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A New York Minute: It’s All Greek To Me

9 Oct

October 9, 2015


Hey! We’re back with a New York Minute for you. Some of you out there may still remember those. Anyway, buckle up and away we go.

They’re filming a movie a couple of blocks away from me. I never did find out if it was a movie or TV show, but it was filmed at a Greek diner and the scene they shot over the course of a week was a police standoff. The actors were not familiar to me, and judging by the lack of autograph seekers or publicity they weren’t big names. There was your standard plainclothes cop with a shoulder holster, your standard female FBI agent in a severe black suit, and one- and only one- member of a SWAT team in full camouflage and armor. (I later found out that it was The Blacklist. I’ve never seen the show, but I understand that as of today the episode hasn’t aired yet.)

For about a week there were movie trailers and equipment littering the area and taking up a lot of valuable parking spots, and then one day they were all gone.

This isn’t the first time they’ve filmed a movie in my area. Aside from Saturday Night Fever, which I covered in a very early New York Minute, they also filmed a Steven Seagal film around here in the early 90’s, Out for Justice, I think. I’m pretty sure it was the one where Seagal wore a beret and a sleeveless vest and sleeveless shirt combo. That was the outfit that best showed off his, um, acting skills, I believe. Anyway, please don’t ask me to go back and watch it.

out for justiceWhile that was filming, I ended up with my Dad in Williamsburg, which is about as far from my end of Brooklyn as you can get and still be in the borough. Another movie was filming there at the same time as the Seagal opus, and whatever it was, it was a small indie effort. My dad, with a little superior smirk, gave the crew a dig and said “not like the Steven Seagal movie they’re shooting by me, huh?” That may be the strangest piece of reflected glory I ever heard.

But back to the present, and the Greek diner. The diner isn’t very good, which is why I won’t give them any free publicity, but it is a great example of 1970’s architecture. It looks now the same way it looked when I was a kid, right down to the ripped carpets and stained seats. Greek diners are a New York staple. In fact, the official NYC store sells ceramic copies of the iconic Greek blue coffee cups, the one with the Greek urns on it. In fact, I once worked with a guy who called every diner “that Greek place.” This caused a lot of confusion when he wanted to meet me at the “that Greek place” and I never found it, despite actually standing right in front of it. Why was it so hard to find? The “Greek” diner proudly had a big red Albanian flag waving in the window.

Greek diners have been New York staples since the 1950’s, and they are distinct from the tin clad railroad car looking diners you see all across America. They are noted for the large rotating pastry displays you can usually find right as you walk in. According to the New York Times, so you may want to take this with a grain of salt, most New York diners are owned by people of Greek decent. And while you can always get a range of Greek food, they serve it all, from Matzoh ball soup to cheeseburgers. Come to think of it, I can’t count the number of times I’ve had that exact combination.

From my part of Bensonhurst, I am just 10 minutes away from two very good Greek diners, and 5 minutes away from the not-so-hot one where the movie was just filmed. And that may be a touch ironic, since the Greek population of Brooklyn has been on the decline for years. But the diners are still going strong.

This has been your New York Minute. All this diner talk has made me hungry. Maybe I’ll watch Out for Justice to lose my appetite.


This post is, by a happy coincidence, appearing on my father’s birthday. Happy Birthday Dad! We all miss you.

An audio version of this story recently appeared in the amazing FlashPulp website. Check them out for awesomeness and goodies!

Hollywood Russell and The Case of Dead Air in Studio Two

25 Sep

September 25, 2015

We’ve got something a little different for you tonight. Please read the addendum at the bottom, and enjoy!

HR Dead Air

The radio studio was pitch black. The only window didn’t look out on the New York skyline but instead gave a view to a very small and cramped control room. The gauges and dials, which usually gave off a small electric glow even when the studio wasn’t in use, were invisible. The room was soundproof but the quiet was broken by the very slight creaking of a door hinge. Normally, leading to a broadcast studio, the doors would be oiled regularly to keep any stray sounds from going out over the air in a live broadcast. A hand groped through the doorway and found the light switch, which the hand flipped on with an almost, but not quite audible click. The station manager, Jim, walked in and stood just inside the entrance. “This is it,” he said. “Was it, I mean.”

Behind him walked a man in a trench coat and fedora. A private detective, he looked very much like a fictional shamus whose adventures had been broadcast from that studio for almost two decades.  “This isn’t how I imagined it.” Hollywood Russell took off his hat and laid it on a small wooden chair near the door.

“It’s not how anyone imagines it. You’re not supposed to imagine it. This isn’t a broadcast studio, it’s Fibber McGee’s closet. It’s The Shadow’s inner sanctum. It’s the Daily Planet.” Jim looked around. “It was my home for a long time.”

Hollywood stood among the double rows of folding chairs where an occasional audience sat. WJP wasn’t a large station and never hosted the game shows or big network programs that audiences flocked to. He paced the length of the small studio, mentally estimating the length and width, and stopped in front of the cluster of microphones, set upon a small stage, where the actors had yesterday performed their last show. It was an afternoon soap opera fittingly called “One Man’s Passion.”

The station manager let out a small sigh. “People want television. It isn’t enough to hear words from a box, they need to see things too. Whatever happened to imagination? All we’re raising is a generation of children who will have their eyes plastered to the images on the screens in front of them.” Then, more darkly, “I’ve heard that some families even have two.”

Hollywood, who didn’t own a television himself, merely grunted and sat down in the chair directly in front of the main microphone. It stood about 5 feet high, with a brass plaque that read “WJP” in art deco style. He shut his eyes and saw a somber man announcing that war had broken out in Europe. He saw a trio of sisters singing about a bugle boy in Company B. He saw a man of mystery in a beautiful black car. He saw another man, in shirtsleeves, feverishly working his Rube Goldberg-like instruments and franticly switching from one odd looking device to the next, all the while creating the sounds of a rocket ship about to take off as the countdown commenced from X minus three, two..

“I’m really glad you came, Russell. I’m not sure I’d be able to do this myself.”

Hollywood roused himself and looked around once again. For a second he was sure he was in a peaceful town where the great water commissioner was about to fall in love yet again, but just for a second. He blinked and it was back to the solid concrete walls and softly carpeted stage, but he was sure he saw a single page of a script fluttering to the floor, just out of his line of sight, and when he turned he was just as sure he heard, however faintly, a mocking laugh out of the shadows.

The manager glanced around. “I hear it too. I hear all of it. Everything.” He sighed. “And now it’s gone.” Jim turned his back almost angrily on the empty studio and his eyes fell on the wall calendar. It had a picture of Louis Armstrong, telling the world that a certain brand of cigarettes soothed his throat. With a “hrmmpf” Jim pulled the hanging page off the calendar. It was September 7th.

“Lock up for me, will you Hollywood? This is all too much for me. Shut it all down and lock it up tight. Kill the power to the microphones. I’ll meet you downstairs in the bar. Don’t mind if I start without you.” Jim tossed the key on a chair and without a glance backward, left the studio. “I’m never coming back here again” he said to himself as he slowly walked down the hall.

A small smile played across Hollywood’s face. “Well now, I wouldn’t say that.”

He took one last, slow look around. He made sure the switches were off, that the microphones were closed and that everything was in order. Jim didn’t need a detective, he just needed someone to do what he couldn’t. And isn’t that all that a guy like Hollywood Russell really did?

Hollywood walked to the door, grabbed his hat, shut the light and walked out. A couple of seconds ticked by on the clock, and the door reopened. In the darkness, Hollywood found his way to a small desk off to the side of the microphones. On one side stood a very old cathedral-style receiver, a relic radio; on the other a small gooseneck lamp. He turned it on and aimed its beam right at the WJP plaque. Its reddish-yellow letters gleamed like the sun in the blackness.

Lights out, everybody.

But not for Relic Radio.


This written in response to the sad news that the Relic Radio forum was shutting down. While the main site,, will continue providing a great selection of old time radio shows (and you can find them on iTunes), the message boards are now gone. This story is a tribute to Jim, who runs the whole show, but also to the shows we loved. And as such, there are a few tributes to Old Time Radio in the story. I’ve listed many of them for you.

“New York skyline.” This might be the first Hollywood Russell story to explicitly state that it is set in New York. I did it intentionally in this tale because NYC was the home base of the Mutual Network, broadcasting out of WOR (which still exists) and was where Superman and The Shadow, among others, originated.

“Slight creaking of a door hinge.” Inner Sanctum famously began with the creaking of a door hinge.

“Fictional shamus wearing a trench coat and fedora.” Take your pick- Sam Spade, Phillip Marlowe, Richard Diamond, etc.

“It’s Fibber McGee’s closet. It’s The Shadow’s inner sanctum. It’s the Daily Planet.” Fibber McGee and Molly, The Shadow, Superman.

“A trio of sisters singing about a bugle boy in Company B.” The Andrews Sisters and their most famous hit, “The Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy of Company B”

“A man of mystery in a beautiful black car.” The Green Hornet and his car, the Black Beauty.

“The countdown commenced from X minus three, two…” X Minus 1, famous adult sci-fi program.

“A peaceful town where the great water commissioner was about to fall in love yet again.” The Great Gildersleeve.

“A mocking laugh out of the shadows.” The Shadow.

“Well now, I wouldn’t say that.” The Great Gildersleeve.

“Lights out, everybody.” Horror program by Wyllis Cooper and Arch Obler.

There is also a very slight and subtle Star Wars reference that you will either spot or you won’t. You may not think a Star Wars reference fits but it does because A- there was a fantastic radio version of Star Wars broadcast over NPR stations in the 1970’s and B- searching for info about that show was how I found Relic Radio.

I put in one or two personal touches that I’ll keep to myself, but, the date on the calendar- September 7th– was the last day of the forums. The call letters of the station mean something too, but I’ll leave that little wink and nod to the fellow forum members. And Jim.


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