Previously, we learned about the origin of the Turkey Bandit. As a young turkey (poult), he escaped a local organic farm after his father was chosen as the “guest of honor” for the farmer’s Thanksgiving table; his father was never seen again. The young Bandit escaped and began his quest to free as many turkeys as he could, one farm at a time.
“I’m in position,” the Turkey Bandit’s radio crackled 10 years later. His partner had the farm under surveillance; he knew where the turkeys were kept and where the Bandit would enter to switch off the alarm. Read more
My Uncle Rob died of a heart attack last Wednesday night. My phone buzzed early the next morning. It woke me up but I missed it. When I rolled over to check it, I saw an e-mail subject: “condolences.” The phone call had been from my mother.
In the five seconds it took for me to call her back, I braced for bad news. Her voice was crackled when she told me. “Rob died.”
He wasn’t sick. He was 49 and had a heart attack. He didn’t seem unhealthy. It was a total shock to everyone. A hard punch in the gut. Suddenly nothing was important. Read more
I was Spider Man when I was growing up. My costume was made by my mother, who took a red and blue sweatshirt, cut them up and stitched them together. A few years later, I was Batman, the costume stretchy and elaborate, with a cape, cowl and belt. I was the Rocketeer, with a helmet made out of a Friday the 13th hockey mask, a bit of cardboard and an empty milk jug. I was Sherlock Holmes with an over-sized magnifying glass and two cheap hats stitched on top of each other and spray painted brown. Read more
Tonight is the Martha Marcy May Marlene premiere as part of the New York Film Festival. Beginning its journey in Livingston Manor and Roscoe, it’s since been to Sundance, Cannes and Toronto. I haven’t seen it since Sundance and never projected on film so I’m excited.
Right now I’m in my editing room on 64th and Madison and I’m wearing a tie, which always makes me feel a little taller and sit up a little straighter. Two good things. Read more
I first came across the poster for Andy Warhol’s film “Woman in Revolt” while doing research for a documentary, “Beautiful Darling,” that I was editing about one of its stars, Candy Darling. The poster is red and black and features Candy with her fist thrown toward the camera. I always thought it was a great poster.
“Beautiful Darling” was the first film that I edited and so as a present to myself after I finished work on it I purchased the poster on eBay. List price, the poster was $700. I got one in very good condition for $350. Not bad, eh? Read more
Detective Brown wanted them all there by 3:30 p.m. sharp. Some had grumbled that they would have to get out of work early. But they all said they would be there.
Brown arrived last but had sent his partner ahead to secure some evidence and keep the peace. He suspected that tensions could be running high. Read more
Detective Brown stood in the dimly lit squad room. It had been three days since he had received the call about the body in the basement of the apartment building and the investigation was now in full swing. Brown or his partner had spoken to literally everyone who was in the building that day. All 32 people.
They had painstakingly searched the Johnson apartment, the stairwell, the basement, and the empty, recently purchased, shared apartment between the Johnsons and their neighbor Tom. Read more
It was a little after one in the morning, and detective Brown stood holding a fresh iced coffee in the basement of an apartment building. He stared down at a white chalk outline where a dead body had been found a few hours earlier. “Sprawled” was the only way he could think to describe the position.
“ID?” Brown asked.
“Mr. Peter Johnson of 5C. Worked as a stockbroker. Married, two kids, wife is home, kids are not,” his partner read out of his notebook. Brown focused on a spot of blood on a pipe above the body. Read more
Eddie had washed the windows and polished the door handle. He had futzed with the flowers and dusted his desk. It was getting to be time to head down to the basement, and he was sort of dreading it. The low hum of the AC kept the lobby cool. The basement would be sweltering.
The Met game was just starting and he decided to give it a few innings. If he got lucky, maybe the heat would let up.
“Sorry about the cardboard,” Santiago, the daytime doorman, had said while he was leaving. And Eddie had said it was fine, even though it had annoyed him a little bit. Read more
At first, it’s slow going and it hardly feels like I’m moving at all.
It’s actually calming to lie on the black inner tube as I pass under the bridge and head toward the rapids. I grin at the growing rush of water in the distance and very gradually start to speed up.
It’s too late to do much of anything except keep my feet forward. Read more