White House Correspondents’ Dinner

Unlike E!, Bravo or more entertainment oriented channels C-SPAN shows the video with no commentary.

We are on the sofa. We are watching C-SPAN. I have never watched C-SPAN wth Helaine before. It is the White House Correspondents’ Association Dinner. C-SPAN had a camera in the lobby as the glitterati arrived.

Unlike E!, Bravo or more entertainment oriented channels C-SPAN shows the video with no commentary. I actually like that.

Lots of Hollywood types. Denis Leary, Demi and Ashton, Tyra Banks, Rick Schroeder. “Since when is it Rick and not Ricky?” Helaine asked.

I saw Al Roker with Ariana Huffington… or maybe they were just nearby. Al is still thinner. Al Sharpton was notably thin.

The president walked in to Hail to the Chief. Does he like the tune? He will hear it as much as Rick Springfield hears Jessie’s Girl.

The guy playing clarinet has shifty eyes.

Star Spangled Banner. It’s not often heard as an instrumental. Is C-SPAN signing off? Sorry, old broadcasting reference.

Wanda Sykes is the emcee tonight. Will she be tough to watch like Steven Colbert and Don Imus have been in the past?

Helaine likes the president’s tux.

Helen Thomas is shaking Michelle Obama’s hand. They could do the female version of the Shaq/Ben Stein Comcast commercial.

Bill Scanlon on C-SPAN now reading Tweets from Twitter. No! This is like my parents getting into T-Pain.

Spectacular Sunday In Southern California

When I went on Instant Messenger tonight, my friend Bob jumped in from Florida:

a few more blog posts, and i’ll begin to wonder if you’ll stay there

He is so right. Helaine, Steffie and I find this lifestyle and this place very appealing. I would go in a second.

Whoa! What am I doing? People at work read this blog. Don’t worry. Southern California is an obsession I’ve had forever.

Be quiet for a second. What do you hear? Nothing. No phone ringing. No offer. I came close with KCAL years ago, but I don’t think it’s meant to be.

So, we’ll continue to come out every year or two… continue to be teased by California… and life will go on happily in Connecticut.

As nice as California seems, my Connecticut life isn’t too shabby. After all, it affords me these trips to California!

Where were we?

We have stuffed ourselves like pigs on this trip. Every night has featured a spectacular dinner with appetizer and desert. There comes a point where enough is enough. That came this morning.

Instead of going someplace nice for breakfast, we decided to go to Starbucks and eat light. I had a bagel and coffee. Helaine and Steffie were similarly pedestrian in their meal.

We sat outside. It wasn’t long before Cleo, the dog, came and made friends with us. As we learned, her owner, now working on a movie in production, needed to give Cleo away. She was living in a place with no dogs allowed. Very sad, but we couldn’t bring Cleo back on the plane with us.

This was to be a shopping day. Before the trip Steffie had decided on some stores and some areas she wanted to visit.

I will admit it. She travels in a totally different world from me, especially when it comes to style and fashion. As I have learned during this trip, there are trendy stores, ‘celebrity’ stores, written up in People and US Weekly, featured on “E” and VH-1.

The names of these stores mean nothing to me, but to Steffie, this is a big deal.

We went to two or three of these ‘name’ shops on Robertson Blvd. in West Hollywood. While Steffie and Helaine browsed stores like Kitson, I walked the streets.

Actually, there’s a lot to learn.

For instance, just before the corner of Robertson and Beverly, there’s a sign warning that the intersection is “Photo Enforced.” Adjacent to a few of the traffic lights in the intersection are boxes with strobe lights and cameras.

Run the intersection, and you get a moving violation with photo showing you, the red light you’re running and other pertinent details! I saw it in action. Very sobering.

A block away from the shopping is Cedars-Sinai Hospital. There’s the Max Factor Pavilion, a center with Steven Spielberg’s name on it, and (just outside the hospital) the intersection of George Burns Road and Gracie Allen Drive!

This is Los Angeles, a factory town for TV and the movies. Getting your name out is everything.

Next stop for shopping was Melrose. I’m not sure why, but I gently begged off. I just didn’t want to walk into store-after-store-after-store.

Trust me. This is great sport for Helaine and especially Steffie. And I’d be right there with them if these were computer or camera stores. I dropped them off and decided to go on a search for the Hollywood sign.

I had done this before. There are places where the Hollywood sign is very visible, and then a block or two away, it’s gone. And, if you try and drive toward the sign, you quickly find none of the streets are parallel, nor lead in a single direction for more than a few hundred feet.

Nothing in my luck changed. I saw the sign, headed toward it and then lost sight of it. I got lost enough to end up on a ramp for the Hollywood Freeway with Burbank the first exit.

I got off and looked for a way to loop around and reverse course. Before I could get back on the freeway, I saw I was approaching Mulholland Drive.

Mulholland Drive is a twisty two lane road that runs through the peaks of the Santa Monica Mountains. The Santa Monica Mountains are what separate the ocean side of Los Angeles County from the San Fernando Valley (aka – The Valley).

Back in the 50s I used to watch The Bob Cummings Show. Bob, a perennial bachelor, would always talk about taking his dates to Mulholland Drive.

I turned onto Mulholland and it wasn’t long before I saw the entrance to a small parking lot. Immediately, I knew it was a scenic overlook. What I didn’t know was I had hit the motherlode for seeing the Hollywood sign! Not only that, the overlook also had an amazingly commanding view of Downtown LA and most of the west side of town.

I drove on, pulling to the side of the road a mile or so later for a view to the east of the entire San Fernando Valley. The sky was blue, the visibility was high.

None of these spots are for the faint of heart. These are steep mountains and the best view is close to the edge. In case you’re looking to get these vista, here’s my best guess of where I was!

I was excited at my find, but no longer had a reason to be on Mulholland. I drove to Laurel Canyon Road, made a left, and headed back toward Hollywood proper and Melrose Avenue in particular.

Melrose Avenue is where you go when you need something that looks good with your new piercings or to match the ink color on your tattoo. Whereas most of the parts of LA we had visited so far were pretty and well to do, Melrose Avenue is gritty.

I took a shot of a trash can filled to the brim, because I think it’s indicative of the Melrose feel. So are parking meters covered in concert posters and band stickers.

Amazingly, I found both a parking spot and Helaine and Steffie. As they continued to shop, I continued to shoot photos. This is a very photogenic street. And every ethnic, racial and socio-economic group is well represented.

Well, everything but middle aged white guys. I was the token.

We headed back to the Century Plaza to get ready for dinner. Tonight we were heading to The Ivy on Robertson, where earlier Steffie had shopped.

This was our fourth trip to The Ivy. There are two reasons for that. First, the food is spectacular. Second, there are always celebrities there – always.

Once I sat back-to-back with Martin Scorsese. Drew Barrymore walked by and stopped to talk with ‘Marty.’ The last time we were there, Steffie and Helaine saw Fred Durst of Limp Bizkit.

Tonight, our reservation was for 7:00 PM and we had requested to sit outside. Please, don’t be fooled. Outside in LA means under the stars, but adjacent to a propane heater. Even on a cool night, you’re nice and warm.

More importantly, from an outside table you get to see and be seen.

It didn’t take long for Steffie and Helaine to realize Cojo (OK – I called him Cujo, not knowing who he was), aka – Steven Cojocaru, was at a table nearby.

I’m not going to explain who he is because either you know him and are excited, or don’t and are a loser… like me.

Cojo was sitting at a table with a woman (unknown) and Al Roker, weatherman from the Today Show. As it turns out, I know Al. I’m not saying we’re best friends, but we know each other.

The last time I saw Al was at the White House in Washington. How many people can say that?

Years ago, Al made a very kind gesture to me, recommending me for a job that I didn’t even know existed, and I’ll never forget it. He is first class and one of a kind. He deserves whatever success he has… maybe more.

After dinner, I went over and said hello, and we chatted for a few minutes.

Helaine and Steffie felt the evening was a total success! I agree.

As always, the food was superb and the service attentive. We shared an appetizer pizza and I had linguine with all sorts of seafood. For desert I had ice cream and hot fudge over a pecan square. There were no leftovers from me!

By the way, the Ivy shots here on the blog are ‘stock’ shots taken in the afternoon. So as not to come off as a yahoo tourist, I was asked to leave my camera at home… and I did just that.

I’m probably not supposed to say this, because she’s very private about it, but today was Helaine’s birthday. Going to The Ivy was part of our celebration, and it lived up it our expectations.

Tomorrow is our last day in Los Angeles before heading to Palm Springs. We’ve planned a day at Universal. More tomorrow.

It’s Emmy Time

You’ve probably seen the Emmy’s on TV. All of Hollywood’s glitteratti, decked to the nines, attempting to be humble or gracious (depending on whether you’re a winner or loser) in front of a worldwide audience.

As much as I’d like to go man-to-man in competition with Tony Perkins or Al Roker , I’m not eligible. NATAS, the National Academy of Television Arts and Sciences nicely compartmentalizes the Emmys with national awards (day, night and technical) and local ones. Here in Connecticut I belong to, and participate with, the Boston/New England Chapter.

Obviously, the statue I go after doesn’t have the same cachet as the one that goes to a David Letterman or Camryn Manheim. It’s smaller, lighter and has a rectangular base as opposed to the circular one on the national award. Still, it’s a great honor to receive one… and I have been lucky enough to get seven, all of which sit in a cabinet in our family room.

If you belong to NATAS, you get a chance to enter the Emmys and an obligation to judge them. I have taken my turn a few times, looking at tapes from broadcasters in other parts of the country. This year I held a judging session in my home, looking at weather tapes from the Midwest.

It takes skill to be nominated and luck to win. It’s a trite phrase but it’s true.

Judging usually takes place over pizza, maybe some beer, and lots of shop talk. You try to be a good and fair judge, but it’s tough. Does tape 8 get the same shot as tape 1? How long do you let a tape that has no chance play? My fear is that some winners are arbitrary winners. That’s not because of a bias but because of human nature.

This year, while I judged, I noticed a ‘syndrome’ among the entrants. They often confused a ‘good’ weather situation with a good weather presentation. In fact, talented broadcasters should be able to get by with a tape from a day with nothing doing… though none ever have the guts to send that. I certainly don’t.

Helaine and I used to go to the Emmy awards religiously. Unfortunately, it tends to be very Boston-centric and the weather category is at the very end. So recently, we haven’t gone. And, over the past few years I haven’t always submitted a tape.

Part of that is because of the ceremony, but it’s probably more because of my scatterbrained, non-organized personality. In order to enter, you have to save some of your work… and I hardly ever do. Then, you have to meet the deadline. Hello! Deadlines are my enemy. I’m terrible when it comes to getting myself motivated and started.

Still, this year I wanted to try. We have two new guys in the weather department, both with a real chance of winning. I’d kick myself if everyone entered but me.

So, last night I pulled together a few airchecks. This morning, I digitized them on the computer in my office and edited together a 7:30 presentation. It’s now on a DVD, but tomorrow it will be dubbed onto a VHS tape and FedEx-ed to Boston – just in time for Friday’s deadline.

Since I have this website at my disposal, I thought I’d throw a copy here too. If you have a Real player and DSL or cable modem, click here and take a look. If you’re on dial-up, don’t even bother – it won’t work.

Later, I’ll let you know if I’m nominated. No promises. There’s more competition than ever before.

A Few Nice Gratuitous Mentions

This was a good week to see my name in print. Nothing earth shattering. I didn’t cure cancer… again.

First, in the New Haven Advocate, Colleen Van Tassell (certainly a member of the ‘all name’ team, and a favorite of mine) wrote:

The morning after weather fellow Geoff Fox issued a warning to stupid humans to bring pets in out of the cold, Miss B heard that the First Lady of New Haven got involved in rescuing a Westville pooch. A neighbor, fed up after making repeated complaints to the animal shelter, called Hizzonor’s house. Mrs. DeStefano told her husband, and the dog was rescued from its neglectful owner the next day.

It’s true. When it’s cold outside I try and remind people to bring outdoor pets in. My sense is, it’s more of a feel good thing than anything else. Most people keep domestic animals inside, and those who don’t probably can figure out when it’s cold enough to do otherwise.

Still, if one puppy is sleeping on the rug because of what I’ve said, it’s worth it.

My second mention was from Joe Miksch in the Fairfield Weekly (and probably to the other papers in that group, including the afore mentioned Advocate).

Viewers of New Haven’s WTNH know Geoff Fox as the avuncular, high-energy weatherman. But do we really know Geoff Fox?

We can if we punch www.geofffox.com into our Web browsers and peruse the 53-year-old’s Weblog.

We learn that Fox and family had one hell of a time in New York City over Thanksgiving, though Al Roker stiffed them on bleacher seat tickets to watch the Macy’s parade. We learn that Fox has a strong antipathy toward winter. And we find out that Ivy, Fox’s 12-year-old Westie, died of a heart ailment, going peacefully nuzzled against Fox in bed.

Fox has been blogging since July and his site has recorded more than 45,000 hits. A computer buff, Fox uses Movable Type software to craft his blog.

Fox said the blog gives him an excuse to do a couple of things he loves: write and take photographs. “But I don’t really have a clue why I started it. I can tell you that it’s a cathartic experience to write every day. It never ceases to amaze me that people read it. It’s not the most important stuff.”

Again, I’m thrilled to be mentioned. But, I’ve got two very small bones to pick.

Joe calls me “avuncular.” Let me look in the dictionary, because I believe that means ‘uncle like.’

Yup

New York City Trip Report – Day 2

Click here, or on any photo to see my album of photos from this trip.

I grew up in New York City. OK, it was in Flushing, Queens, in what is referred to as a “two fare zone.” Still, it’s part of NYC.

I never attended Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.

Sure, I watched it on TV when I was growing up, but that was totally different. Well, I assume it’s totally different. How would I really know? There was always the possibility that watching Macy’s parade in person is like watching professional football in person. Professional football is much, much better watched on TV (Did I mention my friend Barry invited me to see the Eagles – Dallas game at Lincoln Financial Field in Philadelphia on December 7… and I’m going).

Helaine says she woke up around 4:00 AM. I was sleeping. I’ll take her word for it. Steffie and I woke up closer to 5:00. We were out of the hotel before 6:00 AM, on our way to the Upper West Side.

At this time of day I felt better taking a cab. We walked to 6th Avenue and found a taxi within a minute or two. The trip uptown was uneventful.

Because of the parade, many streets were closed to traffic. So, we got off the cab at 72nd and Columbus and began to walk toward the park. At the corner, we saw an open deli and walked in for coffee, juice and some carbs.

As we walked up 72nd Street, you couldn’t help but notice the police presence. They were everywhere. I’m not sure if this has changed over time, but it seems to me that cops are younger, and less athletic than they once were. Granted, at age 53, it’s starting to become more and more difficult to find people older than me.

Central Park West was deserted. Across the street, we saw bleachers that we had spied the night before. Steffie thought they might be ours for the asking, but alas, they had been promised to folks with better connections and more pull than we had.

I had contacted Al Roker, asking him if he could help and he said he only got two! He hosts the telecast, for heaven’s sake! I am way down the totem pole from where Al sits. I didn’t have a chance.

We found a spot, at the curb line, under a construction scaffold, in front of an apartment building. We were right on the line of march. There would be nothing between us and the parade.

The 6:00 AM Central Park Temperature was 43