I dial the phone number...
"Hello, this is Joe Franklin."
"Hello Joe, this is Jim Knusch."
"Why do I know that name?" asks Joe.
"Because I guested on your TV Show once as well as on your radio show, twice."
"Yes, what can I do for you?" asks Joe.
"I was wondering if we could arrange another appearance, TV or radio?"
"Pick your own time," says Joe.
"For which, TV or radio?"
"You name it," says Joe.
"Maybe the TV show again?"
"Call me next week on Tuesday at 3PM."
Joe hangs up...
I dial the phone number - that Tuesday at 3PM...
"Hello, this is Joe Franklin."
"Hello Joe, you told me to call you at this time."
"Who is this?" asks Joe.
"This is Jim Knusch, I called last week."
"Why do I know that name?" asks Joe.
"Because I guested on both your TV and radio shows."
"Call me next Thursday, at 11AM. I'll have good news."
Joe hangs up.
The End. No more calls.
If one truly wanted to do the Joe Franklin Show, whether for the first or the one thousandth time, this was the petty ritual one had to endure with who I came to think of as Mr. Phony Sincerity. When calling his office, it was a pretty sure bet that the man himself would answer. Occasionally, he would direct someone, anyone, who was visiting him in his office to pick up and answer for him. Always, he would have a few words. These words could be a few superlative compliments, a directive to call back "next week" and then he would hang up without even a goodbye. Anyone who called him would come to know this terse bum's rush. It became legend. Since he left this realm on Jan 24, 2015, I feel compelled to relate my very brief association with him for posterity.
My earliest memory of Joe Franklin goes back to my childhood. Whenever I was kept home from school because of illness the only thing I had to combat near terminal boredom was television. 1950s black and white daytime television consisted of reruns of old TV shows, older movies, kiddie shows, and something new to the media: talk shows. After a few hours of channel hopping, among the maybe 5 or 6 channels available, one would eventually hit upon Joe's show.
His set was designed roughly like a living room, giving the impression that the show was coming from his actual living room. But of course it wasn't. Most of the time he had a guest that I never heard of. If the guest was a musical artist, or someone almost close to being a musical artist, one of their recordings would be played at some point. Listening to it also brought back and forth dissolves of closeups of Joe and his musical guest with frozen smiles, the album cover, and photographs propped on a table, until the piece ended. The show opened and closed with the tune The 12th Street Rag. For the longest time I thought this tune was something created exclusively for his show. I was wrong.
A recent Village Voice article (with another not so fond remembrance, perhaps) stated that Joe Franklin made "Boredom Beatific." I think now I'm getting what the author meant.
In later interviews Joe related the story of his own youthful years and his admiration, and obsession, with Eddie Cantor. He personally related to me that he would forever consider Cantor the absolute best entertainer who ever lived. Another claim Joe made was he had possibly the most popular radio show ever to broadcast from his hometown, New York City. When the local TV stations were expanding their programming he was called by one of the local stations, WJZ-TV. He was asked if he could "fill an hour of television per day" (his actual statement). This was in 1950. WJZ-TV eventually became WABC-TV. In 1963 he moved to WOR, ending the run of his show in 1993.
He also occasionally made mention of the fact that he had perfected something he called faking sincerity. He said, "Once you've perfected faking sincerity your career in show business is made." The Memory Lane radio show he hosted continued until his death. He never missed a show.
Yes, I actually did the Joe Franklin Show, both TV and the radio show. The time was the mid 1980s. Since I had been guesting on local Long Island cable TV and radio shows, including co-hosting a weekly cable network audio show for about 8 months, a friend recommended contacting Joe Franklin. My friend had done his show in the past and was contemplating an attempt at another TV appearance.
After going through the phone tag ritual that Joe put everyone through, he invited me to his office near Times Square in NYC. It was a small office in a building that had seen better days. A small handmade sign hung above the door labeled Memory Lane. Inside the office was a couch, a chair, maybe a small desk and two old style rotary dial phones. The two phones had duct tape wrapped around them, preventing any use of the dials. Joe called no one. Everyone called him. Strewn all around the office were magazines, papers, letters and other clutter. While sitting there with him one would be recruited to answer a ringing phone, but all callers were subjected to the Joe Franklin phone tag, brush-off, ritual.
But I finally was awarded a day and a time for a taping of his show. Directions to the WOR-TV studio in Secaucus were provided. He even sent his assistant down to a local deli for coffee for the both of us, on him. During the taping of the show my brief stint consisted mainly of commenting on the current article I then had in FilmFax Magazine. We spoke about a few other items involving Film History. He then actually paid me a compliment. He pointed at me and said to the other guests, "The man knows his stuff!" After the taping of the TV show, he suggested I guest on his Saturday late night radio show. I managed two radio appearances.
Feeling lucky, a year or two later I thought I would attempt to guest on his TV show again. I called his office and, yes, the phone tag brush-off routine was back in place. Soon I figured that, no, I really don't need to go through it all again. This, especially, since he instructed me to call back during a holiday.
One interesting fact that Joe had related to me, in-between the taping of my appearance on his TV show, was the fact that when the show was eventually broadcast it would also be beamed to a satellite. His show was seen in several areas of the world. Mail came in from as far away as the Fiji Islands. Mr Phony Sincerity or not, I took his comment on my knowing my stuff as a true compliment. I like to think that everyone who watched that show, even those in the Fiji Islands, heard that compliment.
I just hope they weren't merely trying to combat their own boredom, beatific or otherwise.
