would begin to play.
The Pruitts of Southamption was a way-wacky, and short-lived, sitcom that aired on ABC during the 1966-67 season starring Phyllis Diller. It's seared into my brain because of its surreal, so-bad-it's good opening. Interestingly, 20 years later my friend Marina moved to Southampton and opened a bed and breakfast there that I'd visit regularly.
Petticoat Junction was a CBS sitcom that aired on Tuesday evenings, coming on just as my mother was leaving for her bowling league. During the show's opening credits I was fascinated by the big water tank in which the three daughters were either swimming or bathing in. I always wondered how deep the water was - and whether the girls were skinny dipping.
The Addams Family and Patty Duke Show aired on Friday nights on ABC and when they were over I'd take a drive with my parents into downtown Pittsburgh to drop-off a stack of weekly football contests at the Pittsburgh Press/Post-Gazette building.
Although I was only 7 or 8 I had a pre-conceived notion that Brooklyn wasn't a great place to live so I was intrigued that Patty Lane's family lived in Brooklyn Heights - which seemed like a very nice place. Both shows had classic theme songs, and one of my all-time favorite lines is Patty Duke's - "A hot dog makes her lose control". I don't know what it says about my family but we preferred The Addams Family over The Munsters.
The Mod Squad was another show with a great opening. I was winded by the time Pete, Peggy and Link completed their run through that dark & dank tunnel. Even 40+ years later the theme song doesn't seem dated - and it can be great for inspiring a sprint when you're on the treadmill!
When thinking of the CBS sitcom Family Affair many think of Anissa Jones, the child actress who played Buffy and who died from a drug overdose as a teenager in the mid-70s, but I first think of the twinkling crystal chandelier from the opening credits. And even though I was just 10 years old I was curious about the relationship between Uncle Bill and Mr. French (his "gentleman's gentleman"), especially when he'd draw his bath.
I was never a fan of the Beverly Hillbillies, Green Acres or Gilligan's Island - perhaps because they were a bit too zany or ironic for my prepubescent brain. However, I did love the opening of Green Acres. Intererstingly, when I'd occasionally catch a repeat of the show as an adult I appreciated Arnold the pig. Another show I wasn't too keen on was the Brady Bunch. However, I really got a kick out of the two movies from the 1990's that spoofed the show.
A long-forgotten show from the late 60's - Here Come the Brides - had a catchy easy-listening theme song which made it onto Billboard's top 40. This one-hour show wasn't quite a Western or a sitcom although it had elements of both. Set in the Pacific Northwest in the 1860's it told the story of a lumber mill owner who brought marriageable women from Massachusetts to serve as potential brides for the lumberjacks. It introduced Bobby Sherman and David Soul before they became pop idols. Also featured was 1930's actress Joan Blondell as Lottie, the owner of the local saloon who also watched over the girls (unbeknownst to benighted viewers she was probably a "madam".).
Finally, Rowan & Martin's Laugh-In was a jolt of electricity and watching it Monday night was a great way to start the week. I loved the Farkles and all of Lily Tomlin's characters (e.g. Ernestine, Edith Ann, the Terribly Sophisticated Lady) and I got a kick impersonating some of the characters in front of schoolmates. Besides the regular cast the show also featured a cavalcade of stars who'd make cameos throughout each show (e.g. John Wayne, Sammy Davis, Jr., Raquel Welch). Its over-caffeinated pace was a pre-cursor to the MTV era.
The verdict in the civil suit brought against OJ Simpson for the wrongful deaths of his wife Nicole and her friend Ron Goldman coincided with President Clinton's State of the Union Address on the night of February 4, 1997 (the first of his second term). Word that a verdict had been reached came shortly before 7PM but the reading of it was delayed for more than three hours until all interested parties arrived at the courthouse in Santa Monica.
It was Tuesday night and I was preparing dinner after doing a weight workout at the gym. Since both events were of high news value NBC resorted to a split screen to show both unfolding. And although it seemed somewhat disrespectful to the President, truth be told, the verdict was largely the reason I switched on the TV. Finally, at the conclusion of the President's address the verdict came in. Reporters inside the courthouse signaled to the crowd gathered outside that the verdict was - guilty! On one side of the split screen President Clinton was shown shaking hands while and on the other side a defeated Simpson was show leaving the courthouse followed by the triumphant Goldman and Brown families. I let out a cheer.
For me, this verdict took some of the sting out of the contentious not guilty verdict reached in the criminal trial in 1995. Shortly afterward I called my friend Marina down in Baltimore to share the news. She had passed the Maryland bar six months earlier so I asked her to explain why this type of suit could be filed after a verdict had already been rendered in the criminal case, in other words a do-over. (I still don't understand the legal reasoning.) Thus ended a tragic case that had been part of the nation's zeitgeist for nearly three years. (However, it wasn't the last we'd hear from OJ.)
