Podcast
Features
CommentsVolume 4/Issue 2
 Ira Glass |
Intro from Jay Allison
Transom welcomes Ira Glass, the Pied Piper of public radio (the getting people to travel with him part, not the drowning rats and disappearing children part).
Ira is a radio hero because of the way he listens, and the way his listening summons stories you remember. He is a champion for the Many Voices that public radio’s mission says it values. This American Life is not the voice of record, but a record of the voices around us. The stories are as fully strange and hopeful and funny and harsh and romantic as America itself…and occasionally all at the same time. They sprawl outside the usual standard-issue broadcast confines, telling about the way it actually was, what it felt like, what really happened. Ira is their shepherd, their piper.
But it was not always that way. Ira’s Transom Manifesto, which will appear in serialized form over the course of his time with us, begins with his utter lack of talent at this work. We think Ira’s failures will give you hope.
Ira Glass’s Manifesto, Part One
Rather than talk about radio in a Big Picture way, I’m going to start with some simple things that might be useful to the radio beginners who come to Transom. I’m going to try to avoid repeating things I’ve said elsewhere about making radio stories, but I’m guessing some repetition is going to be inevitable. Elsewhere on the web you can find an old (and deeply edited) speech about making radio more fun here. There are some pages from the This American Life “How to Make Radio” comic book here.
1. Learning Curve
I started working at NPR’s headquarters in Washington when I was 19 but I wasn’t competent at writing and structuring my own stories until I was 27. I’ve never met anyone who took longer, and I’ve met hundreds of people who work in radio. Back then, I made my living by filling in as a production assistant on the various national news shows, and by taking day jobs as a temp typist around Washington. I was sort of hopeless at all the basic tasks of recognizing and shaping a story.
If this sounds like exaggeration, here’s a typical report from when I was in my mid-20′s. If you listen to the first minute you’ll get the idea. The writing’s stilted. I’m a horrible reader, underlining every other word for emphasis. The people in the story are two-dimensional props, used to make an argument. It’s hard to even tell what this story’s about. I refer to things that no one’s ever heard of (like “the international debate over meat and grain production”) as if we all have heard of them. The tone of the thing is all wrong. There’s no pleasure, no sense of discovery, no humor, no genuine human moment, no fun.
A few years ago, one of the producers of This American Life, Alix Spiegel, had an idea for a story about chickens and I remembered that I’d done a story on a similar subject as part of this supermarket series. I dug up a tape. She listened. “There’s nothing in here,” she reported to me, “showing any talent at all. There’s nothing in here that indicates that you were ever going to get it.” (For a sense of what my aesthetics were like when I was 19 and first worked at NPR, here are two radio spots I did back in college, a month or two before I first set foot in the building. These are possibly the most embarrassing things I could possibly post on the Internet. I was a very corny wannabe humorist. I appear in both spots.) In retrospect, I’m not exactly sure what kept me going. Part of it, I’m sure, was that I didn’t have any other prospects. I certainly didn’t have any other skills.
I bring all of this up to say that if you’re someone who wants to make radio stories (or do any kind of creative work), you’re probably going to have a period when things might not come too easily. For some people, that’s just a year. For others, like me, it’s eight years. You might feel completely alone and lost during this period — God knows I did — and I hope it’s reassuring in some small way to hear that what you’re going through is completely normal. Most people go through it. And there are things you can do during this period of mediocrity that will get you to the next step, that will drive you toward skill and competence.
 Here’s me and my boss, radio producer Keith Talbot, who was on staff at NPR to invent new ways to do an hour documentary show, in one of the original NPR studios on M Street in Washington. I was probably 20, and his production assistant. At the time, that sweater was in fashion, I swear. 1979 I’m guessing. |
Force yourself to do a lot of stories. This is the most important thing you can do. Get yourself in a situation where people are expecting work out of you, or where you simply force yourself to do a certain number of stories every month. Turn the stuff out. Deadlines are your friend.
Create your own projects. Some of these can be based on what you’re good at. I was always a very good tape cutter. It was the one part of making radio that I got right from the start and did well. I was an okay interviewer and, as we’ve established, a horrible reader and writer. So I invented this series of stories where I’d interview people and then edit myself out of the tape completely. They’d tell stories and reflect on what the stories meant. No script. No narration.
Here are two of those stories, done several years after the supermarket stories. You can hear something in their tone that would eventually morph into This American Life.
Half the people I’d interviewed for this series didn’t work out. Their stories weren’t interesting enough. That was something else I learned through this series, that lots of things will never be radio stories.
Have your own agenda. By the time I was in my 30′s, I was getting reporting assignments from NPR and on any given story, in addition to whatever my editor wanted, I had my own goals. For instance, every story, even the stories thrown together in one day, had to have a tape-to-tape transition. (That is, the story would go from one quote directly to the next … or from a quote to location sound, to another quote, with no narration. This was to keep me alert to pacing. Too many radio stories just go back and forth from script to tape to script to tape.) Every story had to have some moment that was there to amuse me — a funny moment, an emotional moment, some original observation I’d made on the scene that no other reporter had. It could just be a nice moment in the script. Every story had to have someone who was more than a talking head, spouting out their point of view on the issue of the day. To make them more human, it sometimes only took a line of description, an original thought about who they were and why they believed what they believed, a surprising moment, a funny moment on tape.
What I’m saying is, there was lots I was bad at and I consciously set out to make myself better. For a while, I forced myself in every story to have some moment where I interacted with someone on tape during the story. I did this because I’d noticed that in other people’s stories, usually the most interesting stuff came when they talked to the people in the stories, where there was a back and forth. Like most beginning radio reporters, I didn’t like to hear myself on tape. I didn’t like how I sounded asking the questions. So much of the time I was awkward or cloying. Trying too hard in one way or another. It was embarrassing. But at some point I decided that omitting this kind of tape meant I was accidentally omitting a kind of drama from my stories, neglecting some of the tools at my disposal, neglecting part of the power and fun of the medium, and I forced myself through it, in story after story.
Even today, if I had to give just one piece of advice to beginning reporters about the single fastest way they could improve their stories, it’d be to get themselves into the quotes. Asking tough questions. Cajoling the interviewee. Joking with the interviewee. Thinking out loud and chatting with the interviewee. The daily reporting on public radio would be so much more fun to listen to, and so much more informative about the character of the interviewees, if there were more of this.
Imitate others. Painters do it. Why don’t we?
Back when I really didn’t understand how to write a radio story, one thing that helped a lot was to mimic other people’s writing. I specifically remember stealing this one move I’d heard Alex Chadwick make in a story. It’s a good move and I encourage you to steal it too.
To understand the move, put yourself in Alex’s position for a second. He’s writing the intro to a story about frogs. That story: A high school girl refused to dissect a frog in class. She thought it was inhumane to kill the frog. A judge ruled that she still had to do the assignment, but the school had to provide her with a frog that died of natural causes. I was working at All Things Considered and saw this item in the paper and thought it was pretty funny, that some school administrators were now going to have to find frogs who were just on the verge of dying, or just recently dead, and so I produced a little story with Alex about it. We went out with a naturalist to a swamp where frogs live, to look for some recently-dead or dying frogs, to illustrate the new hell this school science teacher would now find himself in.
So okay, you’re Alex Chadwick. You have to write the opening of this story. Most of us would be kind of, I don’t know, workaday and boring about it. We’d write something summarizing the court case, maybe along the lines of what I just wrote above:
Earlier this week in Victorville California, a high school girl refused to dissect a frog in class. She thought it was inhumane to kill the frog. She ended up in court, where a judge came to this Solomonic ruling: she still had to do the assignment … but the school had to provide her with a frog that died … of natural causes. But does such a thing even exist? We decided to figure it out.
Okay, that’s lame, I know. But I’m making a point. Listen to Alex’s version of the opening. I remember when he showed me the script, I was stunned at how long it was. I figured he’d knock it off in three or four sentences, but he was taking so much time. (And needless to say, because we were on All Things Considered, we needed things to be short.) I thought he was nuts. But what he did was so much more engaging than what most radio writers do, because, for one thing, it actually has a human voice to it. He sounds like a real guy telling you something he’s interested in, not a news-robot.
In addition, he makes that move, the one that you’re going to steal. It comes here: “It bothered her that any creature should have to die so she could cut it open for study. It was a matter of principle. And as with many such issues, it wound up in court.” I know it seems like a small thing, but that’s the move. Namely, when he says “as with many such issues,” he steps out of the facts of this particular story and toward a big general point about How Things Work. Also, framing it as a matter of principle makes it seem bigger and grander and more like a story with something happening in it. This is so much a part of the style of the radio show I work on now that if I open my script for last week’s show, I come to an example of it immediately, in the intro to Act One:
And now … the story of a man with a simple mission: to give a little special treatment to a group of people whose contribution to society is often overlooked: the men and women of the food service industry.
Not the greatest piece of writing, but a decent one. Thanks, Alex.
More to come…
A Conversation w/ Ira Glass
Jackson – 09:08am May 14, 2004 EST
(#3 of 146)
Humoring ourselves, maybe humoring others?
Ira: Part 1 of the manifesto is sooooooo good I am going to go through it again. It’s impossible to bounce back on everything you raise — questions of structure, timing, storytelling, etc. — so I’ll start with the problem of humor.
Just because I find something funny, that doesn’t mean you’re going to laugh at it. And actually, this can apply to anything that appeals to us and our sensibilities — it’s our sense of “taste” but on a grand scale.
Which leads me to the “there must be a pony around here someplace” question: do you think there is such a thing as the “objectively humorous”? Or “inherently curious”? Or “universally inspiring”? All it takes is writing and good splices to bring the laugh to everyone’s lips?
cordleycoit – 05:24pm May 14, 2004 EST
(#4 of 146)
I learn
When I first hear your show I thought how wonderful self absorbed White kids talking about their home on the mall.
Then I heard the KS show and remembered and heard myself. Later still the Afghan show made me a listener and a student thank you for stumbling though the NPR blood brain barrier. Well done. Cordley Coit
Viki Merrick – 11:47pm May 14, 2004 EST
(#5 of 146)
NEVER SAY DIE
yes…those WUNR spots – filled me with courage, and admiration and a little bit of horror.
Ira Glass – 09:46am May 15, 2004 EST
(#6 of 146)
Hi there guys …
do you think there is such a thing as the “objectively humorous”? Or “inherently curious”? Or “universally inspiring”?
No I don’t. The best you can do is put in what’s funny or interesting or inspiring to you and then hope for the best. If an editor or a friend agrees with you, that’s probably as good as you need.
Wait, who are you in that second WNUR spot?
I’m the guy who says “Are we on tv?” I must’ve had a cold.
Self absorbed White kids talking about their home on the mall.
This would’ve been a much better title than This American Life. What’s the KS show?
P.W. Fenton – 11:59am May 15, 2004 EST
(#7 of 146)
This American Guy
Mr. Glass,
In keeping with current ethical trends I’d like to announce that I have been awarded an unprecedented 5 “Golden Communicator Awards” for my radio stories. Details are easily available at http://digitalflotsam.org
By the way… you look younger in your comic book.
Ira Glass – 01:53pm May 15, 2004 EST
(#8 of 146)
Well, I was younger when we did the comic.
laura b – 09:06pm May 15, 2004 EST
(#9 of 146)
the hills are alive!
howdy, ira. in other interviews, you’ve likened music to the basil of radio: everything is better with is added. are there times when you wouldn’t use music in a piece? music is pretty potent stuff–do you ever worry that it tugs at emotions and defines how we listeners feel about a piece more than the words? is that a bad thing?
chelsea merz – 10:36am May 16, 2004 EST
(#10 of 146)
Bad radio or parody?
The supermarket piece wasn’t bad radio. It was great parody. This piece was straight up NPR: The Sorghum, fewer tortillas for the poor, delivered in perfect iambic cadence. I still hear this on NPR news reports every day. Why?
Jackson – 01:06pm May 16, 2004 EST
(#11 of 146)
Ira is featured IN PRINT
Boston Globe, 5/16/04, The semio-grads
.
Did the curious circumstances surrounding Roland Barthes’ death influence your manner of reading the world around you?
Ira Glass – 08:41pm May 16, 2004 EST
(#12 of 146)
You mean was I more careful crossing the street? Absolutely!
Jackson – 09:14pm May 16, 2004 EST
(#13 of 146)
So…
You don’t look at laundry trucks differently?
Adam Allington – 10:02pm May 16, 2004 EST
(#14 of 146)
That Human Moment
The thing I often find most difficult in my stories (along with the writing and hearing my own rambling questions on tape) is coaxing out that “human” moment from the subject.
For instance I might pursue stories that on the surface seems full of humanity. “Man visits normandy beach-head where his father was killed in ’44″. “79-year-old cowgirl remembers life in the rodeo”.
Seemingly lush and vibrant stories…yet, the potential for things to fall flat is still there. I can ask the six thousand dollar question and they may just shrug their shoulders. Do you have any suggestions for helping me help subjects come to the moment of revalation/reflection on tape.
-thanks
Ira Glass – 11:07pm May 16, 2004 EST
(#15 of 146)
I still hear this on NPR news reports every day.
Chelsea! Be nice to the nice radio journalists! Yes, plenty of stories are mediocre on public radio in exactly that earnest pleading way, but it’s rare for a story to be quite so poorly written and ill-conceived and showing such bad judgment. I was special!
are there times when you wouldn’t use music in a piece? … do you ever worry that it tugs at emotions and defines how we listeners feel about a piece more than the words?
We’ve actually been experimenting with using less music on the radio show lately. Some of the producers – Alex especially – are tired of how it feels. I think we used to use so much music because we were worried if the stories were holding the audience (and to make up for mediocre readings by non-radio reporters) … and one reason we use less lately is that we’re all feeling more confident that the stories are strong enough without the music.
As for worrying about whether it tugs at emotions … I don’t worry about that at all. We always try to avoid using the sappy music under the sappy moment – it’s easy for that to get really corny. (The same is true for how you perform the big emotional moment in a script. I remember one of the old All Things Consideredhosts, Noah Adams, explaining that’s when you have to go for flatter readings; if you get all emotional with emotional material, it can sound cheesy really fast.)
Generally the kind of music we use is more emotionally neutral. Its goal is more to keep a sense of motion, to keep things moving. And to underline the turns in feelings. I’m not against manipulating feelings. The whole job is about manipulating feelings. If you don’t get in front of that and embrace it with a big bear hug, you’re not doing your job as a radio producer. You just don’t want to be all corny about it.
I think people when they start in journalistm are understandably sort of shy about seeing their role as anything other than information gatherer. They’ve seen all those movies and tv dramas about the heroic importance of objectivity for journalists. (“I’m sorry Senator, but I only serve one master and it’s called The Truth. And I’m sorry doll, I love you, I do, but there’s only one thing in this world that’s more important to me than you, and that’s getting the story right. And if I ever changed that about myself, even for you sweetheart, than I wouldn’t be the man you fell in love with in the first place, would I?”) But telling a story is also about entertainment. All the decisions about how to structure the information for the listener basically throw you into show business and the manipulating of feelings, like it or not. It’s really one of the most fun parts of the job.
Jackson – 12:04am May 17, 2004 EST
(#16 of 146)
News not equals fun
Just to follow up on Chelsea’s point about the NPR news stories: Nobody’s having much fun out there right now, few of the little flips of imagination that transform a standard narrative into this vortex that will not release until the story ends.
Not to be confused with the now-proverbial “driveway moments” — yes, I know that manipulation is a part of storytelling (why listen otherwise?). But hey! I live in the city; I don’t have a driveway. To me, driveway = suburbs. “Moments” reads like a tear-away from a romance novel. And not a bodice-ripper, either.
To put it another way: these cherished driveway moments, they’re not much fun either.
Ira Glass – 12:04am May 17, 2004 EST
(#17 of 146)
I can ask the six thousand dollar question and they may just shrug their shoulders.
Dude, it’s public radio. Nobody’s gonna pay you $6,000.
Adam I hope you don’t take this wrong and I’m your colleague here saying this to you but you’re using the word ‘humanity’ in a really weird way. Also the idea of the ‘human moment.’ I think there’s a kind of melodramatic, nostalgic, sappy story you’ve seen on tv or heard on radio and that’s what you’re shooting for, thinking that sort of melodrama is the so-called ‘humanity’ of the story.
Let’s review your story examples: Man visits normandy beach-head where his father was killed in '44. That story might work, but only if the guy’s a great talker, and has a special relationship with this bit of personal history. Chances are, he might not. Or everything he’ll say will be exactly what you’d expect from a guy in this situation. If it’s not surprising, it’s not a story. As far as I’m concerned, the only way it could be a story is if the guy had some burning question he was going to the beach with, some question that could only be answered by being there. I can’t imagine what such a question could be.
79-year-old cowgirl remembers life in the rodeo. This also doesn’t show much promise, and for the same reason: it doesn’t include a whiff of conflict. Without real conflict, there’s no story. Now if the story were about a 79-year old woman who’d first worked as a cowgirl, and then, after a lifetime of being treated badly because she was a girl, ended up buying the rodeo and being the boss of all the people who made her miserable, and if she were entertaining and funny and remembered lots of specific moments at the turning points in the story … well, then you might have something. But some nice old lady with an accent rambling on about the Olde Days … that’s not a story. What’s the interesting part?
Both Bradley and Yasuko (in the clips we’ve posted) are full of what I’d consider human moments from top to bottom, and they’re that way because they’re people talking about events which happened to them that meant something important to them, and changed their point of view. Also – and just as important – the stories are surprising. Both of your stories seem too, I dunno, previously handled, to yield much human interest.
In the end, it doesn’t come down to asking the one big $6,000 question. It’s more like you have to imagine what it would be like to be in your interviewee’s position, to have had their experiences, and you get them to elaborate on that. That’s all. And you ask stuff you’re curious about, that’s important too.
I’ve talked about this before in other settings, but I really loved this one question I heard Terry Gross ask the magician Ricky Jay, who does whole stage shows of card tricks. “Is the stuff happening that we don’t see — the backstage stuff of a card trick — ever more interesting than the stuff we do see?” She asked. “And are you ever tempted to show that part, because what’s going on is so cool? ” What I loved was how deeply she was imagining what it must be like to be him. And she got a great answer from it. It was a revealing moment. That’s all you have to do. Imagine your way through your interviewee’s experience and what might be interesting about it.
roman – 03:59am May 17, 2004 EST
(#18 of 146)
interviews
Do you remember the first question you asked during an interview that made you feel like you were actually becoming a good interviewer? I’m not that adept yet, but I do have a distinct moment where I first saw my potential.
Thanks so much for passing on the Noah Adams “go to” interview question. (to paraphrase: “What did you expect before this happened, and what was it really like?”) That one’s saved my bacon lots of times. You’ll be happy to know that it still yields some good tape.
Joe Richman – 06:37am May 17, 2004 EST
(#19 of 146)
Journalism Noir
I think these words from Ira should keep reappearing throughout the discussion, like a chorus. So as a service to the Transom community…. I paste:
“I’m sorry Senator, but I only serve one master and it’s called The Truth. And I’m sorry doll, I love you, I do, but there’s only one thing in this world that’s more important to me than you, and that’s getting the story right. And if I ever changed that about myself, even for you sweetheart, than I wouldn’t be the man you fell in love with in the first place, would I?”
Ira Glass – 09:55am May 17, 2004 EST
(#20 of 146)
These words from Ira? Joe, that’s what’s printed on the back of the Peabody Award.
Joshua Kilpatrick – 01:50pm May 17, 2004 EST
(#21 of 146)
Lot’s of things will never be radio stories
Thank you, Ira, for taking the time to participate in this forum. I’m twenty-seven, and have recently awakened to the fact that I love radio and a part of me wants to try to do it. I started my quest three months ago. I was lucky to stumble onto Transom.org early in the process. I feel so lucky that the site is doing well and that professionals like you are collaborating with it. Seriously… thank you. This is invaluable.
You mentioned a revelation that came to you during the “no narrator” NPR series (Yasuko and Bradley). “Lot’s of things will never be radio stories.” Can you tell us why? Did you mean that some interviewees just can’t tell their stories in an interesting enough way or that some stories are just intrinsically not radio material? Whichever, can you write more about that or speculate on some determining factors? Can you describe some of the stories you captured but did not include in the series?
Unrelated to your first installment, I’m wondering if the basic concept of This American Life will survive or if there’s fear that it might run its course much like a sitcom? I hope this won’t be the case, but I believe I’ve noticed the stories and themes becoming more complex harder to follow. Is it getting harder to produce the show?
Since I’m looking for ways to learn more about radio, I was interested in TAL’s internship and in submitting work for consideration. As part of this, I read the submission guidelines and Hillary Frank’s essay, “How to get on This American Life”. Hillary mentioned that many of the submissions you receive don’t fall in the set of things TAL would consider. Is there something about this format that’s just particularly difficult for people to “get”? When you talk to listeners or other radio people about the show, do you feel like people are “getting it”? I recently volunteered at my public radio station for a dreaded pledge drive. It was nerdy but extremely fun (I wish I had brought my microphone). We were giving away tickets to one of your speaking engagements here in Dallas, and as I listened to one of the station personnel and some of my fellow workers trying to explain TAL, I chuckled inside. I didn’t feel like they understood. Maybe I was just being snobby.
Joshua, Dallas
Sean Cole – 07:18pm May 17, 2004 EST
(#22 of 146)
Regression
Was there ever a time, after you finally felt capable of putting a decent story together, that you just suddenly kind of forgot how to do it? Like you get the tape and log it all and then you’re pulling cuts and you’re like, “wait, how do I do this again? did I EVER know how to do this? have I EVER put a good story together?!” And then you start banging your head against the desk and smoking and cursing and saying to yourself “you know what I bet there really are painless methods of suicide?” Or is it just me.
paul tough – 07:18pm May 17, 2004 EST
(#23 of 146)
Who you calling mediocre?
Ira, you wrote,
I think we used to use so much music because we were worried if the stories were holding the audience (and to make up for mediocre readings by non-radio reporters)
Now, I don’t want to get all defensive here, but I thought you *preferred* the non-radio-reporter voice?
Also, what do you think a Nina Totenberg Supreme-Court story would sound like with a Beastie Boys track underneath it? Seriously: could scoring work with straight-up reporting? (Not to say that Ms. Totenberg’s reporting is straight-up. You know what I mean.)
Amiller – 07:30pm May 17, 2004 EST
(#24 of 146)
Story Telling for Business?
Ira, I was reminded of your live show on narrative structure of the TAL stories when I saw an article in all places, Harvard Business Review on the Telling Tales by Stephen Denning…. I think you might find it interesting…. he tries to break it down into a quite mechanical “story telling catalog” versus your focus on the passion and surprise. The context is on using stories to reach management goals…. who’d a thunk that!
Ira Glass – 11:49pm May 17, 2004 EST
(#25 of 146)
Do you remember the first question you asked during an interview that made you feel like you were actually becoming a good interviewer?
I’m afraid I don’t, Roman. Though that’s a good example of the kind of perfectly good interview question that usually leads nowhere, but if it hits an answer, it gets a really good one, a full narrative with a moral to the story and everything.
“Lots of things will never be radio stories.” Can you tell us why?
Actually, Joshua, that’s what Parts 2 & 3 of the manifesto, which will roll out later in the week I think, are all about. It’s kind of what you expect: some interviewees don’t tell the stories well, and some stories intrinsically aren’t going to work. There are some basic structural problems that anyone can detect, once you know to look for them. More on this in a few days.
I’m wondering if the basic concept of This American Life will survive or if there’s fear that it might run its course much like a sitcom?
I wondered this a lot a few years ago. Were we more like Seinfeld or more like Fresh Air? Now I think we’re more like Fresh Air. We don’t seem to run out of story ideas. Maybe I’ll feel differently about this in a few years, but that’s how it seems now.
I believe I’ve noticed the stories and themes becoming more complex harder to follow. Is it getting harder to produce the show?
It doesn’t get harder to produce the show, but it doesn’t get easier either. As everyone on the show has gotten more skillful, and as we’ve gotten more money to spend on reporting and travel, we just try harder things.
The fact that some stories seem “harder to follow” to you is a testament to the fact that maybe we’re not as successful as we’d like to be with that.
Ira Glass – 12:16am May 18, 2004 EST
(#26 of 146)
Was there ever a time, after you finally felt capable of putting a decent story together, that you just suddenly kind of forgot how to do it?
Not in the last few years. But now and then I sit down to write some story for the show and I’ve got all the logs and it’s not clear at all where to start and all the possible beginnings seem equally good (or maybe all the tape seems equally mediocre with no shiny moment standing out as the anchor I’m going to write the whole thing around) and I feel that edgy panic start to rise in my gut. If you don’t get that feeling at least once every two months, you’re not trying things that are hard enough for you. Last time that happened to me in a big way was our Marriage show, the Gottman story, March 26th. Which means I’m due again in the next nine days. That story was weirdly complicated to report and to make work on the air.
All you can do is have a standard set of procedures that you do for every story, and just force yourself to march through them, one after another. For me the drill goes like this: listen to the tape and go through the log looking for clips; list the possible clips of tape in tiny print on one piece of paper, with asterisks besides the ones that seem the strongest; stare at that list until it’s clear which one is the one that’ll either start the thing, or the one the whole thing is leading toward. Then I write to the first clip, cut the first clip, figure out the second clip, write to it, cut it, and on and on. I can stall out at any point in there and feel hopeless and while I’m on the subject what in God’s name did we all do before email and the Internet when we got to that point where we needed to stall for a minute? Were we all snacking?
I hope this isn’t too banal to be posting here. I guess I’m just saying you have to have your regular procedures every time. My calculus teacher in high school Mr Quinn used to say that’s the only way to solve a tough math problem too.
Ira Glass – 12:38am May 18, 2004 EST
(#27 of 146)
Now, I don’t want to get all defensive here, but I thought you *preferred* the non-radio-reporter voice?
Now now, I wasn’t talking about you, Paul honey. You’re a very nice reader. As is each and every person who visits this discussion board.
I do prefer the non-radio-reporter voice, but for most people, reading on the mic is a very strange and not terribly easy propostion. You’re in a completely soundproof room. You’re reading sort of to an audience but really just to a tape, which is hard to get psyched up for. It’s fantastically easy to over-perform, since the entire medium of radio is like a movie camera that’s always in closeup. You’re hearing your voice played back to you in headphones and for the first, oh, five hundred times you do that, it doesn’t sound like your own voice to you, which is completely disorienting.
It all goes down a little easier with some music underneath.
Also, what do you think a Nina Totenberg Supreme-Court story would sound like with a Beastie Boys track underneath it?
It’d sound good! She’s a fantastic reader, that Nina Totenberg, and a great radio writer. Her stories are usually these perfect, completely satisfying narratives (with experts plugged in at key moments). Back before they allowed recordings in the Supreme Court, she’d even perform the parts of all the Justices herself, and did it in the most non-cringeworthy way possible. Because of all this, her stories would absolutely work with music. They’re usually rather cinematic. She’s just great.
Anaheed Alani – 12:47am May 18, 2004 EST
(#28 of 146)
Dear Mr. Glass,
I enjoy your program.
Is there anyone you’ve had sex with that your girlfriend doesn’t know about?
Sincerely,
A listener
Ira Glass – 12:50am May 18, 2004 EST
(#29 of 146)
Very clever “Anaheed Alani” … a.k.a. MY GIRLFRIEND.
The answer’s yes. Your momma.
Ira Glass – 12:52am May 18, 2004 EST
(#30 of 146)
I saw an article in all places, Harvard Business Review on the Telling Tales by Stephen Denning
Thanks for the tip, amiller.
paul tough – 10:32am May 18, 2004 EST
(#31 of 146)
while I’m on the subject what in God’s name did we all dobefore email and the Internet when we got to that pointwhere we needed to stall for a minute? Were we all snacking?
No, we were smoking. Unfiltered Pall Malls, to be precise.
Vera – 11:01am May 18, 2004 EST
(#32 of 146)
Who do you listen to?
Dear Mr.Glass,
I’ve recently started an internship with the documentary unit of my local radio station. My first day, nervous and overeager, I asked the show’s host “Whose stories get you excited? When you aren’t making radio, who do you listen to?” He replied that he doesn’t listen to anyone else’s stories. “These days, radio is crap. Truthfully, I prefer listening to my own work.”
From fantasy to reality or, the first day of an unpaid internship. It occurs to you that while a reporter may be skilled at collecting tape of Afghani orphans playing in war-torn streets, he may not be the most helpful mentor. It makes you wonder if behind every gentle, thoughtful voice in radio is an insolent prima-donna. But I digress.
Mr.Glass, who do you listen to? You’re clearly a fan of Nina Totenberg and Terry Gross but where to you go to hear a good story when you aren’t making good stories yourself?
Sean Cole – 11:51am May 18, 2004 EST
(#33 of 146)
No, we were smoking. Unfiltered Pall Malls, to be precise.
In fact we still are. But we’ve switched to Old Gold filter kings. However, since many tobacco retailers don’t carry those we often settle for Camel filters. Hard pack.
Andy Knight – 01:03pm May 18, 2004 EST
(#34 of 146)
Back to part 1 of the manifesto:
For a sense of what my aesthetics were like when I was 19 and first worked at NPR, here are two radio spots I did back in college, a month or two before I first set foot in the building. These are possibly the most embarrassing things I could possibly post on the Internet
What struck me about this is that this isn’t the first time you’ve placed these two spots for WNUR on the web. In fact, you made them into a sort of reward for decoding their filenames back during the secret pages/decoder contest (as was the pickleheimer clip). Are you secretly proud of these spots? Do they evoke some sort of nostalgia for the days before you were “Ira Glass – Host of public radio’s This American Life“? …for the days before you became a static personality and could do things like the “Daddy, I’m going crackers” without receiving calls from colleagues worried about your mental health.
On a different note, what happened to Fall Clearance, Poultry Slam and pledge drives that were more than just “best of” clip shows? Sure, you’ve said before that Poultry Slam died because there just aren’t that many stories about chickens, but, c’mon, The Vagina Monologues has been running since 1998, and a chicken is, like, 20 times bigger than a vagina. Certainly the stories are out there just waiting for you to [avoiding pun] them.
Cameron Stallones – 05:55pm May 18, 2004 EST
(#35 of 146)
So…
You don’t look at laundry trucks differently?
I thought it was an ice cream truck
Ira: i just wanted to say thanks, you shook my hand at the UCLA event with Chris Ware, and were very pleasant. I enjoy your show, and look forward to each new episode, but I have to ask: you clearly define your methodology as a formula, in a sense, to the extent of having a fixed “narrative structure” that each TAL story follows and that each submission should follow.
do you ever worry that that formula can become just as “dead” of a medium as the shock jock show, or even the bland NPR tortilla report?
granted, its convenient and necessary to know what works and stick to it, and becoming the Peter Greenaway of the radio world seems at the least destructive to a legacy of wonderful storytelling. but how do you know, I suppose i’m asking, that your format is still communicating, especially when it’s still “working” (people seem to react well to it) but perhaps doesnt carry the same weight as before it became a “format?”
Cameron Stallones – 05:57pm May 18, 2004 EST
(#36 of 146)
and I just realized after reading that that sounds like a dig at the show, and it most assuredly is not (I adore the show, and it singularly interested me in radio). but as someone who does documentary radi production, its something i struggle with and wonder how you judge
Ira Glass – 10:31pm May 18, 2004 EST
(#37 of 146)
What struck me about this is that this isn’t the first time you’ve placed these two spots for WNUR on the web.
Oh, I completely forgot. Well, I found them embarrassing then and I still do.
Are you secretly proud of these spots? Do they evoke some sort of nostalgia for the days before you were “Ira Glass – Host of public radio’s This American Life”? …for the days before you became a static personality
I’m proud of the Bradley story, sure. It still holds up. The promos, no. And I don’t actually see myself as “Ira Glass – Host of public radio’s This American Life.” That would sort of make me a crazy person. If anything, my job doesn’t feel that different from day to day than it did when I was working for All Things Considered. The struggle of figuring out a story is pretty much the same. And I still feel the utter, perfect freedom to sound dumb on the air; I mean, I sang on a recent show, for god’s sakes.
On a different note, what happened to Fall Clearance, Poultry Slam and pledge drives that were more than just “best of” clip shows? Sure, you’ve said before that Poultry Slam died because there just aren’t that many stories about chickens but …
If you’re saying we’re recycling material in those shows, sure, but it’s only so we have time to devote to making new material for other shows. As for the Poultry Slam show, we slowed down on that annual event only because people on staff felt we’d all exhausted all our feelings about that particular theme. As much as anything else, we choose the themes based on what’s intriguing and exciting to us as a staff.
Ira Glass – 11:13pm May 18, 2004 EST
(#38 of 146)
Who do you listen to? Where do you go to hear a good story when you aren’t making good stories yourself?
I’m a fan of a lot of the people who regulars at Transom already know and love: Joe Richman, David Isay, Joe Frank. I think Michael Feldman is underrated by my snobby documentary producer friends; in fact I’d argue that Whad’ya Knowis a kind of documentary program, a live one, about midwesterners. That’s what makes it work. I just wish the dude would stop making all those jokes about his wife.
I think Robert Krulwich is a kind of genius. Every story of his I ever see, I want to steal every part of it. I feel the same way with pretty much every Malcolm Gladwellstory. And nearly anything by Michael Lewis. Those three guys have this joyful curiosity that just permeates their reporting. Also, all three are kings at making surprising and original Big Ideas land gracefully in their stories, like one per page or more (one per minute in Krulwich’s case).
Oh, but back to radio. I love On the Media. I’ve said this elsewhere but I think it’s the best new show on public radio. It proves that in the end, it all comes down to good judgment. They’re working in the most tired format in the world (reporter pieces and interviews), they’re doing a show about a subject most people me included find inherently dull (the media), everything’s stacked against them. And yet, every week they find original angles and interesting things to say. They’re smart. They’re not pious but not snarky either. It feels like what a good radio show should feel like – that they’re a group of particular people with particular tastes doing stories that try to describe and understand the world, but through their distinct personalities. That show’s a complete pleasure. If you don’t have it in your town yet, you’re missing out on something special.
I know too many people at NPR to start naming names here, but I always feel jealous of the cleanness of the writing and logic and performance in David Kestenbaum’s stories. Also Mike Shuster’s. I’m liking those new Morning Editionhosts. Tough gig to step into.
There’s a new show that Minnesota Public Radio has in pilot form right now called Pop Vultures which okay isn’t the greatest name but they sent me some CDs and I listened over and over with pleasure in a way that almost never happens. [Pop Vultures page no longer exists] Basically, they’re a pop music show on public radio that doesn’t treat rap and Britney Spears with that weird condescending tone that the news shows usually take. (Or the game shows: I like that Peter Sagal and all but when he makes his smug little jokes about Britney it’s hard not to wince.) What makes Pop Vultureswork, besides the cheerful we’re-just-chatting very non-public-radio tone, is that the woman who hosts the show, Kate Sullivan, says lots of interesting and surprisingly original things about bands you know and bands you only sort of half-know. She sounds young and happy in a way that’s completely unusual on public radio.
They have all the episodes on the Pop Vultures site. My favorites: Ep 2 (the stuff about Britney and Christina) and Ep 5 (esp the part about Dave Grohl being the secret weapon that made Nirvana a great band – who’d think you could have an original thought about Nirvana at this point? – and, come to think of it, all the various stories about Grohl hitting the drum real hard). Their host is great – nearly sort of religious – talking about the White Stripes, but their worst episode is where she talks about her other favorite band, OutKast, so figure.
Interestingly, WNYC is also piloting a pop music show, this one hosted by John Flansburgh of They Might Be Giants, called Now Hear Thiswhich I haven’t heard yet but I bet will be good. I’d hate to be either John or Kate having to compete with the other.
Having said all that … for most of my storytelling consumption, like most Americans, I watch tv. I think we’re in a big golden age of tv right now, where the networks are losing audience every year so they’ll just try any goddamn thing so lots of interesting stuff gets on the air in a way it never has before and might never happen again. Seriously, I think someday people will look back on this period and say what a creative, interesting time it is. Um. Was.
The O.C. is about as perfect and endearing as a tv show will ever get I think. And nearly once a week on The Daily Show they do something that I’m sort of stunned to see on tv, it’s so good. My girlfriend keeps trying to get me to watch the daily reality show, Starting Over, and while she was able to hook me onto Idol and Survivor and America’s Top Model … that show just freaks me out.
Jackson – 11:22pm May 18, 2004 EST
(#39 of 146)
Is a story is a story is a story…
to paraphrase Gertrude Stein? Part of the story is how we speak. I wonder about the different voices we use — say hey! for example, voices that you use: Ira in the supermarket, Ira talking about camps.
I did a news story in the fall, and while I was voicing it, I felt like the breath had been squeezed out of my lungs and I needed to get as many words out in a single breath as I could. That Lost & Found Sound story of the astronauts talking to LBJ immediately leapt to mind. Was I trying to fit the time frame? I’m not sure. I was trying to deliver news.
Is it possible that the role of the commentary in the news mags — the slower voice, yes-I-come-to-you-from-the-normal-world kind of speaking — largely is to fit as a matter of audio variation and tempo from standard fare?
Ira Glass – 11:29pm May 18, 2004 EST
(#40 of 146)
I dunno Jackson. Could be just that people who wanna do commentaries are just imitating the commentators they already hear on the shows. They figure that’s the right way to do it.
Jackson – 11:43pm May 18, 2004 EST
(#41 of 146)
What about “genre” fits “function”?
So?
Ira Glass – 11:44pm May 18, 2004 EST
(#42 of 146)
Cameron, you asked
Do you ever worry that that formula can become just as “dead”
Sure. That’s why it’s important to do stories you have strong feelings about. That’s the only way around that.
Stephanie S – 07:56pm May 19, 2004 EST
(#43 of 146)
“Documentary Unit”?
OK I have one question for Vera, and one for Ira (second paragraph)
I’ve recently started an internship with the documentary unit of my local radio station.
… what is a “documentary unit” and where is your fabulous radio station located? I’m (unsuccessfully) trying to make a career transition from TV to radio, and so far in my job research I haven’t heard of anything like a documentary unit. All I’ve heard from people I’ve talked to is “you have no journalism background”, blah blah. But I have been producing and doing research on TV docs for several years, so perhaps there is something like your “unit” worth pursuing …. ?
Last week, I was TURNED DOWN for a $8/hour internship at Marketplace (working for the commentary editor) while simultaneously getting a rather generous offer for a research gig on a PBS documentary about Native Americans and ecology. This is after being turned down for a PA position on a new MPR pilot (by the way I started doing PA work for TV and film when I was 19, so this was what I already considered “taking it down a notch”). OK — and this one is for Ira — is public radio REALLY that hard to get into?!?
Honestly. I want to do good stories, with integrity. I want to submit to TAL. I want to learn to edit audio by getting a PA job. I want to start at the bottom. I guess I will have to learn this on my own, but I still beg the question — is public radio really this competitive?
Ira Glass – 11:47pm May 19, 2004 EST
(#44 of 146)
Is public radio REALLY that hard to get into?!?
Okay, it’s summer, meaning all the newsy people at NPR will need temporary fill-in for vacationing staffers. Money’s decent. I did this work, back in the day. If you have no tape cutting skill you can work as an editorial assistant, meet people, get some nice person to show you how to edit. Um, or learn that here on Transom.
Each show at NPR is run separately so you can call the executive producer or producer of ATC, Morning Edition (that’s still Ellen McDonnell I think), Weekend ATC, Weekend Saturday, Weekend Sunday, Talk of the Nation. Somebody’s got to need a temp for a few weeks, right?
I’m not too sure but I suspect Minnesota Public Radio’s news operation might be big enough to need summer fill-ins. Do the same trick: call each show, call each bureau, call the receptionist and ask which department might need a summer fill-in.
Rule of thumb in public radio is you work somewhere for a year or two for free or for next to nothing while they get to know you and you get some skills. You become indispensible. Then they hire you, usually about ten minutes after you’re already too qualified for the job you applied for. It’s not a great system but at least it’s cheaper than grad school.
Or you just start making stories. That’s more or less what David Isay did. One great thing about journalism is that you don’t actually need anyone’s permission to start on your first story. You can just start. It’s handy to have someone with more experience you can turn to with your questions, and fortunately, you can do that at this very website, week after week, month after month.
If you haven’t already done this, buy some equipment. If you have middle class parents who you still speak with, this would pretty much be when you call them up and remind them that this is what happens in middle class families: when their kid starts a new business or career, the parents loan some money. I think I still owe my dad some of the $1800 he gave me to buy my Otari reel-to-reel that was essential to making radio back in the day.
Jackson – 12:01am May 20, 2004 EST
(#45 of 146)
Right Ways before TAL
Good luck, Ira. I’m seeing six or seven threads floating around here right now.
I’ll try to be succinct (yeah, right): In the dark old days before 1848, the authorities claim form determined content. If you were singing a ballad, you were singing a story of a recent event or something from the immediate past in strophic form. Elements and people in the story were already familiar to your listeners.
On the other hand, if you were conveying a legend, you would be telling a story in prose about someone other than yourself. As if to say: Your listeners probably know this guy too. (none of this is to be confused with the memorat, a tale one tells about oneself in hopes that it will become a legend). (For film buffs, the concept of the memorat was developed by Carl Maria von Sydow, a botanist turned folklorist, who fathered Max of Bergman and “Exorcist” fame.)
In an earlier post, Cameron brought into play the word “formula” — presumably a shorthand for describing a predetermined structure for storytelling — and how it relates to the telling of stories on TAL.
Given the prejudice surrounding the word “formula,” let me offer in its place “genre.”
My sense is that you and your sisters and brothers at TAL have always been very conscious of the “forms” of storytelling — the Q&A, for example, even while you might sometimes offer an example where there is no Q, only A.
How do the gang at TAL perceive the “formula” and “genre” monikers in storytelling?
Ira Glass – 12:47am May 20, 2004 EST
(#46 of 146)
It’s interesting what you write about this stuff, Jackson, but you’ve given this particular corner of things more thought than I have, probably more than anyone on the staff.
I will say, though, that using the word “genre” instead of “formula” certainly makes one feel like less of a hack. That’s a very helpful suggestion. Thanks!
Elysia Hansel – 02:29am May 20, 2004 EST
(#47 of 146)
music as an intermission
Ira,
Just recently I’ve been listening to some “This American Life” archives. Have you always used the Act I, Act II, Act III to outline the program? The music in between acts often does the same thing as in theatre – give the audience/listener time to digest the story, discuss possible outcomes of the characters and find out what moments stayed with your friends and why.
Second question, In storytelling the theme comes back again to tie the stories to each other and the characters to the listener, so how do you decide which character to introduce first?
Cameron Stallones – 03:24am May 20, 2004 EST
(#48 of 146)
I’ll try to be succinct (yeah, right): In the dark old days before 1848, the authorities claim form determined content. If you were singing a ballad, you were singing a story of a recent event or something from the immediate past in strophic form. Elements and people in the story were already familiar to your listeners.
On the other hand, if you were conveying a legend, you would be telling a story in prose about someone other than yourself. As if to say: Your listeners probably know this guy too. (none of this is to be confused with the memorat, a tale one tells about oneself in hopes that it will become a legend). (For film buffs, the concept of the memorat was developed by Carl Maria von Sydow, a botanist turned folklorist, who fathered Max of Bergman and “Exorcist” fame.)
In an earlier post, Cameron brought into play the word “formula” — presumably a shorthand for describing a predetermined structure for storytelling — and how it relates to the telling of stories on TAL.
Given the prejudice surrounding the word “formula,” let me offer in its place “genre.”
My sense is that you and your sisters and brothers at TAL have always been very conscious of the “forms” of storytelling — the Q&A, for example, even while you might sometimes offer an example where there is no Q, only A.
How do the gang at TAL perceive the “formula” and “genre” monikers in storytelling?
I think what this string of thought boils down to, jackson (and please forgive me if this is getting too off topic), is a debate I’ve been having with a few friends lately, as we’ve been attmepting to make ourselves “film literate.”
it seems in approaching almost any art form, a gross simplification can be made of two major efforts: one to progress at all costs, and a more craft oriented bent. in film, today, you can find those two threads in the aforementioned Peter Greenaway (as the “progress-minded”) and perhaps Krystof Kielowski, or in an odd sense, even tarantino’s “kill bill’s” (using “film language” to communicate in a surprisingly meaningful way) in a more craft oriented strain.
Greenaway’s relentless “breaking of barriers, blah blah blah” make him a kind of hard person to stand, since he seems to have a hatred for anythign but the most experimental and (over)intellectual theory based film, though it produces, i think, brilliant films. kielsowski is someone who i think we can safely say breaks almost no film-conventions but merely strives to tell a story as well as he can, using the conventions of the medium to his advantage
so you fall in one camp or the other…usually…valuing only progress, and experimentation (which is a strange thing to see in such a passed over medium as radio), or pure craft (finding what works and sticking to it)….neither seems wrong, and I am usually drawn to the more craft-oriented works, since hard-line progressors usually see their primary good in novelty, not in quality.
though I have to admit progressors are necessary too.
in the fine arts, this has been played out very rapidly over the past hundred or so years (since cezanne, really) where novelty and aesthetic experimentation seem to have been featyured as a primary good, and I think contemporary art is going to enter a more craft oriented period soon.
I suppose the answer is a boring one: find some sort of balance, but i think its unfair to criticize, really, for either bent as long as the work is strong.
and i spose, to follow up on Ira’s comment, formulas arent for hacks, they’re for Tarantino’s, and Kieslowski’s…they communicate and communicate well…thats why someone writes them down. and progress for progress’s sake tires quickly. I think TAL does a great job of balancing both…
Jackson – 09:32am May 20, 2004 EST
(#49 of 146)
balancing act
Cameron, you’re right: TAL does a great job of balancing both the quest for progress and the quest for craft. And it has set in motion a group of programs — OTM, Studio 360, The Next Big Thing — that in varying degrees address the same quests, though OTM is journalistic in perspective.
Ira is brilliant at providing context for the acts (though Ira, a question: do others contribute to the prose you read on the show? Is it an editorial haggle?), but what’s particularly appealing is that what sounds like a conversation — for example, Squirrel Cop — is actually an interview where we get all the details. But the Qs are more involved and engaging than, “What’s your name?” “What’s yer quest?”
Which leads me to a couple of questions — Ira, is it possible to be too prepared for an interview? And how long was the actual interview with Squirrel Cop before you ended up with the 15:00 or so?
Phil Easley – 09:33am May 20, 2004 EST
(#50 of 146)
Ira, you wrote:
I started working at NPR’s headquarters in Washington when I was 19 but I wasn’t competent at writing and structuring my own stories until I was 27. I’ve never met anyone who took longer, and I’ve met hundreds of people who work in radio.
Why do you suppose it took you so long to learn how to tell a story? And wasn’t there SOMETHING from those first eight years that you were doing right, that you’re still doing?
paul tough – 06:40pm May 20, 2004 EST
(#51 of 146)
Ira, thanks for the tip to check out Pop Vultures:
http://popvultures.publicradio.org/
What a great-sounding show. It feels like a true descendant of TAL, mostly because it sounds absolutely nothing like TAL, the way TAL sounded nothing like what came before it.
Jay, when can we get Kate Sullivan as a Transom guest?
And Ira, what chance do you think I have of ever hearing this on WNYC?
Jay Allison – 07:24pm May 20, 2004 EST
(#52 of 146)
vultures
We have already aired all the episodes on our stations on the Cape and Islands. It is available on the PRXfor any station in the country that wants it, WNYC included. Kate & Co. as Transom Guests is a good idea.
Here’s my review from the PRX:
Review of Pop Vultures Introduction by Jay Allison:
At our public radio station we like Pop Vultures, even though it doesn’t sound like anything else on our air. Okay… BECAUSE it doesn’t sound like anything else. It’s clever and lively, occasionally callow, but so what? We’re going to air all of it. The music beds are pefectly mixed, with lots of treats of timing, wanting only a little higher music-to-talk ratio once in a while, just so we could understand better what all the talk is about. The talk is both earnest and hip, full of love for the subject. If you’re older you’re bound to miss some of the cultural references, but you’ll understand the nature of the discussion, and the heart and thought behind it. Sometimes it’ll make you feel smart, sometimes stupid. Our audience, and our community (Cape Cod and the Islands), has a lot of older people in it, but they’re not DEAD, so we assume they are interested generally in life, not to mention the lives of their children and grandchildren. At least we hope so and we’re going to program under that assumption until we learn different.
Ira Glass – 07:58pm May 20, 2004 EST
(#53 of 146)
It feels like a true descendant of TAL, mostly because it sounds absolutely nothing like TAL, the way TAL sounded nothing like what came before it.
Yeah exactly. That’s one of the things I love about it too.
Nicholas Epstein – 08:13pm May 20, 2004 EST
(#54 of 146)
Why I Cry
Dear Ira,
I am an American living in Switzerland, and when we finally got broadband up here in the Alps, I started listening regularly to TAL on the net (whereas in the States, I had only been a casual listener). It seems to fill up this void that comes with living in a faraway place, in a unique and satisfying way. It’s not anything patriotic or a longing for home, I just really identify with what you guys think is cool or sad or slightly weird. Moreover I think that this reverence for and need to celebrate the smallness and singularity of each person’s brief stint on earth is a distinctly American cultural characteristic.
There is at least one moment during every show where I am overcome with emotion, and the amazing thing is, a lot of times, I’m not exactly sure why. I really have to think about it; sometimes it doesn’t even have anything at all to do with me or my own exerience. Can you imagine? What a gift it is to actually feel something for no other reason than that somone else somewhere felt something similar, and that it is now just there to be felt, in the ether of humanity.
There is a certain humbling power in looking for the beautiful and wonderous in that which is everyday and small and familiar (and vice versa). Your show always reminds me of that, so, thanks.
Also, people rock.
gasolina – 08:16pm May 20, 2004 EST (#55 of 146)
Hola
Ira,
I was thinking it would be interesting if you did a friendster-esque theme for TAL. People telling stories about others that are a few degrees away. Kind of like otherpeoplestories.com meets friendsters meets dominos. Structured around some type of sad/funny/tragic incident. Would that work? Or is that just Rashomon for radio?
Why exactly does Starting Over freak you out? Is it the tears? Please share more about that.
Jackson – 11:47pm May 20, 2004 EST
(#56 of 146)
Just throwing this on the fire…
We really haven’t banged our heads against the musical wall in radio in this discussion, but seeing as how music — any music — conveys time and place (in other words, history), I offer up Nick Hornby’s contemplations upon reaching the age of 47:
http://nytimes.com/2004/05/21/opinion/21HORN.html?hp
drewc – 12:56am May 21, 2004 EST
(#57 of 146)
Quickie
So, can you go to a movie anymore without hearing the soundtrack and thinking, “wow, this is going to be great behind a radio piece someday?”
| Part 2 >> The second installment of Ira Glass’ Manifesto, more discussion… |
The piece about Stirling Moss was wonderful. I’m old enough to remember the 300sl when it was first produced. The mille miglia machine would not have been quite as civilized as the street version, and I was anticipating some audio of Sir Stirling firing up that beast, or bettter yet, cranking through the gears and hitting the gas on the turns. Alas, it was not to be. It was a great essay, but little post produduction doctoring (if necessary) would have made it better, in my opinion. You have a great show.
A fan,Thad Poulson, Sitka Alaska.
http://simplestories.blogspot.com/
True stories from everyday life, waiting to be told and remembered.
Sometimes serendipity is just the way things work!
I was punching my radio pre-sets on one fateful day and connected with my local Public Radio station (WSHU in Bridgeport, CT)…while they were broadcasting Ira playing David Sedaris’ "Santaland Diaries". I came in somewhere in the middle. Not knowing what I had, I sat and listened, so mesmerized and transfixed that I sat as if paralized. I could NOT get out of the car; and when I got to my destination, I just sat there until it was over. I have been a weekly listener ever since and, like a religious zealot, constantly proselytize to spread the message of "This American Life". I have my favorites; and I’m sure that I’ve barely begun to hear them all. This is what REAL radio should be. Who needs TV sitcoms when radio by Ira and staff is what the mind actually craves. It reminds me of when I was a kid and could not wait to get home and grab the book I was too tired to keep reading the nite before. Usually the Hardy Boys, or some other read that so captivated my mind that I was transported to that magical world of imagination in the mind. Thanks Ira. Listening has encouraged me to get back to an audio project that I’ve put off for years: recording and editing the oral history of my family and then notible members of our local community. Now, all I have to do is find the time…
Sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you’d know anything about where Ira Glass will be speaking on May 2. I hear he is scheduled to be in Baltimore, but I don’t know where.
I would hate to miss him, now that I live in the area.
Big Ed
Since you were at Irving last things have gotten much worse, the Principle Rita Ortiz has alienated everyone involved in the school, teachers, local school council members, and parents. She remains very distant and untrusting towards teachers, and parents. There are six teachers retiring at the end of this year the LSC already had the task of replacing those teachers, last Friday she handed in her resignation and already has a contract with another school, almost instantly she fired two teachers who recieved superior ratings on their evaluations, then Monday may 16th she fired another superior rated teacher leaving nine teaching positions open for the LSC to fill for the coming year, since she has not explained her actions to anyone we can only assume that this was done out of anger. The schools budget did not warrent such action, nor did the teachers evaluations we can only see this as a last minute ditch effort on her part to dismantal the school as much as possible before she leaves offically on June 30th. I am one of many concerned parents who packed the school multipurpose room last night 5/17/05 far beyone capacity would allow to have our numerous questions adressed, only to find out that she did not bother to show up. Many of the parents called the Chicago Board of Education yesterday to voice our concerns with this issue, and many more will continue to call and write the multipurpose room will be packed once more tonight, for the regularly LSC meeting, and there will be protesters picketing in front of the school today. We all feel that the damage that she has done to the wonderful Irving staff and the Irving students is unforgivable and we deserve at least to have our questions answered. We have found out that she wreaked this sort of havoc as principle of another school, we have all decided that Irving teachers and students are too special to let her get away with this unscathed, there will be local media covering the protesing today, if we can’t get her to answer our very important questions, then she will have to deal with the one sided news coverage. I am writing this to you since you have researched the schools progress, and the begining of it’s decline you know how special the teachers at this school are, they go above and beyond the call on a daily basis, and without their nurturing and leadersdhip, Irving students will be as bad off as most of the other city public elementary school students, I am the parent of three straight A students at Irving, I believe that they deserve the best that Irving can give them, those teachers that were fired were just that you will not meet any finer human beings. We are trying to get a hiring, and firing freeze put against her so that we do not loose any more very valuable teachers, and so that those teachers that were fired may have the oppertunity to reapply for their positions by the new Principle, I am also on the Principle selection com. Have a good day!
I had heard good things about Washington Irving from teachers in the cps. I now live in the Tri Taylor area with hopes to send my 2yr old to Irving one day.
I was stopped dead in my tracks when I heard the saga on This American Life. The teaser was When good schools go bad, I just knew it was going to be about Washington Irving. I don’t know why I thought that. Maybe it is because good things just don’t last with the CPS!
It is to bad that Arnie Dumb-cen just recently declared that he will now support progressive, independant run schools if they show that they work!Is it To late for Washington Irving?
I am hoping by the time my daughter is old enough for pre-k that I will be able to walk her across the street to our neighborhood school.
Alice Difiore keep up the good work.
M.Blair
Maybe it’s done on purpose. Perhaps not, but to find a guy like Ira Glass to host such an amazing voice is obviously meant to be. His voice soothes the radio and the speakers release such stories, that for a good hour after the show, I am still full of aw. Thank you NPR, PRI, Chicago Public Radio, and ofcourse Ira glass. Because every Sunday, there’s an hour that allows me to reflect on this thing called life.
Thanks
Simon 14
Try and do some more. Make a fool of yourself. What a reward for hours of sweating a story.
To make it something worth sharing.
That’s the way it is.
Hurrah for the process. Product vs. process.
Or maybe a combination of both? Of course,