Brian Jay Jones's Blog, page 23

Missed Catch

We were all a bit I disappointed in our house to learn that the Broadway show Catch Me If You Can — the musical based on the movie based on the book about "professional imposter" (if there is such a thing) Frank Abignale–would be closing after only 32 previews and 170 performances. What's that? You didn't know there was a musical based on the movie?  You're not alone, apparently.  It's not putting a satisfactory number of butts in the seats in New York, so they're taking it on the road later in the year.  If it comes to a venue near you, catch it.

Barb, Madi and I were fortunate enough to catch one of the early performances at the Neil Simon Theater back in June, and we thought it was a heck of a lot of fun.  We saw it on  Saturday night, and the next evening, lead actor Norbert Leo Butz won a Tony Award for Best Actor in Musical. An obvious choice, really, for anyone who's seen the show, as his number "Don't Break The Rules" brings down the house.  Take a look for yourself — here he is performing it on Tony night:

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Cool, huh? The next night, Butz came out for the curtain call and gave an impromptu little speech in which he praised his entire cast.  A classy guy — check him out:

From what I've read, reviews of the show — and word of mouth — weren't positive enough to generate the kind of buzz that keeps shows running for a long time. It seemed to have the right pedigree: it was written by Terence McNally (Ragtime) with music and lyrics by the Hairspray team of Marc Shaiman and Scott Wittman. Still, I suppose I can see why some people might be perplexed by the show; it doesn't really have a central romance or strong female lead–it's sort of a buddy movie, one step removed–and apart from "Don't Break The Rules," which closes the first act, it doesn't contain a big, banging closing number to shake the rafters.  But it's got plenty of that Mad Men, 60s-era cool about it, and we really enjoyed it.  I'm sorry it's not being given more of a chance.

Westward Ho!

I know, I know . . . long time, no see, right? My philosophy at the moment is that if I have time to write a blog, it's probably time I could spend working on the book — hence, I've not updated in a while.  That will likely continue, though I'll still let you know when anything exciting or newsworthy pops up.

Take now, for instance.  I'm leaving tomorrow to head back out to Los Angeles to have two conversations with some more Amazing People. It'll be a very quick there-and-back kinda thing — but it 's also an opportunity to say a quick hello to some folks at Jim Henson Studios, which is always a good thing.

More later.

"Henson & Oz" and the Museum of the Moving Image

The Museum of the Moving Image in Astoria, New York — a stone throw from the Kaufman Astoria studios where Sesame Street is taped — is presently hosting the exhibit Jim Henson's Fantastic World, a marvelous show covering the entire span of Jim Henson's creative career.  As the program for the show says:

Fifteen iconic puppets, including Miss Piggy, Kermit the Frog, Rowlf, and Bert and Ernie, are on view, along with photographs of Henson and his collaborators at work and excerpts from his early projects and experimental films. The exhibition spans Henson's entire career, with drawings, cartoons, and posters produced during his college years in the late 1950s and objects related to the inspired imaginary world of his popular 1982 fantasy film, The Dark Crystal. The exhibition features artifacts from Henson's best-known projects, The Muppet Show, The Muppet Movie and its sequels,Fraggle Rock, and Sesame Street, in addition to materials from Sam and Friends, an early show he created in the 1950s, and his pioneering television commercial work in the 1960s.

I had the opportunity to see the exhibit when it was at the Smithsonian in 2008, and it's a lot of fun.  And while there are plenty of familiar faces on display, you'll also have the chance to take a peek at some hidden treasures, including some projects that never materialized.

Jim Henson's Fantastic World runs through January 2012.  You can find more information right here.

Meanwhile, the Museum of the Moving Image has put up on its website a terrific short film Henson & Oz, a affectionate look at the on- and off-screen relationship of Jim Henson and Frank Oz, and the characters they performed.  And it's very funny stuff indeed. Have a look.

Washington Irving Goes Paperback

When I wasn't looking, the listing for the paperback version of Washington Irving quietly went up over on amazon.com.

It's got a new subtitle — which I didn't come up with, and is also a major mouthful — but otherwise, everything else should be the same.

It's due out on November 1, but knowing how things work on amazon, I'd bet you'll get yours early if you order one right now.

Running In Place

During May's BIO conference, Lyndon Johnson biographer Robert Caro was presented with the BIO Lifetime Achievement Award—a moment that brought the crowd enthusiastically to its feet. On receiving the award, Caro gave a typically thoughtful—and moving—speech on one of my favorite topics, the importance in biography of "sense of place." It's all great stuff–and take it from someone who lives here, you will never hear the U.S. Capitol building described quite so majestically anywhere else. You'd be running, too.

Confused? Don't be. Have a look, and enjoy:

A Sense of Place from Biographers International Org on Vimeo.

Literary Detectives? Or Just Plain Nosy?

Over at the Washington Independent Review of Books, my colleague Charles J. Shields discusses the art and craft of research in biography—from rooting through personal belongings and private letters and papers, to rummaging through newspapers and digital archives.  Has the rise of the internet and online sources made it easier to research a life? Or has it merely made for more "I Wake Up Screaming" moments?

Charles discusses it all with his usual good humor (and a really great headline), and picks the brains of other biographers—including, I must humbly admit, yours truly.  But don't let that stop you from reading it.  Go get it — and there's more to come, so stay  tuned.

Take The A Train . . . Provided It's Going The Right Way, Of Course.

I hopped the 6:21 a.m. Acela train to New York yesterday, on my way up to have my second extended sit-down session with An Amazing (and Important) Person. It was my first time on the Acela — normally I'm a Northeast Regional kinda guy, but I couldn't make the generally skittish NER work, as one arrived waaay too early, while the other pulled into Penn Station much too close to my meeting time. And given that the NER is famously delayed on its arrival in New York, I didn't want to risk missing one moment of the three hours my subject had generously set aside for our conversation.

After riding the NER almost monthly for the last year or so, being on board the Acela seems like stepping onto the set for Star Trek: The Next Generation.  Everything seems vaguely futuristic: doors open between cars at a touch (and without the rattle of the NER), the seats look like command chairs, and the cafe car features a streamlined bar area where diners sit on stools, rather than at the cramped booths of the NER. There's even wi-fi humming throughout the train, allegedly for the courtesy of business passengers who need it for work, but I notice that most passengers — including yours truly — are using it to check Facebook or update their Twitter feeds.

On my arrival in Penn Station, I decide to see if I can navigate the underground tunnels that will take me to the Red 1 subway line I need to get to my destination (usually I exit Penn Station then walk outside for the two blocks or so it takes to get to the station at 34th Street). I've tried to do this before, but ended up either dead-ended or completely turned around, and thus simply headed for the closest EXIT sign, which, more often than not, seemed to eject me into the middle of a shopping mall.

This time, however, I manage to successfully weave my way to the subway station, follow the arrows for the 1 and board the train marked 242nd Street.  For a moment, I'm very pleased with myself for my successful navigation of a system that your average New Yorker can navigate drunk—then immediately realize, as I watch the street numbers at the subway stations go down instead of up, that I'm headed the wrong way.

Unlike the Metro in Washington — where you can exit any train boarded in error, cross over to the other platform and board the correct train without ever exiting the Metro — most stops in New York require that you exit the station, cross the street, and re-enter the station (and pay again) for the train going the other direction.  I had learned this lesson months earlier when I boarded the wrong train from Long Island to Brooklyn, but that apparently didn't stop me from boarding the wrong train at 34th Street.  Rats.

Humbled, I exit and re-enter and board a train going the right way, and make it to my interview with gobs of time to spare — so much so that I have enough time to sit for a bit in a park overlooking the Hudson, where I watch a young woman get pulled along like a waterskiier behind the five large dogs she was walking at once.

At ten on the dot, I ring the bell at my destination, where I'm greeted like an old friend. While we've traded e-mails several times, this was only our second face-to-face — but I'm welcomed enthusiastically and ushered into a cozy living room with comfortable furniture and framed by a large open window overlooking the street. For the next three hours, as a cool breeze and birdsong flutter in through the open window, we have a wonderful conversation, during which I scribble notes frantically on a yellow note pad, trying to get it all down and completely ignoring the lines on the paper as a I scrawl in large cursive with a black felt tip. At one o'clock, we're done. We shake hands warmly, and my subject makes me promise we'll get together again soon.  It's a deal.

Afterwards, I sprint for the subway — and board the correct train this time — then slide into a booth at the TGIFriday's at Penn Station, fire up the laptop, and start typing my notes as quickly as I can while everything's still fresh, stopping only a few times to squint at my handwriting to figure out what I've written.  By 2:45, I'm only about a third of the way through my notes, but it's time to catch my train back to Maryland.  This time, I'm on the Northeast Regional, which gets up in my face by pulling into Penn Station right on time.

On the ride home, I grab a seat, as I usually do, in the Quiet Car, where chatter and phone calls are strictly prohibited. I do this even when I don't have work to do because if I don't, it seems I always end up with someone in the seat next to me who spends the three-hour train ride back to DC discussing the results of their latest physical, their aunt's rocky marriage, and the personal lives of everyone in their office.  I drop the tray at my window seat, crank up the laptop again, and return to my task at hand for the next 90 minutes or so.  The seat next to me is eventually occupied by a Richmond-bound passenger in a ballcap and shades, who plays video baseball on his iPhone, and tries briefly to engage me and the woman across the aisle from him in conversation. From our stage-whispered responses, he realizes he's committing a breach of protocol — but that still doesn't prevent him from answering a phone call and chatting for several minutes before a conductor stops by and loudly announces that those who wish to talk on the phone must move to another car — "or I will put you out," he adds matter-of-factly. The phone disappears.

I get off at the BWI stop, pay for my parking (when will the BWI station finally get all their ticket booths working??) and head for home in DC-Baltimore rush hour traffic.  To my surprise, I'm home before 7 p.m, just in time for Barb, Madi and I to take in the new Pirates of the Caribbean movie, which we all thought to be a bit plodding and about 45 minutes too long — but that's for another time.

A Quick Rundown

Apologies for being away so long — I keep meaning to update here each day, and even get as far as opening up the blogging window and then  . . . well, things seem to get away from me, and I end up closing out the window.  In lieu of a proper post, then, here's a quick rundown on what I'm up to:

- The BIO conference was a spectacular success, well-attended with truly interesting panels, and an amazing lunchtime keynote address by Robert A. Caro (the speech was filmed, and I'll put it up here as soon as it's available).  I participated on one panel, moderated another, and spent a good part of between-panel time buttonholing some amazing writers and begging them to update me on their works in progress. Trust me when I say that there are some great books coming out. In hardback, even.

During the course of the day, I made Kitty Kelley laugh (we were seated next to each other at lunch), got hugged by a Pulitzer winner, and tried really hard — and failed — not to geek out when I spoke briefly to Robert Caro as he signed my hardcover of Master of the Senate. I also had the honor of being elected to the BIO board, and I'm looking forward to the coming year. (Thanks, fellow BIO members, for the vote—and here's a special shout out to Charles J. Shields for nominating me.)

- I'm making a quick sprint to New York this week for another conversation with An Amazing Person — and then another with a different person the following weekend, when I'll piggyback a bit of work onto an otherwise family-focused weekend in New York with Barb and Madi.  It's getting to the point where I can do the Northeast Regional train to New York in my sleep.  And have.

- Finally, to answer what's continuing to be the number one question I receive each day (namely, How's the book going?): I'm pleased to say it's going well — and so far, it looks like I'm on target to ensure a Christmas 2012 release.  But that's still a long way away, and there's a long way to go, so stay tuned.

Big Fun at the BIO

The second annual conference of the Biographers International Organization (BIO) is now officially one week away, on Saturday, May 21, at the National Press Club (and several other sites, such as the Library of Congress and National Archives) right here in beautiful Washington, DC.  If you're a biographer, an aspiring biographer, or someone who enjoys biographies, you should be here.

What'll you find? In a word: lots.  BIO works hard to offer panels that are packed with information, staffed by some of some of the best writers, editors, agents, grant writers, publicists, and publishers in the business—so many, in fact, that you'll probably find it tough to narrow down your choices.

You'll also get a keynote lunch headlined by—wait for it—Robert Caro, winner of the 2011 BIO award and . . . lemme see . . . oh yeah: the Pulitzer Prize for Biography. Twice.  The end of day features a reception where you'll have the chance to mingle with pretty much everyone, buy books (and get 'em signed), and listen to Stacy Schiff (of Cleopatra fame) in an interview/discussion in Inside the Actor's Studio style.

What are you waiting for? Click here for tons more information. Online registration closes soon — but if you miss the online deadline, don't worry. Shoot BIO an e-mail and they'll take care of you.

Oh, and if you hurry, there's still space available in several pre-conference workshops being held on Friday, May 20, at the Library of Congress and the National Archives.  In addition to an exclusive tour of the Library open only to BIO attendees, space was still available as of yesterday in several of the daylong workshops, including the Library of Congress' Performing Arts Division, Geography and Map Division, and a favorite of mine, the Motion Picture and Television Division, which has a really fun (though surprisingly small) reading room. For the latest information, click here.

See you in DC.

Box Tops

As expected, four o'clock in the morning arrived WAY too early this morning. Still, that was what time I had to get up to catch the 5:58 a.m. train from Baltimore to New York, where I'm spending another week doing research in the Jim Henson archives at the the company's headquarters out on Long Island.

As usual, crack archivist Karen Falk (and her assistant, Madalyn) are taking good care of me, bringing me box after box of materials stored neatly in dark green boxes.. Today, I spent the entire day sorting through newspaper clippings, press releases, and interviews. And how much cool is it when the boxes that get plunked down on your desk have this sticker on top of them?

I'll be here the rest of the week, continuing to do research—even though it's so much fun it hardly seems fair to call it "research."