Studio 60 and A Very Intriguing Store in Scotts Corners, NY

“Studio 60” and A Very Intriguing Store in Scotts Corners, NY

No, this is not another one-sided debate (people like to pretend they’re writing those but everyone just loves the sound of their own opinion) but just a Tuesday morning reflection after two consecutive Monday nights of exceptional writing, acting and directing on tv.

I keep seeing “the golden age” of television in print and hearing it spoken about these days by those with far more clout in this area and I would hope when they penned or spoke those words, Aaron Sorkin’s words came to mind. As did Mr. Schlamme’s direction, and the acting of Matthew Perry, Bradley Whitford, Nate Corddry, Steven Webber, D.L. Hughley, Sarah Paulson and the rest of the glorious cast. Over the past two weeks, Ed Asner and John Goodman have brought even more honesty, profound talent and superb acting to this gem.

I won’t review the plot because that seems absurd if you haven’t seen it. I hope it goes into reruns (wherever it ends up) and somehow gets another order for more than another six scripts. But I am not, despite being a rather nauseatingly optimistic sort, expecting miracles, just trying to live in the 10 p.m. Monday night moment.

But I have to share a really tender moment that will ultimately (rare for me) tie back to Mr. Sorkin and the most fragile, tender roots of a show like Studio 60.

In a fantastically out-of-the-way store in northern Westchester (call –they’ll give you easy directions, it’s worth a Sunday drive) in a sweet little town called Scotts Corners on the border of Stamford, Ct. there is a phenomenal store called Antiques and Tools…it’s on the only main street in Scotts Corners. Taped or stapled to a wood shelf, rather deliberately placed that way, there are modest photos: a couple of minor luminaries, a bit more of more major ones (Richard Gere with dark hair — at least twenty-something years ago) and notes from and photos of Martha Stewart, among many others. Apparently, Mr. Gere bought his outdoor furniture here and Stanley Tucci has bought all kinds of collectibles.

You have to be a collectible-lover and one of my sons is. At 12, he likes bottle caps (the real thing) and old, beat-up, out-of-state license plates. With framed photos of Mariano Rivera, Sandy Koufax and autographs his father has brought him from Tiki Barber and Wayne Gretzky, his room looks like a scavenger hunt, but we both like it that way. I found a couple of $6 license plates to tote home for my kid, and I scooped up a handful of bottle caps. I never buy a thing for myself….but I saw a red princess phone I had to have. I thought it would make me feel “sixteen going on seventeen” and it does; but the biggest giggle I got was when my license plate-loving son (he who could take apart a PC and put it back together) could not figure out how to dial it. I had to show him slowly and repeatedly until he got the hang of it. He was shocked that I had to dial this way as a teenager. (I do love the phone. I get down on the floor and stick my legs up in the air crossed, stretching on my tummy, channeling “Bye Bye Birdie”.)

The greatest moment occurred as a result of hunting down some old Playbills for my boyfriend’s birthday. The colorful “A Chorus Line” jumped out at me. I knew he would love it, and at five for three dollars, I kept looking and found four others: “Guys and Dolls”, “Fiorello” “Jelly’s Last Jam” and “The Tap Dance Kid.” Amazed at the plays I remembered with great fondness “The Real Thing” (I love Tom Stoppard—I met him last year, thought my heart would stop)”Torch Song Trilogy”, “Dreamgirls”. “Glengarry Glen Ross” I stopped dead cold when leafing through the pages, I found a two page article by my older daughter’s muse, who must have been , what, 22(?) and enterprising as hell (I believe this was 1984)…I felt like an archaeologist of the arts, and of ambition drive…the by-line, along with that in another piece –which belonged to Arthur Laurents—was the one, the only…Aaron Sorkin’s.

I brought it home and left it on her bed, knowing I would have to get another copy of the “Chorus Line” (hoping the store had it) for my beau. She schlepped up the stairs, slammed her door close and then I heard a shriek.

“Oh my God!”

It was less subtle than last night’s “Studio 60” but a real-life episode I’d never forget.