ISAAC ASIMOV: LITERARY WORKAHOLIC

from _The Westsider_, 12-1-77

Morning has come to the West side. In a penthouse high above 66th

Street, a middle-aged man enters his study, pulled down the shades and

fills the room with artificial light. Reference books at his elbow, he sits

down at his electric typewriter and begins to tap out sentences at the rate

of 90 words per minute. Fourteen hours later, his day's work complete,

Dr. Isaac Asimov turns off the machine.

In such a way has Asimov spent most of the past seven years, ever since

he moved to the West Side from Boston. In a 40-year literary career

stretching back to his teens, he has written and published 188 books,

including science fiction, science fact, history, mystery, and even guides

to Shakespeare and the Bible. Asimov has also written more than 1,000

magazine and newspaper articles, book introductions and speeches.

Though his pen has never been silent since he sold his first piece of fiction

to Amazing Stories in 1939, Asimov is now enjoying the most productive

period of his career. Since 1970 he has written 85 books -- an average of

one per month. He does not dictate his books; nor does he have a

secretary. Asimov personally answers some 70 fan letters per week, and

he gives speeches frequently. He also finds time for the press.

The following interview took place on a morning late in October in the

sitting room adjoining his study. Along one wall was a bookcase

approximately 6 by 8 feet containing Asimov's collected works.

Question: Dr. Asimov, have you set any goals for yourself for the next 10

years or so?

Asimov: I'm afraid I don't generally look ahead. Right now my

autobiography is the big project ... . I have no ambition whatsoever

outside of my writing. I expect to write as long as I stay alive.

Q: Could you say something about your autobiography?

A: It's longer than I thought it would be. As soon as I get you out I'm

going to deliver pages 1374 to 1500 to Doubleday. I'm hoping to get it

finished by the end of the year ... . It will probably be in two volumes --

which is unreasonable, considering that I've led a very quiet life and not

much has happened to me. I guess the only thing is that I tend to go on

and on when I'm on my favorite subject.

Q: What made you choose the West Side to live?

A: I can't honestly say I chose the West Side. When I came to New

York in 1970, I lived where I could, which happened to be the West Side.

But now that I'm here, I like it. I was brought up in New York and went

to Columbia ... . I've always identified myself with Manhattan. My

publishers -- almost all of them are in Manhattan. Taxis are available at

any time. I West Side, as far as I'm concerned, has more good restaurants

within walked distance than any other place on earth, though I have not

been to Paris. I have learned to tolerate the traffic and the pollution and

the litter. When I go to the East Side it looks dull by comparison.

Q: I see that your science fiction story "Nightfall" has been made into

a record Albert. And I also remember the movie version of your

_Fantastic Voyage_. Do you have plans for making movies or recordings

out of your other science fiction works -- for example, the _Foundation_

series?

A: Fantastic Voyage was the other way around; my book was made from

the picture ... . The Foundation series has been turned into a radio show

in Great Britain. There have been other stories of mine which were turned

into radio shows in the 1950s. I have expensive pictures under option.

Whether anything will turn up in the future I don't know, and to be

perfectly honest, I don't care. I am perfectly happy with my writing career

as it is. I have complete control over my books. When something is put

into the movies it can be changed, often for the worse. I might get nothing

out of it both money, and I have enough money to get by.

Q: How to did the new Isaac Asimov's Science Fiction magazine get

started?

A: It was the idea of Joel Davis of Davis Publications. He publishes

Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine, Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine,

and many others. He decided that science fiction was doing well and he

wanted a science fiction magazine -- something with the name of someone.

He had seen me, because I had brought in some stories for Ellery Queen.

He asked me if I was interested ... . I wasn't really, because I had neither

the time nor the inclination to edit the magazine. So he hired George

Scithers to be the editor and made me the editorial director ... . It's been

a quarterly to begin with. The fifth issue, which will go on sale in

December, will be the first of the bimonthly issues. After the second year

it will be a monthly if all things go well.

Q: Could you tell me something about your family life?

A: My wife is a psychiatrist and psychoanalyst, and she has her office

in the other end of this apartment. She's the director of training at the

William Alanson White Institute on West 74th Street. The name she

practices under is Dr. Janet O. Jeppson -- that's her maiden name. It's

Mrs. Asimov but Dr. Jeppson. She's also a writer. She's published a

science fiction novel and a few short stories and has a mystery novel she's

trying to sell.

Q: Do you stimulate her writing by your own work?

A: If anything, I inhibit it. She was a writer for years before she met

me. If she weren't married to me, she would probably write more. In fact,

I encourage her. But it's hard when your husband writes as fast as he can

type and publishes everything he writes.

Q: Do you have any children?

A: Yes, I have two children by my first marriage -- a boy 26 and a girl

22. He's working at a gas station and the girl is a senior at Boston College

... . When she left home at 15, I said the only thing I ask of her was not

to smoke. So she's done that. What else she does, I don't know, but she

doesn't smoke.

Q: I realize that you are considered an authority in at least 20 branches

of science. Have you ever done in original scientific research?

Q: I am still assistant professor of biochemistry at Boston University,

though I no longer teach. Yes, I did original research from 1946 to 1958

... . I could not with honesty say I accomplished anything of importance.

I am not a first-rank researcher -- perhaps not even a second-rank

researcher. It surprised me too. I found that my heart was in writing.

Q: Where do you go for vacation?

A: I don't go on vacation really. I sometimes go off to do a talk and I

try to make that a little vacation. I work. In the last seven years there has

been only one time -- two days in June of 1975 -- that I didn't do a talk.

And even then I took some paper with me and worked on a murder

mystery. You see, a vacation is doing what you want to do and to stop

doing what you have to do ... . But I like what I do, so I'm on vacation

365 days a year. If I had to play volleyball, fish, etcetera, that would be

real work. In fact, the IRS can't believe I don't take vacations. If they can

figure out how to write one book a month and still take vacations ... . I

do travel, although I never fly. Last year I crossed the ocean on the QEII

without stopping. But, I gave two talks each way and I wrote a book.

Q: Since you live week three blocks of Lincoln Center, do you attend the

performing arts?

A: I am a very ill-rounded person. I am fascinated by what I do. And

what I have done is to try to take all knowledge for my province, but I

have tended to concentrate on science, mathematics and history. In regard

to art, I can't even say I know what I like.

Q: What do you think of abolishing mandatory retirement, as Congress

is considering? What will it like when people keep working indefinitely?

A: That was the condition until the 1930s. This forced retirement is a

product of the Great Depression. We're moving back to situation that has

always existed for mankind, which is to let people work as long as they

can. If the birthrate continues to go down the percentage of young people

will be smaller. I think that computerization and automation will alter

completely the concept of what is work. We're not going to think of jobs

the same way as we used to.

Q: Do you think you could ever retire?

A: There might well come a time, if I live long enough, when I can no

longer write publishable material. Then I will have to write for my own

amusement. Rex Stout's last book was written when he was 88 years old.

P.G. Wodehouse was writing pretty well in his early 90s. Agatha Christie

was falling off in her 80s ... . I had a heart attack this year. I might keep

writing for another 30 years. But if for some reason I am no longer able

to write, then it will certainly take all the terrors of dying away, so there

will be that silver lining ... . So far, I detect no falling off of my abilities.

In fact, this year my story "The Bicentennial Man" won all the awards.

"Is there anything also you'd like to ask me?" Said Asimov when I had

run out of questions. At that moment the telephone rang: he told his caller

that no, he would, regrettably, be unable to accept an invitation to speak

at Virginia because it was too far to go by grain. "It's more my loss than

yours," he said.

When I assured Asimov that there were no more questions, he disappeared

into his study and emerged with a copy of his latest science fiction book,

The Bicentennial Man and Other Stories. He signed it and presented it to

me. As he walked me to the elevator he took a peek at his watch. His

parting comment was: Let's see, I have to be downtown at 11:30. That

gives me 1:30 minutes to dress and 10 minutes to write."

********

WESTSIDER GEORGE BALANCHINE

Artistic director of the New York City Ballet

11-26-77

To some people he is known as the Shakespeare of dance -- a title that he

probably deserves more than anyone else now living. But to his friends

and colleagues, he is simply "Mr. B" -- George Balanchine, the ageless

Russian-born and trained choreographic genius whose zest for living is

matched only by his humility and his sense of humor.

Balanchine has almost single-handedly transplanted ballet to American soil

and made it flourish. What's more, he has played the central role in

making New York the dance capital of the world, which it undeniably is

today for both classical and modern dance.

Now in his 30th consecutive year as artistic director of the New York City

Ballet, Mr. B. shows no signs of slowing down. He continues to direct

most of the dances for his 92-member company and to create new

choreographic works of daring originality. He continues to teach at the

School of American Ballet, which he cofounded in 1934 with Lincoln

Kirstein. And Balanchine can still, when he chooses, write out the parts

for all the instruments of the orchestra. Yet he thinks of himself more as

a craftsman than a creator, and often compares his work to that of a cook

or cabinetmaker -- two crafts, by the way, in which he is rather skilled.

I meet George Balanchine backstage at the New York State Theatre during

an intermission of one of the season's first ballets. It's not hard to guess

which man is Balanchine from a distance because, as usual, he is

surrounded by young dancers. When he turns to face me, I see that he is

dressed simply but with a touch of European elegance. The man is small

of stature and quite frail in appearance. His English is strongly accented

yet easy to understand. A smile seems to be forever playing on his lips,

and when he converses with someone, he gives that person his full,

undivided attention.

"Why has dance become so popular in New York?" He gazes at me from

the depths of his eyes."I don't know why. People get used to us. It took

30 years to train New York," he says with feeling. "Maybe you can train

Los Angeles. You cannot train Boston. You cannot train Philadelphia --

there are too many big men with big cigars."

Soon he is improvising on the theme. "Certainly New York is

representative of America. All America should pay taxes in New York to

make it beautiful. Because in Europe, everybody wants to be in New York

to show off. ... I think that I will suggest to senators and presidents and

everybody to pay taxes to New York."

Mr. B, who left his native St. Petersburg in 1924 and spent the next nine

years working as a ballet master throughout Europe, was persuaded by the

American dance connoisseur Lincoln Kirstein to come to the U.S. in

1933. Since then, Balanchine has toured the world with the New York

City Ballet. He finds the home crowd, however, to be the most

appreciative.

"We are here 25 weeks," he explains. "It's always packed. In Paris, you

cannot last two weeks. In Los Angeles, in London, they do not like the

dance so much as here. In San Francisco, there were five people in the

audience. We showed them everything. They don't care. They're snobs.

They only want a name. In New York, it's different. In New York, they

like the thing for itself."

Balanchine does not write down his dances. How, then, does he remember

such works as _Prodigal Son_, which he created almost 50 years ago and

revived this season for the New York City Ballet? "How do you

remember prayers?" he says in response. "You just remember. Like

Pepperidge Farm. I know Pepperidge Farm. I remember everything."

He dislikes excessive terminology. "I used to be a dance director," he says

in mock lament. "Now I have become a choreographer. Choreographer is

the wrong title. Because dance is like poetry, see?"

_Prodigal Son_, in which the biblical story is danced out dramatically, is

an example of a ballet with a plot. But the majority of Balanchine's works

are based purely on music and movement. "The literary thing does not

always work," he says. "You cannot move. There's very few stories you

can do."

Tchaikovsky and Stravinsky are the composers he most likes to use for

new dance works. The late Igor Stravinsky, a fellow Russian expatriate

who was his longtime friend and collaborator, once described Balanchine's

choreography as "a series of dialogues perfectly complimentary to and

coordinated with the dialogues of the music."

In spite of his fondness for Russian composers, Balanchine has no

hesitation in naming Fred Astaire as his favorite dancer. "No, I don't use

his ideas because he's an individual." says Balanchine. "You cannot use

his ideas because only he can dance them. There is nobody like that.

People are not like that anymore."

A resident of West 67th Street, Balanchine shows even more than his

usual exuberance when speaking of the West Side. "It's the best side. It's

like the Rive Gauche (in Paris). We have the best hotels, like the Empire,

the best restaurants -- Le Poulailler (W. 65th St.) has such good French

cooking."

"We have no strikes here, nothing," he continues, grinning widely.

"Everybody's very nice, friendly. They help each other. I invite

everybody on the East Side to come here. They don't come because

they're snobs. The West Side? It's the cleanest side. Also there is no

crime here. There's no police here."

died 4-30-83, born 1-22-04.

********

WESTSIDER CLIVE BARNES

Drama and dance critic

10-1-77

He's still the most famous drama critic in America, if not the world.

His name has not yet disappeared from the subway walls or from the signs

in front of the theatres along Broadway. And even though Clive Barnes

was recently replaced as the _New York Times'_ drama critic, he remains

the most-quoted authority in the newspaper ads. He is still the _Times'_

dance critic. He still does his daily radio spot on theatre for WQXR

Radio. He still lectures around the country and writes a column for the

_London Times_. At 50, Barnes does not mind the slightly calmer pace

his life has taken.

"I don't know why I was replaced," he says. "Papers have these policy

decisions. I suppose they wanted a change. They wanted to split the two

desks, dance and drama."

A refined, affable Englishman, Clive Barnes welcomes me into his West

End Avenue home and invites me to sit down and have some coffee for

five minutes while he puts the finishing touches on an article. His slim,

attractive wife Trish and his 15-year-old son Christopher talk to him while

he works. Soon the article is finished and he is relaxed in an armchair,

ready to answer questions. He holds a pen in his lap and occasionally

clicks it as we talk.

"Really, I much prefer New York to London," says Barnes, who spent the

first 38 years of his life in the British capital. "I'll never leave New York,

ever. When I first came here visiting before I came here to live, I adored

it. It's just been a very long love affair between myself and the city."

Born the son of a London ambulance driver, Barnes won a scholarship to

Oxford University, and while a student there began to write reviews on

theatre and dance. Following graduation, he worked in city planning for

10 years while moonlighting as a critic of theatre, dance, films and music.

Thus he built up a reservoir of knowledge in all the major performing

arts. In 1965, several years after Barnes got into full-time journalism, he

was doing such an impressive job as dance critic for the _London Times_

that the _New York Times_ made him a handsome salary offer to fill the

same role for them. Two years later the _Times_ offered him the post of

drama critic as well. Barnes kept the dual role until this year, when the

"new" _New York Times_ asked him to concentrate strictly on dance.

"Certainly American dance is the most important in the world, and has

been for at least 25 years," he says. "The reason for this is that you have

a very strong classical tradition, as well as a very strong modern dance

tradition. This is the only country in the world that has these two

traditions, and they intermesh, so that you have George Balanchine on one

side and Martha Graham on the other. This means that American dance

is astonishingly rich."

Barnes feels that Americans' television-viewing habits have made them

more appreciative of the subtleties of dance movement: "That same kind

of visual orientation that has made spectator sports what they are spins

off, and spreads over to things like dance." He notes that dance in New

York appeals more to the young -- to people who have been reared on

television. Broadway audiences, on the other hand, "tend to be

menopausal, and opera audiences to be geriatric."

Barnes finds the West Side the ideal place to live because of its proximity

to his work. Trish, herself an expert on dance, usually accompanies him

to opening-night performances. "We can get to any Broadway theatre in

10 minutes," he says, "or walk to Lincoln Center. I can get to the paper

in about 10 minutes. The West Side has changed a little over the years.

I think it's gotten rather nice."

On nights off, Barnes enjoys going to the Metropolitan Opera or to a

movie. His son Christopher loves rock music and hates drama. He also

has a 14-year-old daughter, Maya. The family enjoys dining at many

restaurants in the Lincoln Center area, including Le Poulailler on 65th

Street near Columbus.

I ask Barnes if he can think of any plays that have been forced to close

because of unkind reviews. "That would presume it was an important play

which the critics misunderstood and killed," he says. "I don't think this

has actually happened. A play that gets awful notices by everyone is not

the victim of a vast critical conspiracy. It's usually a bad play. Harold

Pinter's _The Birthday Party_ got bad notices in London but it recovered

and went on and became successful."

For those who miss Barnes' views on theatre in the _Times_, his radio

broadcast can be heard on WQXR (1560 AM and 96.3 FM) Monday

through Friday, right after the 11 p.m. news.

Trish, Clive's biggest supporter, has no complaints about being the wife

of a celebrity. "It's very enjoyable, actually," she says with a wide smile.

"You meet fascinating people and see all the best things there are to see."

********

WESTSIDER FRANZ BECKENBAUER

North America's most valuable soccer player

8-5-78

Last October, when Brazilian soccer virtuoso Pel‚ played his final game

as a professional, nearly 76,000 fans filed into Giant Stadium in East

Rutherford, New Jersey to bid farewell to the man who had almost single

handedly transformed soccer into a major American sport. It was a fitting

cap to Pel‚'s career that his team, the Cosmos, won the North American

Soccer League championship last season over 23 other teams.

But while the Brazilian superstar was reaping most of the publicity, one

of his teammates, Franz Beckenbauer, was quietly getting things done. It

was probably he, more than anyone else, who won the title for the

Cosmos -- not by scoring goals, but by controlling the midfield with his

pinpoint touch passes and setting up the offense to go in for the shot.

In May, 1977, he shocked the sports world by quitting his West German

team, Bayern Munich, and signing a $2.8 million contract to play with the

Cosmos for four years. And though he missed one-third of the 1977

season, Franz still received last year's Most Valuable Player award for a

league encompassing 600 players from around the world. This season

again, thanks largely to his efforts, the Cosmos clinched their division title

and are a heavy favorite to repeat their victory in the Soccer Bowl -- the

Super Bowl of soccer. This year the Soccer Bowl will be held in Giant

Stadium on August 27. To be in that game, the Cosmos must first win in

the playoffs, which begin on August 8.

Beckenbauer is so famous in Germany that he finds it impossible to lead

a private life there. His fame is well deserved: Franz starred for the West

German national team in the 1966 World Cup finals and the 1970

semifinals, and captained the team when it won the World Cup in 1974.

During his 12 seasons with Bayern Munich of the German Soccer League,

he was named German Footballer of the Year four times and European

Footballer of the Year twice, and was runner-up on two other occasions.

But Franz is somewhat of a quiet, shy man, who does not like the

limelight. In New York he can be himself, and walk the streets

undisturbed, thinking about his wife and three children in Switzerland,

who will be joining him this month for a long visit.

I meet Franz on a July afternoon after a practice at Giant Stadium. As we

sit talking in the locker room, many of his teammates walk by and wave

to him or call his name. He is an extremely popular fellow both on and

off the field -- which explains why 72,000 people showed up for a game

last May commemorating Franz Beckenbauer Day. With his courtly

manners, he has rightfully earned the nickname "Kaiser Franz."

He could speak almost no English when he arrived in New York less than

two years ago at the age of 31, but has learned remarkably quickly. "My

mind was, soccer in the United States, it's easier to play. But it's not so

easy as I expect," he says, in his slightly hesitant but perfectly

understandable speech. "You have so different things, like Astroturf. You

have to play in the summertime. It's so hot. You have to make big trips,

like to Los Angeles. Sometimes it's more difficult to play here than in

Europe."

When asked to compare soccer with American football, he says, "You

can't compare. It's a much different sport. As an American footballer,

you must be not a normal man. You must be maybe 200 pounds, and 6

foot 3, 6 foot 4 or 5. Everybody can play soccer -- big, tall, small -- if he

is skilled enough, if he has the brain to play.

"I started when I was 3, 4, 5 years old. I don't know exactly. But you

know, after the war, nobody has money. Soccer is the cheapest sport. No

courts, nothing. So we all start to play soccer, and after I was 10 years

old, I went to a little club in Munich. When I was 13 years old, I moved

to Bayern, Munich, and when I was 18, I was a professional."

Franz smiles at the mention of Manhattan. "When I signed the contract,

they asked me where I wanted to stay. In the suburbs? I said no, I want

to stay in the city. A friend of mine knows a businessman who lives

beside the Central Park. He is most of the year outside the country. The

apartment was free, and he let me have it for six months. I was very

lucky. I like to walk around the park to watch the people. I have been to

Lincoln Center a few times, and of course different shows on Broadway.

But I never saw a city like New York. You have so many good

restaurants. It's unbelievable."

During the off-season, Franz does some promotional work for both

Mercedes-Benz and Adidas, the sporting goods company that

manufactures, among other things, a Franz Beckenbauer soccer shoe. As

a result, Franz, who will be 33 next month, is not at all worried about his

future.

"You know, when I started with soccer as a professional," he explains, "I

had an aim. I said when I'm finished with soccer, my life will be

different. I can say, 'I want to do this and this,' and not 'I must do this.'

When I finish my career, I would like to go through the United States in

a mobile with my family, to see all the states. That's for sure."

********

WESTSIDER HIMAN BROWN

Creator of the _CBS Radio Mystery Theater_

5-10-80

During the 1930s, a comedy called _The Rise of the Goldbergs_ was

second only to _Amos & Andy_ as the most popular radio show in

America. Its success was due largely to the efforts of a young man from

Brooklyn named Himan Brown, who co-produced the series, sold it to

NBC and did the voice of Mr. Goldberg. He had started in radio drama

while in his teens, and soon after graduating from Brooklyn Law School

as valedictorian, decided to make radio, not law, his career.

During the next three decades, as producer of _Inner Sanctum Mysteries_,

_The Thin Man_, _Grand Central Station_, _Nero Wolfe_ and other

series, Brown became the Norman Lear of radio. But by 1959, it was all

over: the last network radio drama was forced off the air by the onslaught

of television. Brown, however, kept up a personal crusade for radio,

pounding on the desks of every broadcast executive he could reach.

Fourteen years later, in January 1974, his dream was realized, and radio

drama was reborn with the _CBS Radio Mystery Theater_.

The 52-minute show, it turned out, was long overdue. Within weeks, CBS

received 200,000 fan letters from listeners. Currently the _Radio Mystery

Theater_ can be heard in New York on Monday through Friday at 7:07

p.m. on station WMCA (570 AM). It is heard seven nights a week on

approximately 250 other stations across the country. Brown, the

producer/director, oversees every phase of the operation, from hiring the

writers and actors to directing and recording sessions from a control booth

at the CBS studios.

"I have never stopped believing," he says, "that the spoken word and the

imagination of the listener are infinitely stronger and more dramatic than

anything television can offer." He is a silvery-haired, distinguished

looking gentleman with a mischievous twinkle in hie eye and an endless

capacity for humor. Ruddy-complexioned and vigorous, dressed in a gray

pinstripe suit and a crimson tie, he approaches his work with an infectious

enthusiasm.

On a typical weekday, Brown arrives at the sound studio at 9 a.m. with

a batch of scripts under his arm, which he hands out to a group of actors

assembled around a table. Many are stars of the stage or screen -- Tammy

Grimes, Julie Harris, Tony Roberts, Fred Gwynn, Bobby Morse, Roberta

Maxwell, Joan Hackett. "I get the best actors in the world, right here in

New York," he notes with pride. "They work for me in the daytime and

on Broadway at night."

As the cast members go through a cold reading. Brown interjects his

comments: "Do a little more with that. ... Don't swallow your words

there. ... Cross out that line." The actors laugh and joke their way

through the session; Brown is the biggest jokester of all. Finally everyone

takes a break before doing the actual taping. Brown calls his 91-year-old

mother on the telephone and speaks to her in Yiddish for some time. Then

he answers a questions about his discoveries in sound effects.

"In the 1930s I was doing _Dick Tracy_, a very popular show. For sound

effects we had several doors. One of them screaked, no matter what we

did to it. I like to think that door was talking to us, saying, 'Make me a

star,'" he says with a smile.

The creaking door later became the signature for _Inner Sanctum

Mysteries_, and is now employed as the introductory note for the _Radio

Mystery Theater_, along with host E.G. Marshall's compelling greeting:

"Come _in_." Himan Brown also created the sound of London's foghorns

and Big Ben for _Bulldog Drummond_, the laugh of the fat Nero Wolfe,

and the never-to-be-forgotten train that roared under Park Avenue into

Grand Central Station.

When the recording session get underway, Brown observes the performers

through the thick glass of the control booth as they stand around a

microphone, reading their line with animation. From time to time he stops

the action and repeats parts of a scene. "It's all spliced together

afterwards," he explains.

In the late 1940s, Brown began to produce television dramas, such as

_Lights Out_ and the _Chevy Mystery Show_. He built a large TV studio

on West 26th Street for that purpose, which for many years he has leased

to CBS for filming the soap opera _The Guiding Light_.

For most of his career, Brown has been a resident of the Upper West

Side. The father of two, he is married to Shirley Goodman, executive vice

president of the Fashion Institute of Technology. He has long been

involved in community affairs and charitable organizations, including the

Federation of Jewish Philanthropies, the National Urban League and the

National Conference of Social Work. Brown is constantly in demand as

a public speaker, a fund-raiser, and a creator of multimedia presentations.

His plans for 1980 include reviving the _Adventure Theater_, a children's

radio with that he last did in 1977. "The best thing about radio drama,"

he joyfully concludes, "is that we can take you anywhere, unhampered by

sets, production costs, locations, makeup, costumes, or memorizing lines,

and make you believe everything we put on the air. ... The screen in your

head is much bigger than the biggest giant screen ever made. It gives you

an experience no other form of theatre can duplicate. It's the theatre of the

mind."

********

FERRIS BUTLER

Creator, writer and producer of _Waste Meat News_

4-7-79

Every Saturday at 11:30 p.m., millions of Americans tune in to what is

indisputably the boldest, the most innovative, and frequently the most

tasteless comedy show on television -- NBC's _Saturday Night Live_. But

for the 400,000 residents of Manhattan who have cable TV, there is

another program -- also aired at 11:30, but on Sunday evening -- that is,

in its own way, even more offbeat.

Known as _Waste Meat News_, the half-hour satiric revue has been a

regular feature of Channel D since April, 1976, when a young Westsider

named Ferris Butler decided that he had the talent to write, direct, and

produce his own comedy series, even without money and film equipment.

Time has proven him right: last year, _TV World_ magazine discovered,

in a poll of viewers, that _Waste Meat News_ is the most popular comedy

program on cable, out of 150 public access shows.

A tall, willowy, 27-year-old with a quizzical expression permanently fixed

on his face, Ferris once worked as a part-time office boy at Channel 7's

_Eyewitness News_, and there he came to the conclusion that "TV news

is nothing but throwaway scraps, like sausages or hot dogs. ... Very little

protein, like waste meat."

Many of the skits he conceives have the same format as "straight" news

items, but have been twisted by his imagination into something

outrageous. In place of the standard weather reports, for example, there

is Ferris' "Leather Weather Girl," in which a girl is tied to a table, her

body representing a map of the world.

The weather reporter, while telling about an impending onslaught of rain

and snow, dramatizes his points by pouring a pitcher of water over the

girl, smothering her with shaving cream, and finally applying a blow

dryer to evaporate the messes while explaining that a warm air front will

follow. Other skits include "Swedish Grease," "Music to Eat Rice By,"

and "The Adversaries," in which two actors wearing grotesque masks

debate the question: should monsters be allowed to kill people, or just

frighten them?

Ideas for skits, says Ferris, come to him any time of night or day, now

that he has "stopped working at any legitimate job. I watch a lot of

television. But most of the time, I meander around the streets and just

think.

"I remember when I got the idea for the foreign language cursing

detector. I was sitting on a bench in the park, smoking grass, when some

foreign tourists came and sat down, and started talking about me in

German like I was a bum. And I thought, why not have a portable siren

that goes off whenever a swear word is spoken in any language?"

He describes himself as "a very unregimented person who can't jive with

the mainstream industry." This accounts for much of the spontaneity in

_Waste Meat News_. The performers sometimes don't see the scripts until

the taping session. Each segment requires several run-throughs before it

is smooth enough to be filmed. Frequently the filming goes on far into the

night. Although the show is done with a single camera and half-inch

videotape, the final result makes up in charm what it lacks in professional

gloss.

"Maybe I'm a little rough in the way I produce it," says Ferris, "but I'm

being a pioneer and I'm not worried about perfection as long as the

audience has a positive reaction."

His cast is an irregular group of about 15 unpaid actors and actresses,

most of them young. Two current stars of _Waste Meat News_ are Pat

Profito, a master of comedy who injects an infectious vitality into all of

his performances, and Laura Suarez, a Strassberg-trained actress and

former Playboy Bunny who frequently portrays the naive sexpot who

crops up in many of Ferris' sketches.

Most of the filming is done on the Upper West Side -- usually on the

street or in someone's apartment, but also in such diverse places as stores,

restaurants, the waterfront, boiler rooms and lobbies. A recent skit was

shot at a Westside swimming pool; it features Pat Profito as a swimming

instructor who teaches three bikini-clad beauties his "jump-in-and-swim"

method, in which he pushes them into the pool and expects them to swim

instinctively, or drown.

Ferris, who grew up in Queens and Brooklyn "and departed as soon as

was possible," studied filmmaking at New York University under Martin

Scorsese and was encouraged to pursue comedy writing. For the past five

years he has been married to Beverly Ross, a composer with many hits to

her credit including "Lollipop."

It's 10 seconds before midnight on Sunday evening. Time once again for

Ferris to bid his viewers goodnight. "And remember: stay alienated, stay

wiped out, and stay wasted."

********

EASTSIDER SAMMY CAHN

Oscar-winning lyricist

3-10-79

"I've never written a song that didn't almost write itself," says Sammy

Cahn, one of the world's most successful lyricists of popular songs. "I'm

like the catalyst. It's like I start the boulder down the hill, but after that,

there's only one place it can go. I'm always thrilled by the adventure of

finding the lyric and leading it to a happy conclusion. If I come to the

slightest impasse, I've learned to stop, and look around and see what

needs to be done around the house. Then I come back, and it's so easy.

You can't go into combat with a lyric."

Over the past four decades, his songs have received four Oscars and more

than 30 Oscar nominations. Among his numerous hits, written in

collaboration with six different melodists, are "Three Coins in a

Fountain," "Love and Marriage," "Call Me Irresponsible" and "Let It

Snow! Let it Snow! Let it Snow!" His musicals include _Anchors

Aweigh_ and _High Button Shoes_. As a performer, he has the distinction

of making his Broadway debut in 1974 at the age of 60, in a one-man

show with backup musicians titled _Words and Music_, in which he sang

his own material and told colorful stories about his life and career. For his

performance, Sammy won the Outer Circle Critic's Award for Best New

Talent on Broadway, as well as a Theatre World Award. Since then, he

has been in great demand all over the country as an entertainer.

Small, wiry and energetic -- he describes himself as "all glasses and

mustache" -- he is utterly without pretension, and seems as much at home

with strangers on the street as he is with royalty (last year he sang for

England's Prince Charles). He manages to embrace both worlds by

involving himself in many projects simultaneously.

Born on "the lowest part of the Lower East Side," he now has an

apartment in the East 60s with his wife Tita, a fashion designer. He has

another residence in Los Angeles, and spends about the same number of

days each year in the two homes.

Recently Sammy completed the songs for a new cartoon film of _Heidi_

and a series of songs for _Sesame Street_. He also works as a consultant

for Faberge, and has a large office in the company's East Side

headquarters. As president of the Songwriters Hall of Fame, Sammy

devotes much of his time to publicizing the non-profit organization's

museum on the eighth floor of One Times Square. It is open Monday

through Saturday from 11 a.m. to 3 p.m., and admission is free. He

recently met with the producer of the Broadway musical _Annie_ to

discuss writing a new musical. He gives generously to many charitable

causes.

But the majority of his time these days goes to writing and performing

special lyrics for special occasions -- usually parodies of his own hit

songs. Sometimes he does this for profit, and sometimes for love. He was

paid handsomely to prepare a birthday celebration for Ray Kroc, the head

of Mcdonald's. But a couple of weeks ago, when a man wrote to Sammy

telling him how much his songs had meant to him and his wife over the

years, and asking him to please write some personalized lyrics for their

18th wedding anniversary, Sammy was "just enough of an idiot to sit

down and do it."

He works exclusively at the typewriter. "I have become almost audacious.

When I put a piece of paper in the typewriter, I know that the completed

song will be on that page. I'm very grateful to the man who invented

Correctotype and liquid paper. I start to type as soon as I get up, and I

think about songs all day long. When I sleep at night, I sleep with an

earplug in my ear, tuned to WCBS or WINS radio. They're both news

stations. The radio distracts me: it stops me from thinking about lyrics."

As we are talking, Sammy keeps remembering telephone calls he needs

to make, but he keeps them brief and to the point. As soon as he hangs

up, our conversation jumps immediately back to the previous subject, as

if there had been no interruption. He is extremely quick-minded -- to the

extent that his thoughts sometimes race ahead of him, and his sentences

lose their structure. In speaking of his son, a very successful jazz guitarist

who performs under the name Steve Khan, Sammy comments: "Now, my

son -- brace yourself -- my son -- this is one of my great, great

achievements -- my fame is coming from a very curious source. People

come up to me and say, 'You're Steve Kahn's father?'"

Asked about the satisfaction he has gotten from songwriting, Sammy

insists that he can't imagine a more rewarding career. "I once told that to

a college audience and a boy said, 'I'm studying to be a lawyer. What's

wrong with that?' I said, 'Nothing, but who walks down the street

humming a lawsuit?'"

********

WESTSIDER HUGH CAREY

Governor of New York state

9-16-78

It was 5 p.m. on the Friday before Labor Day. Governor Hugh Carey sat

alone in his office on West 55th Street, rubbing his forehead wearily with

both hands when his assistant press secretary, Judy Deich, ushered me in.

The introductions were brief, and the governor spoke very rapidly,

keeping is eyes on the table in front of him, where he was scrawling

pencil lines in geometric patterns on a piece of blank paper, as if to

maintain his concentration.

The Governor had been up for 12 hours, and his voice occasionally faded

to a whisper, but he answered all the questions with a flair and displayed

a sincere manner throughout. Sitting kitty-corner to me at a conference

table, he looked smaller and thinner than his photographs. He also looked

like one of the tiredest, most overworked men I had ever met.

"I have been staying on the West Side a lot since last September," he said.

"That's when my sons Donald and Michael got an apartment near Central

Park. They're kind enough to put me up there. We have the usual tenants'

complaints about the leaky ceilings and peeling paint. All in all, it's a

good building. I find more and more advantages to living on the West

Side. I like it because of the accessibility to work and because I jog in

Central Park.

"One of my headaches is Central Park. Some of my colleagues would like

to make it a national park. It's the city's biggest showplace. ... I want to

get the automobiles out of there more and more. In the morning, I see all

the New Jersey cars coming through. That's why I want Westway below

42d Street -- so it will take more pressure off the city. ... I wish everyone

would realize that Westway is not a road. It's a recessed highway -- more

of a tunnel."

Speaking frankly of the problem of ex-mental patients in parts of the West

Side, Carey said that "we have indexed all the SRO's. That was never

done before. ... The homeless people who live on the street are not the

wards of the state. We can't just go out and pick them up. ... If they need

some kind of health care, they should be taken to a shelter and given

health care. If they resist, we will have peace officers to take care of

them. That's something I'm doing with Mayor Koch."

Ever since he defeated Nelson Rockefeller's appointed successor, Malcolm

Wilson, in 1974, Hugh Carey has become well known for both his

conservative moral code and his unswerving fiscal restraint. Born on April

11, 1919, to an Irish Catholic family in Brooklyn, Carey grew up with

five brothers believing in certain principles that he has never abandoned.

These moral principles have become the foundation of his controversial

stands on the death penalty and abortion.

"I am against the death penalty," said Carey, "because the government can

make a mistake. A sentence of life without parole is better. There are six

people now walking around the state who were condemned to death and

later proven innocent. One is named Zimmy and he works on the West

Side in a garment factory. Somebody should ask him what he thinks about

the death penalty. He's alive because somebody confessed.

"I oppose abortion personally. But the Supreme Court upheld that it's the

choice of a woman of her own free will, and I support that ruling. In New

York, the state pays for it if it's a matter of medical necessity. Otherwise,

there might be a mangled body in a back alley. ... I'm also advocating an

alternative -- a teenage pregnancy bill, where girls can have a baby

without shame and go back to school. It's the most common reason for

dropouts among teenagers."

During World War II, Hugh Carey fought in France, Belgium, Holland

and Germany, and attained the rank of major. After the service, he

worked for many years as an executive in his brother Edward's Peerless

Oil and Chemical Corporation. Not until 1960, when he was 41 years old,

did Carey decide to run for political office. He won his first congressional

race and during the 1960s developed a national reputation for his liberal

attitude on education, and programs for the elderly and handicapped.

His life has twice been touched by deep personal tragedy in recent years.

An automobile accident in 1969 took the lives of his two eldest sons, and

cancer claimed his wife Helen in 1974. A man who loves the company of

other people, Carey enjoys such simple pleasures as cooking with friends

and singing with his children.

Asked about the chief difference between himself and Republican

challenger Perry Duryea, the governor replied with obvious glee: "I can't

think of anything we have in common. ... I'll knock the Y right out of his

name before I'm finished."

Generally known to be at his best in times of crisis, Carey said that

whenever the pressures of his office become too great for him to handle

alone, he drops into the chapel and asks for help. "It's a matter of privacy

to me; I go where I'm not seen," he said. "I need help quite a lot. Also,

I believe that New York is a very special place, with a resourcefulness

that can't be matched anywhere in the world. When people have come

together as New Yorkers, they have done amazing things."

********

WESTSIDER CRAIG CLAIBORNE

Food editor of the _New York Times_

3-10-79

"To be a good restaurant critic, you shouldn't have a conscience," says

Craig Claiborne, food editor of the _New York Times_. "I used to visit

restaurants twice a day, frequently seven days a week, and lie awake

brooding about whether my reviews were honest -- whether I was hurting

somebody who didn't deserve to be hurt."

Recognized throughout the United States as the father of modern

restaurant criticism, Claiborne joined the _Times_ in 1957, and shortly

thereafter was given the go-ahead to write reviews based on a four-star

system. "The _New York Times_ made the decision. I was the

instrument. It was the first newspaper that allowed a restaurant critic to

say anything he wanted. It took a lot of guts, when a newspaper depends

on advertising."

A 58-year-old bachelor whose soft voice still carries strong traces of his

native Mississippi, Claiborne has few of the characteristics generally

imagined of a Timesman. He is a true bon vivant, and does not appear to

take himself or his work too seriously. He prefers to be called by his first

name, is not a particularly fashionable dresser, and spends as little time

as possible in Manhattan. In his lighter moods, such as that in which I

find him on the day of our interview, he delights in telling jokes that are

classics of schoolyard humor. The punch line, more often than not, is

drowned by his own uproarious laughter.

Although he has maintained a Westside apartment for the past nine years,

Claiborne spends most of his time at his house in East Hampton, Long

Island, next door to Pierre Franey, one of the greatest French chefs in

America, who, since 1974, has co-authored Claiborne's food articles for

the _New York Times_ Sunday magazine. Recently he purchased a larger,

more modern house about 15 minutes from Franey, which he plans to

occupy shortly. The pair cook together about five times a week. Claiborne

calls the house "my Taj Mahal -- my Xanadu."

He explains his jovial mood by saying that the night before, he attended

a big dinner party for restaurateur Joe Baum at the Four Seasons. "It was

an everybody-bring-something dinner. Jim Beard brought bread. I brought

saviche (marinated raw fish), and Gael Greene brought some chocolate

dessert. I got roaring drunk."

In spite of his earthiness, Claiborne unquestionably ranks as one of the

leading food authorities of his time. His articles, which appear in the

_Times_ each Monday, Wednesday and Sunday, cover every subject from

the particulars of a dinner for Chinese Vice-Premier Teng Hsiao-ping in

Washington (where Claiborne saw a rock group he had never heard of

called the Osmonds) to the six most creative ways of preparing scallops.

He has written numerous best-selling cookbooks, and he often travels

around the world on fact-finding missions.

Claiborne's rise from obscurity to the most prestigious food job in

America astonished no one more than himself, since his principal

qualifications were a B.A. in journalism and one year's training at a hotel

and restaurant school in Switzerland. However, the _Times_ knew exactly

what they were looking for when Jane Nickerson retired in 1957, and

Claiborne quickly proved to be the man of the hour. He threw himself

into his work with boundless energy, writing no less than five columns a

week, but his relationship with the newspaper eventually became a love

hate affair. "Things came to the point where I couldn't go to a restaurant

at night unless I came home here and had at least four Scotch and sodas

and four martinis. And at this point, I took myself off to Africa. I stayed

at the Stanley Hotel in Kenya, and I came back and said, 'Give me my

benefits. I'm quitting this place.' They thought I was kidding."

He wasn't. Claiborne left the paper for almost two years. "Then the

_Times_ came to me and said, 'Would you come back under any

circumstances?' And I must confess that I felt a great emotional relief."

He agreed to return if the paper would have someone else do the local

restaurant reviews; he also requested that his neighbor and cooking partner

Pierre Franey share the Sunday byline. The conditions were immediately

met.

Claiborne's Westside apartment is painted green from floor to ceiling --

thus fulfilling an old fantasy of his. He describes the apartment itself as

"gently shabby," but says that the building, constructed in 1883, is "the

greatest residency in the entire island of Manhattan. You're catty-corner

from Carnegie Hall, you're six minutes by foot from Lincoln Center, you

can walk to any place on Broadway within seconds, and there are very

few restaurants you couldn't get to within five minutes of this place." His

favorite restaurant in all of Manhattan is the Shun Lee Palace (155 E. 55th

St.), while two other favorites on the West Side are the Russian Tea

Room and the Fuji Restaurant (238 W. 56th).

Asked about other interests or hobbies, Claiborne smiles mischievously

and replies: "I'm having a $6000 Bolton stereo system put into my new

Xanadu. You can clap your hands and change the tapes or records. I love

music and sex and food, and outside of that, forget it!"

********

WESTSIDER MARC CONNELLY

Actor, director, producer, novelist, and Pulitzer Prize-winning dramatist

1-7-78

Eleven years ago, during my senior year in high school, I saw a movie

just before Christmas that made a deep impression. It was a film of a

stage play called _The Green Pastures_ -- a fascinating look at life in

biblical times, performed by an all-black cast.

The memory of that film remained in my consciousness like a religious

experience, although I never knew who wrote the play or when it was

written. So it was a welcome surprise to learn that this week's interview

would be with the play's author, Marc Connelly.

Connelly was born in a small Pennsylvania town in 1890, the son of a pair

of travelling actors. He wrote _The Green Pastures_ in 1930; it won that

year's Pulitzer Prize for drama. In his 70-year career Connelly has written

dozens of plays. One of the most versatile talents in the American theatre,

he has excelled as an actor, director, producer, playwriting professor at

Yale, and popular lecturer. He has written musicals, stage plays, movie

scripts and radio plays.

He was one of the original staff members of the _New Yorker_ magazine,

and became part of the famous round table at the Algonquin Hotel. One

of his short stories won an O. Henry award. His first novel was published

when he was 74 years old. Today, still an active playwright, he lives

peacefully at Central Park West, comfortable in his role as an elder

statesman of American letters.

I feel a certain freedom about repeating the comments Connelly made

during our interview because the first thing he said at the door was "I

never read anything about myself. ... It's not modesty; it's more terror --

for fear that some dark secret will emerge."

Yes, he said, he's very busy these days. "I've just completed a comedy

which I'm waiting to have done. I'd rather not mention the title before it

comes out. It's a comic fantasy."

He recently taped an appearance on the _Dick Cavett Show_, which will

be aired sometime this month. And he's working on a musical version of

_Farmer Takes A Wife_, a Broadway play that he co-authored in 1934.

It became a successful film the next year, with Henry Fonda's screen

premiere.

"They're always reviving my plays. Last summer they did _Merton of the

Movies_ (which he wrote with George F. Kaufman in 1922) in that big

theatre complex in Los Angeles. It was quite successful. The boy that

plays John-Boy on the Waltons played Merton. It was quite good; I went

to see it."

Much as Connelly dislikes certain TV shows, he thinks very highly of TV

as a medium: "It's good, it's good. I like three or four shows. _Mash_ is

wonderful. I like _Maude_ every now and then. And Carol Burnett. I

might like _Kojak_ if it didn't run every five minutes. Three times a night

is too much for any TV show."

Any anecdotes about the "Vicious Circle" of the Algonquin Hotel -- whose

members included Robert Benchley, Dorothy Parker, Edna Ferber,

Alexander Woollcott and George Kaufman? "Oh, I don't want to talk

about the round table," he said. "Every time you turn around there's a

new book about the round table. ... I've written about George Kaufman

and so have a hundred other people. It might be that he might get out of

his grave and club us all for writing about him."

Although _The Green Pastures_ is considered an American classic, it is

now performed only by school and amateur companies. Its depiction of

plantation life has become offensive to socially conscious blacks. "There

are Negro snobs," explained Connelly, "just like there are Irish snobs and

Jewish snobs. As soon as people get in a position of economic power,

they become sensitive about the way they are shown on the stage. It's a

very human, inevitable reaction."

However, he thinks that his masterwork is as valid today as ever. "It's a

statement about the fact that man has been hunting the divine in himself

ever since he became a conscious animal. And this is the story of one

aspect of his search for the divine in himself."

Connelly attends Broadway "when there's something I feel I want to see.

I walk out on quite a few. Theatre is just as strong today. A seasonal crop

may be poor, but theatre itself is healthy. It's probably the greatest social

instrument man ever invented. All religions have sprung from the

theatre."

A Westsider since about 1920, Marc Connelly named Schwartz's Candy

Store on West 72nd as one of his favorite neighborhood businesses. "It's

one of the finest candy shops in New York," he said. "You can see my

portrait there. And the A&P at 68th and Broadway. There's a checkout

girl there named Noreen who's one of the best checkout girls in

America."

The interview came to an end when I again asked Connelly about

television. Does he approve of it? "Of course," he said. "Any new public

addition is going to be condemned. They used to say, 'Don't go to the

movies. ... You'll go blind.' We're not blind and we still watch them."

********

EASTSIDER TONY CRAIG

Star of _The Edge of Night_

1-26-79

Although Los Angeles has long since taken over prime-time TV

programming, New York is still the headquarters for daytime drama --

also known as soap opera. Of the 13 "soaps," 10 are filmed in New York,

and of these 10, five have been on the small screen since the 1950s,

including _The Edge of Night_, which debuted in 1956.

The show's crime/mystery format has not changed much over the years,

but one thing that has changed, of course, is the cast of characters. Tony

Craig, who plays attorney Draper Scott, joined the show in November,

1975, and since then he has become one of the most popular male stars

in daytime television.

Tony owes his success not only to his good looks and his acting ability,

but also to his likable off-camera personality. Upon meeting Tony on the

set of _The Edge of Night_ during a busy shooting session, I cannot help

noticing the affection that the other cast members display toward him. His

ability to get along with everyone involved with the show -- especially

producer Nick Nicholson, and headwriter Henry Slesar -- has enabled

Tony to develop the role of Draper Scott into one of the four leading

characters.

"I was given a piece of advice when I started," says Tony. "One: keep to

your business and do what you're told, and two, answer your fan mail. I

answer all my fan mail with a very personal response. ... In the _National

Star_, I once said I was looking for Miss Right, and I got inundated with

letters. Some people sent plane ticket, asking me to come and see them."

As we sit down to talk in one of the dressing rooms, Tony puts on a tie

and jacket for an upcoming bar scene, but because only his top half will

be shown on camera, he does not bother to change out of his blue jeans

and running shoes. Tall, athletically built and boyish in appearance, he

discusses his work with an infectious enthusiasm.

"The closer I get to the character, the more I see that he and I are very

much alike," says Tony in his rapid speech. "It's funny, the way I've

assimilated him and he's assimilated me. It's like the dummy in _Magic_.

The character has gone from a very impetuous, aggressive, almost nasty

young man to a very quiet, strong, very reserved lawyer. It's changed to

the point where I'm a pillar of the community. Whenever there's a

problem, call Draper.

"I think I allow Tony a little more anger, a little more frustration, than

Draper allows himself. ... I'm very normal, I'm very average, I'm very

aggressive. Some people would say pushy. But I do what I have to."

Approximately 260 half-hour shows are filmed each year for _The Edge

of Night_, and Tony appears in most of them. He starts his day by

studying lines -- "we have about a week ahead to go over the script" --

and then goes to the studio on East 44th Street, where each scene gets just

one run-through before the final taping. A quick learner, Tony finds that

"I have plenty of time to do what I want." Last year he launched a

successful musical nightclub act and performed in two stage plays by Neil

Simon -- _Barefoot in the Park_ with Maureen O'Sullivan and _The Star

Spangled Girl_.

Another important aspect of Tony's life is sports. When growing up in

Pittsburgh, he says, "all I ever wanted was to be an athlete. My whole life

was baseball. But I just wasn't good enough." Now he works out three

times a week at the 21st Century Health Club on East 57th Street, jogs,

plays tennis and racquetball, and is on the softball and basketball teams of

both _The Edge of Night_ and the _ABC Eyewitness News_. Says Tony:

"The _Eyewitness News_ team plays all over the tri-state area and gives

the proceeds to charity."

Unlike his TV character, who recently brought up the ratings by marrying

the beautiful April Cavanaugh (played by Terry Davis), Tony lives alone

in an Upper East Side apartment. "How can I put this without sounding

full of beans and self-pity?" He remarks. "I find that life is a lot more

exciting when you share it with somebody. ... The girl I'm dating now is

a news reporter in Baltimore, Jeanne Downey. Long distance isn't the

next best thing to being there, believe me."

When Tony won the part of Draper Scott over 200 other actors, he was

working part-time as a bartender at Joe Allen's in the theatre district. "I

was doing commercials and a lot of modeling -- nothing significant.

Before this show, I'd never made more than $1,200 a year from acting.

I didn't expect to get the part, because they wanted someone in his mid

40s. They rewrote the script for a younger attorney. My agent signed me

up on a lark. That just goes to show: when it happens, it happens."

Tony hates to cook -- which is fine with the restaurateurs in his area. His

favorite dining spot is La Bonne Soupe (3rd Ave., 57th-58th St.): they

have the prettiest waitresses and most pleasant food."

Asked about the lasting value of soap opera, he quickly replies: "I believe

television has an obligation to do nothing but entertain. Everything on

television, even news, is show business. If it weren't, they wouldn't have

ratings and handsome newsmen."

Anyone wishing to hear from Tony should write to him at ABC, 1330

Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10019.

********

EASTSIDER RODNEY DANGERFIELD

The comedian and the man

1-6-79

He was 43 years old when the big break came. Jack Roy, a paint salesman

from Queens who did comedy in his spare time, stood before the cameras

of the _Ed Sullivan Show_ and delivered a routine that soon had the

audience helpless with laughter. Whether they realized they were

witnessing the birth of one of comedy's brightest stars is uncertain. But

for Jack Roy -- better known as Rodney Dangerfield -- the long wait was

over.

His unique brand of humor caught on immediately. Within a year he was

able to quit the paint business -- "it was a colorless job" -- and give his

full time to comedy. After 10 appearances with Sullivan he went on _The

Tonight Show_, and established such a smooth rapport with Johnny

Carson that he has so far been invited back about 60 times. With Carson

acting as "straight man," Dangerfield tosses off a string of outrageous

anecdotes that are in keeping with his image as a man who seems to have

the whole world against him.

The afternoon I meet Rodney Dangerfield at his spacious modern East

Side apartment is like a day straight out of his monologue. Coming to the

door dressed in a polka dot robe and looking quite exhausted, he

apologizes by saying that he has been up since 8 in the morning -- early

for someone who is accustomed to working past 4 a.m. As we sit down

to talk, he answers most of my questions with an unexpected seriousness.

Still, the humor creeps in around the edges.

"I have an image to feed. Most comedians don't," he says with a yawn,

sprawled out on the sofa like a bear prematurely woken from hibernation.

"If I see something or read something that starts me thinking, I try to turn

it around, and ask myself: How can it go wrong for me now? What can

happen here? For example, you're watching something on television. You

see Lindbergh on the screen. Your mind is on that TV. ... You get no

respect at all. You see the paper flying all over the place. You say, I get

no respect at all. I got arrested for littering at a ticker tape parade.

"Rickles has an image. Steve Martin has an image. But most don't. A lot

of comedians buy their material. Others take someone else's material and

steal it. We don't go into that, though."

Being a professional funny man, says Rodney, "is a completely total

sacrifice. It's like dope: you have to do it. ... The curse is to be a

perfectionist."

He writes at least 90 percent of his act. Whenever an original joke flashes

into his mind, he drops whatever he's doing and jots it down. ("I get no

respect. On my wedding night I got arrested for having a girl in my

room.") Before a new gag can be thought worthy of _The Tonight Show_,

it must be tested and retested before a live audience. This is no problem,

for Rodney is constantly in demand all over the North American

continent, not only as a nightclub performer but also as a lecturer at

colleges. Last June he was invited to give the commencement address at

Harvard. "It's a strange thing," he remarks. "Kids are into me."

One probable reason for his appeal with the young is that Rodney has two

children of his own, an 18-year-old son in college and a 14-year-old

daughter who lives at home. It was mainly to lighten his travel schedule

and enable him to spend more time with his children that Rodney opened

his own nightclub nine years ago. Known simply as Dangerfield's, it is

located on First Avenue between 61st and 62nd Streets. Dangerfield's is

especially popular with out-of-town visitors. Among the celebrities who

have been spotted there: Bob Hope, Johnny Carson, Joe Namath, Telly

Savalas and Led Zeppelin. The entertainment usually consists of both

music and comedy -- Jackie Mason, singers Gene Barry and Carmen

MacRae, and America's foremost political impressionist, David Frye.

But the biggest attraction, of course, is Rodney himself. He will be

playing the club from January 5 until February 4, seven nights a week.

There is an $8 cover charge and a $7 minimum on food and/or drink.

Rodney has lived on the East Side since 1969. Born as Jacob Cohen 57

years ago in Babylon, Long Island, he spent most of his boyhood and his

early career in Queens. After graduating from Richmond Hill High

School, he changed his legal name to Jack Roy "because my father used

'Roy' in vaudeville." For years he worked small nightclubs for little or no

pay. Then at 28 he married. "My wife was a singer. So we decided to

both quit show business and lead a normal life. That doesn't always work

out."

The first "no respect" joke he ever wrote, says Rodney, was: "I played

hide and seek. They wouldn't even look for me." The same basic gag has

since reappeared in a thousand variations. ("My twin brother forgot my

birthday.")

Rodney now earns a substantial part of his income by making

commercials, the best known of which are for Mobil and Miller Lite beer.

He has cut two comedy albums and written a pair of books, _I Don't Get

No Respect_ and _I Couldn't Stand My Wife's Cooking So I Opened a

Restaurant._

For the moment, Rodney has no plans for other books or albums.

"Perhaps I'm not ambitious enough to pursue different things the way I

should," he confesses."I'd rather spend my free time at the health club.

The idea in life is not to see how much money you can die with."

Copyright 2004 The Associated Pr

ess.

WESTSIDER JAN DE RUTH

Partner of nudes and _Time_ covers

9-24-77

In 1955, when Jan De Ruth's painting reached the point where he could

support himself entirely by his brush and palette, he used to take singing

lessons at 8 o'clock in the morning to make himself get up early. Today

he gets up strictly to paint, and does so with such skill and efficiency that

he maintains a reputation as one of America's foremost painters of nudes,

while still managing to turn out five or six commissioned portraits a

month.

At 55 and in the zenith of his career, De Ruth is a mellow, dignified

Westsider whose lively eyes reflect the deep intellect within. His

achievements in the past two decades are enormous. His works have

graced nearly 70 one-man shows. His portraits of former First Lady Pat

Nixon and other celebrity wives have appeared on the cover of _Time_

magazine. He has written two widely popular books -- _Portrait Painting_

and _Painting the Nude_. As we relax in the workroom of his West 67th

Street apartment, I begin by asking how he came to specialize in nudes.

"I always knew I would paint women," he says in a soft voice shaded with

tones of his native Czechoslovakia. "In 1948, when I came to the United

States, I started to paint nudes."

Is his choice of subject matter motivated by something other than art's

sake?" "The only person I think who may have these thoughts in mind is

myself," he answers, smiling frankly, "because I always ask myself

whether these reasons are purely artistic or do they come from the gut?

I don't think there can be art unless it comes from the gut."

De Ruth's painting used to occupy him eight to 15 hours a day. Now he

is down to about seven hours. He works very rapidly, with intense

concentration. "I don't paint after the afternoon," he explains, "except

sometimes sketching at night. You exhaust your juices by the time evening

comes along."

One person he used to sketch after hours was actress Karen Black, who

lived in West 68th Street just across from his apartment. Says De Ruth:

"she would sit in the in the windowsill in her bra and slip. Then one day

I called over to her, 'Would you like to get paid for this?' She rushed

inside to get her glasses, and looked over at me, very surprised. She

became my model for some time."

For a woman to be an ideal nude model, said De Ruth, "she should be

gentle, as intelligent as possible, considerate, and somebody in the arts,

or with the sensitivity of an artist. And she must be physically attractive."

How do the women who pose fully dressed for commissioned portraits

compare to the professional nude models? "They work better than my

models usually," says the artist, who has painted Ethel Kennedy, Eleanor

McGovern, and the late Martha Mitchell for _Time_. "They're much

more concerned to participate. I don't think it's necessarily something to

do with vanity. It's much more curiosity. Because we never really know

until the day we die what we look like. Because we vary so much from

one time to another."

Ironically, Martha Mitchell -- wife of President Nixon's infamous attorney

general, John Mitchell -- posed for De Ruth inside the Watergate Building

during the height of her fame. "She had a certain peasant charm -- a

charm of her own," he recalls.

A man who craves variety, De Ruth has for many years spent his

summers at a studio in Massachusetts. This past summer he began to teach

painting in New Mexico -- something he has wanted to try for a long

time. A passionate skier, he travels to Austria each winter to pursue the

sport that he learned as a child, then gave up until his mid-40s.

His other after-work activities? "I love to be in the company of women,"

says the artist with a radiant smile, adding that he prefers their company

when he's not painting them.

The East Side, according to the artist, is "a city in itself. There's a

sterility over there, at least for me. I just can't see myself without this

mixture that the West Side is." De Ruth has been going to the same

Chinese laundry for 28 years -- Jack's on Columbus Avenue. Another

business he has patronized all that time is Schneider's Art Supplies at 75th

Street and Columbus.

As the interview comes to a close, I ask De Ruth what advice he would

give to an aspiring young artist. "Never be discouraged by anyone or

anything," he says. Then, to balance his remarks, he relates an anecdote

about an art student who asked Degas what he could do to help the world

of art. Replied Degas: "Stop painting."

********

WESTSIDER MIGNON DUNN

The Met's super mezzo

3-8-80

Don't look for opera posters, photographs or reviews on the walls of

Mignon Dunn's Westside apartment. The Tennessee-born Metropolitan

Opera star, one of the world's most sought-after mezzo-sopranos since the

early 1970s, prefers to keep her two lives separate. She has no scrapbooks

and saves no clippings. "I look forward to what I'm doing tomorrow," she

explains.

"I don't like those stand-up-and-sing roles. I loves to play wicked women.

But you have to make them just as human as possible," she continues, her

gold jewelry jingling as she settles onto the sofa. Tall and attractive, with

large, expressive features, Miss Dunn is hospitality personified as she

talks about her life and career over a glass of wine.

This season at the Met she starred in both _Lohengrin_ and _Elektra_. In

the spring she will appear in _Aida_ on the Met tour, and perform the

role of Kundry in _Parsifal_ with Germany's Hamburg Opera. After that

she plans some orchestral and opera concerts across the country. Long

praised for her dramatic talents as well as her vocal skills, Miss Dunn has

already signed contracts for performances into 1984.

Although a few noted operas, such as _Carmen_, _Samson et Dalila_, and

_Joan of Arc_, have a mezzo in the title role, most operas feature the

higher-voiced soprano in the lead and a mezzo in a character role. "We

may not have the main roles, but we have some of the best parts in

_opera_," she says in her rich Southern accent, shouting the last word as

if from an overflow of energy. "Not many of the roles I get today are

angelic. It's often the 'other woman,' or the woman who causes the

trouble."

Married since 1972 to Kurt Klippstatter, a conductor and music director

from Austria, Miss Dunn has never had any children of her own,

somewhat to her regret. But she and her husband frequently have their

nephews and nieces staying for extended periods. "Our niece Evi, from

Austria, is living with us now. She's like a little daughter, and I adore

her. She's 18, and she's going to go to nursing school." Mignon and Kurt

are a very gregarious couple who enjoy throwing huge dinner parties.

Mignon's cooking, like her singing, is international.

"I cook Austrian. I cook New Orleans. I cook some nice Italian and

French things. I'm going to be in Paris later this year for six weeks, and

I really seriously want to go to the Cordon Bleu Cooking School, and take

at least a three-week course."

Around the late 1960s she was based in Germany for several years. There,

says Dunn, many new operas are premiered each year, while in the U.S.

they are a rarity. "It all comes back to the fact that we don't have

government subsidy. We have to worry about selling tickets. Opera is an

expensive thing, and until we get this government support -- which people

for some reason are afraid of -- we cannot be as experimental as we

would like to be."

Brought up on a cotton plantation in Memphis, she entered her first

singing contest at the age of 9 and spent most Saturday afternoons in her

girlhood listening with rapt attention to the Metropolitan Opera broadcast

on the radio. Immediately following her high school graduation, she was

auditioned by Met scouts and encouraged to go to New York. There, after

several years of study, she won a national competition that launched her

career.

Dunn spent part of three seasons with the New York City Opera before

joining the Met. It was many years, however, before her talents were fully

appreciated there. "It only took me 11 auditions to get into the New York

City Opera, and at least that many at the Met. So take heart, everybody,"

she says, laughing merrily.

She has made numerous opera recordings, including the role of Susan B.

Anthony in Virgil Thompson's _The Mother of Us All_ and Maddalena

in _Rigoletto_. "I don't ever listen to my recordings," she says when

asked to name her favorite. "I listen to the playbacks, when I can do

something about it. But I don't listen to recordings afterwards because

there's nothing that I can do about it, and I know I'm going to find a

million things that I don't like."

Mignon and her husband recently bought a house in Connecticut, but they

will keep their Westside apartment. "We have three acres," she says

proudly. "I hope we'll get a couple of horses and I would love a goat. I

love goats. They're so cute. I love animals -- we have a Great Dane and

a Labrador -- and I'm very much into the business with the Animal

Protection Institute. Most of the experiments that are done with animals

today: there's just no reason for it. ... I mean, I don't think we need

another shampoo on the market, really."

Her voice rises with feeling as she pursues the subject. "It is really the

slavery of today. People don't have any feelings for animals, and I'm just

rabid. I really am. It is so _disgraceful_. Anytime anybody wants me to

do a benefit for animals, just call me and I'll do it any day I've got free.

I would like to do more benefits. Actually, I'm hardly ever asked to, but

if I were asked, I would do it."

********

EASTSIDER DOUGLAS FAIRBANKS JR.

A man for all seasons

7-14-79

Six times he has received an advance to write his autobiography, and six

times he has returned the money because of the enormity of the task. The

life of Douglas Fairbanks Jr. is too rich and varied to be condensed into

a one-volume narrative.

The only child of Douglas Fairbanks Sr., America's first great matinee

idol, he has acted in more than 75 feature films, produced 160 television

plays and a dozen movies, performed in countless stage plays and

musicals, made numerous recordings, written screenplays, published his

articles and drawings in many of the nation's leading magazines, and

given his time freely to at least 50 public service organizations. Ten

countries on four continents have presented him with major awards for his

diplomatic and philanthropic activities.

"One morning I woke up and said, 'I suppose I must have retired,'" notes

the tanned, vigorous 69-year-old at his Madison Avenue office, from

behind his huge antique desk with brass lions' heads for drawer pulls. But

in our long discussion, it becomes obvious that he has never actually

retired, either as an entertainer or as a force in public affairs. His office

is fairly cluttered with mementoes of his world travels -- swords,

statuettes, novelty lamps, old photographs, oversized travel books. The

white-haired, melodious-voiced actor sits looking very comfortable as he

tells about his ongoing stage career.

"My favorite type of work right now is doing plays for limited periods.

In 1940 I gave up stage acting, but in 1968 I did the first big revival of

_My Fair Lady_, and since then I have been in several other plays. This

summer I'm doing _My Fair Lady_ again in Reno for eight to 10 weeks.

... I didn't want to copy Rex Harrison, but I was prevailed upon by

Lerner and Loewe to do this. I've known them since before they knew

each other. They're going to make a number of adjustments for me. My

other project, which is still in the planning stages, is a new Broadway

show. But it's really too soon to talk about it."

On August 13, the classic 1939 film _Gunga Din_, in which Fairbanks co

stars with Cary Grant, will be shown at 9 p.m. on Channel 9 with a single

commercial-interruption. His other hit films include _Sinbad the Sailor_

and _The Prisoner of Zenda._ He acted in his first movie in 1923 while

barely in his teens, and in 1932 he was designated a star. He continued to

make films until 1941, when he joined the U.S. armed forces and served

for more than five years. Then he resumed his film career with much

success before turning his hand to producing in 1952.

"Everybody misuses the word 'star' today," he explains. "Legally, it only

means having your name above the title. There's no such thing as a

superstar. That's a term we have let creep into the language. Actually

Charlie Chaplin may have been a superstar, but he's one of the very few."

He laughs and tells about another aspect of modern-day moviemaking that

amuses him. "Very few of the great producers in the past paid any

attention to credits at all. Now, they all like to get their names in the

billing and in the ads, as big as the stars' names -- as if anybody cares

who made the film!"

Asked whether his career was helped by having a famous father in the

movie business, he replies that "the advantages were ephemeral. They

were limited to people being polite and nice, but that wouldn't necessarily

lead to any jobs. It usually meant that I would be underpaid rather than

overpaid, and they would expect more of me. By the time I became a star,

my father had already retired."

His stepmother Mary Pickford, "America's sweetheart," who died in May

at the age of 86, joined with Douglas Fairbanks Sr., Charlie Chaplin and

D.W. Griffith in 1919 to found United Artists. The following year she

married Fairbanks, and together they virtually ruled Hollywood. Douglas

Junior, who became close to his father only in his late teens, grew up in

New York, Hollywood, London and Paris -- which helps to explain his

love for travel and his endless quest for variety.

As the creative force behind the acclaimed TV series _Douglas Fairbanks

Presents_, he produced an average of 32 one-hour films a year from 1952

and 1957. "My studio manager had a heart attack and my story editor had

a nervous breakdown, just from the pressure of getting out these films. I

thought I would be next, so I decided to quit," he says. "They were very

elaborate productions. We used to have the scripts six months in advance.

Now, if you start shooting on Tuesday, you'll get the script on Monday."

Today, with his multiple business interests and philanthropic pursuits, he

maintains a house in Florida, an office in London, and, since 1956, an

apartment on the Upper East Side. He and his wife Mary have been

married for 40 years and have three daughters, two of whom live in

England.

His overall career, concludes Fairbanks, "does not have a single theme,

because it's been so diversified. It's been a series of themes. Maybe it's

cacophonous. The things I find most interesting don't pay a penny. But

possibly all my activities blended together have something to do with a

person who's got a lot of curiosity and energy and capacity to enjoy and

appreciate life."

********

WESTSIDER LEE FALK

Creator of The Phantom and Mandrake the Magician

5-27-78

Who is the most widely read author in the world today?