Capones Vault Prologue

It was cold for April. Even for Chicago. The temperature had plunged to the twenties. Michigan Avenue still had the feel of Christmas with the twinkling lights of horse-drawn carriages for tourists who wanted to tour the Magnificent Mile. Further down on the South Side, crane-high movie lights blazed on an old hotel at 2135 South Michigan Avenue. Men in yellow hardhats spoke outside with their breath illuminated in the light. Diesel-puffing satellite trucks parked up and down the street. The whop whop whop of a helicopter began to get louder. Michigan Avenue was blocked off with crowds of people behind barricades. Mr. T was in the front of the crowd in his trademark gold chains and mohawk. Vendors sold T-shirts that proclaimed i was there when capone’s vault opened. They sold out in minutes. Reporters from all over the world stood around as the helicopter became deafening and everyone looked up. The flashing strobes suddenly appeared in front of the hotel. Then the helicopter with the camera poking out landed on Michigan Avenue. Geraldo Rivera appeared in the front door of the Lexington Hotel as a crane camera moved in. It was Monday, 8 p.m. Eastern in New York and 7 Central in Chicago and people around the world were locked in place in front of their televisions. Geraldo looked like he was breathing smoke in a half-zipped blue coat with a white shirt and tie. He looked at the camera with his trademark Groucho mustache and pointed with his finger. “I’m Geraldo Rivera and you are about to witness a live television event, a massive concrete vault has been discovered, and some think it belongs to none other than the notorious Al Capone. Well, tonight for the first time that vault is going to be opened. . . . LIVE!”

Television Has Ruined Football

I went to the Bears opener with the Packers. What a show. The Air force parachutists, the fireworks, the smoke, flames, the screaming fans. The voltage in the stadium was incredible. National television was there in force with all the interviews and cameras and talking heads. It was amazing. The National Anthem was amazing. The monstrous flag was amazing. And this was the biggest rivalry in the NFL. Then the game started. You know the outcome, but here is what I found amazing. The game is so slow. Not because of the players but because of television

A few plays and then a switch of sides and then everyone stands around and waits. And while you are watching the two hotdogs race on the big screen or a Veteran walk out or a race between two cars the players just stand around with nothing to do. Minutes pass. The players stand around the stadium gets quiet. Oh right. Commercials! Those things that at home give you a chance to get more dip, another beer, hit the bathroom. For the fan at the game it is dead time and for the players, it is an interruption to the game.

I know. Its great that television is there but I watched the momentum wither away. It is incredible how slow professional football has become because of this electronic medium. Television does not try and keep up with football, football slows down to television time. The intensity of a college football game is explosive and even on the opener when the Bears got behind the fans became quiet and every time the Bears started to move the game went cold with challenges, timeouts, and then just for nothing but to make sure all those sponsors get their commercials in.

And yes the Bears lost. So maybe this is just sour grapes but it sure seemed like every time the train started to roll, it ran out of steam.  Or it went to a commercial. 

Doing Live Television

The first question on any interview. Is it live? Yes. Ok. No problem. So you arrive early by about an hour and hang around the parking lot and try not to move to much. No sweating allowed. Six thirty is makeup and lighting. So you go in about six fifteen and go to the Green room to wait. The famed green room looks like a conference room with a long table and  a big screen to watch the show on. You sit and it is not so much you are nervous it is just you cant quite get straight in your head what you are going to talk about. You will have eight minutes for your segment.

The other guests arrive. A Bush transition team and some professors to talk about the Electoral College. You are the kicker. at the end. The fun interview. The Author. You kill time looking out a window overlooking the studio. It is still dark and looks like an industrial warehouse with alien cameras on the floor and lights hanging from the rafters. The set looks a bit cheesy but then the illusion is not in place. The girl calls you for makeup and you go downstairs where it is much cooler and quiet.

Lots of base. Lots of base. Skin is not flawless and high def requires pancake makeup. This ends and you go in for a light check.  The studio is lit and you stare into a camera while they adjust the lighting and then you are back upstairs. You watch on the monitor as the other people go down the stairs and magically appear on the show. Now you have a problem. You are beginning to sweat. Not Albert  Brooks sweating but glistening. The girl sees this and dabs more powder on your face. You are last and yes you are getting nervous.

Ok Its time. You go down the stairs and stand behind a wall. The door to the control room is open and you hear people counting down. Go Camera 1 Go Camera 2 Cut to one on one. You stand trying not to breathe because you are clearly sweating now. The other guests troop by. You envy them.  They are done. They didn't freak out. You hear the control room. Set up for the author. The girl takes you in to the set. To your right are men with computers and monitors just off the set. You see yourself. You don't do that again.

Just relax the the host says while the music plays. You unbutton your coat then button it then unbutton it. The host looks at the camera and starts talking and then the camera moves and flashes red. You talk for eight minutes and it goes by fast. You don't even remember it. The music comes up and then it is over. The lights in the studio come on and the host shouts out, Goodnight everybody. He i's gone. People are clearing out like mad.. It's eight o'clock at night. Time to get home. You are taken out by the girl and then you are back in the parking lot and it  is very quiet.

Your phone rings.

Madam President The Secret Presidency of Edith Wilson

Some of the things I won't miss about Parenthood

Let me say that I have watched over ninety episodes and I am closing in on the final season. So you could say I am a Parenthood devotee. Saying that there are some things I wont miss. The first will be the uber couple Adam and Kristina. These two seem to have some pack of kryptonite the rest of us mortals do not possess. Not only does Adam lose his job and land on his feet but he starts a recording studio with his brother Crosby that becomes enormously successful so much so that he passes up a couple million dollars in a buyout option after realizing that it is his brothers raison dete. Add a child and Kristina's cancer and a mayoral run by her and then starting a Charter School for their autistic son all the while navigation family crisis with elan and grace and money few of us possess and you have a most obnoxious fantasy middle class couple of the Berkley  super enlightened type.

I will also not miss the ever sexual Sarah billed as the siren who cannot fight off men fast enough. From the boyish Mr Sear (sic) to the hangdog Hank to the doctor in her apartment building to Seth her drunken ex rocker husband no one can get enough of her funny goofy cant get it together persona and the fact she always looks like a million buck no  matter how many crisis she navigates which brings us to her children.  Drew and Amber

Amber cannot be Bohemian enough for the writers. From her loft apartment that is always open to her strumming guitar to her I will have sex with anybody who moves me to her taking in broken men (Ryan) to her determination that she will be who she is to right to the point of having sex with someone in a body cast and getting pregnant and not getting why everyone isn't crazy enthusiastic over it except for Zeke the over top grandfather who we will get to in a few minutes. Forget that she blows a job working on a campaign by getting it on with the candidate or her series of jobs that go nowhere because she seems to never be shot of cash.

Drew they should have cut his character. Right off the bat. One hang dog Berkley angst ridden brooding  middle class kid (see Hattie who eventually reveals she is gay) is enough. So lets cut to Joel and Julia. Joel is probably the worst actor there or maybe the best. Just look conflicted with a hardhat and leave your smart sexy wife because she shows up at your work and then brood for a year. He deserves his white prison cell condo. What a dope.  Julia at least is who she is and is about the only character who doesn't go in for touchy feely emotional masturbation.

Then we have Crosby the eternal boy wonder /artist. Will he ever quit being the Crosby do the teenager thing? Married to another beautiful woman he effortly skates to success with Adam being the creative force of the studio while doing just about every bone head thing they can come up with  until be becomes the perfect dad with his African American wife and son all the while managing to be the token black sheep who is lovable even as he has sex with Max's (autistic child) tutor. (Everyone has tutors and therapists ...money is no object)

Zeke is just nuts (should have quit with Poltergeist) and his wife Millie (should have stopped with John McClains ex wife in Die Hard I) has had way too much plastic surgery and too busy wilting through every scene as her husband plays the obnoxious patriarch busy setting the table in the back so they can have another family dinner. Because no one works and drops in at each other places of employment to discuss interpersonal issues and what the hell everyone is living in nice homes in Berkley and so lets go to dads before he sells the place and moves to another giant house complete with long table for family get togethers.

So...I will miss Parenthood. I actually really liked the series even with all it's flaws. Maybe I am as nuts as the characters. It does take one to know one.

www.williamhazelgrove.com

Does Television Make You Smarter?

I was reading an article that contends television makes you smarter. The thesis goes that before television was land of no think. Mary Tyler Moore and shows of the seventies while smarter than the average (see Brady Bunch) variety still gave you the answer and were very simple myopic story lines. The shows of today are different. House of Cards. Breaking Bad, Downton Abbey, Modern Family require people to think with multiple characters and story lines.

Even shows of the ER variety made us think because even though we don't know the medical nomenclature we are a lot better off just hearing it and sort of figuring it out. The writer says that we have to keep our head in the game or we cannot figure out what is going on without referring to  what happened the week before. In this way we are being pulled along by a hidden proctor saying PAY ATTENTION.

Now the television makes us smarter thesis has a couple problems. One is that we don't always watch the smart shows. In fact a lot of times we watch the dumb shows or reality television. We do this because we get distracted and end up some other place than our smart show destination. One could make a case that Cake Boss has intelligence that it is very hard to make a prize winning cake..yeah..but no.

Probably the biggest fallacy is intent. We just don't go to television to learn. We go to relax and yes we do learn along the way and television is probably essential just for cultural reference points. But smarter...ah...maybe. Maybe not.

www.williamhazelgrove.com
 Real Santa

Breaking Bad

Yeah I've broken bad. Bleary eyed at three AM as Walt cooks. Bad. Bad. Out to the bars and then watching Walt sell his meth. Swore I would never watch the show but it passed my test. It was off the air and now I can watch what everyone else already has. And so now I Netflix every night my fix while the house sleeps and I get up four hours later blood red and beat and strung out as Tuco and I tell myself I got to write and I got to get off the train of staying up until two.

But then the night comes and I say hey I'll just watch a little with the cat and the dog and there I am in the yellow smoke and it is bad... bad. Three AM when the box goes off and I am getting really tired. And my temper is getting short and my writing is slipping and I am going bad really bad and I say that's it. Back to the old schedule man. To bed. Up early to write and the night comes again and I swear off Walt and his cancer and all the crappy things that can happen to someone.

And then it gets dark and the house goes to sleep and the remote sits on top of the television and I can see myself in the reflection of that big screen. Don't do it. It is midnight. I'm not going to do it again. I'm going to bed. To bed man. And I stand up and walk to the television. Maybe just a taste. Just a taste bro. Bad. Really bad.  Oh Man. Four AM...

I'm doomed.

www.williamhazelgrove.com
The Pitcher



 

The ER of the Arts--The final episode

A friend of mine from high school just appeared in the final episode of ER. I have never watched one episode, but I watched the final three hour show in support of this old friend. His name rolled in the credits and it was prominent. So then we waited through the special retro portion of the show until the real two hour show began. We didn't have to wait long. My friend was suddenly there in a shot and then he was gone. We waited through another hour of the show for him to reappear. My wife said she thought that was it for his character. I said no, there had to be more. Then towards the end he appeared again and said a few lines. That was it. Here then is the hell of the arts, a blip on a television show that lasts not two minutes after toiling for years. What makes it worse, is this guy was the best actor I ever knew.

We don't want to go down the road of statistics. They are too depressing. For the Authors Guild it is something like poverty level for ninety percent of the writers. The rest eek along and the golden one percent haul it in. Probably something like for every one writer you have heard about, a hundred thousand that will never see the light of day. In acting it is much the same. In all the arts it is much the same. There simply is not enough to go around. Talent is not enough. Timing, luck, connections...just about every variable in the world plays into the lottery of Who Wants To Be A Star, A Bestseller, A Rock star. Brutal reality is the word here. The brutal reality is that most artists will die in obscurity.

This fact does lessen the nobility of the act. Artists generally do not have a choice. They just are. There is no logical reason to choose a life in the arts. The pay is horrible, the hours long, the rewards few. So why do it? Therein lies the rub. Like my friend who managed to get on a show watched by millions (no small feat) he will continue acting long after the ER's of the world come and go. Artists are driven by their passion. If there was no passion then no one could stick to the road of thudding rejection, impoverishment, and alienation from a society that views most artist as suspect slackers. Get a job! Please!

So I watched ER to it's inglorious end. I had never watched the show and frankly if I ever seen another one it will be much too soon. Everyone dies. Every one is about to die. The situations are hackneyed and schizophrenic. But that's television. They way I see it, the show was lucky to have my friend. He's much too good an actor for television.

http://www.billhazelgrove.com