It’s difficult to understate the huge cultural impact, and significance of MTV when it launched back in August of 1981.
The effects were seismic. MTV changed the way we watched television, the way we listened to music, the way we discovered new bands, new styles, and new fashions. New everything!
Adding mandatory visuals to everything musical, altered the media landscape in so many ways. It redefined what was cool for the 1980s.
The very first video MTV played was a song by the Buggles, called “Video Killed the Radio Star”, but that wasn’t really accurate. Video made radio stars into TV stars too.
I was lucky enough to score an internship with MTV in 1986, when MTV was at its very peak of the decade.
The previous year, MTV had staged their largest, most ambitious live event yet, Live Aid. They were already riding high when I started hanging out with them.
In this four part series, I’m going to take you back to a fairly amazing period of my young adult life, where I was loosely associated with MTV as an intern, and occasionally employed by them as a freelance production assistant.
It’s also a tale of unrealised potential, and squandered opportunity, but it’s taken the gift of time, and distance for me to see that.
MTV’s corporate headquarters, and production offices were originally at 1775 Broadway, a skyscraper at the corner of West 57th Street, right near the south end of Central Park in midtown Manhattan. The building is still there, but I’m not sure if MTV are in the same place. This was 37 years ago.
It was an imposing office building, art deco I think. My contact, Harvey G, was MTV’s original Production Manager. He met me in the lobby, and brought me up to his office. I can’t remember what floor it was on, but his entire department was there.
Look up!
There was MTV branding everywhere, but I quickly learned that the studios, where they recorded the Video Jockey (VJ) segments weren’t in this building. The actual studios were in a separate outside facility called Unitel, a few blocks west, if I recall correctly. I didn’t go there that often, probably just a handful of times. Everything other than the VJ studio segments, was dealt with from 1775 B’way, on location, or in a hired studio, or soundstage.
I hope I’m getting this detail right. I remember being really impressed by free, restaurant style soda dispensing machines scattered around the office. They stocked Coca Cola, Diet Coke, Fanta, Sprite, and soda water. There was an ice dispenser too, and a stack of branded plastic cups. Someone told me the machines were part of a sponsorship deal MTV had with Coke at the time. I thought it was a really cool corporate perk.
Who doesn’t like free soda?
Harvey showed me around, and even introduced me to the Vice President of the department, a nice woman named Mona, who was also very welcoming. I can’t remember her surname. They were very keen to have an intern work with them.
Harvey and I then went into his office for a chat. He told me a bit about the department. He said quite a bit of what they did was dull paperwork, logistics, and operations. He told me that not all production was creative, or exciting. I thought I understood what he was telling me, but as I would later learn, I didn’t have a clue.
We talked a bit about my studies, and my vague career goals. I really liked Harvey, and he seemed to like me too. We agreed a start date, and hours and he said he was happy to fill out whatever paperwork New York University required.
He then went on to tell me an old joke about the circus, which I laughed at politely, without grasping its significance. Much later on, it would make a lot more sense. We shook hands, and I headed off.
NYU & Hoboken
My condo in Hoboken had cable TV, and I had proper access to MTV there for the first time. I had watched it before at other people’s places, but up until now, I never had it myself.
I hadn’t lived in Hoboken that long. It was the summer of 1985, I was between semesters, and I was completely into watching music videos, and smoking weed. A boy needs a hobby.
When MTV aired the Live Aid concert that summer, I watched the entire broadcast from beginning to end. Bob Geldof and Midge Ure organised it to raise money for the famine that at the time was devastating Ethiopia.
The concert was a massive, history making success. They had live stages in London, and Philadelphia, and many of the biggest artists in the world performed.
Phil Collins played both stages, how cool is that? He played a set on the stage in London, and then hopped on a flight to the states, to play the other stage in Philly.
Live Aid was the biggest event of the year, perhaps even the decade. MTV was the biggest creative force in the world at this point, it was a cultural behemoth.
The concert was amazing, and I spent the entire day dancing around like an idiot in my living room on my own, with a joint in my mouth. It was more fun than you might think. The concert is still worth watching today. Queen’s set alone was legendary.
I had the summer off from NYU, having just completed my first semester there. I had transferred from Monmouth College (now University) in Long Branch, NJ. For that first semester at NYU, I commuted from the Jersey shore by train for my classes, so moving to Hoboken made a massive improvement to my life.
I knew I wanted to work in film, or TV, but I had no idea how to do it. I thought studying it at Uni was a good plan, and NYU had a famous programme at their Tisch School of the Arts.
I met loads of cool people there. One of my friends was roommates with Rick Rubin. His career as a music producer was already taking off while he was at NYU. Rick pops up again in passing a little later, I met him once, or twice at NYU, but I can’t say we knew each other at all.
People at NYU talked about internships as a route into the industry. Again, I was clueless, but the basic concept is you work for free, and earn college credit. So in reality, because you pay for college credit, you didn’t just work for free, you paid for the privilege too. Note my intentional, self aware word choice. Please.
My dream, like just about every other student in my programme, was to be a film director. I just didn’t know how to get from A to B, but an internship of some sort, seemed like a good start.
While I was at Monmouth College, I also had an after school, slash summer job in an office, so I knew how to work, and behave in a professional situation. What I needed was industry experience, and contacts.
When I started my internship with MTV, I had already completed two full semesters at NYU, which included their basic, mandatory production courses, Sight and Sound 1 & 2.
My first semester the previous January, was the television side of the course. My class was I think, the last last to use their black and white TV studio, circa I Love Lucy. The kit was really old. They were moving into a new facility the following September, with brand new training studios in full living colour.
On the studio TV course, we played with various genres, and formats, from basic news production, to soap operas, but what seemed to limit us the most was the age, and poor state of the equipment.
My second semester that started in September 1986, was when I got to do the film side of the Sight and Sound course. We shot on black and white 16mm film, without sync sound. In other words, no significant dialogue on the soundtrack. It was an intentional limitation, meant to focus your storytelling on the visuals, the sound effects, and music.
I’d been playing around with cameras for years, since High School. I had no interest in football, but I filmed the games anyway, just to have access to a wind-up Bolex 16mm camera. And my high school had a fancy colour Sony 3/4” broadcast camera, that no one was allowed to touch. I had to fight to get access to it, with the principal, and the school board, and I won.
I preferred film over video back then. Mainly for the aesthetics, but there were certainly some pretensions about it too. Video always felt more disposable, film felt more like art.
At NYU, I was the cameraman on lots of student flicks, since I was comfortable with cameras, lenses, and light meters, and I seemed to pick up on the basics of 3-point lighting rapidly too. Other students were always happy for the help, and many were slightly technophobic. I benefitted from the extra experience, and getting to be creative. The more time I spent with a film camera in my hands, the better.
We didn’t record sound on location, so that was one less thing to worry about, but we did use lights. Anyone who could afford it, augmented the meagre NYU kit we were allocated by hiring additional equipment.
Or if you were really extravagant, you might hire a 16mm film editing suite, because the few hours you were allowed in the NYU suite were nowhere near enough to complete your masterpiece. I did that, along with my production partner, for our final main project. I have a copy of it somewhere on VHS, I should get it digitised, and stick it on YouTube for a laugh.
Before I get to my first day as an intern at MTV, I want to explain to you how I fell into this big opportunity.
Don’t worry, it will be a brief, but necessary detour. Part of how I got this cool chance to be an intern at MTV, was because I was a bit of a computer nerd.
I had home computers, and dial-up modems in the early 1980s. One of the private online systems I used in a period I call “the pre-internet”, was called PeopleLink. It was one of the smaller online services, and it was strictly for networking, and meeting people. It doesn’t seem to exist in quite the same way anymore. I looked.
PeopleLink used to organise in-person gatherings, and I attended one in NYC in Autumn 1985. Some alcohol may have been consumed, and unquestionably, I would have already been high when I arrived.
I hadn’t lived in the area for long. I didn’t know anyone in Hoboken where I had recently moved. The in-person meet-up was the chance to encounter people in actual real life that you may have been chatting to online, either in the public rooms, or privately one-to-one.
The event was held in a moderately priced restaurant bar in midtown Manhattan, where a large private room had been reserved. It was surprisingly well attended.
Oh, not all four at once, but one after another, and pretty much in that order. I was easy, but not cheap.
The reason I am telling you all this is that there was one other person I met at this event, who actually did change my life. And it had nothing to do with romance.
The man’s screen name was “MTV”, and it turned out he really worked there. He was MTV’s original Production Manager. His name was Harvey G, and he gave me my start working in the media.
Every other job I that I’ve had that followed after MTV, is because of having MTV on my CV. That’s why I’m only partially name checking him here now. He kickstarted my long career but I haven’t been in touch with him in over 35 years. I owe him a lot. I tried to find him online while writing this, but had no luck. I want to respect his privacy. Some people don’t want to be found.
I got chatting to Harvey at the PeopleLink meet-up, and mentioned I was studying film and TV production at NYU. I asked if they needed any interns at the channel.
Harvey shocked me and said yes, and gave me his business card. He told me to phone him if I was serious.
As I was getting ready to register for my third semester at NYU, in January 1986, I phoned Harvey, and he invited me for that first visit to MTV’s headquarters in Manhattan. It’s at that meeting, he made the formal offer.
For my third semester, my main production class was on documentary production, and it was taught by an award winning film maker named Jim Brown, who was also my faculty adviser for that semester. I liked him, he was a good guy.
I went to see Jim to discuss my potential MTV internship. I wanted to drop a couple of tedious core courses, some humanities bullshit, and instead earn the same number of credits by being an intern. He approved the plan, and dealt with the boring admin.
I should tell you what I looked like back then. I was only 23, I was bearded, and I had very long, somewhat curly hair, that went halfway down my back. I mostly kept it in a pony tail during the day, but would usually literally let it down in the evening, after a few drinks, or when I got home. It was an impressive head of hair, that I hadn’t started losing yet. I kept it long, on and off for most of my life, and for the very last time at age 55, before I cropped it all off for good.
Back then, I mostly dressed in blue, or black Levi 501 jeans, tee-shirts, and either denim, or leather jackets. Or if I wanted to look a bit smarter, I’d switch the leather jacket for a tweed blazer. And I always wore boots, cowboy, or biker, because I’m a bit short, and a decent heel never hurt. It was a look.
I went for the blazer style on my first day. Harvey met me in reception, arranged for a building ID, and brought me up to the open plan office.
It was very corporate, I wasn’t the only long haired guy, but there weren’t many of us. Mostly it was smart suits, or dress shirt and tie combos, and respectable male haircuts. But I was young, a college student, and not getting paid, so I could get away with it easier. No one seemed to mind.
I was introduced to everyone that day, so many people. I learned the department was formally known as Production Management, and Operations. I wish I could remember more names, and not just their faces. All of the people, but one, were really good to me throughout my time there.
I was given a desk, with a typewriter, and telephone on it, and I was sat amongst a small group of production coordinators, and production assistants. Mainly, they doled out my work. Or to be more precise, they dumped the really tedious work they didn’t wish to do, on me. I didn’t mind. I was just happy to be there.
There was a lot of paperwork, as they were constantly sorting out invoices for studios, production staff, and crews, that they had arranged for previous productions. Every desk was stacked with paper, mine included.
And it really was my desk, I wasn’t sharing it with anyone. I could even leave stuff in the drawers! Trust me, as someone who would go on to work on nothing but “hot desks’ for the following few decades after this, having your very own desk was a BFD.
My first task involved photocopying. So did my second. And third. You get the idea. There was a lot of photocopying. I became the king of clearing paper jams. I could also often be found in the departmental conference room, collating, and compiling stacks of documents on the huge table. And stapling, so much stapling. Welcome to the big time!
Mona, the Vice President, would occasionally ask me to go out and get her a regular coffee. That’s all there was back then. Coffee regular, coffee dark, coffee light, or coffee black, with or without sugar, all served in a Styrofoam cup, with a thin plastic lid. I wouldn’t have known what a cappuccino, or latte was in those days. I’d grab a receipt, and she would reimburse me on delivery. I probably did this once, or twice every day I worked there.
On my first day, they told me I could take a lunch break. I had no idea what to do with myself, so I did what came naturally. I went into Central Park, and grabbed a hot dog with onion sauce, and mustard from a cart.
Then I found a quiet spot by myself in Central Park, and smoked a joint. While I was enjoying it, I was startled by a tap on my shoulder. It was the guy who sat next to me back in the office, I think his name was Steve, and he would go on to buy my car from me later that year.
He asked me, incredulously, “Are you seriously sitting out here, smoking a joint, on your very first day?”
“Yep”, I said, as I shrugged my shoulders. What else could I say? He caught me red-handed. And it was decent stuff too.
“Can I have some?” he asked.
Of course he could. Like I was going to say no!
We passed the joint back and forth until it was finished, and then floated back to the office. And I made my first MTV friend that day.
Routine plus fun stuff
The work itself was extremely dull, I fell into a routine. But there were so many cool people passing through the offices, it more than made up for it. Producers and directors from the studios, producers from different productions, and producers from the promo department too. I met so many interesting, and talented people.
One producer, who gave me my first tour of the studios, and who I will call AA, always seemed to make a point of stopping to chat with me whenever she passed through the office. She seemed to be extremely well liked by everyone.
One of the other producers I remember meeting was a guy named Joe Davola. I recall being introduced to him, and chatting with him. He was quite a colourful guy. They even named a minor character on the sitcom Seinfeld after him. He was fairly well revered at MTV back then, and a real creative force at the channel.
I was meant to do around 2 or 3 days a week (officially 2.5 days a week), but with flexibility around my studies. I loved being there, but even more so when they started arranging for me to be more involved in the production side of things.
The first on-location assignment they sent me on was as a production assistant for an ENG shoot for MTV News. They had an interview arranged with Tommy Boyce, one half of Boyce and Hart, the song writing duo behind many of The Monkees’ biggest hits.
The old Monkees TV series had been in syndication since I was a child, so I’d probably seen every episode ten times by then. And I grew up with their music too. I thought it was so cool to meet him.
It was a three-man crew, which was the norm back then for ENG. ENG stands for electronic news gathering. There was the camera guy, the sound guy, and an assistant for them both, There was also a producer, and an assistant producer. That’s five people, plus me, the production assistant, so really six. And this was just for a simple interview with the interviewer off-screen, for what would probably end up being a 90 second item for the Music News.
Kit was a lot bigger, and heavier back then, the recording deck was separate from the camera, and the lights weren’t LEDs. These days for news, there’s just the camera-person who also does the sound, and often they are the journalist/reporter/producer as well. Times change.
The shoot was in a fancy hotel room somewhere in midtown, Mr. Boyce regaled us with lots of show business memories. I got to watch a real TV crew set up, and work. I got to listen to a producer interview him too. You never forget your first time.
I got sent out on all sorts of location shoots. I think they pitied me a bit, since all I did in the office was filing, photocopying, and coffee fetching. Oh, and I coded invoices too. Wow!
My real production experience came from my little field trips. I got to see small productions, large productions, and some in-between productions. I went on shoots for promos, and for the news segments as often as I could.
I asked loads of questions, and no one seemed to mind. I chatted with directors, and DPs, producers, costumers, and make-up people too. I tried to work out what everyone else was doing, and understand it as best I could.
I didn’t do much, I fetched things, helped carry things, I had no creative input, I was an agreeable, eager extra pair of hands. I went on so many of these shoots, that I struggle to recall them all.
At the tail end of one studio job, while we were clearing up our stuff, Mona, the departmental VP dropped in to visit.
Vice Presidents, or departmental managers in big organisations tend to be figureheads. They set policy, make big decisions, but don’t tend to get involved with details, so I was surprised to see her there. She chatted with the producers, and the director, but it was pretty obvious they didn’t know each other well, or maybe at all. And then she spotted me.
I was sweeping up with a broom. I can’t remember what this particular shoot was for, a promo of some sort, probably. I went on lots of those, because they often shot on film, which was my main interest.
Mona spotted me, and came over for a chat. We spoke for maybe 10 minutes, I can’t remember the specifics, but we joked around a bit. She asked me how my internship was going, and I gushed about it. The incongruity of having a broom in my hands at the time was not lost on me then, just as it is not lost on me now.
Filming promo material, adverts, channel idents and bumpers, and the like seemed to be a lot of what MTV produced, outside of the core channel content. In many ways, this was the one main bonus of being in this department, I got to see so many different types of productions, and on different scales.
I loved being around MTV. I started skipping some of my classes, so I could hang around the office even more for those chances to do something fun. I still went to my production classes, the classes I enjoyed. And I continued to help other students with their filming, mainly one of my fellow students who was shooting a long form documentary. I was his cameraman, and shot many days for him. That was on 3/4” video, not film, NYU had reasonably decent ENG kit at this point.
One last memory, which really illustrates the difficulty of breaking into the media industry in the mid 1980s, and especially into proper film. On one of these studio shoots, I got chatting to the director of photography, a freelance film cameraman with his own production company named Bill Dill.
Film crews were bigger than ENG crews, and Bill’s crew was no different. He had a 1st and 2nd camera assistant, and a sound recordist, plus several more junior assistants. It was a big crew.
As I was super-duper interested in film, and cameras, I got chatting to Bill. I think he had an Arriflex, or it might have been an Aaton, I don’t recall which. We had Arriflex cameras at NYU for my Sight and Sound course.
A film crew like Bill Dill’s would have mainly filmed high-end, but small projects, like commercials, or PSAs, or in this case, a promo for MTV. There was always work around, if you could find it.
Bill was happy to answer all my questions, and seemed to appreciate my enthusiasm. I asked him if he ever thought about having an intern. He laughed, and said he already had three, and gestured towards the junior assistants. And he went on to say he had a long waiting list of more people eager to work with him for free. It made me realise how lucky I was to have such a good internship with MTV.
MTV Studios
Eventually, they arranged for me to spend a day at the MTV studios, where they produced the main VJ segments, which was their bread and butter in the early days.
I was really excited, I was a fan after all. That’s why I wanted to be an intern there. I couldn’t wait to see the studios.
I was greeted by one of the producers, AA, who I mentioned earlier. She was expecting me. It was my first time ever, visiting an actual professional studio.
Like everyone at MTV, the people at the studio that I met that day were really nice to me, especially the producer showing me around.
The producer, AA, explained that they pre-taped all of the insert segments between videos, none of it was live. It was the same for the music news segments, everything was prerecorded. I kind of figured that, but it was still cool to see the factory floor.
The first area I was shown was the control room (or gallery if you speak British TV), which was the technical centre. There were half a dozen people in there. Someone was doing the graphics, someone else was mixing the audio, and yet another person was running the studio videotape decks. I’m pretty sure the director, and technical director were still separate roles back then, but in other studios I’ve been around since, the roles are combined.
The studio director that day was Beth McCarthy (Miller), and she spent some time talking to me. If the name is familiar, she’s been a TV director for decades. Last I saw her name, she was credited as the director of Saturday Night Live. She directed episodes of 30 Rock as well.
On all the monitors was the main set, where the VJs would record the links played between videos. When the team took a break, my producer guide showed me around inside it. What surprised me was how small it seemed, compared to how big it looked at home on TV. I guess that’s part of the magic of television.
I was introduced to two of the original MTV VJs that day, Martha Quinn, and Alan Hunter, but I can’t say I spoke to them very long.
Besides the studio, and the gallery, and what I imagine were some dressing rooms, was a small production office with a few people in it. And that’s where I encountered to me by far the most interesting person I met that day.
And who might that be? It was the studio intern, Ted Demme.
Wait, what? The studio had its own intern?
That’s right, the studio, and main production department had their own intern. That’s part of the reason my department wanted one too. Free help, is free help!
That studio, and production department internship was the internship I thought I was signing up for when I arranged mine. Ted worked directly with the producers, and directors in the studio all the time. I won’t lie, I was jealous.
Ted was a nice guy, I ended up hanging out with him that day. And I hung out with him whenever I went back to the studio. I wouldn’t say we were best friends, but we became fairly well acquainted with each other around this time.
Now that the studio people knew there was another intern in Production Management, and Operations, they would occasionally ask for me to be sent over to help when they were short handed, so I returned more than once.
After his internship, Ted went on to properly work for MTV, and to direct promos for them, before going on to direct episodic television, and eventually feature films. You might be familiar with his most well-known work, Blow starring Johnny Depp, and Penelope Cruz.
Ted’s own story doesn’t have a particularly happy ending, but he does make one more appearance, when we are briefly reunited at a large event later on.
No sour grapes here, even though I learned my situation wasn’t ideal. I still got to go on location shoots, studio shoots for promos, and more news shoots too. Some shot on video, some shot on film, there was a wide variety of production types, and styles and I got to be around it all.
In some ways, my internship gave me a more balanced, and rounded journey through MTV. It wasn’t what I thought it was going to be, but it turned out to be a whole lot more.
I learned about the business of production, hiring crew, hiring camera people, renting studios, scouting locations, applying for filming permits, dealing with freelancers in general, and most importantly, paying people’s invoices on time. I also learned about the real nuts and bolts of television operations, studios, and satellites too.
I learned so much, just by watching other people. I was a knowledge sponge, and I soaked it all in. It wasn’t quite as creative as I had hoped, but it was still practical experience. It gave me a strong foundation in production, and broadcasting. Eventually, I managed to build a career on top of all of it.
I ended up spending so much time hanging out at MTV, that I neglected some of my studies. If anyone at MTV noticed I was putting in more hours than agreed, they kept their mouths shut. I was still doing all the scut work, still making photocopies, still fetching regular coffees for the big boss too. My presence was very welcome, even if they had no idea how badly I was screwing up at NYU.
And boy oh boy, was I screwing up.
What? And give up show business?
I went to see my faculty adviser at NYU, Jim Brown, I didn’t neglect his class. I made sure to attend, and I was still working on my classmate’s documentary for the same class.
I was honest, I told him what had happened, how I was getting more from my time spent around MTV, than I was from my classes. I asked if I could drop two more classes, and instead get even more course credit for the extra hours I’d put in on my internship?
He looked at me, perplexed. He certainly understood why I was drawn into spending more time at MTV, but he explained it was impossible to retroactively change my semester coursework now, and get credit for effectively a nearly full time internship.
I really screwed up. I ended up with a few incomplete grades in a couple of classes, but decent grades in the rest. Ooops, to the power of oh shit.
I kept all this to myself. At this point it was too late to do anything about any of it. I finished my internship on the agreed date, and Harvey said they would hire me on a freelance basis whenever they could. And I got excellent feedback on my intern assessment form, so there was that. At least.
On my last official day as an intern, there was a cake. There were gifts too, an official MTV baseball cap, and an MTV tee-shirt. I wore that tee-shirt out, but I think I might still have the hat somewhere.
They thanked me warmly for my hard work, and that my friends, was that. I didn’t know if they would really ever call me again, or not. Spoiler alert: There are three more parts to this tale.
As I walked out the doors of 1775 Broadway, for what I thought could have been maybe, the last time ever, I thought back to my very first visit to their offices, and my first meeting with Harvey, before I started my internship.
I recalled the old joke I mentioned that Harvey told me about the circus. I didn’t really understand why he told it to me at the time, but by the end of my stint as an intern, I totally got it.
Here’s that joke in full, I hope I do it justice:
A father took his son to the circus. They saw all the big acts, there were the clowns, the jugglers, the high wire, the lion tamer, the trapeze artists, and the final act of the night, dancing elephants.
After the show ended, as they were exiting the tent, the father and son noticed a hunched over, older guy with bucket and shovel, who came out into the middle of the now empty circus ring.
They watched as the old man began to scoop up the elephant dung left behind after the performance.
The man’s young son was repulsed, and questioned his father as to why that poor guy had to shovel the elephant poo.
So the father called out to the man and asked, “why are you doing such a horrible, disgusting job? Why don’t you quit?”
And the older gentleman turned around, smiled, and said, “What? And give up show business?”
I only did two major events with MTV, post-internship, and both were very memorable, each for different reasons. This is the first, and the largest by far.
For context, this was a year after Live Aid, which was still fresh in people’s minds, and the public’s consciousness. I’d watched Live Aid on TV, it was part of why I wanted an internship with MTV. It was a huge event.
People I worked with said that this event was a bigger production for MTV than Live Aid, because with Live Aid they also had a stage in London that carried some of the day. For this event, Giants Stadium was the only venue for the entire final concert.
The concert itself was an all day event, it went on for hours, and many huge names performed. Plus there were so many backstage guests. Some were interviewed on TV, others were just hanging out. If you were on the east coast of the USA that day, it was absolutely the place to be.
I think I got at least three days work out of it, two days before, plus the day of the concert itself. I don’t think I worked the day after, but its possible. It’s a long time ago, which means much of the minutiae is lost to time, but I do have some major memories to share.
I was already aware of the six date concert tour, and the plans for broadcasting the final concert before I got the call from Harvey G. When he asked me if I was available, he stressed how big this event would be. He said, “it was all hands on deck” when he hired me.
All hands on deck? That means I was a “hand” at MTV, and I was part of the “all”. It made me very happy. I thought things might finally be taking off.
Concert Prep
The first two days were fairly dull. As a runner, I didn’t actually have that much to do, and I remember that being especially true on the set-up days. There was some heavy lifting, as well as getting the lay of the land, but mainly there was a lot of waiting around.
Giants Stadium is huge, and as a runner, I needed to know my way around it. Mainly, I kept out of the way of the people doing the really hard work, the technicians rigging everything up, for what would be one of the largest outside broadcasts of the year.
The Venue
I was reunited with Ted Demme, who interned at MTV around the same time I did, only he was in the studio, I was in the offices. We were both happy to see a familiar face. Everyone else we both knew seemed really busy, and we were just an afterthought to the proceedings.
Ted and I were both just spare, extra hands on those first two days, so no one noticed when we snuck out to my car in the parking lot for a sneaky joint, or seven. We both got high together a lot over those three days, though much less so on the day of the concert, as you’ll see.
This piece isn’t just about the Amnesty Concert, but it’s about celebrity too. On the day of the concert, I met, encountered, interacted, and saw more celebrities in that one day, than I can probably remember, but I’m going to try.
There’s something about celebrities, whether you revere or revile them, that fascinates us all. Whenever I’ve mentioned that I’ve met someone famous, I’ve often been asked “what are they really like?”. That’s almost always impossible to answer.
Very rarely do you truly see them as anything other than “on”. They have to be “on” all the time, and they can’t let their guard down around strangers. I’ve never envied that.
Some can be demanding divas, but many others are down to earth, and just normal people, who simply have a talent. Some are in between, and others it may depend on the day you catch them. All people are different, in different circumstances.
And I’ll be honest, some of the people I will mention in this piece, I am in awe of their boundless talents. And in at least one encounter, I was nearly moved to tears. And there was another that was more than a little weird. You’ll see.
Concert Day
I drove to Giants Stadium from Hoboken on the set-up days, but when I arrived on the day of the broadcast, security was a lot tighter. I had to show my pass just to get into the parking lot. That was new.
Harvey G had given me a backstage pass on the first prep day, and a special second, “all access” endorsed badge, which meant I could get to the real backstage area, around the actual performance stage. I could get everywhere. A runner has got to be able to run!
I wore the credentials around my neck on a lanyard. I looked official, and this was heightened by my faux production vest. Basically, it was a sleeveless jacket, with many, many pockets, of various sizes. They’re super useful when you’re going to be on your feet, and on the move all day. Proper production vests cost a fortune, I bought mine at K-Mart, in the fishing section, and it was cheap.
It was a hot, sunny day, so to complete the look, I was wearing a pair of cargo shorts, a tee-shirt, and some sort of trainers, or sneakers made of canvas, but no socks. I grew up on the Jersey Shore, you never wore socks in the summer. Ideally in the summer, you were barefoot anyway, most of the time down the shore.
Before everything kicked off, Harvey G gave me a walkie-talkie. He said he would call me if he needed anything, and in general to just help out where ever I could.
My role was extremely ill-defined, but I had two things in my possession that gave me the air of being a central part of things. That would be the credentials around my neck, and especially the walkie-talkie. No one knew the reality, that I had no one on the other end that I could call for anything. All I could do was listen, and respond. One of the pockets in the vest I was wearing was big enough for the radio, so I was able to stash it when required.
The real man in charge of the live show, was the legendary promoter, and hippy legend, Bill Graham. And saying he was “legendary” is still an understatement. I saw him a lot that day, he didn’t stop moving, and he was always busy, and in the middle of something. If anyone kept things running backstage that day, it was Bill. He impressed me, but then he used to impress a lot of people. What drive! He was killed in a chopper crash around 5 years later, RIP.
For me, the day was fairly chilled. Someone would call for me on the radio, I’d reply, and be given a little task. Like could I go fetch some celebrity from the “star bar”, and take to them to one of the broadcast points. I did that a lot.
If memory serves, besides the main performance stage, there were several other live positions set up for commentary, and interviews. There was a main broadcast point, and several satellites.
For example, there was a platform erected in the middle of the football field, that was being used as a live point. It was probably around the 50 yard line, I don’t remember exactly, but you had to fight your way through the audience to reach it, and then climb a ladder that was easily 500 foot high. I’m exaggerating, it was probably closer to 20, but it didn’t matter to me. I hate heights, and was happy not to be sent up there.
One of the areas I spent a lot of time in was what we were calling the “star bar”, which included an adjacent live point for celebrity interviews. It was mainly an off-screen hospitality area for VIPs.
Lots of the celebs I met that day, I shuffled from the star bar to one of these other live points. If you have a walkie-talkie, and a pass around your neck, famous people will follow you almost anywhere.
There was also a stairwell, that ran from behind the star bar that connected it to the main backstage area. Anyone appearing on the main stage, other than the headliners, would make that journey. And if they did, I probably escorted them.
Also backstage, was the arrivals area for performers, and VIPs. I saw quite a few big names there, and directed them around the stadium.
Harvey G also showed me a small, mostly unused trailer, that was an air-conditioned production office, belonging to his department, in the main backstage area. There were screens inside it, showing the broadcast live feed, plenty of chairs, and a fridge stocked with soft drinks. He told me if any guests needed to cool off, to feel free to use it.
Name Dropping
I’ll get my minor embarrassing story out of the way early. At one point I was instructed to escort Jorma Koukenen from the star bar to one of the live points.
I called him Jorma a couple of times, as that’s who I was told he was, and I caught some bemusement from him, but I couldn’t work out why. That is until later on, when someone else told me I was misinformed, and it was actually Jack Casady. Both men were members of the original Jefferson Airplane, and worked together in Hot Tuna as well, That made them rock and roll royalty, so confusing them both was inexcusable. Mr. Casady never corrected me, and I never got the chance to apologise to him for my error. In the unlikely event that he ever stumbles upon this piece, I hope he knows that he has my sincerest apology. MTV shouldn’t be messing stuff like this up! I really was embarrassed, and I still am today.
Now, I’m going to drop to me anyway, the biggest, or perhaps I should say “the greatest” name of that day, and I got to shake his giant hand. I’m talking about Muhammed Ali. It’s one of the few times in my life I felt legitimately starstruck.
I was overwhelmed, there was no bigger media figure from my childhood, and no bigger personality either. He was the champ, he was the greatest! So many of my friends had posters of him on their walls when we were kids.
Mr. Ali had only been diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease a couple of years before I met him, but I could already see the early signs of it that day.
I was beaming when I shook his hand, and said “it’s amazing to meet you, champ”. Yes, I called him champ. And if I could travel back in time to that moment, I’d say it again.
I’ll mention two other sets of arrivals. The first pair to turn up together was Little Steven from the E-Street Band, and the massively famous actor, Robert DeNiro. I have no idea why they were together. Are all celebrities friends?
Steve Van Zandt is a local New Jersey music legend. As well as being a member of the E-Street Band, he co-founded Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes, and he was the lead singer in the Disciples of Soul. Oh, and he was Silvio Dante in The Sopranos too. I’d seen the Disciples of Soul perform once, at Big Man’s West in Red Bank, and I’d seen Steve perform with Bruce Springsteen in concert many times. It was cool to see him again.
What can you say about DeNiro that hasn’t already been said? One of the greatest film actors of several generations. Taxi Driver, and The Godfather Part Two would have been enough to cement his reputation as an amazing talent, but he just kept going.
Around the time of the concert, DeNiro was filming “Angel Heart”. In it, he was playing a character named Louis Cyphre, which is a pretty straightforward play on words. I mention it because at the time, Mr. DeNiro had let his hair grow down to the middle of his back for the role. It was nearly as long as my own, and a memorable detail for me.
His friends call him Bobby, but I called him Mr. DeNiro. That’s what he looked like that day
I didn’t really speak to either one of them at length, but I helped direct them to wherever they were needed. There was a real buzz around DeNiro. As celebrities go, he always seemed inaccessible, especially in the 70s and 80s, so seeing him in person was notable.
The other thing that seeing Little Steven did, was further fuel a rumour, or hope, depending upon your perspective. The spectre of Bruce Springsteen lingered over the entire day.
The other pair I saw turn up at the arrivals area were an actual couple at the time. The singer/songwriter Jackson Browne, and his then girlfriend, Daryl Hannah.
I always liked Jackson Browne, and I wore out my vinyl copy of Running on Empty, but I can’t say I remember much about seeing him that day. All eyes, including mine, were on his girlfriend.
Daryl Hannah was breathtakingly beautiful. She radiated it, effortlessly. She was just wearing jeans, and a white tee-shirt, but she was still spectacular. On a day where there were beautiful women everywhere you looked, Ms. Hannah was at another level. You’ve probably noticed this yourself, as everyone did back in the 80s, but she looked even better in person than she did on screen. And she looked fabulous on screen. You get the idea.
My weirdest memory of that moment was noticing that Daryl Hannah was barefoot. No feet kink here, quite the opposite, health, and safety. I remember thinking I wouldn’t want to be walking around barefoot backstage. It was dangerous, and a bit sticky. Eewww.
At one point, I ran into my friend, Ted. We decided to sneak out to the parking lot for a crafty joint in my car. It was really easy to do on the set-up days, but now, on the day of the concert, it was a whole new world.
The parking lot was filled with fans that didn’t have tickets to get into the concert. Fan is short for “fanatic”, and some of the people I encountered as Ted and I made our way through the crowd were unhinged. They spotted our backstage passes, and swarmed us.
I remember one woman grabbed my arm, and begged and pleaded with me to get her backstage, because she had a really important message for Peter Gabriel. Really important! I could tell by the crazy look in her eyes that she believed it too.
Ted and I managed to get away from the crowd, and we tucked our passes into our shirts, as we made the rest of the way to my car. We smoked a joint, and returned to the gate, only revealing our credentials when we were in sight of the security guards who let us back in.
“That’s it for me”, Ted said, when I asked if he wanted to go out again later. The crowd was too much for him. I didn’t blame him, but I wasn’t going to let the parking lot zombies prevent me from popping out again.
I don’t think I saw Ted again after that. He had a good life, but died way too young. RIP old friend.
At one point, I was casually hanging out in the star bar with Carlos Santana, and Reuben Blades, along with some segment producers that I knew from MTV. It’s still surreal when I think about it. Carlos was as cool as he was humble, and normal. And he is as cool as they fucking come! I really liked him.
And if you want surreal, this was by far, and without question the most surreal encounter I had that day. I was a big fan of this actor, and to be honest, I still am. His work in the 70s, 80s and even the 90s is amazing. I’m talking about Elliot Gould.
I grew up on Elliot Gould’s films, from the original big screen adaptation of M*A*S*H, to the conspiracy thriller, Capricorn One, he’s had an amazing career. He even played Marlowe in The Long Goodbye. Plus he was married to Barbara Streisand at one point, talk about another big star. I bet many of you will remember him for playing Ross and Monica Geller’s father on the classic 90s sitcom, “Friends”.
My interaction with Mr. Gould was strange. Even now, I struggle to make sense out of it. It was in the star bar, and he approached me, I expect because of the ID badges, and walkie-talkie. He towered over me, I remember him being really tall. I’m the opposite of tall. He grabbed me by both shoulders.
“Hey, you’re a big guy. Did you play football in high school? I bet you played football in high school! Did you play football in high school? You’ve got really broad shoulders!”
He was really smiley, and friendly. I sensed no anger or animosity in his voice. If anything, he was enthusiastic, and effervescent.
He held on to my shoulders way too long, as he looked me up, and down. I’m not a big guy, I’m short, but I do have broad shoulders, and a big rib cage, matched with stubby, thick legs. I was thinner way back then, but still a little stocky. I was certainly no football player.
The conversation made me feel weird. Objectified. That was a new one on me. Maybe he was taking the piss out of me, maybe he was trying to flirt with me? Maybe he was drunk, or high? Maybe he was just weird. I still have no idea. It was as surreal as it sounds.
I was finally able to get away from him, because my radio squawked. I didn’t know if they were calling for me, and at that point I didn’t care. I made my excuses, and left the star bar for the backstage area.
Randomly, I ran into Pat Benatar, and her husband, and lead guitarist, Neil Giraldo wandering around backstage. They weren’t performing, or appearing, they were just hanging out. I introduced myself, and asked them if they wanted to hang out in an air-conditioned trailer. They said yes.
I showed them into the production office trailer, and got them each a soft drink. I told them I had seen them perform at the Brendan Byrne Arena, right next door, a few years before, I was a fan, but I was relaxed about it. They were really down to earth, and appreciated the hospitality, and the praise. I got called to do a little job, and I had to return to the star bar, but I told them I’d come back when I could.
This is where I got choked up. When I got up to the star bar, I discovered I was escorting Yoko Ono, and Sean Ono Lennon down to the main performance stage.
This was June 1986, John Lennon was only murdered 5 and a half years before this. His death had a big impact on me, as it did to most music fans I guess. It was still pretty raw, and it was all I could think about as I introduced myself to them. I fought to hold in my emotions.
Sean was just a kid, he would have been around 11 years old. Yoko was very softly spoken, and quite shy. I brought them down to the backstage area, handed them off to the stage manager, and said my goodbyes. I really was moved by this brief encounter.
I turned around, and bumped right into Max Weinberg, the drummer from the E-Street Band. Immediately, I wondered if Bruce was about to materialise as well.
I said hi to Max, and asked if he was lost. He had just performed with John Eddie, was looking for someplace to relax, and watch the rest of the show. I knew just the place.
I brought Max to the air-conditioned trailer, and introduced him to Pat Benatar, and Neil Giraldo. As you do. I told Max I was a fan, and that I’d seem him perform with Bruce countless times. He probably heard this sort of thing all the time, and he was used to it.
I asked Max if he knew if Bruce was going to turn up. He said he had no idea, he didn’t even know if Bruce was in the area. But if he did, Max said he was up for doing another set with him. Yes!
At that point, one of my colleagues from the MTV offices popped into the trailer. It was Steve, the guy who discovered me smoking a joint on my first day as an intern. He was more senior than me, and had an actual assigned role as a coordinator at one of the live points. He was on a break, came into the trailer to grab a cold drink, and he found me there running my own mini-star bar.
We stepped outside the trailer, and he asked me if I was just hanging around with celebrities all day. I said “yep”. He then asked me if I had any weed with me. Again I said “yep”.
We made our way to the gate out to the parking lot. I told him to tuck his backstage pass into his shirt. He asked why? I just said trust me.
We managed to make it to my car mostly unmolested. It was a 1984 Toyota Supra, light blue. I had been thinking of selling it, since I rarely used it living in and around the big city. Steve really liked the car, and offered to buy it. And a few weeks later, he really did.
When I got back inside the stadium, Harvey G called me on the walkie-talkie. He had an important task for me, and told me where to find him backstage.
When I found Harvey, he handed me a satchel, with a shoulder strap. Inside it was a cold 6-pack of beer. I had to deliver the beer to one of the original VJs, Mark Goodman. Mark was broadcasting from “the Hut”.
Remember “the Hut”? It’s that broadcasting platform in the middle of the football field, only accessible by a ladder that was like a million feet high, I was a million feet high too, thanks to my little sojourn in the parking lot with Steve. And I hate heights, and ladders. And ladders, and heights. Oh my!
The playing field was packed with punters. It was wall-to-wall, standing-room-only the entire way, as I threaded myself through the crowd to the base of the Hut.
Once there, I had to clear security, which only took a moment. The all access pass was like a magic wand, and it allowed me to go everywhere. Even places I didn’t wish to venture, like the Hut.
I began my ascent, slowly, one foot at a time, the cold beer chilling my back through the canvas of the satchel slung over my shoulder. I wondered if the TV cameras caught my historic climb?
Eventually I made my way to the top. It was bigger than I expected, with a cameraman, a producer, and Mark Goodman, as well as space for a guest, which at that point was vacant.
I gave the satchel to Mark, and he said “thanks, man”. And that was the extent of our interaction, but he now had his cold beer. Mission accomplished!
I made my way back down the ladder of infinity, and snaked my way to the backstage area, and the trailer. Pat, Neil, and Max were still there. I got myself a cold drink, and sat down. I hung out with them for ages, just shooting the breeze, and watching the concert on the monitors. It was chill, Pat was especially nice to me, and really chatty.
I had to go back to the star bar a few times, and at one point I bumped right into Lou Reed, almost literally on that back stairwell. I had caught most of his set earlier in the day, and told him it was great. He smiled, and carried on his way.
Towards the end of the long day, I was just sort of hanging around backstage. I saw The Police as they were heading for their performance on the main stage. I made eye contact with Andy Summers, the guitarist. I said to him, “have a great set”, and he grinned.
I saw The Police in 1982, at the Meadowlands Arena next door, and it was one of the best concerts I’d ever seen. Sting is an amazing frontman, and incredibly compelling performer. Watching from the side of the backstage area was even better. This was a special performance, as technically the band had already split at this point, and only reformed to help Amnesty, and the cause. So I was doubly lucky that I managed to see their entire set.
That was also true for U2, though I didn’t really get to interact with the band at all. I saw them take the stage, and watched their entire set from the sidelines as well. I remember them being shorter than I expected, like they were only my height.
U2 too were amazing. I saw them again in London in the early 90s, at the old Wembley Stadium. I think it was the Zoo TV Tour. And before that, in 1990, I stayed in the same hotel as Bono in London for a few weeks. I used to see him in the hotel bar, holding court, every night. The Edge was there too, but I never ran into him. At the time, they were both working on a musical version of “A Clockwork Orange” that didn’t run for very long.
And there were a lot of people there that day that I didn’t see, like Christopher Reeve, and Michael J. Fox. I missed meeting Superman, and Marty McFly!
And I somehow missed Peter Gabriel completely. That crazed car park fanatic would have been very disappointed with me.
All in all, it was an amazing day. I had a blast, and a half! By the time the concert ended, and I was good-nighted by Harvey G, it was well after midnight. And in the end, there was no sign of Bruce Springsteen. Oh well.
I made the relatively short drive back to my place in Hoboken quickly, and I was completely exhausted. I was drained, but it was worth it. The memories of that day are still with me decades later.
That’s the thing about celebrities. They meet normal people all the time. But for us normal people, meeting them is special, and memorable, even decades later.
After I sold my Toyota to Steve, I had a really clever idea. I bought a small, used pick-up truck.
After doing so many small jobs for MTV, I noticed that they had a lot of hassle moving small-ish things around. I aimed to fill that gap in the market. I was now a package deal: a production assistant, and small pick-up truck, for one low price. I was helpful, and cost effective. I was pick-up truck Doug.
I’ll give you a small example, that I will return to again later. MTV used to have these short bumpers, or channel idents, consisting of someone smashing a giant gong with “MTV” emblazoned upon it. They used this format for years, they would bring it all over, grab their 10 second shot of someone hitting it, and then take it back to storage. Transport was often a minor hassle. They started hiring me for jobs like this with my little pick-up truck.
The truck was a Ford Courier. My memory of it is vague, it was definitely not my favourite vehicle. It wasn’t a full sized truck, so it was good for getting around in the city. And it was secure, as the truck’s bed had a lockable, fibreglass cap. It was older, and had a lot of miles on it, so I got it cheap. Think of it as my co-star for the rest of this story.
Not my actual pick-up truck, but pretty damn close
One of the many small jobs I did was a contest promo, with Bon Jovi; Jon, and his entire band.
MTV were running a contest, giving away a Caribbean island vacation, and the promo’s concept involved creating a tropical paradise inside a small soundstage. And that involved sand. Bags of it. A lot of sand. And masks, like the ones we wore during the pandemic. Health, and safety was a thing, even in the mid 80s, and we were trying to avoid “silicosis”.
There was a tropical backdrop, palm trees, and faux exotic cocktails with little paper umbrellas. There was even a bird-handler, with a couple of friendly, and trained colourful giant macaw parrots. I like parrots, and hung out with them a bit. They could talk, but I can’t say they said much of merit.
I used to see Bon Jovi a lot at a bar in Asbury Park in the early 1980s, before they broke big. They were the house band at the Fast Lane, and were often the opening act.
I was never a big fan, I was probably neutral about their music, but I wasn’t ever fond of poodle rock. You know what I mean, with those big bouffy hairstyles. It’s more LA than Asbury Park, but whatever works for you.
I do have a gossipy story about this particular job, and I am carefully going to share the details. While I might be very honest about my own drug use, I don’t wish to name, or shame anyone else. So I won’t, but I will tell you what I saw that day.
I remember the director’s name, but I will be omitting it. I don’t remember who the cameraman was, but we were shooting on film, so I chatted with him a lot throughout the day.
The director spent most of the day in a private side room, hanging out with the band. We waited for them so long that I ended up lining up some shots with the camera guy, cutaways and the like, just because so much time was being wasted.
Around this time, Jon Bon Jovi had filmed a public service message for MTV’s anti-drug campaign, based on Nancy Reagan’s “Just Say No” nonsense. With that in mind, the the incongruity of what I’m about to tell you is not lost on me. That said, and to make this clear, I saw no evidence that Jon himself was taking any drugs that day.
When the director, and band finally re-appeared, a couple of them were going up to the sink in the kitchen, wetting their fingers, and then snorting the water from their fingertips. If you’re not familiar with this move, then you’ve probably never had poor quality cocaine. Maybe you’ve never had any cocaine, full stop.
I knew about snorting tap water. I’d seen it done before, and had even done it myself when I’ve had coke cut with crap. At least I understood why so much time was wasted that day.
I learned the names of the band members that day, and I do recall which of them was snorting the water. You would definitely be able to guess who at least one of them was, but like I said, I’m not shaming anyone. I used to party hard, too.
Around this time, I popped into the MTV offices for something, I can’t recall what, but I ran into that nice producer, AA. She invited me to her place for dinner. I said yes, but didn’t think anything of it at the time.
AA was always really generous with her time, and quite encouraging of me. I figured she just wanted to give me some career advice, I thought of her as a grown-up, really serious, and my senior, but the reality is, because I had dropped in and out of university, we were about the same age.
Dinner was nice, I can’t remember what it was, but AA had cooked something herself for us. She was friendly with some of the VJs, and mentioned house sitting for one of them. Or it might have been dog sitting, I can’t remember, but the point is that she was really well connected at MTV.
After we ate we were chatting, and having a drink on her sofa, when she kissed me. I think you might be able to tell that I didn’t see this coming.
It wasn’t just that I hadn’t thought of her that way, but it hadn’t ever occurred to me that she thought of me that way. She just always seemed nice, and friendly, it never crossed my mind that she liked me, liked me. It caught me off guard.
This is another regret, that I wasn’t grown up enough to see this as the opportunity that it might have been. I wouldn’t say I laughed it off, or even brushed it off. I think I just didn’t know how to deal with it, so I didn’t deal with it at all.
I should have given her a chance. And she should be grateful I didn’t. I would have been a terrible boyfriend at age 23. I was really immature, and a bit selfish. I was much better at being just a good time.
Rehearsals
After the triumph of the Amnesty Concert, I couldn’t wait till MTV hired me for another big event. It didn’t happen until New Year’s Eve 1986 into New Year’s Day 1987, when I was hired as a production assistant for MTV’s Nero’s Eve Rock and Roll Ball.
Only this time Harvey hired me, and my pick-up truck to work the day time set-up only on broadcast day, plus the wrap up the following day, on the 1st of January.
Harvey offered me three extra tickets to the event to bring some friends to join me while I watched the show from the audience with my backstage pass. It was extremely cool of him to do this, he didn’t have to, I would have worked the job anyway.
The venue was on the top floor of the Manhattan Centre. It was a well known ballroom, with a big performance stage, and room for a decent sized crowd, located on the top floor of a tall building in mid-town Manhattan.
The Venue
It was a great deal, as I got to hang around the venue during the day, then go home, shower, change, and come back to be a guest in the audience. And I could bring some mates! It was going to be the best New Year’s Eve ever! I even went out and bought a brand new, snazzy leather jacket, just for the occasion.
The set-up day was cool. It started with collecting some props, and set items from MTV’s storage on the west side, and delivering them to the venue. And then, it was the usual waiting around, for little tasks, and jobs.
Joe Piscapo, another Jersey boy, and one of the break out stars from the second Saturday Night Live cast, was the host. He was pretty popular back then, but it’s name I haven’t come across in a long time. I met him briefly, but he was quite busy with preps, and rehearsals, so there wasn’t much small talk with him. He seems to be aligned with the MAGA crowd now. Life is weird.
I mainly spent the day hanging out with two really nice celebs, who were guest performers on the night. Gilbert Gottfried was absolutely nothing like his stage persona. He was really soft-spoken, and unassuming. I can’t tell you what we spoke about, just small talk really. I just remember that I liked him a lot. I was sorry to see that he passed away recently. RIP Mr. G.
The other famous guy I hung around with a lot that day, is someone who has a reputation as one of the nicest people in showbiz. I can confirm that, based on the time I spent with him. He was extremely friendly, and nice. He even even bothered to learn my first name. Not everyone does.
I’m talking about Weird Al Yankovic, the parody song writer, and polka master himself. I’ve dropped a lot of celebrity names in this series, but seriously, he was absolutely one of the most normal, down to earth people I’d met. He wasn’t weird at all in real life. If I’m honest, I was probably weirder than he was, and even more so now.
The one thing I recall chatting to him about was the accordion. My dad had one, and knew how to play it, and sometimes he let me have a go when I was a kid. Al told me it was the best musical instrument in the world. Personally, I preferred the electric guitar, but let’s face it, he built a successful career around the accordion. Maybe he knew something I didn’t? Probably loads of things!
The main thing with both Al, and Gilbert is they weren’t considered “top talent”, like the bands playing. So they were stuck in the side room, with me and the other hangers-on while they waited for their chance to hop on the stage, and do their run-throughs.
It was an easy, and fun day, but mainly I was looking forward to the evening. My “plus threes” were a friend of mine from NYU, and a couple of girls he invited from his nearby hometown.
Harvey G sent me home around 6pm. He wasn’t going to be there for the broadcast, one of his junior coordinators was in charge.
Crappy New Year
I showered, trimmed my short beard, and got dressed in a pair of black 501s, some motorcycle boots, a black tee, and my brand new, fancy, black leather jacket. It was sort of blazer styled, with lapels. I looked sharp.
I took public transport to the venue, I didn’t drive. I wanted to drink, and smoke weed, and whatever else might be offered to me, and I didn’t want to worry about being sober for the drive home.
I met my friends in the lobby of the building, and we all went up to the ballroom on the top floor. It was starting to fill up. I was spotted by the coordinator in charge, and she made a bee-line straight for me.
She asked me to do some little job, before the show started. I didn’t mind, I had my all-access pass, so I could come back to the ballroom when I was finished. She just needed someone collected from the ground floor lobby, and escorted backstage. So I did it.
I found my friends again, and again the coordinator approached me. This time, she asked me to come down to the lobby with her. So I did.
When we got to the lobby, she handed me a walkie-talkie. This was the last thing I needed. I told her about my arrangement with Harvey, how I was meant to be able to enjoy the show, because he said I wasn’t needed during the broadcast.
Things change, she said. She wanted me to remain in the lobby throughout the broadcast, and deal with whatever came up. She said I didn’t have a choice.
I protested. I told her I had guests upstairs. I even told her about my brand new leather jacket. And I again told her this isn’t what Harvey agreed with me. She didn’t care. Harvey is not here, was her only response.
Then she really got mean. She said she was wrong, she was going to give me a choice. Either stay in the lobby with a walkie-talkie, or she would instruct security to throw me out.
I very briefly debated just leaving, but I stayed. And I only stayed because I had people upstairs, and it would have been really shitty to just abandon them. I couldn’t believe she was threatening me like this, it was really, totally uncool. What it was, was cruel.
I know what I should have done, but there was no way I would have realised it at the time. I should have called her bluff. She still needed me the following day to help clear the ballroom, and return some bits and pieces to storage. I could, and should have leveraged that. I didn’t.
I should also say she was probably the least popular coordinator in the department, and known for being a bit vicious, and cutthroat. Some people were afraid of her, and now I finally understood why. And if you worked at MTV around this time, I bet you already figured out who I’m talking about too.
So there I was, stuck in the ground-floor lobby, with the biggest, coolest, rocking-est, rolling-est, New Year’s Eve party ever, happening 15 floors above me. I was seething. I was also completely in over my head.
I hadn’t been involved in any of the planning of this event. I didn’t know how anything was organised. The problem is that I looked the part. I had the backstage credential on a lanyard around my neck, and the walkie-talkie in my hand. People thought I had power. I had diddly squat!
There was no one on the other end of the 2-way radio. No one ever called me, and I never managed to make contact with anyone on it. It was a prop, and a distraction, as well as being a magnet for trouble.
I don’t think I answered a single question while I was in the lobby, though I was asked many of them. I didn’t know anything. I was just running interference.
I expect the evil coordinator didn’t have anyone else to fill this extremely non-vital role, and might have ended up doing it herself, if she hadn’t honed in on me. Instead, she was upstairs at the open bar, watching the headline acts.
Shit rolls downhill, and I was the king of the basecamp. If Harvey was around, he would have honoured our arrangement. He would have never asked me to spend the night in a cold, draughty lobby, never mind threatening me with expulsion.
At least my friends upstairs were having a good time. I was hoping they worked out I got swept up into some sort of work bullshit.
I spent several hours loitering in that lobby during the broadcast, but things didn’t get interesting until after the show. Remember, I looked semi-official, and I was the only “MTV person” in the lobby.
I was confronted by a very shaken group of university students from California, and their chaperone. They had won an MTV contest, and were flown to NYC by MTV to attend the concert. And during the concert, they claimed they were assaulted by members of the entourage of one of the headlining acts. They said the band’s cohorts came down from the stage during the performance, and attacked some of them.
From their demeanour, it was clear to me something unpleasant happened. The group was the Beastie Boys, and the students stressed it was hangers-on, and not the actual rap trio, who assaulted them.
I had no idea what to do with any of this information. I was about to turn 24 years old, this was way over my head, and pay grade. I was a freelance production assistant. I was pick-up truck Doug. What was I supposed to do?
There was no higher authority I could refer this too. The evil coordinator hadn’t responded to any of my walkie-talkie calls, why would she suddenly respond now? I was serving my purpose, as a deflector shield.
There were some cops around, NYC’s finest were hanging about outside. I offered to find one for these contest winners, if they wanted to report the assault. It was the best I could come up with in the moment.
The students declined. They said the chartered bus to take them to airport was due to collect them any minute, and they were on an overnight flight back to Cali. They simply didn’t have the time. All I could do was apologise on MTV’s behalf. As if I could actually speak for MTV! What a joke!
Not long after that, the actual Beastie Boys, and their boisterous entourage made their way through the lobby. I think some of them might have taken that whole “fight for your right to party” thing a bit too far.
I spotted my old acquaintance, Rick Rubin moving along through the crowd with them. I don’t think he saw me, or if he did, he didn’t recognise, or remember me, but I told you he would return. And now he has.
I spotted a few of the other performers departing. One that I remember was Andy Taylor, from Duran Duran. I was looking forward to his performance, too.
Weird Al spotted me as he was passing by, and stopped for a brief word. He said he hadn’t seen me all night, and wondered what had happened to me. I gestured at the lobby around us, and said this did. He shrugged his shoulders, smiled, and said goodnight. Told ya he was nice!
The biggest issue I had after the concert involved limousines. I imagined there were loads of them parked nearby somewhere, and that was the extent of my knowledge. But thanks to the credential, the walkie-talkie, and my mere existence in the lobby, many famous folks assumed I was in charge of them. I most certainly was not.
I had a few encounters regarding limos, but one stood out. It was one of the few times someone had a full-on star trip, diva moment with me in my entire time hanging around MTV. And the weird thing is, I was genuinely sympathetic to the situation, but I didn’t think there was anything I could do about it.
The celebrity was one of MTV’s VJ’s, not one of the original five, but one of the first they hired post-launch, “Downtown” Julie Brown.
Julie couldn’t find her limo, so she found me instead. She was having a minor meltdown, that became a major one, because I couldn’t call for her limo on my walkie-talkie.
It went on for a while, to the point where I pretended to call out on the radio to a make-believe parking garage, demanding they send Downtown Julie Brown’s limo to the entrance as soon as humanly possible. And yes, I really used her full name, including the “Downtown” part. That call was met with radio silence, as was every call out I made that night.
Julie told me she had after parties to attend. Plural!
And then I made my fatal mistake. I suggested she grab a yellow taxi to her next destination. I might have just as well asked her to eat a turd.
I don’t think she said the actual words, “how very dare you”, but it was definitely there in her tone, as she yelled at me that she couldn’t be seen, of photographed getting out a taxi!
I finally thought “fuck it”, and said to her come with me, and I lead her, and the small group accompanying her outside. I brought them to the very first limo I saw, and knocked on the driver’s window. I made sure he could see the walkie-talkie, and I flashed my MTV credentials at him. And I said in my most authoritative voice, please take Ms. Brown, and her friends wherever they want to go. Now!”
The driver began to reply, but I cut him off, and said, “look, I don’t care what you think you were doing. This is what you’re doing now. Take them wherever they want to go. Thank you.”. And with that, I opened the backdoor, and got them all into the limo. Problem solved. Phew.
Of course, I knew I probably just caused an even bigger problem, by giving someone else’s limo to Julie Brown. At this point, I didn’t care.
I went back inside the lobby, and ran straight into my friends. They’d assumed I got swept up into work stuff, so they weren’t overly concerned by my disappearance. Now, they were glad they found me. The two girls weren’t sticking around, I don’t remember why, but my friend from NYU was up for keeping the party going, if we could find one.
Not long after that, my MTV friend Steve appeared. He saw me with the walkie-talkie, and asked me if I missed the show, and was stuck in the lobby all night. I said “yep”.
He asked me if I had any weed? Again, I said “yep”. And then he asked if I was going to the afterparty? I was now, if that was an invite. It was.
I handed my walkie-talkie to a random security guard, and the three of us walked the few blocks to a small dive bar that MTV had hired out for the crew afterparty. I don’t remember exactly where it was, or even the venue’s name, I was just happy to be out of the lobby.
As we walked, Steve told me that he no longer had the car he bought from me, my old Toyota. I think he said it was stolen from a parking garage in Manhattan, which was a sad end to a cool set of wheels.
The place was already packed when we arrived, but we managed to get some drinks from the open bar. I was ready to make up for lost time. Steve said there’s meant to be a backroom, so we went looking for it.
We found the back room, grabbed a table, and I lit a joint, and passed it to Steve. I lit another, and passed it to my NYU friend, and then a third for myself. The three of us filled the room with the sweet smell of successful relaxation. It didn’t take long for other people to notice. I made many new, short term friends that night. I had a pocket full of joints that I’d pre-rolled, and I was really generous.
More than one person asked me if I had any to sell. I didn’t, but I was happy to share. Anyone who asked, got high with me that night. And I’m disappointed to say, no one else offered me any drugs, other than free drinks.
The music was loud, but I shouted over it, as I explained to my friends what had happened to me that night. Steve asked me what I was going to do about it?
It was a good question.
New Year’s Day
I got wrecked at the afterparty. I put away a large quantity of liquor, and didn’t leave until every last pre-rolled joint I brought was smoked. It was probably after 6am by the time I made it back to Hoboken.
I was meant to be back at the venue around noon, to help strike the set, and return those few bits and pieces to the storage facility on the west side of Manhattan.
At noon, I was still asleep, but at around 12:30pm, my landline phone rang for the first time. I let my answering machine get it.
It was the evil coordinator, and her first message was fake-friendly. “Hi, just wondered where you are? You were meant to be here at noon, maybe you’re stuck in traffic. Anyway, hope I see you before you hear this! Byeeeee!”.
The next message had a bit more edge to it, maybe 30-40 minutes later. The phone ringing made me stir, as did hearing the increasing rage in her evil voice, but I didn’t get up.
“It’s after one now, and still no sign of you. We’re waiting for you with all this stuff. If something’s wrong, please call me on the production line at the venue.” And then she left the number.
There was a third message, maybe an hour later, but this time, she didn’t attempt to mitigate her anger. “Look it’s getting late, and I can’t find anyone else to collect this stuff, and we need to be out of the ballroom today! We need you! If you’re there, pick up the phone!”.
I didn’t pick up the phone. It kept ringing all day after that, without a message being left. Sometimes, there was a sigh, or grunt, or I could hear a handset being slammed down hard. She kept phoning until easily after 6pm, before she gave up.
When I finally emerged from my recovery slumber, and listened to the messages, all I could do was laugh. It served her right that I shafted her on New Year’s Day, just like she shafted me the night before. Imagine how difficult it must have been for her to find someone willing to transport those small items on a public holiday.
Maybe MTV got charged another day’s rent on the ballroom? I hoped it didn’t go that far.
I had no plans to go out after the broadcast, and I only cut loose because I missed out on the main party, where I was meant to just be a guest, and not a useless walkie-talkie lobby slave.
I didn’t have Harvey’s home number, so I couldn’t phone him. And I should have phoned him, once he was back in the office, but I didn’t. As regrets go, this is absolutely my biggest one.
That younger version of me didn’t see the point in speaking to Harvey. In my mind, I was the freelance nobody, and the evil coordinator was on-staff, and worked for Harvey. He hired her, so I assumed he would side with her.
The older version of me sitting here now, wishes I phoned Harvey, and told him my side of the story. He hired me too, but I didn’t see it that way at the time. I should have mattered too. At least, if he sided with her after listening to me, it would have been his choice, and not my projection.
I let immaturity get the better of me, and it is only through age, and experience, that I’ve finally understood this. This wasn’t worth blowing up my relationship with MTV, and Harvey, but I let it happen anyway.
In the unlikely event Harvey G ever reads this, and the even more unlikely event that he remembers me, or this incident, I would want to apologise to him. Profusely. I should have handled this with something other than petulance. I should have been the bigger person, instead of enacting petty revenge on the evil coordinator. I guess it was a life lesson that I learned too late.
I had recorded the broadcast at home on my VCR, expecting to watch it at some point, to see if I could spot myself in the audience. I wasn’t in the audience, so that became pointless, and I could never bring myself to ever watch the show. I discovered there is a version of it on YouTube, and I may force myself to finally have a look. If I ever do, I’ll update this paragraph.
In the final part of MTV Redux, Part Four – The Death of the Dream – things keep going a little longer than expected, but the dream ultimately dies.
I never heard from Harvey, nor anyone else from the Production Management, and Operations department ever again. I posted off my invoice for my work over New Year, and they paid me. And that was the end, or so I thought.
I don’t know if was by design, or if they weren’t told, but the MTV promo department continued to hire me directly after my Crappy New Year. I remember the first little job they booked me for, and it included my pick-up truck too.
It was a small location shoot, they wanted to film a channel bumper with the MTV Gong during Chinese New Year celebrations in New York City. My assignment was to collect the gong, and the director, bring them both to Chinatown, link up with the film crew, shoot the promo, and then return the gong, and director back to base.
I mentioned I did lots of these little jobs, but this one is memorable for two reasons. Chinese New Year obviously, which makes the time, February 1987, easy to recall. But the other was that I got to spend a decent amount of time with the promo director, a nice guy named Mark Pellington.
I’d worked with Mark before, and had met him when I was an intern. He was friendly, and chatty, and knew I was studying film, and TV at NYU. I think he may have asked for me, because I was so cost effective with my little pick-up truck.
Mark’s had a long, and fairly successful career. He’s directed features, and won many awards. Looks like he’s still active, too.
The actual promo was simple, and quite cool. At the end of a sequence of firecrackers rigged along buildings exploding, someone was going to bash the MTV Gong. We got it in one take. It was an easy day.
I transported that gong
For me, the biggest surprise of the day, was to be back on the clock for MTV. I didn’t expect it, nor did I mention my exceeded expectations.
I wouldn’t say I was overwhelmed with work from the MTV promo department, but I would get the occasional small gig with them, some of them on location. And that gave me another idea.
I bought a cellphone. Well, we didn’t call them cellphones back then. In the 80s, we had carphones, installed and hardwired into vehicles. They were power hungry, and you could really only use them when the engine was running. Only I didn’t buy a carphone, I bought a field phone. Basically, it was a standard car phone, stuck on top of a humungous battery, that weighed a ton. I started hiring that out, along with me, and my pick-up.
Somehow, I managed to keep my MTV dream alive, for at least a few more months.
The Death of the Dream
Just like you never forget your first time, your last time stays with you too. This was the last time I worked for MTV. Don’t worry, that doesn’t spoil the story, or the ending.
It was another promo, it was in June 1987. The location was somewhere in New Jersey, west of Hoboken. I can’t remember the exact location, but it was like 45 mins to an hour away from home, on some scrub land.
The promo was for a car giveaway. Technically it was an open top Wrangler Jeep, complete with a roll bar. It was a pretty good prize.
I can’t remember why they hired me, I know they wanted me to bring the field phone. I don’t recall them needing me for the pick-up truck, or transporting anything with me.
I don’t remember the director, or cameraman. I didn’t get to spend much time with either one of them. How I spent my day, was completely unexpected.
I don’t remember the full concept of the promo. It’s not like anyone showed me a script, or the story boards. The basic idea of was that a goth secretary was the main character, and they hired an actress to dress the part, and drive the jeep for whatever shots they needed.
Wrangler dropped the Jeep off at the location first thing in the morning, and just left it with us. The actress spent a long time in a trailer, getting into costume, heavy goth make-up, and a giant bee-hive wig.
As they got ready to take the first shot of the day, they discovered the actress couldn’t actually drive the Jeep because it had a manual transmission. They checked she had a driver’s license, but no one asked if she could drive with a stick shift. Turns out, she couldn’t.
They needed her to learn how to drive with a stick shift, and clutch right there on the spot. And guess who was the only person on that location who knew how to use a manual transmission?
The coordinator on the job remembered that my pick-up truck had a stick shift. Pick-up truck Doug was now driving instructor Doug. I didn’t have that on the bingo card for that day. Doug to the rescue!
It was a Jeep like this
I was introduced to the actress. She was really heavily made up, in a bizarre costume, and the bee-hive wig was massive. She was very apologetic about the situation, but it wasn’t her fault. I don’t think anyone knew the Jeep was a manual, but it’s one of those details that could have derailed the day, and nearly did. I’m sure someone caught shit for it, and I know it wasn’t the actress.
I wish I could remember her name. We spent a couple of hours together, as I tried to show her how to get the Jeep rolling without stalling. I don’t know if I was a bad teacher, or she was a bad student, but if I was to guess, I’d say it was the pressure she felt that kept her from picking up the skill needed to take off without stalling.
While I was playing driving instructor, the rest of the crew were playing with my field phone. They all made calls, it was quite the novelty. I remember the director made loads of work calls too, during the downtime waiting for us to finish the lessons. It was their dime, if they wanted to spend it on silly phone calls, feel free.
This is not the actual model, but very similar to what I had back then
The director was growing impatient, as well as losing the daylight, clouds were starting to move in, and rain was threatened. He came up with a solution. I drove the Jeep, while the actress pretended to push or chase it. I was kept out of all the shots, but I did do all my own stunts. The director said he would make it work, and in some ways, he thought it would be funnier visually.
I’d grown a bit friendly with the actress. Even through the stress, and uncertainty, we were flirting a bit, so once we wrapped, I asked her if she wanted to grab a ride back to NYC with me in my pick-up truck. She accepted.
The actress went back to the make-up trailer to get out of her get-up, and back into her own clothes. When she returned, I was very pleasantly surprised at how beautiful she was in real life. I had no idea, it was her personality that had grabbed me, her looks were just a bonus.
Everyone drove off, the camera crew, the producer, director, and MTV people all in separate vehicles, and me and my new actress friend in my pick-up truck.
Less than a mile from the location, my truck’s engine made a really funny, loud noise, and then it died. I managed to pull over onto the shoulder, and tried to re-start the engine. No luck.
I got out, and popped the hood. Not that I had any sort of clue, I’m not a mechanic, but it’s what you do, isn’t it? I looked under the truck, and the engine too. I could see oil leaking out, a lot of it. That’s not good.
The truck was dead, but that’s OK, because I had my field phone. I could call for help. Only when I tried to use it, the battery was flat from all the fun phone calls the crew made. I plugged it into the cigarette lighter, but without the engine running, there wasn’t enough power to even turn it on. Ut oh.
I locked up the truck, and we started walking. It was a fairly empty highway, but ahead I could see what looked like a strip mall. We made our way there, only it wasn’t a strip mall. The threatened rain began to fall.
There were two businesses at this location, a small convenience store, and a porno cinema. Guess which one had the pay phone?
I went inside the cinema while my new friend waited outside, on the convenience store side of the building, I might add. She was definitely not impressed with being stranded in the depths of NJ, with a guy she’d only just met. And I think the porno cinema was the icing on the comedy cake.
I told the guy at the ticket counter I didn’t need admission, just his pay phone. He asked me what I really needed, and I told him about my breakdown. He said don’t bother with the pay phone, and he picked up a phone on ticket counter, and rang a friend of his, who was a local tow truck driver. He gave the guy the details, and told me to go back to the truck, and wait. He said it wouldn’t be too long, as his friend was close. That was easier than I expected it to be.
We walked back to my truck, and waited. The tow truck guy turned up quickly, like within a half hour, maybe things were looking up.
He hooked up my pick-up to his tow truck, and asked if we both needed a ride back to Hoboken, meaning me, and my new actress friend. It was a weird question, considering it was obvious we were both stranded, but when we got to the cab of his tow truck, we discovered why he had asked.
Sitting inside the cab of the tow truck, was the driver’s 11 year old daughter, and the truck was a three seater. There were four of us.
So we set off, with the driver in the driver’s seat, obviously, and his daughter in the middle seat. I was in the right side passenger seat, and sat in my lap, was my actress friend. Awkward!
I can’t say it was a particularly comfortable, or happy trip. It took close to an hour. There was no cuddling, she did her best to pretend she was anywhere else. Once we reached my place, and the guy backed my dead pick-up into my driveway. I paid him, and he and his daughter departed.
I asked my new friend if she wanted some dinner, but she declined. She was pretty pissed off by this point, and I didn’t blame her. She asked me to get her a taxi back to Manhattan, and told me she didn’t have any cash.
We went up to my condo, and I called for a cab. I gave her 20 bucks for the taxi, and when it arrived, she disappeared too. We didn’t even exchange numbers. My dead pick-up killed any chances of a first date.
The next day, I phoned my contact in the promo department, and told them what had happened with my truck, and the actress. They were not sympathetic, and didn’t offer to reimburse me for her cab fare. All they did was confirm I no longer had the pick-up truck. They never phoned again.
Epilogue, and Regrets
The pick-up truck really was dead, well the engine sure was. It had ‘thrown a rod”, whatever that means, and it punctured the “oil pan”, whatever that is. It needed a new engine, and a friend of my dad’s said he could sort it out cheap.
I got the truck towed down to the Jersey Shore, and while waiting at my dad’s friend’s garage, the truck got hit by another vehicle, and totalled. I ended up with an insurance cheque. That truck may have been cursed.
It wasn’t just the truck that died that day, so did my work with MTV. I wouldn’t work again for well over a year after that, I didn’t know what to do with myself.
MTV was a squandered opportunity for me. If I was more mature, and a bit sharper, I might have been able to turn it into something more meaningful, instead of just a launching pad.
I know I could have done more for them, I just didn’t know how to get there. I never pitched a single idea to anyone, I didn’t have access to the real creative side of the organisation. I was involved with lots of production, just not at the end of it I wanted to be.
My experience with MTV didn’t go to waste, far from it. It gave me an amazing foundation in film, and TV production, much more than I got from NYU.
I never finished my degree, either. During my last semester, in the fall of 1986, my attendance, and interest in studying waned. The biggest setback I had, is that my narrative film class didn’t choose my script to produce. Every student had a script, but not every film was made. I’ll spare you the finer details, but they were right not to make it, for some practical, rather than creative reasons.
The script was based on a one-act play I had written for another class, and it had received an “A”. It was called “Jumpers”, and it was about two people who bump into each other on the ledge of a tall building in NYC, as they were both considering jumping off during their lunch hour. I’m fun at parties.
Obviously, it wouldn’t have been a location shoot, and would have required building a set that was far out of the capability of college students, so it wasn’t approved. It was the right decision, but it still pissed me off. I gave up after that.
I still wanted to work in film, or TV, only now I had the worry that a lack of a degree would be a hinderance. I couldn’t have been more wrong. In well over 30 years of fairly continuous work, no one ever asked me if I had a degree. On my CV, I just listed the years I attended university, and the subjects I studied, plus my relevant work experience. No one every asked for a transcript, no one ever asked anything, except what I did last. All that said, I do regret not completing the programme, if for no other reason, than to tick a box.
Here’s a potted summary of what came next. I got hired as a coordinator/fixer on an Australian TV documentary in 1988, through a friend of a friend. It was 6 weeks work, travelling around the northeast, Boston, Philly, and NYC. They were shooting on film, and I also did some work as the camera assistant. I got lots of hands on experience with the camera too. It was an Aaton.
The subject was welfare systems around the world, so we filmed in lots of deprived areas. It was my first real media road trip with hotel stays and everything. It was hard work, and lots of fun, and the people were really nice.
I also learned how to score weed in strange cities. Here’s a top tip for you. Don’t bother with bellhops, or the concierge. If you want to find weed, find someone who works in the hotel kitchen. They’ll never let you down.
I added the Oz docco to my CV, and started sending it out again. I found an actual staff job with a Japanese production company via an advert in the New York Times. They were looking to expand into MTV style programming, and my resume caught the eye of their production manager. I was called in for an interview, and hired on the spot. I worked for them for just over a year.
One of my responsibilities with the Japanese production company was producing feature stories for Japanese TV news. They were mainly “and finally” items, but I got loads more experience in production, only now as the producer. I gained even more production skills working with them.
I’ll drop one last name. The Japanese company had also made some stuff for US audiences, including a PBS series called “Faces of Japan“, hosted by Dick Cavett. I had nothing to do with the series, it was produced before I worked there, but Dick used to turn up for parties. I really liked him. I’m a fan, I’d even read his autobiography, and I got to chat with him a fair bit. That’s it.
None of the MTV-styled stuff I worked on at the Japanese company went anywhere, which I found frustrating, so I started looking for something else.
I’ll keep this brief, but the Japanese company did some co-productions with a company called Visnews. They’re now known as Reuters TV.
I got to know people at Visnews, and they started giving me freelance work. And then they offered me a staff job. And then a transfer to London. That’s how I ended up here. I worked for Visnews for around 5 years.
Visnews eventually led me to the Associated Press, when they launched their first TV agency, APTV in London in 1994. I was a foundation staff member. That company is now known as APTN, Associated Press Television News. I was with them for 9 years.
I then landed at BBC News, where I was employed for 16 years as a senior broadcast journalist. I only gave it up because of some unexpected, heavy duty health issues. I’m not working now, but I’d still like to be.
And that’s the straight line from my internship at MTV in 1986 to the present day. I wouldn’t be sitting here in London right now, if it weren’t for the solid foundation in media production I haphazardly constructed at MTV.
I know I’ve mentioned I have some regrets, and I do. Who doesn’t?
I feel like ultimately MTV especially, was a huge squandered opportunity, but I still wouldn’t change a second of it. All I ever really wanted for as long as I can remember, was to have an interesting life, but I learned early that plans are for suckers.
Life happens to you whether you like it or not, more than you make it happen for yourself. I let life happen to me, and I’m glad I did.
I’ve had a lot of fun, met loads of really cool people, and I’ve done some cool stuff too. And on that score, I don’t regret a goddamn thing.
The End
If you enjoyed MTV Redux, it’s part of something larger, I’m calling the “Sex, Drugs, and Rock & Roll Collection“, a showcase of my most recent writing, all produced in a 5 week period.
The next piece I’ve published is a short story, called Time Aside. It’s a twisty tale of time travel, anti-natalism, and regret. You’ll dig it!
Or check out Hippy Highlights, for a curated archive of the very best of the northlondonhippy.
(Photo taken Sept 2012, on my first NBH nightshift)
I have worked in the media for the past 35 years, the last 30 as a journalist. But the role I am most proud of, is my work from 2013 to 2019, as a background artist on the BBC’s Ten O’Clock News.
I didn’t start out at the BBC as a human prop in the background of the network news. From 2004, I worked there as a senior broadcast journalist too.
(TVC at dawn)
When the network news teams moved from Television Centre, into New Broadcasting House, in the spring of 2013, I got to make my on-air debut as a background artist. We don’t like to be called extras. Using that word only diminishes us.
There’s a good chance you might have spotted me during one of my many recurring appearances. I played “journalist rushing between desks”, a role I put my very heart and soul into, night after night.
I joined the BBC less than a year after I left Associated Press Television News. I worked at AP for around a decade, as a field producer, cameraman and news desk editor.
When I left AP, I had only one career goal, to work for BBC News. I eventually wangled an introduction via an old friend to the right person and started freelancing in the Spring of 2004. I got my first contract in the autumn of that year and was a member of staff until earlier this year, when I left their employ.
BBC News initially hired me as a World Duty Editor, working on the foreign desk, and I started out on the nightshift. Fifteen years later, I was still only working nights, and still working in effectively the same job. That’s half of my thirty year career as a journalist. Go me.
It wasn’t easy, joining the BBC later in life. There was so much jargon and BBC-speak, that I felt lost for the first 6 months I was there. And it is just so big. There was a lot to learn to do my new job. I was lucky that a couple of people, and one in particular, helped me get up to speed in those early days. Otherwise I would never have lasted long enough to become a background artist, when the time finally came to have that very small, yet vital on-air role.
(That’s BBC News foreground artist/newsreader Fiona Bruce on-set, with background artists/journalists behind him)
If you’ve watched BBC News on TV in the last 7 years, you no doubt noticed that behind the main set where Huw Edwards sits, is the actual BBC newsroom. That’s where I worked, that’s where I sat. If you think the CCTV surveillance is bad where you work, imagine having it broadcast to millions of people, night after night, in high definition.
When we first went live from NBH, everyone was extremely uptight about what those of us in the background might do. Journalists are notoriously unpredictable, just ask any politician.
We were discouraged from standing up and we were told not to wear bright colours. On one of the early broadcasts, someone had a hi-vis vest on, as they were preparing to depart and cycle home in the dark. It stood out, like hi-vis yellow is meant to do. But it was noticed by management, and hi-vis clothing was quickly banned from our shop floor. I think it still is to this very day. I hope that’s not a trade secret!
For the first couple of weeks, a squad of spotters patrolled the newsroom floor during BBC One network news broadcasts. They were in direct contact via radio headsets, with managers watching screens in the gallery. It was the spotter’s job was to quickly rush over on command from the gallery, to point out when people violated the rules of behaviour in the background. Mainly they just barked at us to “get down”. A lot. It was weird. I bet they had experience working as baby wranglers on a nappy advert before this gig.
As I mentioned, I only worked nights, and the Ten O’Clock news went out within the first 90 minutes of my arrival. In that time, I really would be rushing around, trying to speak to people who had been on all day, asking them questions, about what happened while I slept. Once they went home, that was it, I was on my own, so it was always good to get as much info as possible from them.
I had an actual, operational need to be in constant motion. So my character, “journalist rushing between desks” had motivation and a rich and complex backstory. I hope you agree it allowed my performance to be more multilayered, nuanced, and convincing.
The patrolling spotters didn’t like me, or care at all, why I had to move around during the news. I was yelled at more than once, to “get down”. It was about as much fun as it sounds.
When they told me to “get down” I had to constantly resist the huge urge to jump up on the desk and shout “gimme a beat!” and then do my best choreography. But then I would remember I was a short, fat, bald, middle-aged guy, with zero dancing skill. It was always a crushing blow.
What was worse, is for maybe the first 6 months of being in the new building, my colleagues were constantly telling me they spotted me on TV during the news.
It was always the same. My shift would finish around 7am, I would pass someone on the spiral stairs, or near the revolving doors, or outside on the piazza, and they would say, “I saw you on TV last night”. Or “you sure looked busy buzzing around behind Huw”. Or my personal favourite, “you looked like you were in a hurry last night.” Of course I bloody was! I was “journalist rushing between desks”!
As nice as it was to be complimented by my peers for my convincing performance, in truth I would have preferred to have never been spotted. I never asked to be a background artist. I was happy enough, just doing my real job as an overnight, duty news editor.
My specialty at BBC News, if I can call it that, was breaking news. When something unexpected or unforeseen occurred in the middle of the night, that was when I got to shine. Earthquakes, plane crashes, any disaster really. And high profile deaths too. Good news never happens in the dead of night. Only bad.
In my job as a duty news editor, I was responsible for organising the BBC’s initial response to big, breaking news and I’ve dealt with a huge range of stories, from the 2004 Boxing Day tsunami in Asia, to the Grenfell Tower fire in 2017 and many, many more. If you watched any TV news in the last 30 years, there’s pretty good chance you saw something I had a hand in covering. That’s not a boast, it’s just a fact.
And even though I’ve lost track and count of the number of major and minor events I have covered in the last 30 years, they have had an accumulated effect on me. How could they not? Professional detachment can only get you so far.
I still find it hard to let go of the enormity and horror of Grenfell, and I still have the occasional nightmare about it. And it still hurts many years later, to think about friends I’ve lost in the line of duty. There is a personal cost to my former line of work, and everyone ends up paying for it, eventually.
After a period of ill health last year, and my subsequent recovery, I decided to leave the BBC. It wasn’t an easy decision, but I know it is time for me to move on. I’m a full-time hippy now, something I have secretly wanted to be for a very long time.
I will cherish my time at BBC News, and as a journalist. It was great place to work, full of smart, dedicated, hard-working people. And even though new challenges and adventures hopefully await me, I know I will miss that very special time when I was a background artist on the BBC Ten O’Clock News.
I understand they have had to recast my role. It wouldn’t be the BBC News without someone portraying “journalist rushing between desks”. I wish my replacements nothing but success and all the best, as I do to all my former colleagues. I will miss you all.
Doug – the northlondonhippy
4th March 2020
(That was me, 15 years ago)
After a 30 year career as a journalist, working for some of the largest news organisations in the world, including Associated Press and Reuters, and 15 years as a duty news editor for BBC News, Doug – the northlondonhippy is now a full time writer, hippy, and the United Kingdom’s very first cannabis evangelist. Hallelujah and amen to that!
Doug is also the author of “Personal Use by the northlondonhippy.” “Personal Use” chronicles Doug’s first 35 years of drug use, while calling for urgent drug law reform. It’s a cracking read, you will laugh, you will cry, and you can bet your ass that you will wish you were a hippy too!
“Personal Use” is available as a digital download on all platforms, including Amazon’s Kindle, Apple’s iBooks and Barnes & Noble’s Nook. The paperback is available from all online retailers and book shops everywhere.
You can also find Doug – the northlondonhippy on Twitter: @nthlondonhippy but only if you look really hard
Personal Use – Book Montage
Copyright: All words and photos are copyright the northlondonhippy…
…except the screen-grab of BBC News, which is used fairly without permission, but with affection.
It might not seem like it, just yet, but I am now a full time hippy. Yay! The countdown clock has ticked down and for the first time in a decade and a half, I am now unemployed.
I spent the last 30 years working as a journalist, mixed media really, but mostly TV news. The last 15 years was for the same company. It’s one you’ve heard of. but I’m not revealing it, yet. I’m not revealing much of anything, now. I’m still waiting for my final pay cheque. Once that’s banked, then I can pull back the curtain. I’m crazy, but I’m not stupid.
I will be publishing a piece in the next couple of weeks, which reveals my identity. Somewhat.
Spoiler alert: You will get my first name, and you will find out where I used to work. I’m still a nobody, my name won’t make a difference. I will still be the northlondonhippy, but I want to claim my real-life identity publicly, anyway. I have wanted to do this for a long time.
There will be a companion piece, which lays out my goals in my new role as the UK first self-proclaimed, cannabis evangelist. It’s not a crowded field, but I still want to make my mark. Hallelujah and amen to that!
Now that I have the freedom to operate a bit more openly, I want to spend the next few weeks getting some advice, I want to contact some people I admire who fight to reform our drug laws, plus some campaigners in other fields, and some media folk too. I want whatever I end up doing to have some impact.
Personal Use – Book Montage
When I wrote and published “Personal Use”, I had no expectations. It was a fun, secret side project. I used to joke if I sold a million copies, I would quit my job and be a full time hippy. I haven’t sold a million, not even close, yet here I am.
So while you wait for me to do whatever it is I am going to do, here’s a selection of 10 hippy highlights to keep you entertained:
The northlondonhippy is an anonymous author, cannabis evangelist and recreational drug user, who has been writing about drugs and drug use for over 15 years. In real life, the hippy was a senior multimedia journalist until Feb 2020. With over 30 years experience of working in broadcast news, the hippy’s now left journalism to embark on a career as a full time hippy, writer and cannabis evangelist.
The hippy’s book, ‘Personal Use’ details the hippy’s first 35 years of recreational drug taking, while calling for urgent drug law reform. It’s a cracking read, you will laugh, you will cry and you can bet your ass that you will wish you were a hippy too!
“Personal Use” is available as a digital download on all platforms, including Amazon’s Kindle, Apple’s iBooks and Barnes & Noble’s Nook. The paperback is available from all online retailers and book shops everywhere.
The hippy says his next book, “High Hopes” will be published in 2020. The hippy says a lot of things.
You can also find the northlondonhippy on Twitter: @nthlondonhippybut only if you look really hard.
And, my fellow earthlings, I tried to convince everyone that we are all Citizens of Everywhere. It’s our only hope.
There’s not a lot to be optimistic about these days, but we can all distract ourselves from the mess we’re in. My distraction, ironically, is hope. Don’t lose hope, we can all help make things a little less miserable. This is my attempt to do just that.
Greetings from north London! Thank you for your letter! I hope both you and Grandpa Hippy are well! How are things in Denver?
I am still very envious of the legal cannabis market in Colorado, you and Grandpa Hippy are very lucky! I’ve read how legal cannabis has been embraced by by senior citizens, but I was still surprised to read how much Grandpa has been benefitting from it. And your state has so much revenue from the taxes on it. They have taken in over a billion dollars in tax, in 5 years. That could pay for so much!
And you, Grandma, getting into edibles, I am very impressed you are enjoying them so much. I live in a dry country. While we do have an extensive unregulated cannabis market here in the UK, we lack the choice, quality and safety of your legal, regulated cannabis products.
I dream of day, in the very near future, when cannabis becomes legal and regulated here in the United Kingdom. It’s not like we would be creating a new market, but taking the existing market and legitimising it. Imagine quality checks, potency testing and labelling, a variety of products to suit all tolerances and requirements, some could even be certified organic! The possibilities are endless, as are the opportunities, if only we had a properly pro-business government. And cannabis businesses are some of the fastest growing businesses in the world right now, in a sector that is already worth billions. It is a shame the politicians here ignore all the evidence and cling to silly, discredited thinking about cannabis. “Reefer Madness” never died here in good ol’ Blighty. It is alive and well, and still seeing people put in jail for possession. We are still in the dark ages here.
And as bad as all that sounds, it’s actually even worse because the UK is the world’s number one exporter of medicinal cannabis. That should be good news, well, it is for the people who profit from it, but it does nothing for UK citizens, whose access to medicinal cannabis is so limited as to be described as still having no access to it, at all.
Check out this hypocrisy… either the UK government believes cannabis has medicinal properties, but lies about to its citizens, while allowing its export OR the UK government genuinely thinks cannabis has no medicinal value, but still allows companies to export it, effectively endorsing snake oil. Neither view is particularly flattering. For what it is worth, I subscribe to the former, while if the government could endorse one view, they would prefer the latter. Either way, it’s a terrible situation here, that needs urgently to change.
Thank you again for the invitation to move to Denver to live with you and Grandpa Hippy. Of course, it is tempting, especially with my health and cannabis use, but I think it is more important to stay here in the UK and fight for what is right. And what is right is to insure the people of the United Kingdom have the same access to cannabis, that you have. I know I could move someplace with more suitable cannabis laws, but I think I have a moral responsibility to help change and improve the cannabis laws here.
Write back soon, Grandma. And please send me your medicated brownie recipe! And some shatter! Just kidding, but not kidding, but kidding, but you could try if you want.
With lots of love from your Grandson,
the hippy xx
(In real life, all four of my grandparents have been dead probably longer than you have been alive. But if I did have living grandparents, and they did live in Colorado, or another legal territory, and we did correspond by letter, and I had to send a reply today, this is the letter I would send. Other than imaginary living grandparents, everything in this letter is 100% factually accurate.)
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The northlondonhippy is an anonymous author, online cannabis activist and recreational drug user, who has been writing about drugs and drug use for over 15 years. In real life, the hippy is a senior multimedia journalist with over 30 years experience of working in the industry.
The hippy’s book, ‘Personal Use’ details the hippy’s first 35 years of recreational drug taking, while calling for urgent drug law reform. It’s a cracking read, you will laugh, you will cry and you can bet your ass that you will wish you were a hippy too!
“Personal Use” is available as a digital download on all platforms, including Amazon’s Kindle, Apple’s iBooks and Barnes & Noble’s Nook. The paperback is available from all online retailers and book shops everywhere.
You can also find the northlondonhippy on Twitter: @nthlondonhippy
These are the shocking results of a newly released study linking tea drinking with crime and mental illness: A staggering 98.6% of all murders, rapists, and muggers drink tea! And even more startling, the same percentage of people who develop severe forms of psychosis also consume this pernicious beverage.
This landmark study, funded by ATG (Avoid Tea Group) was conducted over 10 years by a very respected research group based at the King of Fools College in South London and their affiliated organisation, Truly, Madly, Deeply (TMD) Hospital.
(Shhhh, don’t tell anyone, but the ATG is funded by the coffee industry.)
Lead researcher, Dr. I.H. Atedope, has dedicated his life to proving the link between mental illness, violence, crime and the consumption of home brewed, street tea, said this at the launch of this report,
“The link between severe mental illness, violent crime and home brewed tea has been confirmed by this research. Nearly every person we have studied in the last 10 years, has consumed tea. And I am talking about street tea. English Breakfast, Earl Grey, or Oolong, it is known by many names, but its effect on behaviour is profound.
We have seen a sharp increase in street tea consumption in the last several decades, and while rates of violent crime and levels of psychosis have remained steady, we are certain that street tea drinking is behind the fact that the United Kingdom has one of the highest rates of mental illness in all of Western Europe. Coupled with the recent alarming rise in violent crime, the obvious connection between tea and everything bad, is undeniable.
Poverty, austerity, and a lack of opportunity have nothing to do with this. Trust us, we’re scientists! It’s the tea!
(Pointing at slide projected on screen behind him) Look, it’s on a pie chart, you can’t be any clearer than that.”
It should, because this is practically word for word, what ends up on the front pages of our national newspapers, a few times a year, only substitute the word cannabis for tea.
Think about your reaction, reading all of that, about tea. But, but, but, you say, you’ve been drinking tea your entire life, with no ill effects, so this is not even remotely, slightly true. nor could it be.
Guess what? That’s exactly how experienced cannabis consumers react when we read made-up scare stories about cannabis causing psychosis.
Cannabis does not cause psychosis any more than drinking tea could.
Cannabis, or rather certain strains or components, are actually beneficial to many health conditions, including psychosis and other mental illnesses, but because of decades of silly, pointless prohibition, science is falling behind the truth.
There is an institutional bias against cannabis, especially from certain groups and organisations, which means they decide the direction and result of their studies in the planning stages, and interpret the data, to support their predetermined conclusions.
It is a unique obsession here in the UK, but they are trying to spread this nonsense around the world. And it is working, as prohibitionists point to cannabis studies done in the UK as evidence that cannabis causes psychosis.
British drug expert supreme, Professor David Nutt, explains that cannabis use is misrepresented in the UK, saying
Professor David Nutt is a hero
“This fear of cannabis-induced psychosis is a particularly British one, largely because it has received significant support from UK academics. However, the evidential base is weak…”
I have no doubt that there is a a correlation between cannabis and mental illness, as I know from my own personal experience that cannabis is extraordinarily beneficial to relieving many of the symptoms.
But correlation does not equal causation, as noted drug experts, Dr. Carl Hart and Dr. Charles Ksir, are at pains to point out repeatedly. Here’s a long extract from a piece they contributed to the Guardian in January 2019:
“Does marijuana cause psychotic disorders such as schizophrenia, and do associated symptoms like paranoia lead to violent crimes?
As scientists with a combined 70-plus years of drug education and research on psychoactive substances, we find [these] assertions to be misinformed and reckless.
It is true that people diagnosed with psychosis are more likely to report current or prior use of marijuana than people without psychosis. The easy conclusion to draw from that is that marijuana use caused an increased risk of psychosis, and it is that easy answer that [prohibitionists have] seized upon. However, this ignores evidence that psychotic behaviour is also associated with higher rates of tobacco use, and with the use of stimulants and opioids. Do all these things “cause” psychosis, or is there another, more likely answer? In our many decades of college teaching, one of the most important things we have tried to impart to our students is the distinction between correlation (two things are statistically associated) and causation (one thing causes another). For example, the wearing of light clothing is more likely during the same months as higher sales of ice-cream, but we do not believe that either causes the other.
In our extensive 2016 review of the literature we concluded that those individuals who are susceptible to developing psychosis (which usually does not appear until around the age of 20) are also susceptible to other forms of problem behaviour, including poor school performance, lying, stealing and early and heavy use of various substances, including marijuana. Many of these behaviours appear earlier in development, but the fact that one thing occurs before another also is not proof of causation. (One of the standard logical fallacies taught in logic classes: after this, therefore because of this.) It is also worth noting that 10-fold increases in marijuana use in the UK from the 1970s to the 2000s were not associated with an increase in rates of psychosis over this same period, further evidence that changes in cannabis use in the general population are unlikely to contribute to changes in psychosis.”
Yet, in the face of this evidence, these false claims about cannabis continue to be newspaper headlines that dominate the news and people’s consciousnesses.
At best, the science is unclear, and I am being extremely generous with the truth in saying that. But at the worst, all of this is being exaggerated and misrepresented so that users can continue to be demonised and criminalised for absolutely no good reason. It is a tragedy that flawed 20th century thinking is being dragged into the 21st century to cause more misery for millions.
Cannabis isn’t for everyone. Luckily, there is no mandatory programme to force anyone to use it. Thank god, because that means there’s more for me.
It also means if it doesn’t agree with you, you don’t need to have any. But for the sweet love of god, let the people who do need it, or enjoy it, to do so, safely and without the threat of arrest.
I started smoking weed when I was 18 years old. I didn’t know it at the time, but my use was medicinal, even then. I’ve used it effectively to treat my anxiety and depression for nearly 40 years. It’s helped me with back pain, it’s helped me with other ailments. It is one of the safest therapeutically active substances known to man. That’s not a quote from me, but from a former DEA judge in America. You can find the full quote in my book, “Personal Use”, which is available from all good retailers online and in real life. (This has been a promotional message from the northlondonhippy.)
One of the biggest problems is trying to fight decades of misinformation and lies. People have been force-fed bullshit about weed their entire lives, so when presented with the truth, many don’t know what to believe.
My authority comes from my own personal experience, nearly four decades of personal use of this wonderful plant. I’ve grown it, smoked it, vaped it, ate it, and written about it extensively for over 15 years. Once I even I plugged it up my butt. OK, that last one is a total lie, but the rest, hand on heart, is true.
Cannabis is not the problem. Cannabis is the solution. Whether you’re denying epileptic children their medicine, or stopping responsible adults from having a choice of relaxing intoxicants, the prohibition of cannabis, which was built on a foundation of lies. is a cruel, uncaring policy, that needs to change.
So let’s change it!
The public support a change in our archaic drug laws, science and medicine support a change in the laws too. Even the police would like to see a sensible change to the law. It is only our impotent politicians who are preventing this sensible move.
From creating a new legal industry, with many new jobs, to helping our nation become healthier, legalising cannabis is a win/win for everyone, but it is especially a win for people who are being needlessly criminalised because they consume a plant.
The case for decriminalising and/or legalising is crystal clear. However, the forces of evil that are aligned to keep it prohibited won’t give up easily. Neither will we. Those of us who fight tirelessly to “free the weed” won’t give up either. And unlike the other side, we have all that is right, moral and good behind us. And because of that, we will prevail!
UPDATE:
Just as I was putting the finishing touches on this piece, this story popped up:
Study: Cannabis Use Not Independently Associated With Psychosis In Young People
Thursday, 02 May 2019
Logroño, Spain: Adolescents’ cannabis use history is not an independent predictor of an elevated risk of psychosis, according to data published in the journal Adicciones.
Investigators affiliated with the University of La Rioja in Spain explored the relationship between psychotic-like experiences and cannabis use in a representative sample of over 1,500 Spanish adolescents.
They reported that initially identified associations between cannabis use and psychosis were no longer present once researchers controlled for confounding variables, such as socioeconomic status, alcohol use, tobacco smoking, and comorbid psychopathology.
Authors concluded, “In this study, it was found that after controlling for the effect of the multiple relevant co-variables, the use of cannabis was not related to the frequency and distress associated with psychotic experiences reported by adolescents. … These results suggest that the relationships established between psychotic-like experiences and cannabis are complex and mediated by relevant variables.”
The northlondonhippy is an anonymous author, online cannabis activist and recreational drug user, who has been writing about drugs and drug use for over 15 years. In real life, the hippy is a multimedia journalist with over 30 years experience of working in the industry.
The hippy’s book, ‘Personal Use’ details the hippy’s first 35 years of recreational drug taking, while calling for urgent drug law reform. It’s a cracking read, you will laugh, you will cry and you can bet your ass that you will wish you were a hippy too!
“Personal Use” is available as a digital download on all platforms, including Amazon’s Kindle, Apple’s iBooks and Barnes & Noble’s Nook. The paperback is available from all online retailers and book shops everywhere.
You can also find the northlondonhippy on Twitter: @nthlondonhippy – follow him and receive a free gift*)
