Making "Mister Rogers & Me"

"Mister Rogers & Me" Has Moved!

2010-05-19T21:58:00.009-04:00

Please visit our new, official website misterrogersandme.com.

Mister Rogers, Midnight & Me

2010-05-12T01:21:00.003-04:00

It's well after midnight, and for the second night running, Christofer and I are still editing.

I spent an hour in the v.o. booth tonight re-tracking the final scene. It was frustrating and difficult; I've now read the end (or some version of it) four times.

Tonight, in response to notes from numerous filmmaker friends who've screened our rough cut, we added more of a personal conclusion to the film. That is, many suggested that previous edits left my personal story unfinished. I scripted and read a few lines connecting my first meeting with Mister Rogers in 2001 to today.

Reading v.o. is challenging. I obviously have no experience with it. Even the slightest variation in tone and tempo has a bearing on how the story is perceived. It took me an hour to read six paragraphs. (Suffice to say, my frustration led to a few words Mister Rogers likely rarely uttered.)

We've taken numerous other notes as well (and ignored plenty too). As a result, the film is tighter, more-focussed, and even a few minutes shorter. Our current edit clocks in about 82:00.

Meanwhile, Chris has been up-rezing the film. That is, the raw tape was loaded in SD (or "standard definition"). Now that we've locked picture (or nearly so), Chris is re-digitizing only the bits of raw tape we used in the film in HD ("hi-definition"). It looks beautiful, but is a huge file that -- because Chris has edited on numerous laptops over the course of nearly five years -- likes to crash.

We've notified nearly everone who's on the film about its forthcoming Nantucket Film Festival premiere. Today I heard from Susan Stamberg, Marc Brown and Bo Lozoff. Everyone's thrilled, and we hope some will join us for the premiere.

I still can't believe we're going to premiere this thing, especially amidst such luminous company. Of course, I'm not sure I'll even make the premiere (though I booked a flight just in case); Abbi and I are planning a far-more ambitious and auspicious premiere.

It's as if Mister Rogers knew it all, all along.

"Mister Rogers & Me" To Premiere Alongside Tom Hanks, Ben Stiller, Bill Murray, More

2010-04-30T00:19:00.017-04:00

The official Nantucket Film Festival lineup was released today, and it's stellar.

"Mister Rogers & Me" will premiere alongside a small but impressive list of films, including Tom Hank's "Toy Story 3," Bill Murray's "Get Low," and Patricia Clarkson's "Cairo Time."

Frankly, I can hardly believe it. But there it is in The Hollywood Reporter.

I knew the lineup was coming; I've been sending synopsise, clips, bios and photos for weeks. Word of the official release from my colleague, MTV Movies Managing Editor Josh Horowitz. I was fresh off an overnight train from New York to Sheldon, South Carolina, which I boarded fresh off a red eye from Los Angeles to New York. I clicked tentatively, as if the call from the festival organizers a few weeks ago was some sort of dream.

There it was in black and white alongside films by Spike Jonze ("The Birth of Big Air") and Davis Guggenheim ("Waiting For Superman"), and actors like Kevin Kline ("The Extra Man"), Katie Holmes ("The Romantics") and Anne Meara ("Another Harvest Moon"). Ben Stiller will once again bring his All-Star Comedy Roundtable, and the festival will honor Barry Levinson's "Diner."

Oh, and Christofer and my little film. I emailed him right away, my heart racing.

The NFF lineup is truly, truly impressive. It's amazing that we're a part of it. Amazing! Chokes me up. Congratulations, dude.

In the program, the color photograph of Mister Rogers and me in his modest, well-loved living room is wedged between the documentary "Last Train Home" and John Lennon biopic "Nowhere Boy." The documentary company alone is staggering: "The Birth of Big Air," "Bill Cunningham New York," "Freedom Riders," "His & Hers," "Smash His Camera," "The Tilman Story," "Waiting For Superman" and "Last Train Home."

I stepped outside into the sun-dappled South Carolina afternoon, and went for a long run. The sky was bright blue and streaked with wispy clouds. The Pocotaligo River was strewn with diamond-shaped reflections. Egrets and eagles soared above me. Alligators scattered in my wake. I alternated between fantasizing about meeting Tom Hanks, imaging a neighbor-filled premiere party, and missing out on the whole thing on account of my new son or daughters imminent arrival.

I met Mister Rogers nearly nine years ago on the cusp of my "Crash Site" CD release. The album was full of songs inspired by my parent's divorce. I wrestled with it affects daily. And then, on that fateful day in September, Mister Rogers said to me, "Tell me about your parent's divorce," gently making manageable the unmentionable.

Through the passing of time, and the making of the film, I came to reckon with that wreckage. I met my wife. And now we're expecting out first child just a few days before making good on his challenge to "spread the message" that "deep and simple is far more essential than shallow and complex." That's the real story: how Mister Rogers helped me heal, become more-whole, get married, and bring a child into the world. And the tools he gave me to do it all. What a miracle.

Chris and I have been working on "locking picture" (that is, finalizing our edit) for weeks. We have just a few more narrow windows to tweak the film further. A few filmmaker friends have screened it, and shared their notes. Everyone is feeling it, and most had suggestions that will only make the story deeper and simpler. The best note so far? "I cried!"

Whatever happens with the premiere, I am blessed. I am grateful. I feel dozens of guardian angels hovering over me, helping lift this project off the ground and into flight. Who knows what will happen next. All I know is that we've almost done it! We've almost made good on our pledge to Mister Rogers. And it feels amazing.

Mister Rogers, HD & Me

2010-04-15T18:00:00.009-04:00

I don't honestly remember when Chris and I shot our first footage, but for years now, I've been stashing "Mister Rogers & Me" master tapes away in a tattered, brown box in the back of my closet.

Wednesday morning, I dragged it out, and spread the tapes across the dining room table: seventy six HDDV tapes. 4, 560 minutes of deep and simple. Three whole days. (To say nothing of the footage we licensed).

I bound the tapes in rubber bands, stacked them carefully in my messenger bag, and set off towards Times Square. I dropped the bag with Christofer, who -- just a few hours later -- had re-digitized the tapes, up-res'd the files, and sent me a link. "The HD file is up. It's a big file!"

Big, yeah. But beautiful. Have a look.

Next up? The rest of the 85-minute film.

It's gonna be a big file, yeah. But it's going to be beautiful.

"Mister Rogers & Me" To World Premiere At Nantucket Film Festival

2010-04-12T22:01:00.024-04:00

It's official.

Our documentary, "Mister Rogers & Me," will world premiere at the Nantucket Film Festival June 17-20.

Of course, the film was born on Nantucket in September, 2001, when -- during a chance encounter with my actual summer neighbor (my mother rented a tiny cottage on on the island's West End just next door to Mister Rogers "Crooked House") -- America's Favorite Neighbor asked me about my job at MTV.

"I feel so strongly," he said, "That deep and simple is far more essential than shallow and complex."

The following summer, I told Mister Rogers how frequently I'd considered what he said.

"Spread the message, Benjamin. Spread the message."

Eight years later, with stops in Durham, NC; Fredericksburg, VA; Washington, DC; Boston, MA; Pittsburgh and Latrobe, PA (plus hours upon hours in our New York City edit, one marriage, two births and a third expected within days of the films' premiere), my brother and my documentary is returning to Nantucket.

The film features interviews with Mister Rogers' friends, neighbors and collaborators: Tim Russert ("Meet The Press"), Susan Stamberg (NPR), and Linda Ellerbee (Nick News), Marc Brown ("Arthur"), Davy Rothbart (Found Magazine), Dr. Susan Linn (Campaign for a Commerical Free Childhood), Amy Hollingsworth ("The Simple Faith of Mister Rogers"), Tim Madigan ("I'm Proud of You"), Bo Lozoff ("Deep & Simple") and Beverly Hall ("My Nantucket").

The call came Friday afternoon. I was at work.

"Tell me where you are with your film," Artistic Director Mystelle Brabée asked.

My pulse raced. My heart throbbed in my ears. I turned towards the window, put my feet up on the radiator, and endeavored to remain calm.

"Well, last night we moved an entire segment from the last third to the first," I stammered. "Yunno, to increase stakes. But that's about the last, big change we can make; we don't have the time or money to do anything drastic, just voice over, music, trimming... stuff like that."

"Are you interested in a few notes?" she asked.

"Absolutely," I said, "Four people have seen this thing. I'm more than happy to hear your thoughts."

We talked a few minutes more. The entire time I wondered, 'Are we in!?!'

Finally, Mystelle said, "Let's move forward with this."

Inhale. Hold...

"Daniela will send you a confirmation letter..."

Exhale.

I called Christofer a few seconds later.

"We're in!" I said before thanking him for following me all over the Northeast and working into the wee hours night after night after night.

And then I called Abbi. My wife is due on June 9, just eight days prior to the start of the festival.

"I find it hard to believe this is just a coincidence," I told her. "A film festival on Father's Day Weekend with a film by a brand-new father about the grandfather he wished he'd had..."

Walking home, my excitement began to turn to anxiety. What about that last piece of footage? What about the music? What about the web site? The premiere party? Will the baby be born in time? Where will we stay? How will we get there? Who will come? Will we finish it in time? What about the end? Will anyone like it?

I looked up beyond the buildings to the stars, and heard Mister Rogers clear as a bell.

"You're doing fine, Benjamin. You're doing fine."

One Stamp & One Step At A Time

2010-04-04T20:53:00.015-04:00

It wasn't until standing at the counter of the U.S. Postal Service last week that it dawned on me just how large the "Mister Rogers & Me" neighborhood has become.

It took Abbi and my imminent move from Hell's Kitchen to the Upper East Side to finally get all of those Kickstarter envelopes out the door. And it took me three trips to the Radio City Postal Station to get it right. But there I was, finally, placing each of the fiftysomething hand-packed,written and seeled envelopes on the scale one at a time, reading all the labels and ticking off cities like a FedEx commercial: Asheville, NC; Jupiter, FL; Littleton, CO; Little Elm, TX; Seattle, WA; Berkeley, CA... the list goes on and on.

I love the idea of all of those photos and cds and thank you notes making their way to the edges of this great country, and I love the idea that -- as Fred showed me -- "There is something of yourself that you leave at every meeting with another person."

That small collection of addresses is nothing, of course. Mister Rogers' legacy lives in the hearts of thousands upon thousands of friends of neighbors. I hope we can activate just 1% of them to spread his message to 1% of their friends and neighbors. That's how a legacy grows, one story at a time.

Work continues on our story, of course. Here are a few random updates:

We're still making tweaks to the film, including one, major segment move, additional voice overs, and ...

We've commissioned local pianist Chris LoPresto to add some incidental music.

We're working with our friends at Conure Studios to relaunch this site (as you can see in the associated image).

Finally we're doing everything in our power to premiere at the Nantucket Film Festival in June, including (but not limited to) crossing our fingers and toes (which makes it tough to type and walk). Meanwhile, the film remains in consideration for Seattle and Toronto, and we'll be submitting to SilverDocs, Kansas, Hot Springs, Heartland, Hamptons, Santa Fe, Chicago and more in the coming weeks.

What About Mister Rogers & You?

2010-03-20T06:00:00.000-04:00

Last week, Chris and my email accounts both lit up like Christmas trees when our friends and neighbors all sent us this recent New York Times report, "Mister Rogers Still Looms Large In Pittsburgh." The article begins:

Nationally, it may seem that in the seven years since Fred Rogers's death, the legacy of America’s favorite neighbor has waned.

True as the author's thesis may be, it made me a bit sad. Despite his increased absence on public television stations, Mister Rogers still looms large in the hearts and minds of many all over the world, from media to academia to grass-roots organizations like Brian Linder and his Save 'Mister Rogers Neighborhood'.

Today would have been Fred Rogers' 82d birthday. In his hometown of Latrobe, PA, the Fred Rogers Center is hosting a conference of academics to discuss his legacy, and its path forward.

I'm in Pawley's Island, SC, with my dad. Ironically, the last time I was here was the day after Mister Rogers passed away in 2003. Last night, I jogged by the hotel parking lot in which I was interviewed by The Nantucket Inquirer-Mirror.

This year, we celebrate his legacy with our ongoing "Mister Rogers & Me," efforts. Just yesterday, we launched "Mister Rogers & Me" on Facebook.

Before leaving Friday morning, Chris and I raced to get this brand-new, never-before-seen clip from the film uploaded. It's from the first third of the film, when we visit Mister Rogers' sweater in The Smithsonian, then stand out front and asked people about Mister Rogers and them.

Mister Rogers said, "There is something of yourself that you leave at every meeting with another person." He certainly left a lot with me. What did Mister Rogers leave with you?

Mister Rogers, The Supertease & Me

2010-03-07T19:37:00.011-05:00

Thankfully, indie film isn't baseball; Chris and I swung at our third strike last night when the following slipped into my inbox.

Thank you for allowing us to consider your film for this year’s Tribeca Film Festival. We were grateful to receive so many outstanding shorts and features and enjoyed the chance to see your film.

We regret to inform you that we are unable to include Mister Rogers & Me in this year’s program. We hope though that you keep us in mind for your next project.

I didn't expect that we'd get into the Top Five (Sundance, Cannes, Berlin, Tribeca and SXSW), but I did fantasize about it. So it's obviously disappointing. Extra disappointing after a week of editing 'til two o'clock in the morning. And disconcerting given a week's-worth of anxiety that -- after everything -- maybe our film's not tough enough, not focussed enough, not, well, documentary enough.

Lemme' explain.

When Chis and I set out to start shooting "Mister Rogers & Me" way back on the summer of 2006, we didn't know what we'd find, or how it would end. Our objective was simply to hit the road, ask as many people as possible what they thought Mister Rogers meant when he told me, "Deep and simple is far more essential than shallow and complex," and see where we ended up.

Just about four years later, the documentary is nearly done (or at least as done as time and resources allow), which is kind of a miracle. I'll be the first to admit that -- from Virginia to North Carolina to Cambridge to Boston -- the story rambles a bit. It's not "Food, Inc." or "Fog Of War." Our enemy -- a shallow, substanceless life-- is faceless and pervasive. The stakes are significant; they're everything. All week long, though, as we've dropped in new voice over, soundtrack, and titles, and shaved, rearranged, and nudged scenes frame-by-frame, we've wondered: do we make our points clearly enough?

Thursday night around one o'clock in the morning, I said to Chris, "You know we need? A supertease."

"Supertease" is a television word for the first few minutes of a show that hook the viewer. Typically bombastic, fast-paced and high-stakes, the supertease is the set-up, the hype-machine, the sugar-rush.

We shipped our Nantucket Film Festival submission about an hour before the deadline Friday night. I dashed from Chris office to mine to grab a postcard of Beverly Hall's iconic photo of Mister Rogers and Nantucket legend, Madaket Mille, to slip in the envelope. On the back I wrote:

Dear Neighbors,

Our film, "Mister Rogers & Me," was born of this island, nurtured by this picture, and made possible by countless walks on the beach there. Please help it find its way home.

Tribeca emailed last night. Chris called today. I told him the news. A few seconds after his brief, two-word response, he said, "I've been thinking. Mister Rogers wouldn't supertease. We shouldn't either. Our movie's a journey. People will take it. And it will take us wherever its supposed to, even if that means we make our second documentary about driving this one from coast to coast."

And so we soldier on, one step and one frame at a time. The SilverDocs Film Festival deadline is this Friday. I can't tell you what we'll accomplish between now and then: maybe some better music beds to cover the interstitial quotes, maybe some new v.o. that better establishes the stakes. Not sure; time is tough to come by. But I can promise you, though, that there will be no supertease.

Mister Rogers, Tuning & Me

2010-03-03T22:51:00.009-05:00

I emailed our Family Communications contact yesterday for one, last piece of footage.

"I appreciate that it may seem as if we've been 'almost finished' with 'Mister Rogers & Me' for months now," I wrote. "In fact we've been making numerous revisions as we submit to numerous festivals, fine-tuning seemingly non-stop."

Right now, we're fine tuning the Tim Russert segment. We just eliminated a sound bite about how his first "Meet The Press" question ever was to Bob Dole, and how he took his dad's advice to "Keep it simple" -- half of the "deep and simple" equation we posit as our thesis. We also re-arranged the components of the segment to move through it more quickly, but with more nuance.

By the time we were done, we'd shaved just shy of a minute, but crafted a clearer, sharper, more-interesting segment.

I just said to Chris, "I still can't believe Tim granted us this interview." Just as I still can't believe I've been emailing with his widow, Maureen Orth, for the last few weeks. She's been so helpful, basically sharing every photo she could find from their family's time on Nantucket. So cool. One photo shows Tim, Maureen and Luke racing across Madaket Bay in a speed boat, all wind-blown and smiling ear-to-ear. Its emblematic of the kind of access friends of Mister Rogers have provided Chris and me.

All of these little changes are in service of Friday's Nantucket Film Festival deadline. Of course, I've always hoped to screen there; it's where the film was born. By the end of the week, we'll be waiting to hear from Tribeca, Nantucket, Toronto, Boston, Seattle and HotDocs. Hopefully, it'll find a home...

Mister Rogers, Mother Theresa & Me

2010-02-06T19:38:00.007-05:00

As is often the case, my lack of posts here is little indication of our ongoing efforts to bring "Mister Rogers & Me" to the big screen. Here's the latest.

Two weeks ago, SXSW Film Festival Program Director Jarod Neece sent a nice, personal email thanking us for our submission, but gently suggesting that the film "just missed" being accepted to premiere there. Submissions are still pending at Tribeca, Seattle, HotDocs and Boston Film Festivals.

Last week, I secured initial rights to a handful of crucial Tim Russert "Meet The Press" images courtesy of a very nice photo archivist at NBC. My fingers are crossed that NBC's video archivist will help us afford the show open (not surprisingly, NBC News footage is not inexpensive to licence).

My fingers are also crossed that Mr. Russert's widow, journalist Maureen Orth (whose essay in The Nantucket Mirror-Inquirer first tipped me off to The Russert's friendship with The Rogers) will find and share some of the great family photos Tim describes to us. We've exchanged a few emails, and should find out in the coming days.

Our next deadline is March 1, at which time we will submit a revised edit to Toronto and Nantucket Film Festivals.

To that end, I'm compiling all of my voice over revisions into a new, final v.o. script as we speak (Susan Stamberg's segment is playing right now). I'm re-recording the whole thing in a bona fide recording studio (not my closet!) this week.

Chris will later drop those new voice overs into the film, while making dwindling a number of small tweaks form my notes, stuff like "17:52 – Remove 'It's anti-life.'"

Meantime, Chris' colleague Aaron Kent is working on a Wagner Bros. LLC logo. He presented us with six options a few weeks ago. I'm partial to numbers 1 and 3, I think. The tree imagery is based on one of our favorite photos, one taken of the two of us at about 6 and 3-years-old climbing a red maple (my grandfather's favorite) in our pajamas. We're unlikely to have the budget to animate the tree's growth (as I suggested), but may audio audio of giggling boys (courtesy, of course, of Chris' sons Ethan and Edward who are currently the same ages).

I'm almost done with the final v.o. script now. I'm considering working a Mother Theresa quote back into the film in an effort to end on an up note, one that suggests progress doesn't have to be immediate or massive, but can be slow and steady -- like making this film.

"We cannot do great things," she says. "We can only do small things with great love.”

The End Is The Beginning Is The End

2010-01-14T23:21:00.007-05:00

"I'm gonna' go ahead and say," I tell Chris, "That this thing's turning out even better than I might have imagined."

It's 11:23 on a Thursday night. He's has been working on "Mister Rogers & Me" since ten o'clock this morning. I walked over after twelve hours at The MTV.

At the moment, we're re-cutting the very, very end of the film. Chris is patiently responding to a obsessive compulsive disorder that compels me to tap out time on the desk and ask him to cut to it.

"It needs to breath more," I say. "I want people have time to think."

We've been "finishing" the film forever. People don't quite understand just how many micro-adjustments there are in this process. Today, for example, we added three new VOs, two new photos, two segments of b-roll, an epilogue, plus dozens of small deletions and timing tweaks. Every edit brings us closer to its original vision.

Tonight, I even indulged myself by imagining our premiere.

"Do you think Susan Stamberg will come?" I ask Chris. "Bo would, right?"

Chris stares at his four monitors, intent on moving us forward one keyframe at a time.

"Mister Rogers & Me" Tribeca Submission

2010-01-10T23:59:00.004-05:00

"TRT is 82:36," Chris said. "If we don't make any more changes."

It's 11:59pm on Sunday, January 10. The Tribeca Film Festival deadline is tomorrow. Chris and I are wrapping up dozens of small tweaks.

We just re-cut the Bev Hall segment, for example, to include the amazing footage of the day "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood" visited Bev's Nantucket Neighborhood.

Then we pruned the textual quotes that act as chapter markers before each segment. They're all terrific, and super-salient. And Mister Rogers never wasted words. Still, nothing's more daunting in a movie theater (or on television, or an iPod) than a paragraph of text. So they're shorter now (but, hopefully, no less impactful).

Then we dropped in a tiny piece of new voice over ("When Ellerbee finally met Mister Rogers in person...") that I recorded down the hall. Her segment's almost done, save for a few pieces of new b-roll.

Now we're adding a great Linda Ellerbee soundbite that (like so many hours of great footage) somehow hit the cutting room floor prematurely. "We often say on our show," She says, "That sometimes the best thing you can do with your television is turn it off."

We'll make thousands more changes in the coming weeks and months, each one a tiny fraction closer to the story Mister Rogers challenged us to tell.

For now, though, our Tribeca Film Festival, rough-cut submission is laying off. The application (below) is printed. The messenger is booked. As they say in Hollywood, it's a wrap... for now.

Title Original: Mister Rogers & Me
Country: USA
Year: 2010
Work-in-progress: Yes
Changes: Still in progress: Dr. Susan Linn segment, soundtrack, plus assorted (Russert, Ellerbee, Jewett) b-roll and photo adds and v.o. tweaks.
Running time: 80 min.
Film type: Feature Documentary
Category: Family Friendly, New York
Premiere: International
Logline: American's Favorite Neighbor, PBS icon, Fred Rogers, sends a young MTV producer on a quest for depth and simplicity amidst a shallow and complex media landscape.
Synopsis: An MTV producer's life is transformed when he meets the recently-retired host of 'Mister Rogers' Neighborhood,' Fred Rogers. Friendship with the PBS icon sets the young producer on a hero's quest to find depth and simplicity amidst a shallow and complex media landscape through conversations with Susan Stamberg (NPR), Tim Russert ('Meet The Press'), Marc Brown ('Arthur') and more.
Estimated Budget: 100,000

Mister Rogers, Madaket Millie & Me

2010-01-06T23:43:00.009-05:00

I received an incredible package from Family Communications today. It is the Holy Grail of video tapes that connects Mister Rogers to Madaket. We've been seeking it for inclusion in our documentary, "Mister Rogers & Me," for over three years.

The hour-long special, "Old Friends... New Friends," premiered in 1978 and features Mister Rogers' visits with animal activist (and "Golden Girl") Betty White, and Nantucket resident and honorary Coast Guard Warrant Officer (and local legend), "Madaket Millie" Jewett.

Local photographer Beverly Hall's photo of Fred and Millie hung in the living room of the West Wind, the cottage my mother rented there in Madaket, well prior to either of our realization that Mister Rogers himself lived next door. Of course, Chris and I visited Miss Hall in January, 2008. She was friends with both Fred and Millie, and told us the story about that day. Finally, then, I get to see the segment. And it's incredible!

Fred and Millie wander around the yard of her little cottage still standing today on the edge of Hither Creek (right across the street from the house my mom rented last year, just to the right edge of this photo).

As always, Mister Rogers goes straight for the heart. He asks about her childhood, about which she initially demures. With some empathic coaxing, though, we learn that she was born and raised there in Madaket before there were roads or electricity. Her mother died when she was young. She spent the bulk of her life alone there on the quiet, blustery edge of the island, a steely, terse curmudgeon who avoids eye contact, but loves her many pets and keeps watch over the choppy waters of the West End.

"You know, you have helped so many human beings," Fred says to her. "And so many people care about you..."

She is at first stunned, then momentarily moved, looking up to Fred with momentary vulnerability.

"Anybody who needs a helping hand if I can help, I don't what time of day or night it is, if it's three o'clock in the afternoon or two o'clock in the morning, I don't care what time it is. I do the best I can."

Back in his Pittsburgh studio for the end of the segment, Fred says, "There are so many different ways of expressing love, some very forceful and busy others very quiet and calm. I guess one of the great blessings of this life is being able to recognize love wherever we find it. And feeling confident in our own ways of expressing it."

Like most things Fred Rogers related, it is perfectly timed, arriving at my desk at the tail end of a thirteen-hour day just three days into a year that is already moving at a relentless pace.

Thanks, FCI. Thanks, Bev Hall. And thanks, Mister Rogers.

Mister Rogers, Ambivalence & Me

2010-01-01T15:26:00.008-05:00

I spent yesterday afternoon in the closet wrestling with editorial challenges in my head, and technical challenges with my laptop. Were I less frustrated and annoyed, I might have laughed.

My closet is tiny and crowded with clothes. I sit on a tiny stool crouched over my Mac. My mic stand is broken, so I had to hold the mic in one hand and the pop screen (so every word starting with the letter "p" doesn't sound like a sonic boom) with the other. Ridiculous as it sounds, it takes me about thirty minutes per twenty-second take. There's so much to get right: pace, inflection, to say nothing of not stumbling over words. Heck, I'm not even sure what made me think I could do voice over; I never had before.

All said, I spent eight hours re-tracking less than ten minutes worth of voice over. It's time well-spent, of course, if I've managed to create a little clarity.

Example, it takes about five minutes of film (HDDV, really) for me to get to the back porch of Mister Rogers Crooked House where he first asked me about my job and exposed my existential ambivalence about it. Initial feedback (not including the Sundance folks, a grand total of three people have seen the most-recent edit) and my own intuition suggested I needed to heighten or clarify the conflict. The original v.o. went thusly:

Later, Mister Rogers and I stood on the back porch of The Crooked House staring out to sea. He asked me about my job, and frankly, I was a little embarrassed. I mean, here he was: America’s Most beloved Neighbor, creator and steward of one of television’s most-substantive, long-running shows.

Me? At worst, I produce silly stories about pop stars. At best, I keep music fans connected to the source of their inspiration.

Doesn't really seem to get at my conflict, or my ambivalence, right? So here's what I tracked yesterday:

Me? As one-time editor of the high school newspaper and sometimes singer/songwriter, MTV made a lot of sense. But I was ambivalent, a PBS mind in a jump-cut, sound-bit MTV world – trying to figure out just what I could do to make it a better place.

And then we get to the quote that began the whole journey:

Mister Rogers didn’t render any judgement, but said simply: “I feel so strongly, that deep and simple is far more essential than shallow and complex.” Deep and simple is far more essential than shallow and complex.

Minor differences, sure. But hopefully the kind of thing that'll create some additional narrative clarity.

Truth is, it's tough to have any sense whatsoever of whether the film hits its mark; I know every second of this story, and every inch of the tape. Try as I might, I can't come to it fresh.

In a perfect world, we'd show a few dozen people, gather some feedback, and make changes accordingly. But even with all of the support we've received from family and friends, we can only afford three more days of edit before submitting to Tribeca and Nantucket. There's no way we'll get everything done as we stand with these v.o. changes plus two dozen other tiny tweaks (Ex. 1: "00:07:09 - Fade Photo," Ex 2: "00:07:45 - Replace Photo").

Anyway, I've done about all that I can for now. Chris has new voice overs, plus two pages of notes. I've scripted the new Susan Linn segment, reached out to FCI and NBC for additional footage, remixed vocal-free version of my songs for audio beds, and secured the perfect song for the end from my pal, Casey Shea.

So now we just gotta' get back into the edit. Fast.

Year-End "Mister Rogers & Me" Update

2009-12-30T10:53:00.004-05:00

Dear Kickstarter Friends,

As you may have guessed by now, "Mister Rogers & Me" was not one of the 2% of submissions accepted for the Sundance Film Festival. Chris and I always knew it was a long shot, but would never had made the submission deadline without your support. We're now focused on Tribeca, Nantucket and beyond.

Meanwhile, many of you may be wondering when your signed DVDs, CDs, and photos will arrive.

I just ordered 50 8x10" prints of one of my favorite spots on Nantucket. It's a photo I took in Madaket looking west towards the sunset from the Ames Avenue Bridge over Hither Creek. It's the last print in this series (and pictured above). The bridge leads to Smith Point and Mister Rogers' Crooked House.

Signed "Almost Home" CDs and prints, then, will ship within the next ten days. Before I can ship anything, though, I need you're "snail mail" addresses. Please send me a message here, or via benjamin [at] mtvi [dot] com.

DVDs, of course, will have to wait until the film's official release. At this point, we don't really know when that will be; it all depends on what happens with the premiere... whenever and wherever that is. We'll keep you posted!

Meanwhile, best wishes for a happy, healthy and joyous new year.

:), Benjamin

"Mister Rogers & Me" Not Headed To Sundance

2009-12-05T08:00:00.001-05:00

Figures that I'd hear from the Sundance Film Festival about the fate of our sweet, little film just as I head to Hollywood to cover one of the most-ambitious, expensive blockbusters of all time for work, right?

I knew we'd hear no later than Wednesday, so -- not surprisingly -- I wasn't sleeping terribly well. My car to the airport was at seven, my flight was at nine, but I woke up at four and checked my Blackberry. I tossed and turned another hour, then got up to get ready. And there it was in my inbox, subject header "2010 SUNDANCE FILM FESTIVAL NOTIFICATION."

Dear Benjamin,

On behalf of our Programming staff, I would like to thank you for submitting your film to the 2010 Sundance Film Festival. Unfortunately, we are not able to include it in our program this year. We received a record 9,800 submissions this year, and many tough decisions had to be made in order to narrow the field down to under 200 films. Please know that your work was carefully considered by our team, and we viewed far more worthy films than we had room for in the program. I sincerely hope that this decision does not discourage you in any way. We wish you the best of luck with your film, and we look forward to having the opportunity to view your work in the future.

Sincerely,

John Cooper
Director, Sundance Film Festival

Yes, I am disappointed. But no, I am not surprised.

My father points out that only two percent of films were accepted. My wife points out that getting the film done and submitted is an accomplishment in and of itself. And I'll point out that we never really thought we had a chance anyway; Sundance favors hard-hitting issue docs (not to mention fully-realized ones; ours is a work-in-progress).

What's next? The SXSW Film Festival deadline is December 11. The Tribeca Film Festival deadline is January 11. The Nantucket Film Festival deadline is February 1.

Chris and I will spend a few more days in the edit tightening the segments, clarifying the stories, and scoring with contributions from Casey Shea, Jonathan Hollingsworth, The Poem Adept (Davy Rothbart's brother's band) and me (I've remixed a bunch of "The Invention of Everything Else" tracks for the purpose).

We will make "Mister Rogers & Me" an essential documentary for festival director's programs.

Stay tuned...

It's Official: "Mister Rogers & Me" Is An Actual Movie!

2009-11-23T00:09:00.002-05:00

Hope the headline didn't throw you.

No, we haven't heard back from the Sundance Film Festival. And remember, the odds are 1 in 25 (or some 4%) that our documentary will be accepted. (Less likely still, I think, given the festival's slogan this year: "The New Rebels.)"

Still, we're one step closer to being a legitimate movie: "Mister Rogers & Me" has an IMDB page!

And check it out; it's got a summary!

An MTV producer's life is transformed when he meets the recently retired host of 'Mister Rogers' Neighborhood,' Fred Rogers. Friendship with the PBS icon sets the young producer on a hero's quest to find depth and simplicity amidst a shallow and complex world through conversations with Susan Stamberg (NPR), Tim Russert ('Meet The Press'), Marc Brown ('Arthur') and more.

I mean, yes, of course I wrote it, but still. I'm excited.

Because today we may just be a few words and text links, but someday soon, there's gonna' be a poster, and some clips, and eventually even some premiere pics...

Stay tuned!

Thank You "Mister Rogers & Me" Supporters

2009-11-07T18:05:00.010-05:00

A little over three months ago, we launched a Kickstarter campaign to crowdsource "Mister Rogers & Me" finishing funds.

One month ago, we submitted a rough edit of our 79-minute documentary to the Sundance Film Festival.

Two days ago, Mister Rogers' Tribute To Children statue was unveiled in Pittsburgh to celebrate the fortieth anniversary of "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood."

And yesterday afternoon, Pittsbugh's WQED christening studio A -- home of "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood" throughout its original run (1969-2001) -- as the new Fred Rogers Studio, then threw its doors wide for special tours of the Neighborhood set.

Thanks to the following neighbors for supporting our film, and helping keep MIster Rogers "deep and simple" legacy alive.

Kecia Barnhill
Tricia Martin
Jon Hurwitz
Linda Shortman
Robert Perreault
Aimee Schulman
Bryan Thomas
Tim Spence
Matt Keeley
Karen Rando
Justin Tormey
Anne Ferola
Mike Levine
Torrie LM
Steven Cherry
Elizabeth Harper
Jennifer Macellaro
Mike & Beth Petricoin
D. Scott Miller
Michael
Erica Laden
Ronald Lieber
Brian Ives
Sara Butterworth
Alex Brough
Holly Yarbrough
Brian Hart
Blaine Bell
Joe Andosca
LauraBelle Brown
Casey & Langhorne Shea
Kristine Qualls
Angela
Lucy Cogswell
Heather Stansfield
Greg Kaplan
Carissa Potenza
Greg & Reva Merchant
Brian Turner
Josh Renaud
Kris Jensen-Van Heste
Nichole Miller
Katia Maguire
Phoebe & Charles Basso
Helen Kralich
Luke
Joe Voss
Peggy Kauh
Nicole Zelinski
Ted and Kathy Curtin
Chris & Megan Abad
Ken M. Wilson
Michael Horgan
Lisa Yao
Sue Gefroh
Leah Browning
Christie Strong
Sarah A.
Robin Turner Oswald
Sebhat Browne
Kay Marcel
Kirin Kalia
June O'Toole
Bill Attinger
Vickie Perkins
Sarah Armstrong
Michael Lake
Daniela Muhling
Ann Kwolek O'Neill
Brian Paris
Kyle Bavender
Ryan Kroft
Mike Pence
Mikel Derby
Robert Johnsen
Theo Syslack
James Izurieta
Franya Barnett
Pete Clark
David Beach
Elyse Rubin
Gene Mahon
Annie
Allison O'Keefe
Maegan Gudridge
Glenn Platt
Lesley Neadel
Tara Taylor
Andrea Olson
Lisa Giangreco
Megan Nebel
Jarrod Bates
Loell Revell Shepardson
Jennifer Roberts
Rachel Fox
Curtis Raye
Nancy
Sarah Ezolt
Jacob Byard
Russ Johnson
Joe Hale
Catherine Lajoie
Lauren Melton
Mary Strolle
Susan Deichsel
Dennis
Gary L. Springer
Mary Ellen Fahey Upton
Robert Watson
Maureen McCarley
Romey Craig Fluck
Sandy Mayers-Green
Sue Wen
Carrie Mercer
Eric Thompson
Liz Hillger
Matthew Lloyd Buck
Rachel Eash-Scott
Elisabeth English
Virginia Virkus
Meyer Malka
Amy Hollingsworth
Amy Sanders
Wendy Boyd
Kristen O'Connell
Tom Loftus
Sarah Revitte
Samantha Rader
Robb Boland
Amber Derek
Regina Gelfovision
Paul Stelter
Paula J. Kelly
Pembry & Pedro
Kimberly Cain
Michael Highland
David Mazzucchelli
Sara Steetle
Heidi Dittmar
Caitlin
Mar Ricketts
Andrew Crowley
Annette Laing
Gordon McAlpin
Dianna Garland
James Elmore
Peter Couvares
Stephanie Coronesi
Dennis Kulm
Sarah Ferguson
Jennifer & Eric Rohr
Neera Garg
Jesse Nicely
Kim Balkcum
Brian Linder
Ralph Aversa
Amanda Walker
Melissa & Derrick Russell
Otis Cornelius
Stephanie Simmons
Joel Schroeder
Communist Prime
Mary Warren
Leonard Lin
Ramla Gabriel
Mark Genszler
Sara White
Melissa Ecker
Gail & Richard Keller
Lauren Scott
Meredith Keller
Ricci Rukavina
Fred Benenson

Mister Rogers, Father Dave & Me

2009-10-18T16:52:00.008-04:00

A few weeks ago, my pal Brian Ives appeared on Sirius Radio's Catholic Channel to discuss U2 and faith, a subject he knows I hold near and dear.

Afterwards, he told me he'd mentioned our little documentary to the show's producers, with whom he later connected me via email. Friday night after work, then, found me thirty-six stories above Sixth Avenue, alone in Sirius' massive, space-aged lobby. My interview on Father Dave's Busted Halo Show was scheduled for 8:20. Sure enough, Executive Producer Robyn Gould appeared before me with a huge, rock 'n roll smile just seconds prior. And just an instant after shaking hands with Father Dave and producers Brett and Brian, I was on air.

Now, you may be wondering, why the Catholic Channel when I'm lapsed, and Mister Rogers when he was Presbyterian? And why now, when the film's not even done?

I look at it this way. It's not about the film, it's about the assignment. Mister Rogers told me to spread the [deep and simple] message," so I'm going to seize on any opportunity to do so; it's only going to broaden that message's reach.

Moreover, specific tenants of Christianity never really seemed to be the point. True, Mister Rogers was an ordained minister who treated the space between himself and his audience as sacred, but his values (articulated so well by Bo Lozoff) were core to the world's religions: take time to reflect, be wary of materialism.

So there I was, rambling about my day job (came to learn that Father Dave used to work for my supervisor), my music (specifically, how Mister Rogers gave me the courage to be myself), and the film. Father Dave was quick and hip and funny, and connected it all with a through line of "cool," identifying and inquiring about my "PBS mind in an MTV world." I was self-deprecating (perhaps too much so), characterizing myself as "the least cool guy in most rooms" (which may actually be true. And while the conversation stayed mostly philosophical, Father Dave gently brought it home in the end.

He played a clip from Mister Rogers' last episode in which he says,

I'm just so proud of those of you who've grown up with us, and I know how tough it is some days to look with hope and confidence on the months and years ahead. But I would like to tell you what I often told you when you were younger: I love you just the way you are. And what's more, I'm so grateful to you for helping the children in your life to know that you'll do everything you can to keep them safe, and express their feelings in ways that will bring heeling in many different neighborhoods.

Afterwards, Father Dave said, "And that's it, right? God loves us just the way we are, whether we're cool or uncool." And as he wrapped up the interview, he asked when the film was going to reach theaters.

I rambled a bit and finally said, "Sometime next year," then added -- knocking on wood as an afterthought -- "God willing."

To which Father Dave replied, "Looks by what you've accomplished thus far, God is willing."

I spilled out onto the chilly city with a smile, and strode west. The streets were streaked with rain, reflecting the neon lights as if everything were run through with brightly-lit, high voltage. I dialed up Coldplay's "Life In Technicolor" on my iPod, and walked on absolutely gobsmacked that everything is in its right place.

On The Commercialization Of Childhood

2009-10-12T18:13:00.009-04:00

Our primary objective in visiting Dr. Susan Linn's Campaign For A Commercial-Free Childhood offices in Boston was to add factual heft to our film.

Of course, Dr. Linn was a perfect candidate for the gig, as she's written two key texts on the subject of children and media, "Consuming Kids," and "The Case For Make Believe."

In the few days since we've been home, I've immersed myself in her work, and others (like The Kaiser Family Foundation's 114-page opus, "Generation M: Media In The Lives Of 8-18 Year-olds).

What's challenging about tackling the subject of marketing to children is breaking away from our own memories as adults. We remember ads for Connect Four or Burger King, so think, "What's the harm?" The harm is in the massive increase of marketer's expenditure and screen exposure, and the erosion of creative time as a result. Have a look:

32% of two to seven-year olds, and 26% of children under two have a television in their bedroom. (Source: Campaign For A Commercial-Free Childhood)

In 1983, advertisers spent $100M on marketing to children. In 2008, advertisers spent $17B. (Juliet Schor, "Born to Buy")

The average 18-year-old has witnessed 200,000 acts of televised violence. That's nearly three-a-day. (Source: National Institute On Media & The Family)

The average 18-year-old has seen over 700,000 advertisements. That's more than 100-a-day. (American Psychological Association)

The average 10-year-old can name 400 brands. (Source: Progressive Policy Institute)

Children between 4 and 12-years-old spend $30B a year on junk food, candy, toys and games, an increase of 400 percent in twenty years. (Source: Progressive Policy Institute)

Children and teenagers influence up to $500B in family spending annualy, a 1000% increase since 1960. (Source: Progressive Policy Institute)

The average child spends six and a half hours using electronic media, including three hours of television. (Source: Kaiser Foundation)

98% of televised food ads seen by children are for products high in sugar, fat or sodium. (Source: CCFC)

Obesity rates among children 6-11 have quadrupled since 1980. (Source: CCFC)

85% of Americans believe that children's television should be commercial-free. (Source: The Center For The New American Dream)

87% of Americans say that "current consumer culture makes it harder to instill positive values in children." (Source: The Center For The New American Dream)

In the end, "Mister Rogers & Me" doesn't endeavor to be preachy, but instead to give pause, and allow for reflection. Stay tuned.

Mister Rogers, Susan Linn & Me

2009-10-09T10:51:00.009-04:00

As I say in "Mister Rogers & Me" voice over, "We learned pretty quickly that there are no coincidences in Mister Rogers' neighborhood."

A few weeks ago, Slamdance co-founder Paul Rachman gave Chris and I some great feedback on our film, not the least of which being that it needed more facts about the effect of media on children.

In my research, I discovered many valuable facts and figures at the Campaign For A Commercial Free Childhood website. CCFC is a national, non-profit organization devoted to limiting the impact of commercial culture on children. So I emailed CCF's co-founder, Dr. Susan Linn.

Shortly thereafter, Save Mister Rogers' Neighborhood founder, Brian Linder, told me, "Dude, she wrote the book the impact of media on television!" Sure enough, Dr. Linn's "Consuming Kids: The Hostile Takeover of Childhood" is full of alarming data, like that American advertisers spent $17B marketing to children last year up from $100M in 1983.

A few weeks later, when I asked Brian if he had any suggestions as to what I might ask Dr. Linn, he said, "Well, obviously ask about Audrey Duck's guest appearances on The Neighborhood." Um, obviously.

Ends up that Dr. Linn is a ventriloquist who, along with her puppet, Audrey Duck, appeared on "Mister Rogers Neighborhood" numerous times, then went on to get her PhD in psychology and co-found CCFC. And so, in seeking fact to inform our very personal, emotionally-grounded film with hard facts, we found the perfect person: an expert who knew and worked with Mister Rogers, and carries his legacy with her every day!

Chris and I spent a few hours with Dr. Linn at her office in the Judge Baker Children's Center in Brookline Thursday. Not surprisingly, Dr. Linn is a thoughtful, warm, remarkably intelligent and hugely-engaged person. We talked about how she became involved with The Neighborhood, her time in there, what she learned from Mister Rogers, the gravity of the situation, and the stakes of inaction.

We'd initially planned to place Dr. Linn's expertise interstitially throughout the film. But it was apparent to Chris and me as we post-mortemed the shoot that her deep connection to Mister Rogers and passionate, informed engagement with the issue warrant a full, stand-alone segment.

I haven't transcribed the interview yet (we only got home eighteen hours ago, eight of which I was sleeping, and eight of which I've been working), but my favorite part -- and what is sure to make the final edit for the film -- is her simple explanation that with the proliferation of screens and targeting of children, we are raising a generation of children overweight, overly-sexualized, and overly-violent consumers incapable of relishing the silence required to create art, music or poetry.

And then what?

Mister Rogers, Morrissey & Me

2009-09-30T23:56:00.006-04:00

I dashed through Times Square to Chris' edit suite just after sunset.

He's made a bunch of headway in just a few days, covering Amy Hollingsworth, Tim Madigan and Marc Brown's segments with b-roll and photos, all of which add whole new levels of depth and nuance. We watched the segments back, and discussed materials we've yet to acquire.

Our pal Mark Mutschler showed up around nine o'clock (not long before the garlic, tomato and sausage pizza). He's a seasoned Executive Producer himself, and is one of very few people to have screened the film. His fresh perspective was valuable.

We talked a while about what worked for him, and what didn't, and what went on too long, and what needed more explanation. All three of us agreed that we'd done a better job weaving Mister Rogers himself into the film (which sounds obvious, but remember that we didn't interview him and don't have a ton of actual "Neighborhood" footage), but that the "Me" in the titled (as in, yunno, me) needed help.

Not that we need to see or hear more from me (we've been really sensitive to being sure that I'm far secondary), but I need to do a better job sewing the segments together. Example. You've heard me tell the story about how Mister Rogers asked about my father within, like, twenty minutes of meeting him.

"I don't hear much about him," he said, gingerly inquiring about my parent's divorce. Which is what he did so well. He found that spot that needed nurturing or healing, and gave you a safe place to be nurtured or healed. Tim Madigan felt it (and talks about it). So did Mark Brown. And so did I. So I need a way to demonstrate those sorts of threads more effectively. (In other words, more voice over.)

Mark had another interesting insight, essentially boiling the film down to a Morrissey lyric:

It's so easy to laugh
It's so easy to hate
It takes strength to be gentle and kind

In Consideration Of "Mister Rogers & Me"

2009-09-29T22:37:00.004-04:00

Listen, there's not gonna' be a ton of news here, just a fair dose of enthusiasm.

We hit the Sundance Film Festival deadline! We're "In Consideration!!!"

But it gets better. Closer inspection of the submission FAQ indicates that, in fact, we can submit a revision! What does that mean? That means that we can spend the next two weeks dialing in our edit and even, if we're lucky, add in our Susan Linn interview.

And here's the beautiful thing about it all: serendipity. See, when we started fundraising a few weeks ago, we thought we'd missed the Sundance deadline. Ends up (as you've since gathered), we still had a shot at the late deadline. What's more, we'll have an unprecedented two straight weeks of fresh edits under our belt.

Now, to be fair, Sundance is a long, long, long shot. In 2008, 1,573 documentaries were submitted. Forty-one were selected. It's the gold standard for film festivals.

Still, for a guy who purchased a DVD player way back in 2000 just so I could learn from film's director's commentaries, and first attended Sundance 2006 with the specific intention of learning all I could from the place, well, it's exciting enough to be "In Consideration."

Editing "Mister Rogers & Me" (Again)

2009-09-22T22:32:00.018-04:00

It's just before eleven o'clock on a Tuesday night.

Chris and I have been editing for a little over two hours, and we're just barely seventeen minutes into the film. Which I suppose isn't so bad, but we have about fifty-eight to go.

This is dry, confusing, thankless work. It's like a three dimensional puzzle; every time we move a section or a soundbite to solve one problem, we create another. Luckily, Christofer is good at this, and knows the footage as well (and in some cases better; he shot it) as me.

Challenging as it is (especially under deadline), it's kind of exciting when it connects. Example.

I jumped out of my chair when I realized that Paul (Rachman, who basically thinned our 2:15:00 version to 75:00) had -- by omission and juxtaposition -- helped us connect Columbine to Mister Rogers. See, Bo Lozoff was with Mister Rogers on the very afternoon that Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold killed 12 students and a teacher and injured 21 others before turning their guns on themselves. Bo asks (basically), Would they have done such a thing if they'd been able to find just an iota of beauty -- a song, a bird, a sunset -- in their everyday lives. And then we meet Amy Hollingsworth who talks about how Mister Rogers was bullied as a kid, and told by parents to act like it didn't bother him. But it did! So he spoke up... in over 900 episodes of "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood."

We're watching NPR's Susan Stamberg right now. She says, "We arm ourselves through life to get through the difficulties, but in [Mister Rogers'] presence, you'd put all that aside. If he heard where your biggest toe stub in life had been, he'd zero in on that."

That soundbite had been cut, but it gets at the essence of Mister Rogers, and the reason we're here tonight, eight years later, trying to make sense of our brief but meaningful relationship. He knew exactly what was hurt in me the most (my parent's divorce) and within just a few minutes of meeting, made me feel comfortable enough to speak of it. So that's back in.

"We need him with each passing day more and more," she says.

Amen.

I could sure use his help now.

Mister Rogers, Sundance & Us

2009-09-21T21:52:00.012-04:00

Chris and I have a long way to go, still, here's a first: I just submitted our Sundance Film Festival application!

Now, to be clear, the Sundance team is going to receive an edit that is just a few shots further along than the re-cut our friend, "American Hardcore" director and Slamdance co-founder Paul Rachman, delivered to us a few weeks ago (which, to Paul's credit, is miles beyond where Chris and I'd gotten it), but there's no harm in trying.

So the paperwork is done, and we'll send the DVD at the last available moment: 9pm Thursday night.

Meanwhile (as you may know), we met our $10,000 Kickstarter fundraising goal! 176 backers pledged their support. Thank you! We're SO moved and SO grateful and will do everything we can to put those resources to their best use.

Of course, the fact is, we could spend $100,000 on additional shoots, music, graphics, licensing and post work no sweat. I expect it to get us a truly festival-worthy edit by the end of the year. (What we're submitting to Sundance is a really, really rough cut; some sections lack any coverage at all, but a) the deadline is looming and b) we've described it as a "work in progress" which we expect to complete by November.)

Still, the film's never felt more real, our progress never more tangible. Cooler still are the dozens of emails and comments I've received in the last few weeks. In my darkest moments, when it feels like the Capitalist Juggernaut is going to roll over everything that lacks a logo, those emails keep me putting one foot in front of the other.

So thank you! Please keep those cards and letters coming. And please keep spreading the message.

Mister Rogers, The Saturday Light Brigade & Me

2009-09-19T08:59:00.009-04:00

My Blackberry otherwise soothing "Notifier ChiGong" alarm rattled me from brief, dreamless sleep exactly fifty-nine minutes ago.

It took a minute to get my bearings: 'You're in Vermont,' I thought. 'Time for your Saturday Light Brigade interview.'
I tiptoed around the bedroom, quietly putting on a few layers of clothes; with a dozen friends sleeping in bedrooms on every floor, I'd have to do the interview outside where the current temperature is 46°. I pulled on a cap and gloves, slipped my headphones into my ears, dialed the radio station's number, and stepped out into the crisp, morning air.

"Hello," I said, half asking. "This is Benjamin Wagner calling for my 'Mister Rogers & Me' interview."

"Oh, Benjamin!" the woman at the other end of the line said. "I was just about to call you. Good morning! May I put you on hold? We're just finishing a puzzle segment, then Larry will take a call, then he'll speak with you. Ok?"

"Ok!" I said, endeavoring to make sense through my gravelly, three hours of sleep voice.

She put me on hold where I was able to listen to the show. The host, Larry Berger, was reading a brain teaser over acoustic bluegrass music in a cadence and tone not unlike Mister Rogers himself.

"Imagine that you're in a room with only two exits. One is blocked by a thousand magnifying glasses that focus the sunlight to a super-hot ray of sunshine that will burn you alive. The other is guarded by a fire-breathing dragon that will also burn you alive. What do you do?"

He paused a second, then said, "We have Benjamin on the line. Benjamin, what would you do?"

"Oh my," I said, startled, confused and scrambling to make sense of the riddle. "G'morning, Larry! Well, I suppose I would try to make friends with the fire-breathing dragon and ask him to make an exception and let me pass."

Larry too was startled.

"I'm sorry, this is Benjamin Wagner on the phone, kids. I thought you were a listener calling in with the answer. Hello, Benjamin."

"Hello, Larry!"

"Well, Benjamin, the answer is, leave at night."

As I struggled to make sense of the riddle, Larry explained to his audience that, just as they were Mister Rogers' neighbors there in Pittsburgh and on Public Television, I was his neighbor in Nantucket. I stood looking out over the backyard, the woods, and mountains beyond just a few beats behind it all on account of the odd juxtaposition of geography and technology. Here I am in the mountains of Vermont with a radio show in my Blackberry headset speaking with a host in the basement of the Pittsburgh Children's Museum broadcasting to three states about a television icon I met in another state and time altogether.

Our conversation was brief. My explanations were simple, if a little studied from years of describing how I met Mister Rogers, how we set about making the film and fundraising to finish it. I refrained our thesis three times: Deep and simple is far more essential than shallow and complex.

And then it was over.

Afterwards, I sat on the back steps and listened to the show's next segment ("The Saturday Light Brigade is brought to you by the Pittsburgh Children's Theater production of 'Aladin & The Magic Lamp'), before quietly disconnecting.

I'm sitting in the back room overlooking the valley now. The leaves seem to be turning from pale green to a thousand shades of yellow, red, orange and brown before my very eyes. The clouds drift slowly to the east. And time marches on, just a tiny bit more meaningfully than a few minutes before.

I still think the dragon would have helped me out. As Mister Rogers used to say, "When I was a boy and I would see scary things, my mother would say to me, 'Look for the helpers.'"

Mister Rogers, You & Me

2009-09-15T23:21:00.008-04:00

Less than fifteen minutes ago, I Tweeted the following:

"Three three days and $385 left to hit our $10,000 "Mister Rogers & Me" fundraising goal... Please help!"

Two minutes and two backers later, we hit our goal!

Wow, what a day!

This afternoon, "Consuming Kids: The Hostile Takeover of Childhood " author and Campaign For A Commercial-Free Childhood co-founder Susan Linn agreed to appear in our film, adding authoritative ballast to our emotionally-grounded documentary.

And now this.

Plus, I realized a few days ago that we could still hit the Sundance Film Festival deadline; it's not until next Friday!

So, as I Tweeted just a few minutes ago, "Dear Internets: You believe! Deep and simple really is far more essential than shallow and complex! Thank you!!!"

Really, thank you.

Mister Rogers, Pop Candy & Me

2009-09-05T14:26:00.015-04:00

Wow, what a week.

In December, I travelled to Washington, D.C., to cover President Obama's Inauguration for MTV News. I was managing the operation, for the most part, but broke ranks one afternoon to interview one of my artistic heroes, Shepard Fairey.

USA Today's Pop Candy Blog linked to the resulting article. So I sent its editor, Whitney Matheson, a thank you email. We talked about our mutual love of R.E.M., and agreed to grab beers sometime, then got sucked up into the cycle of our respective lives.

Fast forward to two week ago. I sent Whitney an email about our "Mister Rogers & Me" fundraising efforts over at kickstarter.com. I had a hunch she'd get it based on a) my experience with her appreciation of Mister Rogers in general and b) her support of my buddy Brian Linder's Save MIster Rogers' Neighborhood campaign.

When I didn't hear from her, though, I figured she was either busy, not interested or both. Then I got an email from her. "This is so great," she said of the film. "I just wrote about it. Good luck, and please keep me posted!

Wow! I clicked on over to her blog to read her piece, "How Many Lives Were Changed By Mister Rogers?" and got goosebumps. Sure, I figured it would be good for our fundraising efforts, but moreover, it made our super-indie little film feel real! Suddenly, I thought, more people would know about the film and -- if even just one second -- consider its thesis: "Deep and simple is far more essential than shallow and complex." So I sent her another thank you note.

Sure enough, Whitney's post led to Sadie's over at Jezebel ("Deep & Simple"), and Larry's's over at The Fire Wiew ("Mister Rogers & Me"), and even Gene Mahon's Nantucket Newsletter. In the last 72 hours, 3500 people have watched the "Mister Rogers' & Me" trailer -- almost as many as had seen it in the two years prior!

And in the last three weeks, we've raised nearly eight thousand dollars. Of course, we have to hit our $10,000 goal by September 19th to collect anything at all, but I think we'll be fine. Just as I suspected all along, there are plenty of like-minded, deep and simple people out there. It's pretty darned exciting.

"Mister Rogers & Me" On Saturday Light Brigade

2009-09-01T10:23:00.015-04:00

Just shy of two years ago, Chris and visited The Pittsburgh Children's Museum. In two weeks, we'll return.

Kind of.

Our "Mister Rogers & Me" fundraiser has, not surprisingly (but gratefully) increased our little film's visibility.

As a result, I received a delightful, surprising email a few weeks ago.

I'm the associate producer for a syndicated public radio show, The Saturday Light Brigade. We produce out of Pittsburgh, and my boss (the show's host, Larry Berger) knew Mister Rogers. He would like to arrange an interview with you about the movie, "Mister Rogers and Me."

The Saturday Light Brigade, it ends up, is a pretty big deal "acoustic music and family fun" radio show. In fact, I remember listening as Chris and I drove through Pittsburgh. It's been on the air over thirty years, making it one of the longest-running public radio programs in the United States. And it airs from The Pittsburgh Children's Museum.

I'm scheduled to call in on Saturday, September 18 at 8:20 a.m., just shy of twelve hours prior to our "Mister Rogers & Me" fundraiser expires.

I'm thrilled, excited, hopeful, and honored. And I remain amazed at the serendipity of this journey's unfolding. And I'm about seventeen days away from nervous.

(Some Of) Mister Rogers' Neighborhood Saved

2009-08-31T22:07:00.006-04:00

A tiny bit of sunshine snuck into my otherwise shadowy office this afternoon when my pal, Save Mister Rogers' Neighborhood founder Brian Linder sent me a quick email: "Good news for children in the virtual neighborhood!"

Last year, PBS curtailed its daily delivery of the show. Last month, they limited distribution to 26 "favorite episodes."

Today, the network formally announced Mister Rogers' foray into cyberspace.

A new neighborhood awaits preschoolers and fans of all ages at PBSKIDS.org/rogers with the redesigned Mister Rogers' Neighborhood Web site, full of new activities, video clips and memorabilia. In addition, 26 favorite episodes will be part of the national PBS KIDS Saturday morning broadcast lineup beginning September 12 (check local listings) and will be available to stream online later this fall at PBSKIDS.org/rogers for fans to enjoy whenever they want.

"Fred Rogers paved the way for children’s media more than 40 years ago, and we are proud to continue to work with Family Communications to ensure his legacy evolves alongside new developments in media and technology," said Sara DeWitt, Senior Director, PBS KIDS Interactive. "PBSKIDS.org continues to increase in traffic, with an average of 9 million unique visitors a month. It’s clear that kids love our games, and that parents and educators view our content online as a trusted and fun learning experience."

"At Family Communications, we continue to hear from adults about what MISTER ROGERS’ NEIGHBORHOOD has meant in their lives,” said Kevin Morrison, Chief Operating Officer, Family Communications, Inc. “The core values of the series — kindness, civility, reassurance and inspiration — have helped many strive towards being the best they can be. We are excited to continue to infuse Fred Rogers’ values in new platforms with new generations of children."

Only 960 or so episodes to go!

Please Help "Mister Rogers & Me"

2009-08-19T00:21:00.014-04:00

I first met "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood" creator Fred Rogers at his summer home in Nantucket, Massachusetts, in September 2001. My mother rented the cottage next door, so Mister Rogers really was my neighbor.

My brother and I have been working on our documentary, "Mister Rogers & Me" every since.

Eight years, 4600 miles, and nearly $30,000 later, we're in the home stretch. But we need your help to make it across the finish line. We're endeavoring to raise at least $10,000 in the next 30 days to polish our rough edit into a film festival-worthy version.

What's left to do, you ask? The film currently runs 75-minutes. The structure is nearly complete, but still has gaps. Like a puzzle; we have most of the pieces, but they're not all in place. So we still have to a) secure a few more pieces of footage b) create some graphics to represent data (ex: rise in children's advertising spending) and c) place all of the rights-managed footage, b-roll, and photographs to fill in all of those holes. There's more v.o. and music to record and license, and we even plan to shoot a few more interviews.

After three years of after-hours, weekend and spare-time production, we've finally booked two weeks of steady post-production at a professional facility. By the end of the month, we expect to have an edit worthy of submission to Tribecca, Nantucket, and Aspen Film Festivals. Your contribution will fund all of the above.

You, Dear Reader, recall the back story:

On the afternoon of our first meeting, Mister Rogers asked me about my job as an MTV producer. Though I'm absolutely certain he didn't intend it, the inquiry felt like an indictment coming from one of PBS' founding fathers. At the end of our conversation, he said, "I feel so strongly that deep and simple is far more essential than complex."

The following summer, I told him how I'd thought all year about what he said.

"Spread the message, Benjamin," He said. "Spread the message."

It was only after his death in February 2003, though, that it dawned on me how to do so. Armed with an HDV camera, my brother and I set out to meet some of Mister Rogers' neighbors to find out more about the man himself, what he meant by "deep and simple," and where in our junk food culture that ethos still survives.

Our travels led us to "Meet The Press" host Tim Russert; "All Things Considered" anchor Susan Stamberg; "This American Life" contributor Davy Rothbart; "Arthur" creator Marc Brown; "Nick News" host Linda Ellerbee; mystic, author and activist, Bo Lozoff; authors Amy Hollingsworth and Tim Madigan; photographer Beverly Hall.

Three weeks ago, PBS announced that "Mister Rogers Neighborhood" airings will be reduced from daily to once a week. Now more than ever, Fred's deep and simple message must be spread.

Please help us tell the story of "Mister Rogers & Me" by contributing to our kickstarter.com fundraiser today. There are some terrific incentives like film credits, signed Nantucket photo prints, custom songs, and an exclusive screening for your friends and family. The best incentive, though, will be knowing that you helped this most well-intended and genuine project make its way to the screen.

Mister Rogers & Wagner Bros LLC: It's Official

2009-08-10T15:15:00.009-04:00

It's been well over a year since our lawyer (also our cousin), Bill, established Wagner Bros. LLC as an official, federally-sanctioned business. Heck, we have out own EIN (Employer Identification Number)!

Still, it took that long (plus some recent, business-oriented motivation) to make it truly official. On Saturday, I opened a Wagner Bros LLC checking account at Chase Manhattan Bank.

No single event has prompted more comments on my Facebook feed, which I consider a good thing.

I opened the account (finally) as Chris and I owe our annual LLC fee to the State of Delaware. Also, we owe a few bucks to a terrific documentary editor to-be-named-later.

Of course, "Mister Rogers & Me" has never been about making money. In fact, Chris and I have happily sunken thousands of dollars into the film over the course of the last four years. We view the project as vital, and now more than ever as PBS diminished "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood" airings. So next week, we're going to announce some very big news.

Because we're going to finish this thing yet; I owe it to Mister Rogers.

Mister Rogers Foiled Again

2009-07-24T17:42:00.004-04:00

The news in "Mister Rogers Neighborhood" has turned from bad to worse.

Last year, PBS told member stations that the program would not be included in daily syndication, but available for a la cart airings. Last week, PBS told member stations that "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood" will only be available to air once weekly beginning in the fall.

"PBS is operating under very tight budget constraints and it already has a full program lineup to support Monday through Friday," said Kevin Morrison, chief operating officer for Rogers' Oakland-based Family Communications Inc. "If it was offering ‘Mister Rogers' Neighborhood' on a daily basis it would only be as an option to the existing full lineup of programs, and that option is an expensive option for them and the financial situation prevents them from making that an option."

Morrison said PBS remains supportive of the "Neighborhood," launching a revamped Web site for the show this week at the PBS Kids site.

"It's a demonstration of [PBS'] continuing commitment to keep 'Mister Rogers' on the Web," Morrison said this week. "They put a lot of time and effort into keeping that fresh and alive and it certainly looks good."

While the built out website is promising, it seems inevitable, then, that Mister Rogers will soon disappear from the broadcast landscape altogether. In this DVD and on-demand era, surely FCI has a plan in place to enable children of all ages to grow and learn under Fred's thoughtful tutelage.

Either way, Fred's disappearance from television leads me to believe that our little documentary is needed now more than ever. Luckily, we're making very slow but truly steady progress.

Stay tuned...

'Mister Rogers & Me' Update

2009-06-15T20:38:00.001-04:00

Wondering where "Mister Rogers & Me" has gone in the last ~~three~~ four months?

Alas, my brief experiment with editing the film myself fizzled quickly. Christofer has since completed a paper cut of the film (that is, editing the video tape to match my script) which clocks in well over two hours. Currently, a friend and noted documentary editor (who asked not to be identified until we see his edit) is retooling the film to a more manageable length (goal: eighty minutes), and cinematic narrative structure. More on the in the next few weeks.

Menawhile, Iowa Public Television pal Wayne Bruns sent me the following tale of Michael Kinsell a young, apparently-admiring San Diego-based fan of Mister Rogers who endeavored to put on some sort of show touting himself as Fred's heir apparent.

PBS is accusing a San Diego teenager of “falsely claiming association” with the network and Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood. He [was] selling tickets for a May 31 gala event where, according to a news release by his publicist, he [would] present himself as successor to the late Fred Rogers.

Michael Kinsell, who told Current he is 18, said he has produced six episodes of a new show, Michael’s Enchanted Neighborhood.

Kinsell described the benefit event, to be held at the California Center for the Arts, Escondido, as a tribute to Rogers that will raise funds for “children’s public television” and, he hopes, for his own new show.

He said he invited members of Rogers’ family to receive a Children’s Hero Award in Rogers’ honor and said he will give $10,000 in mid-June to Family Communications Inc., Rogers’ production company in Pittsburgh.

In a complaint this month to the California Attorney General’s office obtained by Current, PBS says that Kinsell, with event publicity falsely associating himself with PBS and Rogers, could divert funds to his nonprofit from the network and Rogers’ company.

As I wrote to Wayne, the story (odd, right?) reminded me of author Tim Madigan's Barnes & Noble reading of "I'm Proud Of You." A young man was sobbing and speaking out in an almost-Tourette's manner through Tim's entire reading. He tried to address the young man kindly and patiently, but it still feltawkward and distracting.

"I worry that these sorts of oddities besmirch Fred," I wrote to Wayne. "And Chris and my well-intentioned little effort. But then I remember how well Fred handled every situation so naturally and know it'll turn out fine."

It will.

Mister Rogers' Newest Neighbors

2009-02-07T14:21:00.012-05:00

Mister Rogers has inspired all kinds of wonderful people to do all kinds of wonderful thing.

You already know Brian Linder, whose "Save Mister Rogers" campaign gained national media attention and over six thousand members on Facebook. Brian and I continue to exchange emails, and plot bigger things for our collective affection for Mister Rogers and his values.

In the coming weeks and months, I'll endeavor to introduce you to a few other Neighborhood friends you may not have met, but who've reached through the Internets to say hello.

Tim Lybarger's "Neighborhood Archive" is an ever-growing, DIY resource for other Mister Rogers fans.

"I continued to hold a dear appreciation for Mister Rogers, the values he taught, and the legacy he has left," he explains. "I have a fairly respectable collection of Mister Rogers memorabilia, have recorded episodes from television broadcasts (I'm only missing five or six from 1980 and beyond), and I enjoy a hot cup of coffee every morning from my Mister Rogers' Neighborhood coffee mug."

I asked Tim if he had met Mister Rogers. He replied thusly:

Unfortunately, I don't have a picture of me and Mister Rogers to pass along. The closest I ever came to that was a letter to him at the time of the completion of my undergraduate degree thanking him for his positive contribution to my life. In reply, I received a very humbling letter from him thanking me for my contact and wishing me the best as I enter the world of education. One of my most prized possessions to say the least.

Responding to Tim's letter -- one of hundreds that week, no doubt -- is the essence of Mister Rogers. All of those small gestures aggregate into something larger: a legacy.

Mister Rogers, Avid & Me

2009-02-01T16:11:00.010-05:00

Well, that didn't take long. Or did it?

Two weeks ago, my brother handed off a hard drive loaded with "Mister Rogers & Me" footage, and taught me Avid Editing 101.

After a fifteen-day period that included ten of travel (and one marathon), I sat down in front of the computer to get started.

You'll recall that I first met Mister Rogers in September, 2001. Principle photography for our little, DIY documentary began in June, 2006. We've been steadily chipping away ever since, including weekend shoots in Washington, DC, Durham, NC, Fredericksburgh, VA, Pittsburgh, PA, and Nantucket, MA.

We've interviewed Tim Russert, Susan Stamberg, Bo Lozoff, Amy Hollingsworth, Tim Madigan, Marc Brown, and Linda Ellerbee.

Last summer, we applied to Independent Film Week, but didn't make the cut. Chris found out he was going to be a father for the third time. I found out I was going to run MTV News.

So here we are, eight years later. I spent most of last night poking around Avid. It's like the most-complicated, 3D puzzle you can imagine. Worse, with my level of competence, it's like assembling that puzzle with my nose. At this rate, it'll be another eight years before anyone sees this sweet, little story..

So I just sent two emails: one to Save Mister Rogers founder Brian Linder, and Nerdcore Rising director Negin Farsad. Because I'm inches away from a) launching a fundraiser and b) hiring a professional to finishing this thing.

Stay tuned...

"Mister Rogers & Me" And, Um, Me!

2009-01-14T23:55:00.005-05:00

As predicted, "Mister Rogers & Me" is now in my hands.

First, it was Christofer and me.

Then, we were hoping "Golden Days" director/editor, Chris Suchorsky, was going to bring "Mister Rogers & Me" home.

It fell apart right around Thanksgiving.

Since then, I've installed Avid software onto my (actually, Abbi's) laptop. And tonight Chris came over for Avid 101.

Given my schedule in the coming weeks (inauguration this weekend, Miami Marathon next weekend, Grammys and Oscars in February), the odds of hitting the Nantucket Film Festival deadline (March) is a way, ways, WAY long shot.

If I could learn ProTools and self-produce "The Invention of Everything Else," though, well...

Well, we'll see.

And by the way: In the photo of Chris and me at my living room table here, you'l lnotice a photo o fMister Rogers just over my head. You might say he's looking out for me or something.

Mrs. Rogers Calls For Secretary Of The Arts

2009-01-09T15:24:00.014-05:00

Mrs. Rogers doesn't email me too often, When she does, I take notice.

The first time was in response to my inquiries about making "Mister Rogers & Me."

The second was a few summers ago in response to my inquiries as to whether she'd be in Nantucket over Labor Day.

The third was yesterday morning.

The email was a simple, forwarded email (the kind one gets from one's parents with all of the recipient's email addresses visible, and all of the forwarding information in the body) that read thusly:

If you are interested to join us, it takes only a few moments to add your signature to this petition to the President-Elect.

Hope springs eternal!

Joanne

* * *

What did Marni Nixon, Nadja Salerno-Sonnenberg, Jan Opalach, Marin Alsop, John Corigliano, David Amram, Branford Marsalis, James Moody, Harolyn Blackwell, Phil Woods, Tracey Moore, Jane Alexander and 10,000+ others sign?

The SECRETARY OF THE ARTS PETITION inspired by Quincy Jones.

This petition is the fastest way to demonstrate to Obama and Congress that the Arts in America matter, and they need to be supported during this financial crisis!

Apparently, Quincy suggested the new gig (beats "Arts Czar") on a November 15 interview on WNYC's "Soundcheck."

"My passion in life now, and one of the first conversations I'll have with President Obama," Jones said, "Is to beg for a Secretary of the Arts."

The Rogers passion is certainly the arts. In addition to being a television icon, Fred was a songwriter and pianist. Joanne is an accomplished concert pianist as well.

And it stands to reason, right? We have secretaries of agriculture, defense, labor, veteran's affairs. Heck, we have people looking after the "Office of National Drug Control Policy" and "Homeland Security." As a nation who's primary export is increasingly creative, intellectual property (Hollywood, Broadway, Silicon Valley), why not address the arts holistically?

The petition currently has 27664 signees. 27665 with my signature.

Hope does spring eternal. It must.

Blame The Bailout On Mister Rogers? Really?

2008-12-15T11:27:00.008-05:00

Odd as it was for Christofer and I to find ourselves defending Mister Rogers legacy as we traveled around the Northeast shooting "Mister Rogers & Me" a few years ago, it's odder still how his values continue to be twisted and held accountable for all sorts of modern woes.

Some found his gentle spirit "creepy," and associated him with all sorts of unfounded, unsubstantiated malfeasance. Other had fallen prey to the rumors that he was a former Navy SEAL or Army sniper ("That's why he always wore long sleeves," more than one reasoned with us. "To hide his tattoos.").

A few months ago, you'll recall, the Wall Street Journal scapegoated Mister Rogers for a generation of "entitled" kids.

Well, Fox News is at it again, blaming Mister Rogers for the economic bailout.

My pal, Save Mister Rogers founder Brian Linder, has already crafted an articulate reply to the "Fair & Balanced" assertion:

The rampant greed and narcissism of the Me Generation may indeed be responsible for the current economic crisis, but to blame any part of it on Fred Rogers, even if it’s somewhat in jest, shows a gross misunderstanding of the expressions of care that this special man attempted to touch children’s lives with through his television work.

This piece seems to be a riff on a similarly misguided statement that an LSU finance professor made in a July 2007 Wall Street Journal piece, and I said the same thing then.

The idea of "Me first, I get what’s mine first" runs completely counter to every sentiment ever expressed on Mister Rogers' Neighborhood.

Rogers’ belief that every child and grownup should have a proper sense of self-worth, the awareness that every individual is unique and special, and the love of one’s neighbor, are the very antidote to the cultural problems of entitlement, elitism, and conceit that have brought us to this unfortunate place.

I hope you’ll find the following quote from Fred Rogers to show that if we had all listened more carefully to him, then we’d surely be better off today:

“When I say, ‘It’s you I like,' I’m talking about that part of you that knows that life is far more than anything you can ever see or hear or touch… and that deep part of you that allows you to stand for those things without which humankind cannot survive: love that conquers hate, peace that rises triumphant over war, and justice that proves more powerful than greed.” - Fred Rogers

Thanks, Brian. I couldn't have said better myself.

What's Going On With "Mister Rogers & Me"?

2008-11-18T15:42:00.003-05:00

What's going on with Wagner Bros. Pictures, LLC's still-forthcoming documentary, "Mister Rogers & Me?"

I'm glad you asked. Or, I'm glad my pen pal Magnus did.

"When I inquired about the documentary a few months ago [you said] it was on hold," he writes. "I don't know what the progress is, or what's holding it up, but I just wanted to encourage you to keep at it. I know you are extremely busy with all your other endeavors, but this project is as important now as it ever was. Keep at it! You were chosen to remind people of the deep and simple."

Thanks, Magnus.

Yes, I am busy. My day job at MTV News continues to expand. And I'm releasing two records in the next three weeks: my own "Live At Rockwood Music Hall" tomorrow, and our second holiday benefit CD, "A Holiday Benefit, Vol. II," December 1.

So here's the deal.

It took us an inordinate amount of time to get the first thirty minutes together for our Independent Film Week application. We worked every night until three o'clock in the morning for about a month. Then we didn't get in, which knocked the wind out of our sails. Then summer swallowed me up: Movie Awards, Video Music Awards, etc.

After a period of deep discussion and soul searching, it became abundantly apparent to my brother, Christofer, and I that he didn't have the bandwidth to finish the edit. His day job requires him 10-18 hours of non-linear editing as is. Plus, he's a father of two with a third on the way.

So, "Golden Days" director Chris Suchorsky currently has a drive with all of our footage, and has agreed to edit the Tim Russert segment on spec. If that works out (which we should know by Thanksgiving at the latest), Wagner Bros. Pictures, LLC, will hire Chris to finish the film with us.

If not, I'm going to take over. I've learned enough ProTools to self-produce my own albums (see: "The Invention Of Everything Else"). I figure I can do this too. I just won't do anything else after work and on weekends until it's done. If I were a bettin' man, I'd say that's where we're headed. Which is fine with me, as no one is more committed to finishing "Mister Rogers & Me" than me.

Mister Rogers is everywhere in my life. Here in my office, there are three photos of him within eyeshot of my computer monitor, and one more on the shelf above my head. At home, he's on the fridge, and in the living room. Rare, then, is the day pass in which I don't pause, look at him, and smile.

So, Magnus, thanks for asking.

We will finish the film.

I promise.

The Fred Rogers Center, Brian Linder & Me

2008-10-09T08:21:00.010-04:00

Just shy of a year ago, Chris and I drove through Latrobe, Pennsylvania, looking for a sign of Mister Rogers in his hometown. We couldn't find a statue or school, didn't know his childhood adress, and didn't think visiting his grave was in keeping with the film.

We drove to the highest spot we could find, looked out over the valley, spotted Saint Vincent College shining in the distance. There, just below the twin-steepled, red-brick basilica, we could scarcely discern a muddy patch of construction where the Fred Rogers Center For Early Learning & Children's Media sat half-built.

Truth is, we'd done little more than a drive-by less than an hour prior. At the time, while we had Mrs. Rogers' blessing, we still weren't sure whether we had his Family Comminications'. We didn't want to jeopardize it by setting up a tripod and camera outside the center, so we slowed down, shot out the window, and kept going.

Fast-forward a year, and the Fred Rogers Center has officially opened its doors.

The center's mission is to advance the state of early learning and children's media by acting as a catalyst for communication, collaboration and creative change across both fields.

Moreover, the center has a new director who appears to understand just how radically the media landscape has shifted in the five years since Mister Rogers passing.

"The distinction between a child being a user and consumer [of media] has been obliterated," said Maxwell King, who became director of the center last month. "We want to provide guidance and standards" for children, parents and educators.

In a stroke of synchronicity, "Save Mister Rogers" advocate Brian Linder called yesterday.

Seems Brian -- who's frustration with PBS' decision to cease daily delivery of the show to its affiliates inspired his movement -- is finding himself drawn to the storytelling around The Neighborhood too. Specifically, he's connecting with former cast members like Neighbor Aber (Chuck Aber), Lady Aberlin (Betty Aberlin), and Handy Man Negri (Joe Negri), all of whom have terrific stories to tell.

I told him that if I had unlimited resources and time, I'd quit The MTV today, and we'd go interview all of 'em together. Brian (who works for IGN, is married and the father of twin daughters) laughed and agreed; unfortunately, resources and time are limited.

Instead, we hatched a plan to meet at the Center -- with or without cameras -- sometime soon.

"It's written into the films' epilogue anyway," I told him. "I'll send you the script."

I hope we can pull it off.

Mister Rogers, Divorce & Me

2008-08-24T14:02:00.010-04:00

"Mister Rogers Talks To Parents About Divorce" premiered on Sunday February 15, 1981, just as my parents' marriage was falling apart.

Unfortunately, it took twenty-five years to learn of the show's existence, and until this afternoon to see it myself for the very first time.

All I knew of Susan Stamberg's relationship to Fred Rogers when I walked into NPR's Washington, DC, studios way back in November, 2006, was that the two had taped some television specials together in the '80s. Imagine my surprise, then, when I discovered the topic of the specials was divorce, something my family had endured, and about which Mister Rogers and I had conversed.

When our copy of the show was finally shipped from FCI last week, my sense of serendipity was heightened still when Chris told me the original air date.

The hour-long special is nothing if not deep and simple. Susan hosts, fielding questions from the WQED studio audience, while Fred and author and bereavement counselor, Rabbi Earl Grollman, respond. Periodically, Fred tosses to brief interview segments with young children.

The set, graphics, and wardrobe are antiquated to be sure. Still, the premise, pacing and patience is so Fred Rogers: deep and simple through and through.

At one point, Susan asks him why the Neighborhood had recently taken its viewers on a tour of the inside of a plane.

There are a lot of children who have to fly alone back and forth between their mothers and their fathers. And I've talked to stewardesses who say that sometimes they're scared, and sometimes they cry.

For any of you who know anything about my recording career (and for those of you who don't, my 2001 song, "Crash Site," was a metaphor for my parent's divorce, and the airplane trips shuttling between them), it was a section I had to watch twice.

As Susan wrapped up the show, and Fred said his final words -- warm and sage as always -- I found myself standing there in front of the television with a big smile on my face, and even bigger crocodile tears in my eyes.

"Remember," he said, "How persistent the feelings of childhood are all through our lives."

Saving Mister Rogers

2008-08-01T08:20:00.008-04:00

I'm blessed and lucky for my brief but meaningful time with Mister Rogers, and the wheels those few moments set in motion.

When I need a dose of calm, or insight on managing my anger, sadness, or fear in the face of this crazy, crazy world, I don't have to go anywhere or do anything. I just pause, and I hear him in my head.

What's more, he's rarely out of eyeshot. At my office, a photo of us in the living room of his Crooked House rests on a shelf above my desk, and a postcard reading, "It's such a good feeling to know that we're friends" is tacked to my bulletin board. At home, I've framed the very first photo he sent me, one that reads, "For my real ACK neighbor!" Another postcard (this one reading "You make each day a special day by just your being you!") is on the refrigerator.

When the news broke a few weeks ago that PBS told member stations it would send them just one weekly episode of "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood" instead of one daily, I'll be honest: I was sad, but not terribly surprised.

He is a permanent part of my life, as influential as many of my friends and family. What's more, by the time I have children old enough to watch, best as I can tell from my conversations with FCI, Fred will be available either on DVD or on-demand, or both.

As media executive, I wasn't terribly shocked. Throughout the making of "Mister Rogers & Me," Chris and I have seen tiny examples of Fred's on-air presence diminishing on the local level. At one point, I launched a small letter writing campaign.

In general, though, while Chris and I discussed addressing it in the film, and even advocating on the show's behalf, it felt like more than I could chew given the context of my day job, the film, the music, etc. Plus, it felt like a different story than the one we were trying to tell. And, honestly, I was exhausted from hitting our IFP deadline.

Television is a rapidly-shifting landscape. When "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood" premiered, PBS was the fourth of four networks. Fred insisted that "We have to remember to whom the airwaves belong, and we must put as great an emphasis on the nurturing of the human personality as we can."

I believe that those of us who are the producers and purveyors of television -- or video games or newspapers or any mass media -- I believe that we are the servants of this nation.

But the market place has exploded. There are hundreds of channels, thousand if you consider online video -- all of which are radically fragmented and commodified.

To be just a little jaded for one second, I witness corporate media machinations every day. And while, in my experience, intentions are generally the best, the bottom line always prevails -- even with strong advocacy. With Fred gone, the power of that advocacy is too.

Now, I'm not entirely sure that's what's at play here. As I've witnessed at work and as I understand it (and as I witnessed first-hand when I toured Iowa Public Television last month), broadcasters are increasingly digital.

The aegis will be on local stations to manage their own "Neighborhood" libraries, no easy task as you know from keeping all your files straight on your computer. It also means that there will no longer be a shared experience; what airs in Columbia, SC, will be different than what airs in New York City.

That said, it's the subtext of the once-weekly vs. daily transmission that's disconcerting. It suggests, however implicitly, that "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood" lacks daily urgency or import.

In these days of global unrest, economic insecurity, school shootings, and a news media more interested in Lynn Spears than Lynn Cheney, Mister Rogers' soothing, patient and sage insights are

Which is why South Carolina journalist and parent Brian Linder did not rest so easily when he heard the news. As the Pittsburgh-Post Gazette put it, "he didn't have to be told twice what to do with the mad that he felt, to paraphrase one of Fred Rogers' songs."

And so, Save Mister Rogers was born.

Brian's premise is simple, his intentions the absolute best:

We’re asking PBS to please reconsider their decision, and allow Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood, with its timeless expressions of care for children, to remain a part of their syndicated Monday through Friday schedule.

Brian and I spoke real quickly yesterday. He's doing his best to helm this increasingly-visible project while retaining his day job (ours are remarkably similar: he's a freelance writer for IGN Movies) and parenting his newborn twins, Grace and Zoe. He sounds sweet, smart, and passionate. I appreciate his efforts, and look forward to speaking with him further and helping however I can.

I have every confidence that the "Neighborhood" will remain available, though, to Brian's point, it may be increasingly difficult and expensive to find and thereby increasingly limited in its reach.

The key, as always, is to remember that the airwaves belong to the public. And so the public must remain vigilant with its local PBS station in demanding that deep, simple, and essential programming like "Mister Rogers Neighborhood" remain free and unfettered on all media platforms.

For me, then, the best part of Brian's efforts, the show's future discoverability notwithstanding, is the reminder that, in this increasingly fragmented, emotionally disconnected world, we are all neighbors.

Ixnay On The Independent Film Week Debut

2008-07-18T19:17:00.009-04:00

Rare is the day that I don't ask myself, 'What would Mister Rogers say?'

In fact, just now, I was staring out the window at the sunset doing just that. And as always, I heard his voice in my head.

"It's fine," he said. "Just keep trying."

The question?

What would Mister Rogers say when I told him our documentary, 'Mister Rogers & Me,' was not accepted to Independent Film Week?"

That's right. "Mister Rogers & Me" was not accepted to Independent Film Week. I got the email as I was walking through the turnstile at work. "Dear Benjamin," it started.

Thank you for your submission to the Documentary Work-in-Progress section of the 2008 Independent Film Week’ Project Forum. We regret to inform you that your project, “Mister Rogers & Me“, was not selected. We are only able to accommodate a maximum of 75 projects in this most competitive documentary section, which had approximately 500 submissions and numerous strong projects not selected this year.

Please be assured that all submitted projects were carefully reviewed by the Selection Committee. Final decisions were based on a range of criteria, including compliance with all application requirements, amount of financing in place or needed, available rights, artistic merit, and quality. That said, many projects "passed" these criteria, yet still could not be included due to space limitations.

I think I said, "Damn," before stepping into Times Square and cranking Billy Joel's "A Matter Of Trust" (of all things).

My first thought? 'Next!'

My second thought? Many.

First, I thought about early this afternoon. I was sitting in my office scheduling out the next few weeks: San Diego for ComicCon, Indianapolis for Brickyard 400, Meadowlands for Springsteen, Nantucket, Seattle, Nevis and on and on and on.

'I'm pretty blessed,' I thought then.

'Maybe this is some sort of message,' I thought now.

Second, I thought about how difficult the home stretch towards the Independent Film Week deadline was for Chris and me.
'Maybe this is some sort of message,' I thought.

Finally, I thought about how many times I said that, if all else failed, we'd load the movie into a van and drive it to every church basement and rec center that'd have us. Which still stands.

And then I thought, 'Back to work.'

We just have to keep trying.

Mister Rogers On The Penny?

2008-06-26T12:22:00.001-04:00

My friend Jen Snow over at 826NYC sent me this link.

Kinda' hilarious, huh? I'm not sure I ever thought of it, or noticed it, but it sure made me laugh this morning.

Tim Russert, Mister Rogers & Me

2008-06-13T15:34:00.008-04:00

The New York Times just confirmed some sad news: Tim Russert has died of a heart attack.

You'll recall that Chris and I visited Tim in his NBC offices in November, 2006 to interview him for our documentary.

We scored the interview courtesy of my uncle, with whom Tim had worked for years, after I read Tim's wife, Maureen's, remembrance of Mister Rogers in The Nantucket Inquirer-Mirror some months earlier.

It was a cold, drizzly Monday morning as we pulled into NBC's Washington, DC, bureau. Despite a fair dose of preparation, I felt exceedingly nervous. Here I was -- some kid from Iowa -- interviewing on of journalism's foremost interviewers. Worse, it was only Chris and my third shoot, and one that had to take place under challenging circumstances; we had just fifteen minutes to get what we needed.

We were ushered through the lobby by his assistant, Lisa, past the "Meet The Press" set, to a large, off-white, windowless conference room dominated by a huge, oak table. Chris and I quickly conferred on our set up, and tossed up our two lights -- one of which, we discovered, was missing its bulb. Moments before one of the biggest interviews of my life, I dashed through the rain to our car for a replacement.

I was pacing the conference room when Tim finally walked in. I'd asked Chris to roll on our handshake, which he did. He asked about our uncle, asked about the film, made a quick sports reference of some sort (which I probably feigned to understand), then sat down and began mic'ing up like an pro.

I remember noticing some makeup in the corner of his eyes, presumably left over from a previous TV appearance. I led with a question about Nantucket, which threw him a bit. "Is the film about Nantucket? Or FredRogers?" I explained, and we were off.

We talked a while longer than fifteen minutes, moving from his first trip to Nantucket as a college student to meeting Mister and Mrs. Rogers when his son, Luke, was five-years-old. Then I asked about his parents.

Benjamin Wagner: Reading your book, it struck me that your parents and Mister Rogers were somehow on the same page.

Tim Russert: I remember my mom would wake me up every morning she would stand at the foot of the steps and say,"Tim, Tim, Tim." Very soft, sweet voice. But she had a direct frequency to my heart. And it taught me so many lessons which I use every Sunday morning.

You don’t have to be loud for people to pay attention to you. And I think that's something that Mister Rogers taught too. You can walk into a room and be respectful, and be civil, and have very strong views but learn how to disagree agreeably.

And the thing that baffles me about Washington as we sit here and talk is that we all learn these same lessons but somehow people come here and forget them. And I think that the world would be a lot better off and I know that the relations between Congress and the White House would be a lot better of if they remembered and listened to Big Russ and Mister Rogers.

As we wrapped our our interview, I drew a parallel between the two shows, "Meet The Press" and "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood."

BW: "Meet The Press" is the nation's longest running network television program. And "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood" is public television’s longest running program. I wonder if you can draw some meaning or connection from that fact.

TR: Well, they’re both national treasures. I happen to be a temporary custodian. And I think Fred would see himself as a temporary custodian in allowing more and more people to see it as it's replayed and replayed even after his death. And the essence of those programs was to get people of good intentions and open hearts to sit down and talk with one another, and learn from one another.

I've always believed as my mom and dad taught me and as Fred Rogers taught millions of Americans that true quality, true wholesomeness does rise and is embraced and respected.

His warmth, substance, intelligence and humor really shone through in our interview. You can see it in our trailer: his is the first testimonial at roughly 1:10 in.

Just like with Mister Rogers, it seemed like there was a segment of culture that wanted to tear Tim down in some way, whether for being too partisan, or not too partisan enough, or playing some role in the Valerie Plame case, or whatever. I don't really where the truth is on any of that and, to be honest, I don't really care to.

All I know is that this immensely well-connected and busy gentlemen took a half an hour out of his day to talk with a couple of young guys making an independent documentary about something as esoteric as the need for depth and simplicity in modern culture. In addition to contributing a few terrific stories and some great insight to "Mister Rogers & Me," Tim's participation lent an air of legitimacy to the rest of our production.

As I've said before, eulogies are usually hurried and artless. This is surely both.

But it is also well intentioned, full of love, and full of gratitude. I'm so grateful Chris and I met Tim Russert, and spent a little bit of time talking about some pretty important stuff: soft voices, good intentions, and open hearts.

"Mister Rogers & Me" Applies To Independent Film Week!

2008-05-23T19:17:00.006-04:00

I don't know much about gambling, or numbers, but I like to think that submitting our Independent Film Week online application at precisely 7:11 is somehow fortuitous; these two seem pretty good together.

In addition to two DVD screeners, and a $60 entree fee, the application called for a 25 word logline, 60 word synopsis, 500 word summary, and 500 word artistic statement. Here's what I came up with.

LOGLINE: American's Favorite Neighbor, PBS icon, Fred Rogers, sends a young MTV producer on a quest for depth and simplicity amidst a shallow and complex world.

SYNOPSIS: An MTV producer's life is transformed when he meets the recently retired host of "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood," Fred Rogers. Friendship with the PBS icon sets the young producer on a hero's quest to find depth and simplicity amidst a shallow and complex world through conversations with Susan Stamberg (NPR), Tim Russert ("Meet The Press"), Marc Brown ("Arthur") and more.

SUMMARY: I first met Mister Rogers at his summer home on Nantucket, Massachusetts, in September 2001. My mother rented the cottage next door. Mister Rogers really was my neighbor.

On the afternoon of our first meeting, he asked me about my job as an MTV producer. Though I’m absolutely certain he didn’t intend it, the inquiry felt like an indictment coming from one of PBS’ founding fathers. Here he was an icon of substantive television. Me? Not so much. At the end of our conversation, he said, "I feel so strongly that deep and simple is far more essential than complex."

The following summer, I told him how I’d thought all year about what he said.

"Spread the message, Benjamin," He said. "Spread the message."

It was only after his death in February 2003, that it dawned on me how. Armed with an HDV camera, my brother and I set out to meet some of Mister Rogers’ neighbors to find out more about the man himself, what he meant by “deep and simple,” and where in our junk food culture that ethos still survives.

Our travels led us to Durham, North Carolina, where Mister Rogers' friend, mystic, author and activist, Bo Lozoff, runs The Kindness Foundation. There we learned the three core tenants of a deeper life: contribute to community, reflect daily, and be wary of material.

In Virginia we met “The Simple Faith of Mister Rogers” author Amy Hollingsworth, with whom we discussed how this ordained minister’s faith manifested in his work on television.

In Washington, DC, we visited Mister Rogers’ iconic red sweater at The Smithsonian. Across town, Meet The Press” host Tim Russert shared his tale of meeting Mister Rogers on Nantucket, and spoke to how deep and simple values hold up in our nation’s capital. Later, we interviewed NPR’s Susan Stamberg, with whom Mister Rogers shot numerous television specials in the ‘80s.

Back in New York, “Arthur” author Marc Brown told us how Mister Rogers inspired his entrée into children’s programming. Later, “Nick News” host, Linda Ellerbee, amplified the challenges facing the modern media programmer. And “I'm Proud of You” author Tim Madigan shared the lesson he learned from his relationship with Mister Rogers: that friendship comes from the least expected sources.

In Nantucket, photographer Beverly Hall shared her memories of being Mister Rogers' actual neighbor: surprise visits, tiny gestures, and quiet moments.

Our path then led to Mister Rogers’ adoptive hometown of Pittsburgh, where "This American Life" contributor Davy Rothbart told us how his two encounters with America’s Favorite Neighbor continue to inspire his appreciation of reflective moments (even as they elude him).

Finally, we arrived in Latrobe, Pennsylvania, where groundbreaking for The Fred Rogers Center For Early Learning & Children's Media has begun on the hill above Fred Rogers' hometown.

In the end, we came to know more than just the man and his luminous legacy. In the end, we uncovered the forces acting against depth and simplicity, and developed tactics to advocate for and make for us deeper, simpler lives.

ARTISTIC STATEMENT: In making "Mister Rogers & Me," I am making good on an assignment given to me by Fred Rogers himself one dark and stormy night in Nantucket, Massachusetts. There, in the firelight of my family's rented cottage, America's favorite Neighbor -- our actual neighbor -- quietly told me to "spread the message."

That message, that "deep and simple is far more essential than shallow and complex," is more than a cultural tension. It is a personal one. When I was offered an opportunity to launch MTV News Online's daily news operation in 1996, I worried that -- as much as I loved the channel growing up -- it wouldn't make for a meaningful, substantive career. Worse, I was concerned it would detract from my real passion: writing, recording and performing my own music. Still, I took the job.

When I met PBS icon (and fellow musician) Mister Rogers five years later, he asked about my music, and my career. I stammered something that felt like half-justification, half-truth. Music had been an important refuge for me growing up, I said. And music journalism like Rolling Stone and MTV News had revealed to me that my idols wrestled with the same things I did: familial strife, self esteem, and addiction.

"You know, Benjamin," he said staring out to sea, "I feel so strongly that deep and simple is far more essential than shallow and complex."

It's difficult to characterize how radically that meeting, that conversation, and the assignment Mister Rogers handed me has affected me. I talk about the man, his message, and our friendship every day. I try to make good on his values in everything I do. And I have spent the last four years putting this documentary together with my brother in our own time and on our own dime.

Creatively, I've endeavored to tell this story in the best, most-engaging way that I know how: the first person. In doing so, my investment and curiosity is palpable as I act as proxy for the audience, asking and answering questions on their behalf.

I've often described the story as a hero's quest. In it, I leave my community (New York City), seek wise elders (Bo Lozoff, Susan Stamberg), discover deeper meaning to probing questions (How do we create deeper lives amidst an increasingly shallow culture?), before returning home to share the good news.

Visually and aurally, my brother and I endeavored to contrast our frenetic, often shallow and always complex modern lives in New York City with our tranquil, deep and simple moments on the corner of Nantucket Island known as Madaket.

Philosophically, our goal is simple: to afford the viewer the opportunity to reflect not just on a great man, but also on the values he espoused and embodied every day: compassion, kindness, and reflection.

Once IFP confirms receipt of our DVDs, entry #898 is official. By July 23d, Chris and I will know if "Mister Rogers & Me" has in audience come September.

Stay tuned!

On The Road With Mister Rogers

2008-05-20T22:47:00.010-04:00

Our 26:20 "Mister Rogers & Me" Independent Film Week submission is comprised of four parts (three of which will make the final edit):

1) An introduction (in which I introduce myself and tell the backstory of Mister Rogers and me)

2) A biography section (in which I give the briefest sketch of Mister Rogers life)

3) A visit with Bo Lozoff at The Human Kindness Foundation (in which we learn the three core tenants of a deeper life)

4) An outro intended to demonstrate what will come next in the film.

That outro is four soundbites (Tim Russert, Susan Stamberg, Marc Brown, and Linda Ellerbee) set to music (The Poem Adpts "Bear & Racoon," as previously reported) sewn together by voice over ("The Human Kindness Foundation was only the beginning...") and driving footage.

Which is what Chris is cutting now.

In fact, he just cut down three hours of travel footage (mostly me gripping the steering wheel and staring out the window stoically) shot over the course of some 48+ total hours.

"All that driving," he said, "And we got four and a half minutes of useable footage."

Meanwhile, I'm in the back row chipping away at our summary (just a few words to go!) and artistic statement (only one graph done). After a Goodburger (works, heavy mustard), fries and a Foster's, I'm onto Coke and Snickers.

The deadline for submission is Friday. It's Tuesday night (for another 58 minutes, at least) right now. It's gonna' be down to the wire, but we'll get there...

"Mister Rogers & Me" In 25 Words Or Less?

2008-05-19T23:09:00.008-04:00

I've been drafting our Independent Film Week application as Chris fine tunes our submission.

We've made some elegant revisions tonight, including the addition of a cute piece of footage of Ethan and me, some evocative driving b-roll, and a song by Davy Rothbart's brother's band, The Poem Adept, "Bear & Raccoon" (though we haven't officially asked Peter's permission yet).

Thing about non-linear editing is that there's no track record of what was, only what is. The project evolves before our eyes. That is, when my eyes aren't on this blog.

Anyway, other than the usual information (age, rank, seriel number), the application -- which is due in roughly 72 hours -- calls for five major items: logline (25 words), synopsis (60), summary (500), artistic statement (500), and bios (100 each). Right now, I'm 3/5 through.

The summary's not ready for prime time, though -- being that it's approaching midnight and I've been moving since 7am -- so here's what I have for now:

Logline: American's Favorite Neighbor, PBS icon Fred Rogers, sends an MTV producer on a quest for depth and simplicity amidst a shallow and complex world.

Synopsis: An MTV producer's life is transformed when he meets the recently-retired host of "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood," Fred Rogers. Friendship with the PBS icon sets the young producer on a hero's quest to find depth and simplicity amidst a shallow and complex world through conversations with Susan Stamberg (NPR), Tim Russert ("Meet The Press"), Marc Brown ("Arthur") and more.

The other pending issue is that the application calls for us to commit to either being a work-in-progress, or a rough cut some September. A work-in-progress puts us in a position to seek finishing funds. A rough cut enables us to keep our momentum, and seek distribution (and spend all summer editing after work).

Two guesses which one I'm lobbying for.

Tune in tomorrow for the answer, and the exciting conclusion to our IFP edit and application (and my immediate fall into a deep, dream-filled slumber).

Mister Rogers, Quiznos & Me

2008-05-13T23:08:00.015-04:00

Years ago, when I was recording the first of two albums ("Almost Home" and "Love & Other Indoor Games") at my pal Kevin Anthony's Control One Studios, I began most sessions with a delicious, toasty Turkey Ranch Sub from Quiznos.

Tonight, Chris and I are editing just a few blocks from there, so I reprised the ritual... with extra pickles, as always.

The neighborhood feels a little different. Madison Square Park (where I recorded the city sounds you hear throughout my cover of John Denver's "Leaving on a Jet Plane"), for example, use to be dark and sketchy. Now, there's a trendy little outdoor dining venue (Shake Shack) beneath a canopy of bright-white lightbulbs.

Tonight, the Flatiron building was dark, but the Empire State Building was cast in a warm, purple glow. The trees were in nearly-full bloom. The city was bustling with spring energy.

Here in the edit, Chris is assembling the bio portion of the film. In this section, we give a brief overview of Mister Rogers' life through major milestones such as his premiere airing in 1968, Senate hearing in 1969, and NATAS Lifetime Achievement Award in 1997.

It isn't a complete portrait of his life by any means. It isn't meant to be. PBS' own, "Mister Rogers: America's Favorite Neighbor" is the definitive work to that end, as are the oral histories Family Communications has begun assembling.

Instead, it's our objective to give the casual viewer enough to go on. Deeper details are revealed throughout the film. This section -- roughly nine minutes into the film -- sets the stage.

Chris just cut the famous Senate hearing in which Mister Rogers gently pursuaded Senator John Pastore (D, RI) to fund PBS from seven minutes to one. The process isn't much to watch from this vantage point, but the end result sure looks cool.

Meanwhile, I just dashed off an email my Tim Russert's people asking for, amongst other things, pictures of Mister Rogers with his son, Luke.

And harkening back to those Quiznos-fueled recording sessions, I even spent a few minutes corresponding with The Nadas' bassist and Sonic Factory Studios recording engineer, Jon Locker, about my next album, "The Invention of Everything Else."

Everything comes around, after all.

Mister Rogers, The Emmy Awards & Me

2008-05-08T13:36:00.005-04:00

This is a crucial piece of footage.

It's Mister Rogers' acceptance of his 1997 Lifetime Achievement Award from National Academy of Television Arts and Sciences, aka The Emmy Awards. In the clip, he accepts his statuette from actor Tim Robbins, and says the following:

So many people have helped me come to this night. Some of you are here, some are far away, and some are even in Heaven. All of us have special ones who have loved us into being. Would you just take along with me ten seconds to think of the people who have helped you become who you are. Those who have cared about you and wanted what was best for you in life. Ten seconds in life. I'll watch the time.

It's a crucial component to our film (for reasons that will become apparent to you when you see it). And yesterday, we received good news from our uber-AP, Kathy Kim, who not only tracked down the tape, but with a special surprise. Daytime Emmy Award Manager Steve Rogers wrote us the following:

Since your subject matter is so near and dear to the Academy’s mission of excellence for programming, particularly for children, we’d be willing to waive the fee for a donation of any amount to our Foundation. In addition, when the film is complete we'd love to take a look and perhaps feature the work on our site with a clip and a profile of the project and filmmaker.

We are blessed, and grateful.

The View From Here

2008-05-05T22:43:00.010-04:00

These days, this is my vista on the making of "Mister Rogers & Me."

I'm in the back row of the edit emailing ("Do you have and would you please share photos from your trip to meet Mister Rogers at FCI?"), making notes ("Statistics? Biblical passages in text?"), and -- to be honest -- surfing the web.

Chris and I have exactly seventeen days to get our edit done for the May 23 Independent Film Week deadline. (I know I wrote in my last post that our deadline way May 5; that's when they began taking submissions. Also, I was being loose with the deadline to be sure we hit it.)

Tonight, we're cutting our visit to Bo Lozoff's Human Kindness Foundation. It's a segment that, quite frankly, we've been putting off for months.

Chris kept saying, "Man, I'm afraid to even look at it."

What we thought was going to be a brief, one-hour interview turned into an entire afternoon dining with Bo, his wife, and commune members, touring the grounds, and talking about super, crazy deep stuff.

When we got home, we had nearly eight hours of tape. When that tape was transcribed (which I paid two college student to do), it came out to 64 typed, single-spaced pages. That's a lot of footage to cut down to somewhere between 8-15 minutes.

Bo was the first stop on our road trip. Actually, he was the second stop on the the first trip, but he sets up "deep and simple" -- our thesis -- so nicely.

We're endeavoring to cut the first and last interviews (Bo and Davy Rothbart, which is already rough cut) plus the set up and conclusion to dazzle the IFP submission committee. So we couldn't put Bo off any longer.

Right now, Chris has it down to eighteen minutes.

It's interesting to watch him work. I wrote and recorded all the voice over in a very linear manner. That is, I basically set up and concluded each interview. Chris, though, thinks in some crazy inter-woven 3D puzzle. He thinks spatially. So he's tied the sit-down interviews, the walk-and-talk, and the graphics (photos, statistics, etc) into one, cohesive, layered story. It's way different from my vision, but more advanced.

And requisite. When you talk with anyone about anything for eight hours (heck, one hour) then try and boil it down to its essence, you gotta' cut somethin'. And you gotta' cover that cut with something too.

Anyway, it's approaching midnight. We've made a lot of progress. We've got almost thirty minutes. We're roughly 3/4 of the way home ... for the IFP submission, anyway. After that? More views from the back row of the edit. See ya' there!

Scripting "Mister Rogers & Me" -- Twice

2008-04-13T16:38:00.010-04:00

It's been Groundhog Day for the last month; every weekend is the same.

I walk to the deli across the street and order a cracked pepper turkey on a roll with mustard, mayo, vinegar, lettuce, tomato, and onions. I grab a 16 ounce Coca-Cola out of the cooler, a bag of Baked Lays from the display, pay for everything, and walk home.

Back home, I microwave the sandwich for forty-five seconds, set my laptop up on the dining room table, and get to work on the doc...

Today, I finished. Sort of.

The script is done! Both of 'em.

The first is the rough cut sketch version. It consists of voice over, interview transcription, plus some video direction ("VID: Driving In NYC"). Entire sections, though, are summed up in single phrases -- like "Pittsburgh Children Museum Tour" or "Smithsonian MOS." It comes to about 15,000 words, or twenty-five pages.

The other is a condensed version for IFP's Independent Film Week. The Independent Film Week is an annual confab of indie studios, distributors, and festival bookers. Everyone we've talked to (which at this point is pretty much Paul and Chris) suggested we screen at least a work in progress there before getting into the festival game. The deadline is May 2, which, given our rate of progress, is way too soon for the full rough cut.

Fortunately for us, IFP is all about new filmmakers, so they'll except even a few rough scenes for potential admission (bearing in mind that they accept only the top 15% of submissions). The condensed script, then, is basically the open (which is in pretty good shape), the close (which is written, and not too complicated), with two segments in between: Bo Lozoff (which Chris has flirted with but not tackled; Bo's vociferous and super deep) and Davy Rothbart (which Chris has already rough cut).

I have to read a few VOs tomorrow night, then I'm handing the whole thing off to Chris. He edits twelve hours a day, and is a husband and father of two, so we've been having one heckuva' time squeezing in "Mister Rogers & Me" edits. But the clock's tickin'...

It's been a long road, and I know that we've only just begun. Two quotes are currently pulling me through.

I found this one in a blog post I wrote about a Tribeca Film Festival panel I attended some years ago. Steven Gaghan was talking with Sydney Pollack about a project that had languished in pre-production for three years. Pollack said, "Don’t worry about it, kid. Any project that means anything takes nine years to get made. Nine years. You’re only a third of the way there."

The other was in today's New York Times about actress Helent Hunt's directorial debut, "Then She Found Me." "I was particularly defeated," she said, "So I asked someone, 'Whose movies get made?' He said, 'It’s the people who don’t give up.'"

As it currently stands, the film's prologue is a quote from another one of my heroes, Bono.

"The true life of a believer is one of a hazardous uphill pilgrimage where you uncover slowly the illumination for your next step."

I believe...

And I'm ready for the next step.

The Reveal

2008-04-08T23:55:00.004-04:00

Just yesterday afternoon at work, I told the head of a major studios' publicity department, "Our audience craves one thing: the reveal. Show them something they haven't seen before."

What I meant was, nothing drives clicks in the movie news business like exclusive trailer and clips. It's not rocket science.

Still, studios roll out these sneak peeks in strategically-timed microscopic pieces. They don't want to give too much away.

Our buddy, "American Hardcore" (and Slamdance founder) Paul Rachman, though, suggested to Chris and me months ago now that we deluge the Internet with clips.

Which brings me to tonight.

It's nearly midnight. We're editing. Well, Chris is editing, and I'm making (strong) suggestions over his shoulder.

We're working on the open. We've scarcely made it past my first line of VO ("It seems to me..."), which means we're approximately .005% into the film, and means that, at this rate, we'll have a rough cut sometime in 2010. Still, it already looks like a film. Which kind of blows me away.

The New York City footage is great: frenzied, chilly, and blue (in contrast with Nantucket's warm reds). Chris also digitized a bunch of 8mm footage my dad shot when we were kids that, frankly, is amazing stuff: me in a crib, Chris pushing me in a stroller.

I don't know how many times I've thought (and said), "What the hell have we done!" Little by little, though, it's feeling like the real thing. The script is 97% written. And we probably have 75% of our footage together. It's coming together. And it looks cinematic.

So I wish we could show you, and make good on Paul's suggestion. And we will. But not tonight.

I'll bring a FlipCam into edit next time and show you what I mean. But it's gonna' be a while before we roll out clips in earnest. So for now, trust me. It's good. It works. You'll see.

Golden Days

2008-04-06T12:00:00.003-04:00

Like a lot of guys of my generation, Chris Suchorsky's mind was blown by "The Empire Strikes Back." What distinguished Chris most of the rest of us, though, was how geeked out he was by the making-of documentary he saw on HBO.

When Chris saw Kevin Smith's no-budget, 1994 Sundance phenomena, "Clerks," he wanted in on his New Jersey neighbor's racket. A self-described "typical everyday Slacker, C student," he doubled up and even audited film classes at Seton Hall. Once graduated, he began working in advertising, saving money, and writing his screenplay, "Executing Love."

By the summer of 2000, I'd had it with the Advertising Agency and decided to shoot my film. I based my actions/steps on Robert Rodriguez's "Rebel Without a Crew," an autobiographical account of his attempt to make, "El Mariachi." Rodriguez shot the film by himself for $7000, and sold it to Hollywood for around 1 million.

I set out to shoot a 95 page script in 6 six days, I rented equipment I could not afford, and I hired people (friends) who could not act. This was my failure.

A day or so after my film career ended, I had an idea. Why not turn my failed attempt into a documentary? Why not tell the story of a person trying to achieve a life-long dream and watch it fall apart? This film would become "Failure."

Check your local listings; Chris' how-NOT-to-make-a-movie documentary, "Failure" is probably playing on IFC right now.

I came across Chris via his new film, "Golden Days." The doc follows indie rockers, The Damnwells, through a major label tussle not dissimilar from Wilco's (also documented in Sam Jones' "I Am Trying To Break your Heart").

Megan Gilbert of Zoom-In described the film thusly:

Suchorsky, explores the concepts of artistry, musicianship, intra-band communication, songwriting, fame, dreams, and success. The "American Dream"-like rise and fall of a Little Band That Could provides an excellent tension that pushes Golden Days out of the dustbin of live music documentaries and into the realm of art.

Chris is still seeking distribution, but has screened the film at sixteen noted film festivals thus far, including Big Sky, Vail, Waterfront, and Phoenix.

As a singer/songwriter and first time documentary filmmaker, you can imagine my interest, in meeting Chris, and learning about the making and marketing of "Golden Days." So I emailed him, and offered to buy him a beer.

Last Monday, we had five.

We sat at the bar at O'Lunney's on 44th Street just east of Broadway for a few hours. Chris is scrappy and compact. He was a wrestler at Seton Hall, where he refused to allow a diagnosis of Hodgkin's Disease derail his wrestling career.

Chris' leg bounced the entire time we sat there. This is a guy who gets things done. I like that. Moreover, he's a natural storyteller. And sound bite machine. With nearly ten years struggling to break through the independent film world, and dozens of festivals under his belt, this is a guy with something to say.

"People love misery and chaos," he said.

"Everything corporate is bullshit."

"Documentary festivals and distributors only want films about three things: Iraq, religion, and the environment."

I felt a little silly talking about my sweet little film, given that it was none of those things, and not even a little bit rock 'n roll like "Golden Days."

"What's your log line?" he asked.

I sighed, grinning.

"I knew someone was gonna' ask the eventually," I said, stalling. "A PBS mind in an MTV world seeks illumination through the mentorship of American Icon and actual neighbor Fred Rogers?"

It was more of a question than a statement.

"What's yours for 'Golden Days,'" I asked.

"A struggling indie rock band signs to a major label only to have their album and career nearly destroyed by the people who signed them," he said. "That's what 'Failure' is about too, I guess: trying to find success in a world that won't allow you to."

I told him I thought he was kicking ass, and that I'd get back to him on my log line.

I thanked him for hangin' out with me. We stumbled into the neon-lit madness of Times Square. And I smiled the whole way home.

Wagner Bros. LLC

2008-04-05T17:38:00.003-04:00

WQED Studio A Renamed Fred Rogers Studio

2008-03-28T06:44:00.004-04:00

This morning, The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette reports:

WQED Multimedia's Studio A, which was home to "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood," will now be called the Fred Rogers Studio in honor of Fred Rogers' life and work in children's television, WQED board members decided yesterday. The station will open the studio in August for a series of open houses for those who want a look behind the scenes of the long-running PBS series.

"When he retired, he said, 'I miss my playmates at the studio the most,'" the late host's wife, Joanne Rogers, who was on hand for the announcement, told board members. "It was work, and it was hard, but he played there."

Chris and I spent a few minutes shooting exteriors outside of WQED last year. At the time, we still held hope that we'd be invited inside, so we were treading lightly.

As Chris shot a series of wide, mid, and close-up shots, I wandered around the grounds. The building is on the edge of the University of Pittsburgh campus, and so was teaming with students. In fact, it appeared by the volume of pedestrian traffic that the parking lot on the west side of the building was some sort of a short-cut. So I followed the kids around the back of the building.

I noticed an open door on the side of the building, and tiptoed towards it. From the looks of it, I was at the back door of one of the station's cavernous sound stages. My heart was beating as I stepped inside, hoping that I'd spot some little corner of King Friday's castle.

No such luck.

I've since spoken with FCI and relinquished my fantasy of being invited inside WQED, on camera at least.

I still like to imagine, though, that I was just a few steps from X the Owl's tree.

Either way, in some small way, I always am.

Mister Rogers & Me In 5:32

2008-03-26T22:49:00.005-04:00

The first rule of film -- heck, of storytelling in general -- is "Show, Don't Tell."

Given that I never got back to Mister Rogers Crooked House with a video camera, Chris and I are left to retell the origin story -- that is, the story of my first meeting with Mister Rogers -- by reconstructing it through words and pictures.

And so, in roughly 5:32 of voice over recordedjust now in the studio picture here (yes, that's my wife's robe overmy shoulder), I usher the viewer from Iowa City, Iowa, to Nantucket, Massachusetts. Here's a sneak peak:

It seems to me that there just a few crucial moments that define every person's life. For me so far, they are as follows:

I was born September 4, 1971, in Iowa City, Iowa, to a graduate student and a nurse. Three weeks later, we moved.

In October of 1981, my parents divorced. My mother, brother, Christofer, and I moved for the fifth time in ten years to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. I retreated into my headphones, the most-recent copy of Rolling Stone Magazine, and the fantasy that one day I’d be a rock star.

In 1993, I graduated from Syracuse University with dual degrees in creative writing and journalism. Shortly thereafter, Chris and I moved to New York City where timing, luck and experience conspired to afford me my dream job at THE preeminent music video network -- yeah, THAT music video network.

Perhaps THE defining moment of my life so far, though, occurred in September of 2001 on a tiny island 30 miles off the coast of Massachusetts…

I sent the file to Christofer so he can begin cutting to it. Next steps?

1- Mister Rogers bio VO
2- All intro VOs
3- Bev Hall segment
4- 826 segment
5- Outro VO

The goal is to have a rough cut by May 1.

Very abmitious.

The End Is The Beginning Is The End

2008-03-22T22:53:00.000-04:00

Putting this film together has been an excercise in time management. I don't have the luxury of producing "Mister Rogers & Me" as my day job, so I'm working on it -- tangiably or not -- the rest of the time. New ideas, then, are often unexpected surprises at odd moments.

Like this morning. I went for a five mile run along the Hudson River and through Central Park, cranking tunes the whole way. What with the traffic, the chaos, and the rock 'n roll, it was kind of the opposite of meditative or reflective. It was suprising, then, to step into my apartment and immediately come up with the opening voice over for the film.

I've been puzzling as to how to pull together a few disperate strands for a few weeks. We've already taped the opening shots of me walking to work, idea being to establish the chaos of the city in order to stanf in contrast to the tranquility of Nantucket. But the audience needs to know who I am, not because the film's about me, but because the conflict in the film -- every good movie needs one -- is my conflict: being a PBS mind in an MTV world. If the audience is going to be invested in the story, I figure, they need to be at least a little invested in me. Plus I had to establish a few notes -- like my parent's divorce -- as they figure into the story. Finally I had to get the film to Nantucket, then onto the road.

I knew I'd be spending time on the film today, and knew I had to write the opening voice over, but I wasn't thinking about it when I ran, or when I walked into the door. I think I figured it out, though. And it ties nicely to how I plan to end the film. Now I just have to tie everything up in-between.

I had to smile as I sat there typing everything out this afternoon when I noticed that Abbi had placed a bunch of daffodils on our desk; Nantucket's Daffodil Festival kicks off in a month. Today, I was a few steps ahead.

Dear Mister Rogers

2008-03-20T07:26:00.006-04:00

Dear Mister Rogers,

My memory isn't the best, but one moment I'll never forget is meeting you.

It was September 4, 2001. I'd arrived on Nantucket just a few hours prior. I remember going for a run, then swimming in the bay at sunset. By the time you walked over from The Crooked House, there wasn't a trace of sunlight to be found; the sun had fallen below the waves. The stars had yet to come out. It was completely and perfectly dark.

I was standing on the back porch, beer in hand, when I heard your unmistakable voice inquire, "Has the birthday boy arrived?"

I don't remember what I said, or what happened next, but I remember exactly how I felt. For the first time in a long time, the increasing pressures of modern, accelerated adult life slipped away. For the first time in a long time, I felt like a little boy; wide-eyed, full of wonder, and 100% unique.

I couldn't have imagined then just how radically spending time with you that weekend would affect my path. Meeting you was a turning point, a moment where my existing values, interests and -- frankly, anxieties -- began to galvanize around a new mission.

I'd only just recently broken free from the haze of low-level but insidious drug addiction, and begun to address some of my own demons: the dual traumas of my parent's divorce, my broken jaw, and the resulting low self-esteem that accompanied both. Creatively, in my music, I was still wrestling with the tension between style and form. I was still -- metaphorically, at least -- dressing for a roll I thought I needed to play, not living in the clothes that fit and were comfortable.

I was, come to think of it, only beginning to find my voice. You helped me. You helped me settle into myself, and into the realization that I was good enough just the way I am. I stopped trying to be something or someone else, and began to just be me.

So much has changed since then: September 11, Afghanistan and Iraq, iPhones, The Long Tail, MySpace, integrated marketing and psychographic ad targeting. Everything feels darker, more self-absorbed, more disconnected, and less engaged than ever before. From cell phone video of Saddam Hussein's hanging to paparrazi snaps of Britney's meltdown, it seems like we're entertaining ourselves to death. Were you still here, I'm sure you would have some gentle, substantive advice for us all.

My hunch is that you would remind us that we're all more alike than dissimilar. You might encourage us to reflect a moment on something beautiful: a sunset, a flower, the memory of a loved one. And then you might have us simply turn to our neighbor and ask, "How can I help?"

In the absence of that calm, patient voice, though, and in the face of so many blustery and boisterous ones, I'm not sure who or what will remind us of those simple values: community, reflection, modesty. In the absence of you soothing presence, I'm not sure who or what will remind us to slow down, tune in and really listen to one another.

You know, Christofer and I visited your home town of Latrobe, Pennsylvania, a few months ago. We didn't go to your house, or your grave. Instead, we just drove around looking for the highest point from which to take it all in. Oddly enough, as the sun began to fall over the Western Pennsylvania town, we couldn't find a clear vantage point from which to see everything. We could only see what was immediately in front of us: a weather-beaten factory, a rusted out rail car, a chipped and faded duplex. You'll recall also that we had all but given up and were headed out of town when we spotted St. Vincent's Cathedral -- little more than a tiny, red-brick tower clear across the valley -- illuminated in the setting sun.

There is so much to say to you today, Mister Rogers, on the celebration of what would have been your 80th birthday. For now, though, just this: Thank You. Thank you for helping me find my own cathedral on the hill, something to stare at, reflect on, and believe in even when everything else seems completely and perfectly dark.

Love, Benjamin

Mister Rogers, Serendipity & Us

2008-03-13T00:37:00.014-04:00

Brace yourself; the following story may blow your mind.

Just this past Sunday, Nada front man Jason Walsmith and I were sitting around his Beaverdale, Iowa, living room recovering from the previous night's show and preparing for the next. We were watching TV when he said, "Lemme' show you this documentary."

He surfed around his Tivo menu until he found Iowa Public Television's "More Than A Game." The film, "a look back at girls' 6-on-6 basketball and what it meant to generations of young women who played it," features a new song from my Des Moines rock star friends, "Play Like A Girl."

Fast forward to Tuesday night. Chris and I are saddled up to the bar at The Dead Poet. We're well into our second pint, and nearly done with our cheeseburgers. I'm scribbling all over the film's outline, clarifying our respective assignments for the coming days ("Chris: Cut Davy. Ben: Script Pittsburgh").

"Excuse me," the gentleman next to us says. "Is that some sort of script?"

"Yeah it is," I say. "My brother and I are working on a documentary about Mister Rogers."

"Really!?!?" he says. "I work for PBS."

My eyes light up as we reach for our respective business cards."

"In Iowa."

"What!?!" I say. "I just got back from Iowa. I played a few shows with my pals in The Nadas who ..."

"Whose songs are in '"More Than A Game!'"

"Yeah!"

The pair, Wayne and Jerry, were in town to meet with The Metropolitan Opera. They'd stopped into The Poet (my favorite bar in New York City simply because it is anomylous in its authenticity) on the recommendation of a colleague. Which is where they found us.

In a city of 10 million people and 1000 bars, these two Iowans found two more.

In a city full of bankers, brokers, actors, dishwashers and directors, these two public television programmers found us: two documentary filmmakers aspiring to air their freshman effort on ... public television.

Once we got over our initial surprise -- including the additional revelation that we'd shared the same flight from Des Moines Monday morning -- we spent a few hours talking about the film, public television, and Iowa. We had a great time, until I looked down at my watch and realized that, for the fourth night in a row, I was out well past midnight.

Chris and I were still shocked, amazed, and thrilled at our collective serendipity as we stumbled towards Broadway.

"Mister Rogers always said to look for the helpers," I said as I hailed a cab. "Maybe the helpers are looking for us too."

* * *

By last night, the story had boomeranged from New York to Iowa and back. "More Than A Girl" director, Laurel Bower Burgmaier, emailed Jason (who is in Austin, Texas, at the SXSW Music Conference. He immediately forwarded her note with a one-liner, "Aren't you glad I made you watch that doc?"

Ms. Burgmaier wrote:

Hi Jason. I have a funny story to tell you. Two colleagues of mine at IPTV were in NY earlier this week and after scouting something, went to a bar called "Dead Poets". They were sitting by two guys who looked to be working on a script and asked them about it. When the two guys found out my colleagues were from IPTV, they said, "You're kidding! You mean the station that did 6 on 6?" They said they were from Waterloo and were friends of the Nadas, particularly you. One works for Sony and the other is from MTV News and said he just played this past Saturday with you guys in Des Moines. They are working on a doc about Mister Rogers. They exchanged cards with one of my colleagues who is the local production manager. What a small world in a city of 12 million, they'd run into these two guys!

What was once a cliche apparently bears repeating: it is a small world after all, especially when you have a guardian angel looking out for you.

Mister Rogers (& Me) In The Nantucket Independent

2008-03-12T18:27:00.000-04:00

I was thrilled when I received an email from Nantucket Independent reporter Mary Carpenter last week.

Mary and I spoke on Wednesday. I turned my chair away from my desk, and looked out across Times Square towards the sea. I spoke slowly, both because she was taking shorthand notes, and because I wanted to sufficiently communicate the reverence I feel for the man right. Somehow, staring at the clouds made that reverence a bit more approachable.

Here's an excerpt of how Mary's article turned out.

Professional photographer and Madaket neighbor Beverly Hall met Mister Rogers shortly after his family started spending summer seasons on the island. Not only did she treasure their friendship and the fact that they shared being ministers, she produced an extensive collection of photos of him she lent to summer visitor Benjamin Wagner, who works for MTV News and met Mister Rogers six years ago. Wagner felt so much admiration for him he is producing a documentary called "Mister Rogers & Me."

Wagner, now 36, met Fred Rogers on his 30th birthday and the following day was given a tour of his home during which time Rogers played "It's a Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood" on his piano. Wagner's mother Mary Bolster rented a cottage next to the Crooked House and became friends with the Rogers in part because she was studying for her master's degree in theology, a deep interest of his.

"He took an interest in everything and everyone he met. I have yet to meet an adult who is more thoroughly invested in the moment or the person before him than Mister Rogers," said Wagner, whose documentary represents his personal memories and impressions.

"In short, he changed my life," said Wagner, recalling a conversation they had about Wagner's job and Rogers' observation he never forgot. "Standing on his back porch he said 'I feel so strongly that deep and simple are far more essential than shallow and complex.' In his show he took time to explain things well and clearly in a way kids and adults could understand, and he didn't shy away from hard questions like what happens when my goldfish dies or why are my parents divorcing. I think that takes a special kind of courage, especially in the culture we live in."

Wagner's documentary is in the editing stage and he anticipates it will be released as an independent film next year.

"It is my remembrance of him and goes into details of our conversations about crucial cultural values," said Wagner. "I grew up watching Mister Rogers, but he moved me as an adult. There are very few people in the world who have that curiosity in others. He was a really special, unique man."

I'm not entirely sure how I did. Feels like an understatement. Still, it's nice.

Mister Rogers, Rain & Me

2008-03-05T19:01:00.005-05:00

This has been a long road, and we're nowhere near our destination.

Though we only began shooting in earnest in June 2006, Chris and I have been talking about this film since 2002. And though we're gathering steam, it's slow going. There's no way we're hitting the March 15 Nantucket Film Festival deadline.

And yet, as we soldier on, there's no shortage of really cool, really meaningful, and really inspiring moments. I had one today when my friend Jen emailed:

I was talking about Mister Rogers with a dear friend of mine and he referenced a song from Mister Rogers that I vaguely remember about the rain. It was sung by him partially in French. I have Googled "il pleut" and "rain" and "France" and "Mister Rogers" and I am coming up with NOTHING! Do you have any resources that can help me find the words to this song, O le Expert?

I responded, CCing my new friend, Holly Yarbrough who's working on a CD of Mister Rogers' songs called, "Mister Rogers Swings!"

Oh my word, Jen, that's some advanced stuff. But I'll bet who'll know...

Meet Holly Yarbrough who's about to released a lovely new CD, "Mister Rogers Swings." She's the expert! Holly?

Holly -- who's father, Glenn, is a folksinger whos first record was the first record to be released on Elektra (later home to Judy Collins, Phil Ochs and The Pixies) -- responded almost immediately, CCing her friend Joe:

That song isn't on any of the Mister Rogers recordings that are still in print. I vaguely remember it from childhood too.... Joe Negri (of Negri's Music Shop) is the closest connection I know of to Johnny Costa, Fred's musical collaborator and accompanist.

If Joe doesn't remember it, he might know who we could try contacting next. Joe? Any ideas?

And so it was -- just like that -- I was in an email chain with Handyman Negri!

Every time something like that happens -- every email from Tim or Bev, every letter from Amy or package from Lynn, every comment and email from a stranger, and every extra minute with my brother -- is some sort of awesome, unexpected gift.

Mister Rogers, The Sweater & Me

2008-03-02T13:51:00.009-05:00

Fifteen or more years ago, in the lingerie secion of Bloomingdales (I can't make this stuff up), a fortysomething store clerk (perhaps an early-adopting "cougar") said upon inspecting my MasterCard, "Benjamin. Hmmm. That's a nice name. Like a warm sweater."

The description flattered me. And it stuck with me. I remembered it just now, as I reflected upon Mister Rogers forthcoming 80th birthday and its attending celebrations. From The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette:

March 20 would have been the late children's TV host's 80th birthday, and Family Communications Inc. is urging everyone -- not just in Pittsburgh, but all over the world -- to wear a favorite sweater that day in honor of Fred Rogers' legacy. Family Communications is the production company behind the long-running "Mister Rogers" public TV series.

Mister Rogers said he wore a sweater “to make it seem like a comfortable time. It’s a symbol of staying a while, of settling down for some quiet time together.”

Of course, Mister Rogers' Grandmother McFeely sewed each one for him. One (which Chris and I vistited in August, 2006) hangs in The Smithsonian today.

I'm not sure that Bloomingdales clerk was prescient or not. That is, I don't know if I am anything like a warm sweater. I hope so. I certainly aspire to being warm and approachable. Mister Rogers certainly was, in spades. He was the epitome of warm and approachable. It takes great courage, I think, to be that way.

Madelaine D'Engle said, "Rightousness begins to reveal itself as that strength which is so secure that it can show itself as gentleness."

Most days this time of year, I wear a cardigan over my dress shirt but under my sport coat. And most days, I think, I exhibit some warmth. Regardless the weather come March 20th, I plan on both in remembrance of the man who has helped me become more of a man myself.

Mister Rogers' Neighborhood: It Was 40 Years Ago Today

2008-02-19T12:10:00.011-05:00

"Mister Rogers' Neighborhood" premiered on PBS forty years ago today.

Family Communications is marking the anniversary with a series of announcements which, according to Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, is to include:

Groundbreaking for the "Tribute to Children" statue of Rogers on the North Shore is scheduled for on or near March 20, which would have been his 80th birthday. The riverside statue will be located close to Heinz Field and facing the Point.

In the meantime, Family Communications will launch "Won't You Be My Neighbor?" Days in mid-March, a series of events involving the Children's Museum of Pittsburgh, the National Aviary, the Carnegie Science Center, the Senator John Heinz History Museum, The Andy Warhol Museum, the Pittsburgh Zoo & PPG Aquarium, the Pittsburgh Symphony, Carnegie and regional libraries and other organizations in the region.

The New York Times celebrated the anniversary differently, running a piece on Sunday pondering, "Is PBS Still Necessary?".

Its creative heyday has passed, the author reasons. Audiences are deluged with similar options. Moreover, ratings are down.

The first two points are arguable about the entire television landscape, but the last point is crucial.

If the marketplace alone decides what constitutes programming, then -- eventually -- our only option will be to watch "Real World XXV" instead of "Materpiece." If the marketplace alone decides what constitutes news then our only option will be to watch "Access Hollywood" instead of "The NewsHour With Jim Lehrer." If the marketplace alone decides what constitutes documentary, our only option will be to watch "Where In The World Is Osama Bin Laden?" instead of "Frontline."

Now more than ever, a marketplace of ideas free from the marketplace is essential.

Now more than ever, when every corporate confab has a lobby, every politician is for sale, and every conceivable surface is covered with advertising, we need a place that's safe from influence -- or at least more safe.

Now more than ever, when the average 3-year-old recognizes 100 different brand logos, and the average 18-year-old has witnessed 200,000 acts of televised violence, we need a place that's safe from influence -- or at least more safe.

That's what Mister Rogers stood for. In a 1967 Senate Oversight hearing, he put it thusly:

"I feel that if we in public television can only make it clear that feelings are mentionable and manageable we will have done a great service for mental health. I think that its much more dramatic that two men could be working out their feelings of anger than showing something of gunfire. I'm constantly concerned about what our children are seeing. And for fifteen years... I have tried to present what I feel is a meaningful expression of care."

Mister Rogers Photographs

2008-02-18T17:36:00.010-05:00

Mister Rogers loved taking photographs far more than being photographed.

The afternoon I met him, he snapped a few of my mother and me, and later sent them to her. Tim Russert tells a similar story. And Bev Hall has more than one photo of Mister Rogers taking photos. Apparently, he was never far from his camera.

I spent the balance of this afternoon watching The Graduate on DVD while scanning and sizing the nearly six dozen photographs that Davy Rothbart and Beverly Hall sent to me.

It's an extraordinary blessing, really, that they've shared entire photo albums with me. Not only do appreciate their generosity and confidence, these photos make the construction of the film possible. I'm still waiting on Lynn Johnson's photo archive, plus the results of Katia's photo agency research, but already we already posess enough supporting material to finish the film.

Many of Bev's photos are from an blustery afternoon in 1967 when Mister Rogers shot an interview with local legend Madaket Millie for air on the "Neighborhood." As I think I've mentioned, her photos of Fred and Millie from that afternoon is a beloved image on Nantucket. It hangs framed in many an island cottage. The photos she shared with me -- over fifty in all -- afford an even warmer, more intimate portrait of that day. There's also more current fare, like this one she took at a Nantucket wedding. That's how I remember him.

Davy's photos look like they were pulled from the pages of my family's photo albums. I recognize the 70s well: the short shorts, Sesame Street t-shirts, a Dutch Boy haircut. And I recognize all the locations in the photos: Eel's Point, Madaket Bay, and -- of course -- Mister Rogers' Crooked House.

I finished scripting Davy's segment last night. Despite having interviewed him at three o'clock in the morning, he nailed the essence of the man:

It's easy to feel isolated, like you're dealing with something and you're the only one. But you pick up some note off the ground from a total stranger and it turns out they're experiencing the same difficult experience you're going through. It's a powerful thing to realize, 'I'm not alone here.' Somebody else is dealing with the same thing. Mister Rogers dealt with some pretty difficult things on his show especially for public television -- death, divorce -- and I think that was what he wanted to communicate. This is stuff we all have to deal with yunno? You're not weird because you're afraid you're gonna go down the drain, or your parents are getting divorced.

It's one of Mister Rogers' greatest lessons, I think, that we're not alone.

In fact, Abbi's out of town, so I've been alone with "Mister Rogers & Me" all weekend. Pouring over these photos and screening interviews with Bev and Davy, 826NYC and the Children's Museum of Pittsburgh, though, I feel warm and welcome, like I'm a part of some great big circle of friends. I don't feel lonesome at all.

"A Tribute To Children" Approved

2008-02-05T21:17:00.000-05:00

A little bit of news out of Pittsburgh today: the $3 million sculpture of 'Mister Rogers' has been approved.

I'll be honest: I thought it had already been approved, and was being unveiled during the week-long celebration of what would be Mister Roger's 80th birthday. Apparently not. Which explains why, when Chris and I shot the remains of the Manchester Bridge, there besides Heinz Field, it looked like they hadn't broken ground yet. Because they hadn't.

Here's the story from the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette:

The Pittsburgh-Allegheny County Sports & Exhibition Authority has cleared the way for construction of a $3 million sculpture of children's television legend Fred Rogers on the North Shore.

Authority board members approved a development and maintenance agreement yesterday with Family Communications and the Colcom Foundation that allows for the work to take place.

Authority Executive Director Mary Conturo said she expects construction to start on the "Tribute to Children" memorial in the first quarter of this year.

The authority board approved a moratorium on additional memorials or public art proposals for North Shore Riverfront Park once the Fred Rogers statute and a World War II memorial are in place.

With those two additions, there will be six memorials or art pieces in the park. Any more would interfere with requirements for open space under the park's master plan, Ms. Conturo said.

The finished sculpture was going to be a component of our epilogue. Guess not.

Mister Rogers, Lynn Johnson & Me

2008-02-02T18:05:00.000-05:00

I'll be honest. I was pretty anxious about calling. You would be too having read this impressive curriculum vitae:

Photojournalist Lynn Johnson is known for her intense and sensitive work. Over the years she had divided her time between assignments for LIFE, National Geographic, Sports Illustrated and various foundations. Johnson has traveled from Siberia to Zambia and with her Leicas, climbed the radio antenna atop Chicago’s Hancock Tower and dangled from helicopters in Antarctica. Though she has photographed notables from Tiger Woods to the entire Supreme Court, her favorite assignments are emotionally demanding stories about ordinary people.

The plot thickens on her website, though: seven Golden Quills for Photojournalism, four World Press Photography Awards, the Robert F.Kennedy Journalism Award for Outstanding Coverage of the Disadvantaged, and Picture of the Year Award from the National Press Photographer Association and the University of Missouri School of Journalism.

This is clearly a woman who gets it. She told National Geographic Photographer recently:

"For me, photography has been a mission. I don't mean on the grand scale, but in the sense of the daily awareness that each one of us is responsible for the wider community, that your sense of self and sense of responsibility outside yourself is as wide as you can embrace. It's a commitment to try to fulfill that responsibility by doing work about things that matter."

I came across Ms. Johnson rather by accident. I was doing research on photos to potentially license for the film when I came across this image of Mister Rogers staring out to sea. The photo seemed to communicate everything Mister Rogers and our film is about: seeking infinity, staring into the mystery, reflection, meditation.

On her Her website, I found a dozen of her Mister Rogers photos, lifted largely from the November,1992 issue of LIFE Magazine.

Each one of her vibrant, intimate, and clearly insider photos of Mister Rogers on Nantucket, in Pittsburgh, and on the "Neighborhood" set, indicated to me that she had spent serious time with them. Surely she had stories to tell, and lessons to impart.

I wrote her a novel of an email, explaining who I am, what I do, my relationship with Mister Rogers, and the "Mister Rogers & Me" project. She replied simply:

Hi Benjamin,

Ah, so you too have been transformed by Mister Rogers. Feel free to call me anytime.

Best,
Lynn

When we finally spoke some two weeks later, I indicated that I nervous straight away.
"Mister Rogers would say that being nervous is part of growing up."

We met at the Empire Hotel Thursday night, and sat talking for well over two hours. Like most of the people I've met who knew or worked with Mister Rogers, she was patient, thoughtful and focussed. Unlike most, she was full of questions for me, many of which I hadn't considered, and some of which were in the process of changing.

Example. She asked me how I planned to effectively communicate what it felt like to spend time with Mister Rogers in person, the "physicality" of it. I told her that I hadn't really considered it, but hoped that the pace of the film, visual metaphors in it, plus the reverence of the interviewees would begin to hint at just how special it felt to spend time with him.

Example. She asked what our distribution plan was. I told her that the answer to that was in flux; where last week I would have said, "We're going to try and get it into the Nantucket Film Festival and then see what happens," this week I'd say, "We're going to get our rough cut done by March 15th and then decide."

Also. She loved how we're going to end the film.

I'm often reticent to speak with a potential interview prior to actually doing so in the event that they tell me great stories which they then have to try and retell me later with the same intensity. Luckily, we only scratched the surface, including the revelation that she interviewed Mister Rogers for her masters thesis and would be happy to share the tape.

Unfortunately, though, Lynn lives in Pittsburgh. She was in New York shooting photos for national Geographic for just a few days. So we're going to have to figure out when and where we're going to interview her.

I can't wait.

Given To Fly

2008-01-27T22:27:00.002-05:00

There are three major flight paths outside my window: Newark, LaGuardia, and JFK.

With the frequent buzz of tourist helicopters and Hudson River air traffic, the skies above me are constantly crowded with jet engines, propellers, and blinking red lights. It's an apt metaphor for New York City, really. Or, for that matter, my brain.

Friday night, though, found Chris and I wandering an empty Nantucket wharf. The water was still. The Steamship Authority's klieg lights illuminated empty docks. Slips were barren. Cottages were vacant. And nary a dog stirred on the island.

For many, Nantucket conjures images of trophy homes and whale print pants. For me, though, it is this: modest, gray clapboard houses; narrow, sandy roads; and silence: yawning, effortless, limitless silence.

Chris and I were on Nantucket from Friday at ten o'clock to Saturday at two o'clock.

Sixteen hours.

That brief instant in time afforded us a substantive and inspirational morning with Beverly Hall, the photographer who captured one of the island's most beloved images of local icons Fred Rogers and Millie Jewett, and one other thing: silence.

It wasn't until our time with Beverly, there in her hand-built home overlooking Hither Creek, that I began to realize just how quiet it was. Sitting there, pouring over photos of her real neighbor, I heard the buzz of an approaching Cape Air Cessna 402.

It was soothing like a distant rush of waves, or a breeze through the branches.

I felt right at home, but more so.

Chris leaving Miss Hall's Mack Pond cottage Saturday afternoon.

Facing west on Tennessee Street before heading to the airport.

A winter sun struggled through the clouds as we boarded our 8-seater Cape Air flight.

From our flight, we could spot all of Madaket below: Mister Rogers Crooked House, Millie's Hither Creek cottage, as well as both of my mother's rentals: West Wind (where Mister Rogers told me to "Spread the [deep and simple] message"), and Whatcha Dune (which was, apparently, recently moved about fifty feet off it foundation in an effort to prolong its eventual communion with the roaring Atlantic).

Procrastination Street

2008-01-23T23:07:00.000-05:00

I'm scripting Davy Rothbart's segment right now, and had a good laugh when I began screening.

For starters, have a look at the shot. Between the furniture pattern and drapes, it could very well be 1977. It's not. It's November 18th, 2007 in room 1607 of the Renaissance Hotel Pittsburgh. Oh, and it's totally, like, three o'clock in the morning.

Also, have a look at Davy's outfit. Imagine him in contrast to, say, Tim Russert.

Love it.

Finally, something you won't see in the shot: just after we clipped our lav mics onto out lapels (or, in Davy's case, gold chains), we toasted one another (and Chris!) with a few Iron City Beers.

Funny.

Can you tell that I don't want to be transcribing right now?

Oh, one last thing: I totally had hair in the Bo Lozoff shoot. Dunno how we're gonna' account for that in the finished film!

Mister Rogers, Beverly Hall & Me

2008-01-21T11:47:00.000-05:00

I first came upon Beverly Hall's photography unwittingly; an iconic photo of Mister Rogers and local character Millie Jewett (aka Madaket Millie) hangs in the bedroom of West Wind, my mother's tiny rental next door to The Rogers' Crooked House.

Millie, like Mister Rogers, is a local legend on Nantucket. She was born and lived most of her 82 years on Nantucket, many of which were spent in a modest cottage on the edge of Hither Creek. The Nantucket Independent remembers her thusly:

Millie tried to enlist in the service when World War II broke out, but was turned down because of poor eyesight. Undaunted, she took to training dogs for military service, something she had an incredible talent for and the only part of her life in which she finally announced she took pride. Millie was not one to boast, as history attests.

In early January, 1947, the Coast Guard decommissioned and closed its Madaket station, established in 1891, for what was considered a lack of need for the outpost. But Millie, who had already taken an avid interest in the goings and comings of boats, discovered on that same day (which differs in records from Jan. 3 to Jan. 9) a freighter named Kotar went aground off Sheep Pond Road.

Its captain, disoriented in the fog, sent his distress signal as being 40 miles southeast of the island. When Millie saw the ship’s lights, she immediately alerted Coast Guard Station Brant Point. The incident, to her, was proof that a lookout was still necessary on Nantucket’s western end, and from that day on she maintained her vigil.

Two years ago, my mother gave me a book of Nantucket photography: beautiful, foggy black and whites shot largely on the West End. Until a few weeks ago, though, I hadn't really connected the dots. When I began researching coverage (that is, b-roll and photography), though, I came across Miss Hall's work and though, "Aha!"

So I emailed her.

She called on Friday, just as I was packing for a long weekend at the Sundance Film Festival. We had a terrific conversations. She's full of energy, enthusiasm, and, after 25 years in Madaket, is brimming with stories.

And so, between screenings, panels and red carpets, I booked Chris and I flights to Nantucket. We leave Friday night, and return Saturday evening.

I'm not sure where to fit Miss Hall's segment in the film. Were I a better producer/writer/director, I would have connected the dots earlier, we would have interviewed her over the summer and avoided any major continuity issues. (Thus far, none of our footage was shot in the winter). But, if this film (or at least this process) is some sort of hero's journey, then I need to follow the road and see where it takes me.

Friday night, all roads lead to Madaket.

Mister Rogers & Me: Behind-The-Scenes

2008-01-18T18:15:00.000-05:00

Most documentary films are an artfully arranged combination of the following elements: interviews and footage. Until yesterday, we lacked a fair amount of the latter. Thanks to our pal Amy Hollingsworth, today finds us in better shape on both.

You'll recall that Amy was a Researcher for "The 700 Club" when she snagged the enviable assignment of interviewing Mister Rogers. She and her crew spent an entire day capturing the making of "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood" at WQED in Pittsburgh.

While we're negotiating rights to utilize actual episodes, Amy's footage is behind-the-scenes: Mister Rogers singing to camera, talking with Johnny Costa, looking at a monitor. It's priceless stuff. As I just emailed to Amy moments ago, I stood outside WQED a few weeks ago, and really wished to be inside with Fred. Amy's footage is the closest I'll get. It's really a wonderful gift which Amy secured from CBN on our behalf.

Hopefully, we'll be that lucky in other instances. I've submitted the following requests to Family Communications:

1) "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood" Ep. 29 3/28/68
2) "Mister Rogers Talks With Parents About Divorce" Ep. 605 2/15/81
3) Photos: 1928, 1937, 1952, 1969

And I've initiated a fair amount of outreach from some of our interviewees. Davy Rothbart, for example, FedExed me three dozen snapshots from his family vacation in Nantucket. We hope to receive similar supporting material from Tim Russert (who seemed to think his son still had his possession a clock that Mister Roger fashioned from a paper plate) and Marc Brown.

Finally, we've tapped our friend and esteemed documentary filmmaker Katia Maguire to do some research on our behalf. She'll be scouring photo and footage agencies, as well as reaching out to organizations like the Academy of Television Arts & Sciences. Mister Rogers was awarded a Lifetime Achievement Emmy in 1997. His acceptance speech is a key component to our story. In it he says:

All of us have special ones who have loved us into being. Would you just take with me ten seconds to think of the people who have helped you become who you are. Those who have cared about you, and wanted what was best for you in life. Ten seconds of silence. I'll watch the time.

Piece by piece, we'll put this puzzle together.

Mister Rogers, Ira Glass & Me

2008-01-16T18:00:00.000-05:00

Now that his Production Manager has officially said no thanks on his behalf ("Between his super tight schedule and his feeling like he doesn't have a whole heckuvalot to say about Mister Rogers, he'd like to politely decline your invitation."), I can finally tell you that -- for a minute there -- I thought one of my contemporary heroes, Ira Glass, was going to appear in the film.

My pal, Jen Snow, suggested I contact him (having heard me talk about him 24/7). "This American Life" is the highlight of my week, to be sure. It is a superior example of deep, substantive storytelling. Accordingly, it stands to reason that it's creator and host would be both deep and simple. Which I'm sure he is. I just couldn't wrangle the interview.

Anyway, we did have a lovely email exchange, one in which he told me the following story about meeting Mister Rogers.

When I was 20, a young production assistant, I worked on a radio adaptation that NPR did of his show, a call in kid's show with him and his characters. Just a pilot. Mainly I remember that the moment I met him in NPR's lobby, he was eating one of those little bags of peanuts you get from a vending machine and he offered me some. I hesitated and he encouraged me to take some. Which I did. He poured the nuts directly in my hand, which complete strangers you've seen on TV don't do too often. This is a dorky thing to say but it seemed like a symbolic act, a deliberate gesture he was making, though I'm sure he didn't think about it for more than a half-second. This was his way of setting a tone for working together, like here, let's share a snack, that's what this is going to be like.

It's a beautiful story, one that might find its way into the film yet. It speaks directly to what I was saying a few days ago about small gestures. As this story evolves, and a resolution to the film's inherent conflict becomes increasingly requisite, there's something about the idea of small gestures -- little things: a smile, a held door, a shared snack -- that feels like at least part of the solution.

It's disappointing, but we soldier on.

And we still love Ira!

Believe In The Great Sound

2008-01-16T15:46:00.000-05:00

I haven't been listening to music lately. As someone who is defined by a love of both making his own and listening to other's, this is a somewhat disconcerting development.

Years ago I lost my voice for no reason whatsoever. I wasn't neither sick, not had I been talking too much. It just disappeared.

Now, I was puzzled by this phenomenon, but chose to view it as an opportunity. Apparently, I thought, I'm supposed to be listening more. So I did.

I'm approaching the loss of my musical appetite similarly, though this one is a dual loss.

See, other people's music provides me with inspiration. The Hold Steady's "Stuck between Stations" inspires me to run faster. Paloalto's "Breath In" inspires me to look around appreciatively. "Rhinemaidens" inspires me to persist.

My own music -- or the creation thereof, anyway -- inspires understanding. Songwriting is like lucid dreaming. At its most beautiful, it's like opening a tap on all of the things just below the surface of every day, pouring them out on the floor, ordering them by color and shape and texture, and making sense from the mess.

The absence of those two things, then, is major. Moreover, the silence is deafening.

Of course, this lack of inspiration and understanding comes at a precipitous time. I am surrounded by uncertainty: a new marriage, a new job, a half-finished film and dubious singer/songwriter career.

Sunday afternoon, then, found me at my desk. The blinds were thrown wide, revealing a broad swath of troubled sky. I was doing some "Mister Rogers & Me" research while listening to assorted podcasts: All Things Considered, This American Life, Bob Edwards' Weekend, and Bill Moyers' Journal.

One of Moyers' guests was American poet Robert Bly. A Fulbright scholar and Iowa Writer's Workshop graduate, Bly was an outspoken detractor of the Vietnam war, and staunch advocate for what came to be known as "The Men's Movement" in the 1980s. He's long been a hero of mine. To me he represents a full spectrum of values: he is strong but not silent, articulate but not unapproachable, philosophical but not abstract.

Moyers began by reading one of Bly's poems.

I live my life in growing orbits which move out over the things of the world. I have wandered into space for hours, passing through dark fires. And I have gone to the deserts of the hottest places, to the landscape of zeroes. And I can't tell if this joy is from the body or the soul or a third place.

"When you say, 'What is the divine?'" Bly said, "It's much simpler to say, 'There is the body, there is the soul, and there is a third space.' It's a place where the geniuses and the lovely people and the brilliant women -- they all go there and they watch over us a little bit. But we don't there very often. I suppose it's because we think too much about houses, and our places."

Bly then began reading a poem by the 13th Century Indian mystic, Kabir.

Friend, hope for the Guest while you are alive.
Jump into experience while you are alive.
Think... and think... while you are alive.

If you don't break your ropes while you’re alive,
Do you think ghosts will do it after?

The idea that the soul will join with the ecstatic
Just because the body is rotten
That is all fantasy.

What is found now is found then.

If you find nothing now,
You will simply end up with an apartment in the City of Death.
If you make love with the divine now,
In the next life, you will have the face of satisfied desire.

So plunge into the truth, find out who the teacher is
Believe in the great sound.

Kabir says this, When the Guest is being searched for,
It is the intensity of the longing for the Guest
That does all the work.

The final passage, in particular, has offered great solace in these few intervening days.

In this time of great, gray uncertainty, the intensity with which I seek answers will have to be answer enough.

Mrs. Rogers & Me

2008-01-14T14:33:00.001-05:00

I emailed Mrs. Rogers today to be sure I had my facts straight about The Crooked House.

She wrote back almost immediately:

Fred's parents gave us The Crooked House and surrounding land back in about 1961, and I believe the entire purchase was about $10,000... What well-spent money! There have been many happy times there, and continue to be as our sons and their families keep it well-occupied all summer!

I have retired from Nantucket, but am so glad our boys are able to make good use of it. Hope this info helps get the work done.

Good luck!

Joanne Rogers

Thus far, Family Communications wishes not to participate directly in our film. The quality, enthusiasm and almost-palpable joy behind this exchange only makes their decision more painful.

Nonetheless, it's a pleasure to hear from her.

Found vs. Post Secret: The Future Tenant Podcast

2008-01-10T15:10:00.000-05:00

The cold and rainy November day that Chris and I spent with Davy Rothbart felt was nearly endless.

We left New York City at 8:00, made it to Pittsburgh around 4:00, and then met Davy at Future Tenant, a student-run creative space downtown, around 6:00.

We helped Davy, his sidekick Andym, brother Peter and a gaggle of Future Tenant volunteers set up folding chairs in the narrow, drafty gallery, that sat through (in my case) and shot (in Chris') two Found vs. Post Secret performances.

Afterwards, Chris and I helped volunteers clean up as Davy entertained fans, and then conducted an interview with Future Tenant producer, Adam Murray.

It wasn't until somewhere around three o'clock in the morning that we set up lights in our hotel room, and began interviewing Davy for a fairly breif, oddly erratic conversation. (One, Chris assures me, he can cut into a cohesive narrative.)

Anyway, Adam recently sent me the link to his Future Tenant Podcast featuring Davy, plus a cameo from your truly. Enjoy.

Mister Rogers, Chef Brockett & Me

2008-01-09T23:08:00.000-05:00

Moment to moment, day to day, my confidence as to whether we're gonna' finish this documentary in time for the March 15th Nantucket Film Festival deadline changes. At this moment, on this day, confidence is high.

This week's progress has been measured in inches, not feet (let alone miles). I finished Marc Brown's segment over the weekend. He tells a sweet story about first meeting Mister Rogers, then goes on to illustrate just how aggressively advertisers market to kids.

"Each year they see 40,000 commercials about fast food and candy, and there’s over $10B spent each year on making those commercials," he told me last December. "Now that is a stacked deck.

"Right now the Federal Trade Commission has decided that these fast food places should really police themselves. And I don’t think that’s working so well."

Fred Rogers, of course, agreed.

We have to remember to whom the airwaves belong, and we must put as great an emphasis on the nurturing of the human personality as we can. I believe that those of us who are the producers and purveyors of television -- or video games or newspapers or any mass media -- I believe that we are the servants of this nation.

Marc Brown's segment will lead nicely, I hope, into Linda Ellerbee's. Ms. Ellerbee -- who was an absolute firecracker -- speaks of meeting Mister Rogers as well, and of how his values influenced her Nick News.

"One of the leading principles of Nick News is that we are all more alike than we are different. It’s only that our differences are easier to define. The second rule is, wherever in the world you find bad things happening, you always find good people trying to make it better. The third rule is keep it simple. And the fourth rule is that simple is not the same as easy."

Then she goes on to explain the primary reason why television is often so shallow and complex. The program isn't the product; the audience is.

"The product is the audience. The consumer is the advertiser. The program is just the means of acquiring that audience."

Ah yes, the Almighty Dollar.

Remember what Bo said? "The way Jesus puts it in the West is, 'Lay not of your treasures where moth and rust doth corrupt, and thieves break in and steal.”

I've also begun drafting a list of the photos and footage we need to licence, like "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood" Episode #29 (the one that takes place in Nantucket), and his 1997 Lifetime Emmy Award acceptence speech.

Meantime, some early bits of media are coming in. Amy Hollingsworth (bless her heart) secured a deal with CBN on our behalf so that we're able to use her intire 1996 interview. And Day Rothbart sent this photo today. I quickly emailed him. "Do you have that other photo? The one without the dude in the leopard-skin Speed?"

"Ha!" he wrote back. "That's Don Brockett, who played Chef Brockett on the show!"

Mister Rogers, The Small Gesture & Me

2008-01-03T22:01:00.000-05:00

It's been well over a year since I interviewed NPR's Susan Stamberg.

I just finished scripting her segment of the film, and was struck -- as I have been throughout the scripting process -- by the subtle details of our conversation that I'd since forgotten.

Towards the end of our twenty-minute conversation there in NPR's Studio 5C, Susan pulled a photo of Mister Rogers and her from a frame. The photo, she said, held a sacred place just beside her office door.

"I look at it every time I walk out," she said.

Tonight at dinner, I told Abbi, "I don't want to be an also-ran. I want to be special"

For some reason, I have a tendency to gauge the success or failure of my personal creative projects (recordings, writings, this film) on the scope and scale of their audience. My cover of John Denver's "Leaving On A Jet Plane," then, is the most successful thing I've done based on its 15,000+ iTunes downloads. Everything else? Tough to say.

Despite the rise of the long tail, we remain in the era of the blockbuster. The bar is high. Our cultural attention span is instant, and we are always looking towards what's next. So films are judged on opening night. Books are judged by their New York Times Book Review. Records are over by the time they're released. TV shows "jump the shark" after their pilots.

Throughout my life, though, I've wrestled with the flipside. Mozart never sold out Madison Square Garden. Picasso didn't live in Tribeca loft. Hemingway was never on Oprah. Why, the, should I judge my art by of Multiplex standards?

Our conversation (the one that often includes the phrase, "I just wish I could quit a be creative full-time") concluded with my oft-repeated by not-fully convincing mantra, "I guess it will work out as it should."

This is on the set [of "Mister Rogers Talks With Parents About Divorce"]… Fred and I just sitting there posing for publicity shots. I love looking at it. And I especially love looking at his hands, which were so graceful and delicate.

I said, “How do you do television? How do you do television?”

And he said, “It’s a medium of the small gesture.”

Earlier this week, I told Chris that we needed a reality check. "Mister Rogers & Me" is unlikely to be picked up by IFC or Fox Searchlight. It might not air on PBS, or even Ovation. It's likely to be a fully-independent, completely grass roots little film, one that we drive from town to town over the course of the summer. Which, given that I'd like to think that it's Oscar-worthy (at least its subject matter, if not its execution), is a bummer.

But, as he's been doing since I met him, Mister Rogers sent me a message tonight.

Small gestures.

The rest will work out as it should.

Mister Rogers & Me: The Outline

2007-12-30T20:04:00.000-05:00

I've been scripting segments all weekend. Bo, Amy and Tim are done. I'm on Susan Stamberg now. After that, I have four to go, plus making sense of the whole Pittsburgh trip and our visit to 826NYC.

Basically, the process entails transcribing each interview, and then pruning the conversation to its most essential elements. Not a huge challenge for a fifteen minute interview like Tim Russert's, but pretty daunting when you spent an afternoon with someone as we did Bo Lozoff.

When I'm done scripting, I send to Chris who's doing rough cuts of each segment. Next we'll identify still images, b-roll and footage we'll need to licence, borrow, or otherwise procure. In some cases this'll be a simple financial transaction, like dropping a few hundred bucks to licence, say, a photo of Mister Rogers receiving the Presidential Medal of Freedom from President Bush. In other cases we're going to need to get in touch with folks we've already interviewed, like Tim Russert who will hopefully share photos of his family on Nantucket. In all, I imagine we're going to need to acquire at least 100 pieces of additional media. Yunno, in our copious free time.

Sometime in the middle of all that, I'm going to write VOs (voice overs) for each which somehow summarizes the last interview while setting up the next.

I expect to confirm another (big!) interview or two, but here's a rough outline of the film as it exists right now. Let me rephrase that: here's a rough outline of the film as it exists in my mind right now, because it doesn't really exist anywhere else.

That said, at the very least, a rough cut of the film needs to exist by March 1, which ought to be just about time for the Nantucket Film Festival submission deadline. I figure it's out best shot at a festival, being that March 20, 2008 would be Mister Rogers' eightieth birthday, and the film's all about Nantucket. Plus, as I said to Chris, we can't be working on this thing forever, and I like deadlines.

Anyway, the film's much more interesting than this, but this is what we've got.

1. Open (NYC)
- Walking to work
- My Bio
2. Backstory (Nantucket)
- How we met
- What we discussed
- Why I decided to make the film
3. Smithsonian (DC)
4. Bo Lozoff MOS (SC)
- Driving VO (1:00)
- How They Met: Book orders, silent support
- Deep & Simple 101
- Walk and Talk
5. Amy Hollingsworth (VA)
- Driving VO (1:00)
- How They Met: CBN Shoot
- What She Learned: silence and song
- Letter: seeking connection
6. Tim Russert DC)
- Driving VO (1:00)
- How They Met: Nantucket
- What He Learned: Respect
- How Manifests: DC
7. Susan Stamberg (DC)
- Driving VO (1:00)
- How They Met: TV show
- What She Learned: Community
- How Manifests: On-air
8. Tim Madigan (NYC)
- How They Met: TX interview
- What He Learned: Death and spirituality
- How Manifests
9. Linda Ellerbee (NYC)
- Driving VO (1:00)
- How They Met: TV
- What She Learned: Four Rules
- How Manifests: Nick News
10. Marc Brown (NYC)
- Walking in (:30)
- How They Met: Arthur
- What He Learned: Advertising
- How Manifests: Arthur
11. Davy Rothbart (Pittsburgh)
- Driving (1:00)
- How They Met: Nantucket, This American Life
- What He Learned
- How Manifests: Found
12. Pittsburgh
- Statue
- WQED
- Children's Museum tour
- Latrobe
13. 826NYC
- Tour
- Volunteering
14. Conclusion (Nantucket)
- Recap
- Now what?
15. Credits
16. Epilogue(s)

With any luck, this ought to constitute some 75 or more minutes of film. I'm sure the rough cut'll come in much longer. Heck, Bo, Amy, Tim and Susan already clock in at twenty minutes, and that's without any set up, b-roll, etc.

Anyway, it won't be "Mission: Impossible," but it'll be good. Slow, steady, deep and simple.

The Opening Scene

2007-12-28T11:13:00.000-05:00

Despite the fact that the first person objective pronoun, "me," in the title of our film, I'm not terribly comfortable on camera.

This was made abundantly apparent to me again just now as Chris and shot the opening scene of the doc.

I've spent more than a few dozen mornings listening to David Byrne's "Glass, Concrete & Stone" while walking to the office or -- more often still -- heading to the airport for business. The song sounds like 5 a.m. in a sterile terminal waiting on a flight feels: spaced-out, disconnected, and kinda' depressing. The lyrics reinforce this urban disconnect.

I'm wakin' at the crack of dawn
To send a little money home
From here to the moon
Is risin' like a discotheque
And now my bags are down and packed for traveling

Lookin' at happiness
Keepin' my flavor fresh
Nobody knows I guess
How far I'll go, I know

So, as I've mentioned, I've asked my colleague, Rich Sancho, to record an instrumental version that I'm going to sing over. That song, partnered images from my walk to work -- the jagged skyline, dirty streets, and clumps of pedestrians -- and intercut with credit slates (yunno, "Wagner Bros. Films Present") will constitute the first two minutes or so of "Mister Rogers & Me."

The idea is to set the tone (slow, steady, visually metaphorical) while demonstrating the disparate nature of Nantucket and New York City, Mister Rogers and me, deep and simple and shallow and complex (though I don't think of myself as shallow and complex, in the film, I am a proxy for culture's predominant shallow and complex tendencies).

I have no idea whether we achieved any of the above in the three uncomfortable hours that just elapsed, but we tried. I stoically (and rather grumpily) walked down the street while Chris raced around me setting up shots. New Yorkers -- incapable of being flummoxed by anything, watched out of the corner of their eyes and wondered, "Do I know him?"

No, you don't.

Mister Rogers On "Deep & Simple"

2007-12-16T13:29:00.000-05:00

As I mentioned, I'm in the process of re-launching Benjamin Wagner Dot Com, and in doing so have been re-reading and editing some five years and nearly 1300 posts. I just came across an entry dated February 27, 2003 -- the day Mister Rogers died.

I spent all day at work crafting my remembrance of him, then all night emailing it to The New York Times, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, Nantucket Mirror, etc. The next morning, a half dozen emails thanked me for my efforts, empathized with my loss, but suggested that they had already published secured their reportage. (The Times, for example, tapped my now-pal, Davy Rothbart for a piece entitled "A Friend In The Neighborhood"). I remember wanting to blame my day job at MTV for missing a deadline that didn't actually exist.

None of which is my point.

Re-reading that post just now prompted me to find the The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette from which I quoted Mister Roger' on "deep and simple."

After production of the program ceased, Mr. Rogers devoted his time to working on the "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood" Web site, writing books and fulfilling long-booked speaking engagements. Even then Mr. Rogers often spent his mornings at his "writing office" away from the hustle and bustle of his Family Communications office. The older he got, the more he cherished silence, he said in spring 2001.

"You're able to be much more mindful of what is deep and simple and how essential that is, in order to keep on growing," he said. "And whatever our expression of care might be, whether it be television or the Internet or all of these books that the people want us to write -- whatever that expression is -- it must come out of the depth of understanding that we continue to nourish.

"Otherwise, you know it could get superficial. That's not going to happen with us."

A lot of things about this short passage interest me.

For starters, I often wonder if I dreampt the whole thing up. I mean, I know I met Mister Rogers; I have the photos and subsequent letters to prove it. But sometimes I wonder if he really said what he said. Or what, exactly, he meant.

The above quote, though, not only confirms that depth and simplicity was on Mister Rogers' mind, but also suggests it was very much in his thoughts at that time. The quote is from Spring 2001. I met him just a few months later.

Moreover, the quote suggestst that he himself was exploring deep and simple in a way that he hadn't before; the "cherished silence" of his retirement allowed it.

It's also worth noting that when I Googled part of his quote ("deep and simple and how essential that is"), I ended up with a page full of results on spirituality, democracy, meditation, breathing -- in short, all of the subjects we've tackled in "Mister Rogers & Me" (including, as it ends up, this very website).

Mister Rogers, Superheros & Me

2007-12-15T07:40:00.000-05:00

Chris and I spent Friday afternoon at 826NYC, that nonprofit organization dedicated to supporting students ages 6-18 with their creative and expository writing skills you hear my talking about so much.

We pulled up to the Fifth Avenue storefront just before noon. Executive Director Scott Seeley, Development Director Jen Snow and volunteers, Emily and Anthony, were busy restocking the Brooklyn Superhero Supply Store which front the tutoring center with products like Secret Identity Kits, Liquid Courage, and Powdered Muscles.

Jen gave us a tour of the shop and the tutoring space. Then we did one-on-one interviews with her and Scott exploring the center's mission, as well as what inspired them to be a part of this great organization.

Chris checks the one-on-one show (during which I typically sit in for the interviewee)

Jen Snow shows Chris 826NYC student's work

Jen and I in our Brooklyn Superhero Supply Secret Identity Glasses

The entire operation -- from it's great publications and whimsical products to its Cape Tester and secret bookcase entrance-- demonstrates a playfullness reminiscent of the Land of Make Believe. They make learning fun, and -- by publishing beautifully-bound books, running mini-film festivals -- do an amazing job reinforcing the value of kids creativity to the kids themselves.

It was a different sort of shoot than, say, Linda Ellerbee or Susan Stamberg, one I figured I could wing. Which explains why, just a few blocks away (as I raced back to MTV for a 4pm meeting), I thought of a few things I should have asked and shots we should have gotten. In fact, I may pop by again in the coming weeks.

In general, though, 826 -- like thousands of other non-profits -- was a great place to answer the question, "So what can I do.

They're doing it every day.

Free (At First)

2007-12-13T18:03:00.001-05:00

I found this great quote from my creative writing professor as I was pouring over some old posts from my other blog, "The Daily Journal" (which I'm relaunching in a few weeks):

"It isn't just for the product of the story or the novel, but it's actually for the experience of that bliss that you sometimes do have when you write, as you're somehow transported or elevated. So that's what keeps you going back. It comes to you free, at first, and then you have to work for it."

Like everything else I've ever done, this film has been about the experience -- the process -- as much as the outcome. In fact, the process is most of the story.

Chris is beginning to edit the film on Monday, so I was prepping some materials for him as I'll be working much of the time. I emailed him thusly:

The bookings, the ideas -- everything came free at first. Now we're starting to work for it.

Mister Rogers, Someone Awesome & Me

2007-12-12T18:52:00.000-05:00

Just spoke with my pal Jen Snow over at 826NYC: Game On!

Friday morning Chris and I are going to shoot city exteriors: basically me walking to work, traffic, pedestrian chaos, etc. These shots will comprise the open to the film and establish a binary for the vibe of Nantucket.

Then we'll head over to Brooklyn where Jen's going to give us a tour of the place, explain it's ethos, introduce us to a volunteer, and talk about her own connection to Mister Rogers. Should be cool, and should be our chance to demonstrate how one can manifest depth and simplicity in their own life.

Oh, and I'll be handing over a thousand dollar check on behalf of "A Family Holiday" Benefit!

Also: I'm working on booking one last interview with someone I love and admire but haven't written about here. He's a huge hero of mine. He's an amazing deep and simple storyteller. And we've exchanged a few emails.

So... my fingers are crossed we'll get to talk with him, but I'd say it's 50/50 for now. Either way, I'll have at least one great story for the blog once I hear back from him.

Mister Rogers, Bono & Me

2007-12-09T18:02:00.000-05:00

We released "A Family Holiday" Wednesday night.

It was definately a success. The Delancey was packed. The performances were excellent (Jeff Jacobson, Flying Machines and Chris Abad were standouts). And most importantly, CD sales are already in the black. I expect to hand off a check when Chris and I visit 826NYC on Friday (more on that shoot later).

Of course, Chris was there shooting the whole thing from the front row. I'm not sure whether we'll weave a brief vignette into the film or not. The "Family Holiday" project was certainly inspired by Mister Rogers, and my attempt to find ways to manifest deep and simple in my own life.

The real question will be whether the footage is any good. I'm sure what Chris shot is gold. I'm just not sure we can cut around some of the disappointing components of the night, like that some performers embraced the "Do They Know It's Christmas" finale more than others. That is, a few of us were singing and playing our hearts out. Others were just milling about cracking jokes with one another. I have a theory about this.

I think it takes courage to demonstrate enthusiasm. It makes one vulnerable to emphatically state, through words or deeds, "I like this!" or "I believe in this!"

I think that's one of the reasons Bono takes so much guff. He stands up and stands behind for his beliefs, regardless of how uncool they are.

"These days," he says, "Everyone wants John Lennon's sunglasses, accent and swagger, but no one is prepared to take their clothes off and stand naked."

Of course, Mister Rogers was the same way, I mean, metaphorically. Heck, I'm not even sure it occurred to him whether his beliefs were cool or not. He just was. That inspired me when I met him, and continues to inspire me today.

Still, there are those who just don't feel comfortable belting out 80s pop songs (or whatever). And some of them were on stage with me Wednesday night. (Heck, some of them outright avoided the gig.) They're the same types who worry about things like credebility and cool. Which, believe me, I understand. I have to fight the impulse to worry about appearences and perceptions every day.

I decided to embraced the spirit of the occasion, though. I lept up and down, flopped around on the floor, coaxed the audience to sing along, and danced with the front row. I sang like I'd never sing again. And smiled. A lot.

I say, if you wanna sing out, sing out.

PS - If you haven't purchased the record, please do.

Mister Rogers, Jim Wallis & Me

2007-12-04T06:38:00.001-05:00

Saturday morning found me in the kitchen well before dawn. Abbi and I had a 15k to run, so I was firing up the coffee maker and -- like so many Saturday morning's before -- listening to American Public Radio's Speaking Of Faith.

This week's guest was Reverend Jim Wallis, an Evangelical Christian writer, political activist, and founder and editor of Sojourners Magazine. He spoke with host Krista Tippet in low, patient tones. Still, standing there in the dark, I was moved by the depth and simplicity of his rousing, hushed sermon.

My hunch is that many consider his bold assertions -- like that inventing deliberately falsifying evidence to drive a nation to war should "not be forgiven" -- a bit much. I happen to think he's right on.

None of it's a surprise, though, given that he was President of Students for a Democratic Society at Michigan State. Inspired, like so many of his generation, by Ghandi and MLK, he writes, lectures and lobbies on behalf of social equity.

"How we treat the other -- the vulnerable, the poor, the enemy -- the one who's not at the table is the one we're going to be judged by."

"I want my kids to be raised in a country that values [that]" he said, "Not just the survival of the fittest."

"I love that Isaiah text where it says that your healing is tied up in your response to those who've been left out and left behind. This nation needs to be healed of it's division our deep inequality we don't know each other and we're diminished by that."

"The big choice for us today is between hope and cynicism. Hope is not a feeling or a personality type. It's a decision. Whenever change has come it's because a people believed in that possibility before it came to be so. Hope is a decision that makes change possible. So I believe hope is the most responsible contribution the faith community can offer the world. Things can change. They have, and they will."

Of course, I immediately wanted to interview him for the film. And I may just yet.

In addition to inspiring me, though, finding Jim Wallis (who is, no doubt, huge within his circles; the guy got Edwards, Obama and Hillary on stage in June to discuss faith, values, and social justice) so serendipitously -- right place, right time -- reminded me of something I'd been thinking a few days prior.

Much as I try to wrap this whole thing -- depth and simplicity and all of the values Mister Rogers stood for and aspired to -- up in a nice 90-minute bow, this film is just the beginning. This journey will take a lifetime.

This Wednesday! A Family Holiday Benefit

2007-12-01T18:38:00.001-05:00

Find out more and order yours here.

Mister Rogers, Jack & Me

2007-11-19T20:00:00.001-05:00

Ask anyone. I'm not a huge fan of The Grateful Dead.

At the moment, though -- traveling seventy miles-per-hour on the Pennsylvania Turnpike some 37 miles west of Harrisburg -- "Truckin'" is kinda' doin' it for me.

Earlier, I remarked to my brother -- who is a huge Deadhead, so huge that the only CDs he brought on this trip are The Dead -- that, while Jerry Garcia and Bob Weir can clearly sing, there's something grating about their voices. And I'm not about to retract that.

But cruising through the Allegheny Mountains in the dark after a long weekend of standing in the cold looking through a camera's viewfinder, eating sporadically and sleeping even more so, Jerry and Bob's well-worn, time-tested harmonies seem just about right.

I remain surprised and amazed at the journey that Mister Rogers (inadvertently) began by (inadvertently, presumably) initiating this "Mister Rogers & Me" project.

This morning found Chris and I wandering the Children's Museum of Pittsburgh with its Marketing Director, Bill Schlageter.

The Museum has been home to "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood" exhibit since 1998. Developed in partnership with FCI, it replicates the show's set -- it's all there: King Friday's castle, X the Owl's tree -- but in a hands-on way. Kids can be on or behind the camera, drive trolley, put on their own puppet show, or play Mister Rogers' piano.

Picture Picture's there too. We watched a video on the making of the exhibit narrated by David Newell. There was Mister Rogers wearing an overcoat and glasses, standing next to Bill Isler and smiling.

Mister Rogers' spirit was everywhere. And smiling.

Still -- and I've felt this way numerous times throughout the making of this film -- his absence was palpable too.

Puppets from The Land of Make Believe stood in glass cases in the hallway next to the exhibit. And while it was exciting and even moving to see the real Daniel Striped Tiger and King Friday, it made me sad to see them staring back at me all glassy-eyed, lifeless and dusty.

I miss Mister Rogers, and often wish he was here to help Chris and me. I think he would have let us shoot him in Nantucket as I'd originally wished. You may recall that I'd been scribbling "Write Mister Rogers" on my daily To Do list for weeks prior to his death. If I'd only been half as confident or assertive then, we may have captured some of the magic I experienced first hand that September afternoon in 2001.

That's not how it unfolded, though. Or, I believe, how it was intended to unfold.

Instead, Chris and I -- and David Newell, Bill Isler, Amy Hollingsworth and all of the people he inspired in some small way -- are left to carry the message.

Heck, I shouldn't even put us amongst that list. We're not building a library or a museum, but, in some small way, we're trying to do our part on behalf of his legacy.

I'm still unsure of how it will manifest for us. I felt a tingle of excitement standing outside of WQED yesterday, but I also felt to outside of it all.

Likewise this afternoon as Chris and I drove past the Fred Rogers Center for Childhood Learning at St. Vincent's College just outside of his hometown of Latrobe, Pennsylvania. The building is still under construction, but I didn't want to blow our chances of being invited back to interview archivist Brother David Kelly because of an unauthorized shoot.

Still, we soldier on as, I believe, Mister Rogers would have us do.

We drove on to Latrobe, nestled there in the golden-brown Alleghenies, and searched in vein for a scenic overlook from which to shoot the valley. The city was sleepy and gray, and felt almost out of time. Main Street was an empty collection of storefronts, though it wasn't impossible to imagine its great granite buildings in their mid-fifties glory.

We finally arrived on the hospital's parking garage whose five stories towered over the old Rolling Rock Brewery. We climbed the ramps and looked out over it all. The nearby gas station and strip mall made it difficult to visualize a bucolic childhood, but a distant train passing over an arch stone trestle helped.

I stood there next to Chris shivering in the waning afternoon and wondered what the heck we were doing three hundred miles away from our wives, jobs, and homes.

It felt like Latrobe was a bust. We got a few scenics, but the Chamber of Commerce didn't even know where to send us.

As we headed out of town, Chris said, "Why don't you take a left and see if there's a view up there."

We drove around a hillside neighborhood for a few blocks, but were under whelmed. As we turned down the hill to leave town, though, Chris spotted St. Vincent's on the top of the hill across the valley. I parked, and he set up the tripod in the middle of the street.

As we stood there shooting, a teenage wearing jeans and a black Transformers t-shirt walked up the hill and through the shot, all the while staring at us quizzically.

"Whassup, dude?" I said.

"Hey," he responded. "Nice camera."

The kid's name, it ends up, is Jack Denny.

We talked a while. I asked him why there was no sign of Mister Rogers in Latrobe ("Because this town kinda sucks."). And he asked me about our film.

"Who's is it?" he asked.

"Ours," I answered.

"Where's it for?" He followed.

"Theatres," I said.

Jack, it ends up, is an aspiring filmmaker.

"What I really want to do is direct."

We stood there quietly overlooking Latrobe as the sun broke through a tiny hole in the slate gray clouds and shone on Saint Vincent's twin steeples.

We shook hands, then turned to go.

"There are a thousand stories in this town, Jack," I said. "And you've got a camera and a computer. Go tell 'em."

As we wound our way through the mountains towards home, I thought about the quote on the top of this blog:

"There is something of yourself that you leave at every meeting with another person."

Suddenly, eight DV tapes of footage or not, even the 350 miles of dark, snowy highway ahead of us seemed well worth the trip.

Pittsburgh Day III: Children's Museum

2007-11-19T19:00:00.000-05:00

Pittsburgh Day II: B-Roll & Bridges

2007-11-18T21:18:00.000-05:00

After a chaotic Saturday driving clear across Pennsylania, checking into out hotel, rushing off to meet and shoot Davy Rothbart's "There Goes The Neighborhood" show at Pittsburgh's Future Tenant, then interviewing him back at the hotel 'til 2:30 in the morning, Chris and I had a relatively quiet Sunday grabbing b-roll of exteriors and scenics.

Looking east towards Pittsburgh from the West End Bridge over the Ohio River, one can see Heinz Field on Pittsburgh's North Shore to left, downtown mid-frame, and the South Shore on the right.

Looking west towards Johnstown from the West End Bridge. Six trains passed on three seperate tracks in the twenty minutes we were shooting there. Ethan would have loved it. Heck, his dad and I sure did!

Chris shoots the Fort Pitt Bridge from the West End Bridge insulated against the dull-gray, 30 degree day by "the finest GoreTex money can buy!"

The remains of the Manchester Bridge just south of Heinz Field will soon become "A Tribute to Children" featuring a fifteen foot high statue of Mister Rogers. Now, though, this bridge foundation serves to motivate Steeler fans (who, best as I can tell, don't need much motivation). Chris and I might hire Industrial Light & Magic to remove the banner.

Chris shoots exteriors at WQED Pittsbugh, home of FCI Communications and "Mister Rogers Neighborhood," not to mention the first community television station in America.

Chris and I both had a bit of a tingle as we approached WQED.

"This is where the set was?" Chris asked.

"This is it!" I said.

There wasn't much evidence of Mister Rogers' presence, save for a dinosaur wearing a red cardigan out front, presumably the remainder of one of those civic art initiatives.

I walked around the building and noticed that a stage door was ajar in the back. I poked my head in, hoping for some sign of the Neighborhood set, but saw nothing. Still, it was difficult not to imagine Mister Rogers lighting up the place.

Pittsburgh Day I: Lost & Found

2007-11-18T09:17:00.000-05:00

The Found Magazine guys -- Davy and Peter Rothbart, plus their sidekick Andrew Cohen -- have learned a thing or two performing some 180 shows over the course the last three years.

They know how to find every Subway sandwhich shop within three miles of any given highway.

And they know how to put on one hell of a show. Equal parts literary reading, fund drive, lost and found, show and tell, stand-up and rock performance, it's and hour and a half of substance and form.

Moreover, they've applied the kind of top-notch, added-value salesmanship that Madonna and The Eagles honed years ago.

The VIP Ticket.

For four times the cost of a normal ticket, Found Magazine devotees can hang backstage sharing pizza and PBRs while the guys sign the contents of their shiny red gift bag: Peter's CD, the latest issue of Found (the "Crime" issue), a poster, some buttons, and -- I love these guys -- a bright yellow poster encouraging you to spread the good word about Found Magazine.

Marketing geniuses, these guys.

Which explains how the sold out New York's Upright Citizen's Brigade Theater last month, their hometown Michigan Theater last night, two shows here at Pittsburgh's Future Tenant, and -- assuming the trend holds -- 25 more venues before year's end.

And here's the best part: it's all for charity. Tonight's shows benefit Mister Rogers company, Family Communications. Which explains why I"m in Pittsburgh on a rainy Saturday night..

Davy, who's a regular contributor to "This American Life," has been compiling his hilarious and heartbreaking collection of found notes, receipts, and emails online and in Found Magazine for a few years. His tours consist primarily of him reading a fistful of found items, turning over the stage to his brother to sing a few songs based on found items, circulating an email list, pitching the merch table, then reading a few more. Thing is, it's completely cool, and completely compelling.

Did I mention hilarious?

One found item is a grocery list consisting of the following items:

On this pre-Thanksgiving leg of the tour, Post Secret founder/editor Frank Warren ("The Most Trusted Man In America") is sharing the bill. Frank's conceit is similar: he posts anonymously contributed secrets to his website every week, and as collected the best and most-poignant ones into a few books.

"We all have a choice," Frank says. "We can lock our secrets away in a box and bury it deep inside, or we can find it, bring it out and share it."

Afterwards, I tell Frank that his mission reminds me of my favorite Mister Rogers' quotes: "That which is mentionable is manageable."

Which is why I'm here: community, and communications.

Well after the second show, when the chairs are stacked, the volunteers are gone, and the last fan has left the building, Chris, Davy and I headed back to the hotel to squeeze in a quick interview before Davy, Peter and Andy point their rented mini-van towards Columbus. We order room service, clip on our lav mics, and settle in beneath the bright lights.

It's late, we're tired, and deep into our PBRs. The edges of Davy's eyes are red, though his iris shines bright green like his Eastern Michigan jersey. We do our best to piece together a conversation -- he tells me about meeting Mister Rogers as a four-year-old, then visiting him again as an adult, and tries to draw some parallels between Mister Rogers' work and his. But it's late, though, and we're tired. Moreover, his posse's getting wrestles. And so, some forty-five minutes later, we fold his room service cheeseburger into a napkin, send him on his way to Columbus, and then collapse into deep, dreamless sleep.

"Mister Rogers & Me" Pittsburgh Shoot Schedule

2007-11-15T01:20:00.000-05:00

I've spent the last three days juggling the day job, the the benefit cd, and the documentary. It's been an interesting flirtation with schizophrenia.

Not really. I'm kidding, of course.

Some of this weekend's Pittsburgh plans have fallen through, but here's the deal for now.

SATURDAY:
1) Davy Rothbart's "There Goes The Neighborhood" performance (Future Tenant, Pittsburgh)

SUNDAY:
1) Davy Rothbart interview
2) Pittsburgh & Latrobe b-roll
3) Fred Rogers Center exteriors

MONDAY:
1) Children's Museum of Pittsburgh "Mister Rogers Neighborhood" exhibit

It's a busy weekend. I'm psyched.

Moreover, it looks like I might have a minute to enjoy an Iron City Beer and catch up with with my brother, which, much as he'll miss Jennifer, Ethan and Edward, and I'll miss Abbigail, was probably part of Mister Rogers' plan too.

Mister Rogers, Music & Me

2007-11-13T18:00:00.000-05:00

Fred Rogers was, perhaps above all, a musician.

My mother was seeking her MA in theology when she met Mister Rogers. She was sitting on the bay reading Martin Buber. He passed by en route to his daily swim. Conversation, and friendship arose.

My mother is nothing if not proud of her sons, and at some point, I assume, mentioned that her youngest (me) was a singer-songwriter who worked for MTV News.

Music and television (or, Music Television), then, brought us together.

It's little wonder that my acoustic guitar was slung over my shoulder as I headed towards the Crooked House for that first afternoon we spent together in September 2001. Just a few moments after arriving, I sat in front of The Rogers' great bay window in their otherwise cool and shadowed back room and performed "Summer's Gone" from my then-forthcoming CD, "Crash Site."

And so, as Christofer and I approach our final shoots and consider the start of editing, I am beginning to develop a sense of the soundtrack.

The opening (yet-to-be-shot) scene of me rushing through through Times Square will be set my cover of David Byrne's "Glass, Concrete & Stone." The song is a delicate, almost ambient one chronicling (to my ear, anyway) corporate life in our accelerated culture.

My colleague, Rich Sancho, is producing the track. I'll sing it.

There's a lot of driving to voice over in the film, so -- while I don't know which track I'll use where -- I do know some of the tracks I want to use.

Rich is recording a cover of Air's "Mike Mills." This instrumental electronic track is one of my favorites. I sounds like forward motions feels, and is one of the most-played songs in my iTunes collection.

I've asked Amy Hollingsworth's son, Jonathan, if I can use on of his original composition's, "October's Farewell (Matthew's Song)." It's a beautiful instrumental acoustic song that sounds just like it's titled. It's a gorgeous recording from a great kid who's still in high school.

I fully expect, of course, to dip into my songbook. In addition to "Summer's Gone" (which, budget and timing notwithstanding, I hope to re-record), we've already used "Hollywood Arms" and "Dark Blue" on the trailer.

As I've said before, Mister Rogers influenced my songwriting by helping me feel more comfortable with my sincerity, earnestness, and simplicity. I stopped censoring myself, or trying to write "cool" songs. Neither "Stay," "Promise", nor my most recent song, "Breathe In" could have been written without him. So I'm sure they'll be included somehow.

My bassist, Tony Maceli, has offered to help score some tracks. I'm sure I'll tap my pal, singer-songwriter Chris Abad, as well.

And while I haven't broached licensing yet, I hope to tap my mother (herself an accomplished pianist) to re-record some of Mister Rogers (and his longtime musical companion, Johnny Costa's) songs.

I know, of course, just how the final scene unfolds (though I'm not going to tell you), and exactly how I want to leave the audience as they watch the credits and leave the theater: inspired. I've considered a few songs to that end, including covers of Aimee Mann's "It's Not Safe" ("All you wanna do is something good") and Stevie Wonder's "Higher Ground." We'll see.

No matter what, we'll leave you singing.

How could a film about Mister Rogers do anything less?

Mister Rogers, "A Family Holiday" Benefit CD & Me

2007-11-11T12:42:00.000-05:00

This weekend's 826NYC shoot, regretably, fell through. We are endeavoring to re-book a visit to the Brooklyn chapter of the youth literacy non-profit with founder David Eggers and volunteer/supporter Sarah Vowell sometime in the first few days of December.

Relatedly, though, the "Family Holiday" Benefit CD I've been compiling with my pal Wes Verhoeve has a release date and venue, as well as track listing. Proceeds from sales of the CD will be donated to 826NYC.

Liberated Matter & Hot Rocks Present:
"A Family Holiday" CD Release
Wednesday, December 5th 8-12pm
The Delancy (168 Delancey Street)

All: "Do They Know It's Christmas"
The Undisputed Heavyweights: "Baby, It's Cold Outside"
El Jezel: "Workin' On Christmas"
Misty Boyce: "The River"
Seth Kallen: "The Dradle Song"
Tarrah Reynolds: "What Child Is This"
Jeff Jacobson: "Frosty The Snowman"
Casey Shea: "My Holiday Song"
Flying Machines: "Right Around Christmas"
Wynn Walent: "Little Drummer Boy"
Chris Abad: "Feliz Navidad"
Wakey Wakey: "Oi! To The World"
Benjamin Wagner: "Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)"

Next Saturday, Christofer and I head to Pittsburgh to interview Davy Rothbart, shoot his Found Magazine: There Goes The Neighborhood show, visit Mister Rogers' birthplace in nearby Latrobe, and -- if all goes to plan -- visit the Mister Rogers' Neighbohood exibit at the Children's Museum of Pittsburgh.

Mister Rogers, 826 NYC & Me

2007-11-01T11:11:00.000-04:00

There's a bit of a nail biter going on here in "Mister Rogers & Me" land.

Chris and I have a bunch of shoots in pencil approaching very quickly on our schedule. Which is a good thing. Problem is: they're in pencil.

I may have told you about the lovely and talented Jennifer Snow, 826NYC's Director of Development. We've been exchanging email like mad (including more than one sent from my wedding and one from my honeymoon -- the show must go on!), though we've yet to nail down any specifics.

Awesome, right?

Author David Eggers ("A Heartbreaking Work Of Staggering Genius") founded 826. There are now seven chapters around the country. It's exactly the sort of grass roots, hyper-local good work to which I endeavor. And exactly the kind of place my pal Kristan Flynn was talking about when she asked, "Is there somewhere closer to home or someone who's not a celebrity that can profile?"

Well, we're trying to split the difference. (David is working with director Spike Jonze on a live-action adaptation of one of my all-time favorite books, Maurice Sendak's "Where The Wild Things Are.")

If we're lucky, author, "This American Life" contributor (spot a trend here?), 826 volunteer and supporter Sarah Vowell is going to give us the tour there. If we can move the shoot from the "pencil" to "ink" column.

There's also another cool idea afoot with 826. Here's the email I sent Jen:

Jen was enthused, and it seemed like it'll come to pass. Which is kind of awesome. And, I think, exactly the path Mister Rogers intended to set me on.

Mister Rogers, Bo Lozoff, Abbigail & Me

2007-10-30T14:14:00.000-04:00

Like the top of this site says, "There is something of yourself that you leave at every meeting with another person." And you may never really know what it is.

In the case of meeting Mister Rogers, the ripple affect has been massive. I like to think of it as a 1° change in trajectory. Over time and through space, even a one degree creates a significant angle over a flat line.

Moreover, though, he unwittingly (or was it conscious? I often wonder) connected me a whole constellation of people I might not have ever met or known: Linda Ellerbee, Amy Hollingsworth, Davy Rothbart, and Bo Lozoff.

My very first conversation with Mister Rogers, there on the back porch of The Crooked House, involved a man he called "my friend Bo." Today, I am going to be bold and call him the same.

More than a friend, though, Bo has come to be something of a mentor or advisor. We exchanged dozens of emails prior to his presiding at Abbigail and my wedding covering everything from songwriting to solitude. Prior to his arrival in South Carolina, I told Abbi I was more nervous about Bo than almost anything else. I hold him in very high regard. He is a deep, thoughtful, wise man. I feel very young and silly standing next to him.

Fortunately, then, one of my fondest memories of that wonderful weekend is sitting across from him on the front porch of my cottage just a few hours before our wedding ceremony. Here's what I wrote on benjaminwagner.com:

In just three hours Abbi and I were to exchange vows beneath a three hundred-year-old live oak on the edge of the Pocotaligo River.

I was driving myself to lunch through a full-on monsoon. My Jeep was kicking up a speedboat's wake through the pond-sized puddles. The windshield wipers were completely overwhelmed by the downpour.

'This,' I thought, 'sucks.'

Three hours later, I was locked inside the front bathroom at The Inn at Brays Island reciting my vows aloud to the mirror.
"I promise..."

Christofer and Sibby were queued just outside the door. James -- who'd facilitated all three of our conversions from a rookie half- to the more classic full-Windsor, stood alongside Bo Lozoff, our officiant.

"It's gonna be fine, dude," my brother said.

I wasn't worried, really. Not about whether or not I wanted to spend the rest of my life with Abbi, or whether we'd nail the scripting, staging or blocking.

Still, I was wound like a top, all short breaths, nervous prattle and heavy palpitations. Like before a rock show. Which -- let's face it -- Abbi and my wedding was: three bands, two tents, open bar, a light show.

It's easy enough, one discovers, to be swept up in such things -- portraits, poses, place settings -- at such an affair. It's easy enough, one discovers, to focus on the celebration but miss the ceremony. And while everything and everyone unwittingly conspired to that end, Abbi and I were aided and abetted by our self-described "Depth Protector," Bo.

***

My cell phone began chirping at 8:16. Sibby was sawing logs in the adjacent twin bed as I tried in vain to rest (sleep, I'd decided after an hour of tossing and turning, was a lost cause). I read Bo's name on the display and began worrying (more succinctly, I was already worrying; I just began worrying about something new).

Was he pulling out? Had he fallen ill? Food poisoning? Fever? Ethical dilemma?

I left the call unanswered and went for a walk along the edge of the property. The tide was out, leaving narrow, muddy shallows through the deep green reeds. On the lawn beneath the great tree that would act as our alter, a flock of white egrets picked at the soil.

I walked through the thicket to the dock as Abbi and I had two nights prior when -- in a moment of rare and wondrous synchronicity -- a pod of dolphins swam past. I sat there on the edge of the dock a while taking in the river's slow bend through South Carolina Low Country.

The sky was bruised purple and deep blue. The river was gray like lead. I reminded myself that my worrying would not affect the weather, and then continued worrying about it.

It's difficult even now with nearly three week's distance, to characterize what I was feeling, but I'll try.

I felt serious. Grave. Pensive. I was trying to slow down time, to take in every glance, wink and smile, plus every note of soil, sand and salt on the air. I was trying to let this most massive transition settle in, to understand the spiritual ramifications of the day. Moreover, I was discerning -- more tangibly than ever -- what the rest of my life might feel like.

Walking back towards my cottage, I spotted Abbi's father racing off to his tee time. I heard women's laughter, then turned to see Abbi -- from whom I'd been quarantined the night prior -- and her girlfriends trot off on their "Bride's 10k." I smiled for the first time all morning, went back to my room, and listened to my voicemail.

"Benjamin," Bo said in his raspy, Johnny Cash baritone, "I've been up since 430 thinking about you, and Abbi, and the ceremony, and I realized that we just didn't spend enough time together yesterday. There are a few more things I think are important to discuss without anyone around."

I called him back, expressed my enthusiasm for his intent (wisely deferring to my wife-to-be for the timing), and then pulled on my running shoes.

While the ladies kept to the road, I set off along the river. Everything around me was green and gray, wet with a light morning fog. A hawk circled overhead. A blue heron stood motionless in the shallows. Tiny stone crabs scurried clear of the muddy path before me. In the absence of my iPod's raucous report, I listened to my breath, my heartbeat, and the thump of my feet on the earth.

I hadn't planned to run alone; I'd hoped to run with my groomsmen. This was not to be, though, so I relished the solitude and reflection.

Later, as Bo and I sat on the front porch facing one another in rocking chairs, I was grateful for the quiet in my soul.

"I was reflecting on Abbi and your vows," Bo said, "And I'm not sure they're explicit enough about your commitment to one another."

"Yours are beautiful and lofty and poetic and very personal, which is great. But Ben, as I just told Abbi, love is not always beautiful and poetic. It can be querulous and difficult and you may want to give up on it."

I watched Bo closely weighing his every word.

"In our culture, there are plenty of voices that might say, 'Do what's best for you.'

He paused.

"But we don't wear a ring on our finger to show our commitment to. A job, or to a place, or to anything except our commitment to one another."

I looked to my vows, some 300, oft-edited, well-pruned words. They began with a quote from Rainer Maria Rilke's Letters To A Young Poet ("There is nothing happier than work. And love, because it is the extreme happiness, can be nothing else but work.") -- my attempt to reflect my understanding of the work a life-long commitment might demand. Save for the phrases, "for all time" and "all of the days of our lives" though, they lacked the explicit language of foreverness.

"Yunno, Bo, the bulk of my spiritual and psychological work -- and the reason I waited so long and weighed this committment so thoroughly -- has been all about work and commitment and longevity. I want to be explicit," I said, "100%."

"This is "'Til death do us part' stuff, for sure."

Off To See The Wizard...

2007-09-26T23:00:00.000-04:00

I'm not entirely sure anyone out there is following the progress of this film as it unfolds, but I like to think that someday -- when it's all shot, edited, scored, released, and lauded -- a whole bunch of people will find all of the things I wrote here and rediscover it in retrospect.

So... welcome! Here's the latest.

I'm getting married in South Carolina in nine days, then disappearing for two weeks to a series of atolls in the Indian Ocean. Bo Lozoff -- of who I learned on the back porch of The Rogers' Nantucket home -- is presiding, which is pretty awesome. And I hope that he'll be asking everyone to spend a minute remembering everyone that "loved them into being,"just as Mister Rogers used to.

Prior to departing, though, I have some producing to do. Because Chris is taking the first half of December off to begin editing. We're aiming to have the film cut and scored for the Nantucket Film Festival's March deadline. prior to our December edit, we're planing on two more shoots.

1) 826 Brooklyn: Months ago, my friend Kristan Flynn suggested I change my focus from Garrison Keillor and Bill Moyers to more loca, more approachable examples of "deep and simple." Enter 826, David Eggers' youth literacy organization. There we hope to interview 826 publicist and Mister Rogers fan, Jen Snow, organizer Sarah Vowell, as well as some kids and volunteers.

2) Pittsburgh: Davy Rothbart, Nicki Gottlieb, and I are road tripping to Pittsburgh in November to meet Mr. McFeely and tour the "Mister Rogers Neighborhhod" exhibit at the Children's Museum of Pittsburgh. There, we'll interview all of the above, and stop through Latrobe, Mister Rogers' birth place.

I like to think of it as some sort of "Wizard of Oz" ending to this great journey. Except -- I'm pretty sure about this one -- there is no Wizard. The Wizard is us.

None of it's definite, yet, but confidence is high; I'm pretty sure that we we have help from above.

It's Christmas Time (There's No Need To Be Afraid)

2007-09-24T11:01:00.000-04:00

Band Aid's "Do They Know It's Christmas" was the right song at the right time.

I was a newly-minted teenager when Bob Geldof and Ultravox's Midge Ure rounded up Paul Young, Phil Collins, Sting, Bono et all to record the first-and-definitive benefit single on behalf of African famine relief.

MTV was a nascent entity then too. It amplified and super-saturated my already Rolling Stone-distorted perception of rocknroll. Here was an awkward and flawed (they all did, after all, spend sufficient time on the couch -- allbeit at The Ritz in Ibiza -- smoking cigarettes and discussing their childhoods) group of singers being celebrated for the flaws and their singing! I had flaws. And I sang!

Moreover, my worldview was changing. At thirteen, I was allowed to take the bus to King of Prussia Mall or the train to Ardmore Square.

It was at a record store there that -- lulled into blissful consumer submission by the all-star music video played on near-repeat -- that I joyfully laid down my allowance for the vinyl 45.

As a song, Ure's four minute Anglo-centric plea for empathy is an odd one. There is no refrain, per say, just a galloping synth beat adorned with tubular bells building towards a rousing, repetative finish.

Didn't matter to me; I held constant vigile for the video, scampering into our mustard-colored TV room as soon as I heard those clanging bells.

Fast forward: December 23, 2006. I'm in my home studio brainstorming my annual online holiday single. 'Hmm,' I thought, '"Do They Know It's Christmas" made for a genius encore at The Nadas' Silent Night benefit concert in last year. Maybe I should call all of my New York City friends to record a version of our own.'

My watch read 11:23 pm. Christmas was mere hours away. Much as Casey, Chris or Jeff have my back,' I thought, 'There's no way I'll get 'em out on Christmas Eve.'

And so it is that I rallied some fifteen or so local singer/songwriters/musicians to record our version this weekend. The "Family Records Holiday" aggregates the idea behind "A Very Special Christmas" and "Do They Know It's Christmas." Fifteen local singer/songwriter/bands have contributed one holiday track each, and plus our version of the Band Aid single. A music video will do online pre-press for a December release and performance. The entire thing will benefit 826NYC, a youth literacy program.

Chris Abad, Casey Shea, Tony Maceli, Ryan Vaughn and I met up at Travis Harrison's Serious Business Studios in the heart of SoHo (Spring & Lafayette) as a hard rain began to fall Saturday morning. A few hours and many cups of coffee later, we had our basic track (drums, bass, acoustic guitar and scratch vocals). Langhorn Stoneburner Shea and Hot Rocks hostess Jenny Piston showed up with DV cams to begin shooting the music video. Casey -- due to depart for London with the rest of Sundown, laid down his vocal. "It's Christmas time," he sang perfectly in one take, "There's no need to be afraid."

And we were off.

Attorney's guitarist John Wlaysewski showed up with his bandmate William Ryan George and nailed a nuanced-but-powerful guitar part. The Wakey! Wakey! frontman Mike Grubbs showed up and -- between bites of veggie burger and fries -- nailed the now-famous, completely memorable hook. Less than six hours in, the basic recording was done. We left the studio two hours ahead of schedule as disk fell on Manhattan.

I spent the bulk of Sunday morning watching the video over and over on You Tube trying to assign the right parts to the right people (knowing already that a) Casey had already played the part of Paul Young, and I was laying claim to Bono's big line). Travis, Chris, and I re-assembled at noon. The chorus, as it were, began to trickle in one by one: Wynn Walent, Tarrah Reynolds, Kailen Garrity, Seth Kallen, Jeff Jacobson, Misty Boyce, William Ryan George and John Wlaysewski (The Attorneys), George & Jess Jezel (El Jezel), Wes Verhoeven (Undisputed Heavyweights), plus Mike and Gene Adam (Wakey! Wakey!). We rehearsed along with the track a half-dozen times, then began knocking out individual parts.

Later that afternoon, as we stood crowded around a single, omni-directional Neumann microphone drinking 20 ounce Budweisers, I laughed at Chris and Jenny (who have been staunch supporters from the start). "We did it!" I mouthed silently between "Feed the world!" and "Let them know it's Christmas time!!!"

We did it.

And it sounds totally freakin' bad ass.

Wait 'til you hear it.

Just like a thirteen-year-old in a dusty record store, you'll believe in blind optimism all over again.

There Goes The Neighborhood

2007-09-20T09:22:00.000-04:00

So Davy Rothbart's "There Goes The Neighborhood Tour" was in New York Friday Night. So Chris, Abbi and I met up after work, and headed down to the Upright Citizen's Brigade Theater on 26th Street.

I'd texted Davy earlier in the afternoon to call off the shoot. We were gonna' do a bot of meet and greet, but decided that -- since we're going to Pittsburgh together in November -- we could hold the thought 'til then.

The event was sold out. We were surrounded by thirtysomething literate-types as we waited in line near next to Gristede's.

"These are our people, man!" I told Chris. "If we can get these people in every town, we're golden!"

The venue was kinda' sketchy: dusty, black walls, exposed plumbing, rockity theater seats. I loved it. It felt vital, collegiate, like there was nothing to lose.

I coaxed Abbi and Chris into the front row. There was no stage, per say, just 3/4 of a rectanglular space without seats. So our feet were basically on stage. When the lights went down, we never fully faded into theatrical blackness; our reactions would be part of the show.

Davy walked in from the wings, unloaded a thicket of Xeroxed pages onto a pair of barstools, and began reading.

Davy and his brother, Peter, put on a hilarious show. It's basically a rock 'n roll reading that happens to be comedic. Found Magazine is, well, a magazine full of found objects: love letters, receipts, photos. Many of which are humorous, especially out of context. Peter brings the music, like his boy band send-up based on an actual love note, "Booty Don't Stop."

Davy also happens to be a marketing genius. He effortlessly weaves his mailing list and promotions for upcoming shows, back issues of the magazine, books, and CDs into his shtick. The amazing thing is that the whole thing feels so earnest and real, not commercial.

At the end of the show, as Davy was thanking a few people, he mentioned his buddy, "This American Life" producer Alex Bloomberg, and congratulated him on his recent marriage. Then he looked at me and said, "And thanks to Benjamin Wagner who's about to get married." That little gesture made me feel pretty special. Later, when someone told me that This American Life host Ira Glass seated behind Abbi, Chris and me, I exclaimed to Abbi, "Ira Glass knows my name." Which, as ridiculous as it sounds, is kinda' the beauty of this whole Mister Rogers-inspired journey of mine.

Later that night, I met Davy at The Park, a scene club on 18th & Tenth. I thought I was meeting him and a few friends. I walked into a table of twenty. Davy -- bless his heart -- introduced me as "The deepest guy I know." I pulled up a chair between a Pakistani journalist and Random House designer. I talked about God, Britney Spears, and "The Secret Lives of People in Love." Like I said to Chris, these are our people: the ones who burn for conversation, substance, solutions. The ones who want to change the world.

Well after midnight, I peeled off as Davy's friends tumbled out of the club towards its next destination. In the few minutes there as the party dispersed on the street, a fellow reveler told me, "Oh yeah, Mister Rogers used to come into the country store I worked at during summers."

"Bartlett Farms," I said.

"Yeah," she replied.

'He still up there connecting us,' I thought from the backseat, smiling all the way up Tenth Avenue.

Nantucket '07: Time After Time

2007-09-03T13:51:00.001-04:00

I woke up just after sunrise this morning.

Stepping into the living room I was gob smacked by the sea shining through the picture window. The only sound in our cottage, Watcha Dune, was the ticking of the old novelty clock on the wall that reads, "Who Cares."

I grabbed the DV and began shooting right away. Soon enough, I was on the beach, the tripod wedged level in the sand. A seal was splashing around in the waves a few hundred feet off shore.

I turned the camera towards the waves zooming in on the slow-rolling water there before it crested and capped and broke. Then I turned northwest and shot the sunlight sparkling on the waves as they lapped onto the shore.

Everything around me had a pulse. Everything around me beat the rhythem of time. I stood there, my toes in the water, and thought to myself 'This is why Mister Rogers loved it here.'

Increments of time feel both more minute and more infinate here.

The island changes with each passing season: inlets deepen, sandbars grow and homes fall into the sea. Someday, perhaps, it will all wash away.

It is the steady march of time. Unlike Times Square, Copley Plaza or Piccadilly Circus, where the horns and the sirens and the lights and the crush of the hawkers, barkers and hustlers, is relentlessly distracting. Each wave, each soaring gull, each blade of grass blowing in the wind, actually means something.

Slow.

Down.

* * *

I am eatting bluberry pie for breakfast now. Because I can.