On September 30, 2011, during the Block by Block conference at Loyola University Chicago, 21 local, independent online publishers from across the United States voted to form a tradeassociation.
A steering committee was appointed to further organize the association.
Questions should be directed to Executive Secretary, Mike Fourcher at (773) 328-8451 or mike@brownlinemedia.com
Schadenfreude, or gloating over another’s misfortune, is not a pretty thing. By definition. And though I’m used to being scolded by readers, my upbraiding by some of the Patch rank-and-file over my last post here has left me unexpectedly chastened. I meant my rant for AOL’s corporate overlords, for Tim Armstrong and Arianna Huffington in particular, but I managed to offend and hurt other local journalists who, just like me, spent the last week bailing basements and working furiously to keep up with the news. That’s bad, and that’s not pretty, and I apologize. We live in a time of great economic disruption and everything in the world of media — everything in the world — is up for grabs. My local newspaper got sore when a new kid came to town (that would be me) and I didn’t like it any better when Patch moved in. The two Patch editors whose work I know best — Shelley Emling and Mary Mann — do excellent work. I’d hire either of them in a minute if I could afford them. There is a war in the world of local, as the existence of publication StreetFight attests to, and I’m a bit player in that war. I enjoyed seeing my adversary stumble. I gloated. And the one who looked bad in the end wasn’t my enemy; it was me. I have a lot to learn from the indie bookstores and small town retailers who have been fighting this fight for years. There are classier ways to fight wars, and I vow to learn them. Debbie Galant, Baristanet
Those of us who are the proprietors of small, independent hyperlocal news blogs have been watching the headlines with glee.
Tim Armstrong’s AoL dream may be ending
What Happens When AOL Finally Decides to Go Private
What an AOL Garage Sale Would Look Like
“Patch is worthless,” wrote Dana Blackenhorn in Seeking Alpha. ”Close it. Think a company like Gannett (GCI) or The New York Times (NYT) or News Corp. (NWS) might want it? If you find a sucker like that, call me. I have a bridge to sell.” Music to our ears.
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Mark Kamine was the original location director of The Sopranos and, since the show ended, he’s moved on to become a production director of movies like “The Fighter” and “Limitless.” A 16-year-resident of Montclair, Kamine himself departs for a new location today, when moving vans come to move him and his family to New York City. We sat down to talk to Kamine about the iconic locations of the Sopranos and about the concept of place in general. This story originally appeared on Baristanet.
How did you come to the Sopranos job and how long did you do it?
I was a location manager and I started as a scout. I was working for about eight or 10 years at that before Sopranos started. I knew the producer from other jobs.
Who was that?
Ilene Landress. She called me when they were doing the pilot. I was on another job. And then when the show got picked up, I started. Which was maybe a year after. And I remember I met David Chase as part of the process in a hotel in New York. It was sort of unheard of at the time for a cable network to be doing a TV series. It was very early in the process — ‘97, ‘98 — and the test for the show was that it might appeal to housewives and professors, academics. Which didn’t sound too promising. But we had some scripts and we started to scout for some of the things that the pilot had shot, but to do in a more permanent way, like the pork store. They started to build the Soprano house in North Caldwell. That started to get reproduced on the stage. And it was just a general figuring out how to continue the look of the pilot.
It seems to me that show was so much about location.
David Chase grew up in New Jersey, I think he was born in Newark, and then Verona and the Caldwell area after that. He often had specific ideas about where to find things. And then I also grew up in New Jersey. Born in Jersey City, grew up in Wayne. And spent a lot of time all over the place and then lived in Montclair for a long time. The whole time I was doing that show. And then my main assistant, Regina Heyman, who took over the location managing for me after three years, she grew up in Montclair. She had a lot of New Jersey knowledge too. And then the scouts who worked with us. They’re New York scouts they tend to spend time all over the New York area. And certainly over the course of Sopranos, when we would read a script, everyone had ideas of where to find it, what town. That sounds like Little Falls. Or that sounds like North Caldwell. You started to get the rhythm of how to find certain things.
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God bless Watchung Booksellers, my local indie bookstore. My third novel, “Cars from a Marriage” just came out in paperback today. But according to Amazon, there is only one copy left in stock. Watchung, which knows me as the editor of Baristanet as well as a locally-bestselling novelist, has 10 copies, prominently displayed on its summer reading table. And the bookstore owner is going to add a note telling local book groups that I’m happy to come talk to them if they read my book.
Now that’s service. And context. Another reason why relationships matter.
— Debbie Galant, Baristanet
Let’s hoist a glass to Frank Bruni of The New York Times for his 3,200-word paean to the authentically local food scene of Seattle in Sunday’s Travel section. Best quote: “To eat in and around Seattle, which I did recently and recommend heartily, isn’t merely to eat well. It is to experience something that even many larger, more gastronomically celebrated cities and regions can’t offer, not to this degree: a profound and exhilarating sense of place.”
But I also liked, “You want a closer relationship with what you eat? At the Willows Inn You can practically bed down with it.”
Take that, Red Lobster.
— Debbie Galant, Baristanet
Authentically Local, a set by johnleesandiego on Flickr.
One of Baristanet’s favorite readers, John Lee, felt so connected to the Authentically Local campaign that he assembled an “Authentically Local” Flickr set and an Authentically Local Flickr group. Please contribute to the group. Pictures of the places we love tell the story of why local is important.
John has promised me a short essay on why Authentically Local speaks to him, and I will publish it when he writes it. Meanwhile, if a picture is worth a thousand words, this set is worth 50,000. Good thing I’m not paying him by the word!
— Debbie Galant, Baristanet
Today they are standing on every corner in one town outside New York City. They are blonde, female and clearly under 25. They wear bright green T-shirts and visors that say “Patch,” and they hand out pens and stickers and leaflets by the gross. They do not live here.
“Have you read Patch?” they croon to the commuters and shoppers and mommies with strollers, many of whom stare straight ahead without stopping.
These are the New Journalists. At least they say they are.
The sites are parachuting down so fast they can’t even keep up with the list of “coming” sites on the Patch homepage; the town where we spotted the lovelies today isn’t even on the list yet, but they are advertising for writers on Craigslist.
In Southern Westchester New York, as well as in other affluent suburban areas in eight other states, Patch has let loose (what they say are) 75 young reporters, bloggers, marketers and sales people to cover an area that we do with two to four, depending on the day.
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Even though they are pretty much the same from town to town, there is nothing more authentically local than a small-town Memorial Day parade.
Photo by S.J.Streeter for Baristanet.
Clearview Cinemas, a New Jersey-based chain of movie theaters with outposts in New Jersey, New York and Pennsylvania, is owned by Cablevision, a giant corporation with plenty of enemies — which makes it hard to argue that it is an “authentically local.” Still, when we at Baristanet started our Favorite Places feature, we led off with the Clairidge, a Clearview theater based in Montclair, because it is one of my favorite places on earth. Clearview categorizes nine of its theaters as art houses, and the Clairidge is one. It’s where I saw Like Water for Chocolate, Remains of the Day, Eat Drink Man Woman, Life is Beautiful, Shakespeare in Love, American Beauty and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind — to name just a few.
Montclair used to have three art house theaters. We’re down to just one, and if the Clairidge ever shuttered, it would be a huge loss.
This past weekend, I went to another Clearview movie theater, Clearview’s Caldwell Cinema 4, to see a mainstream movie, “Bridesmaids,” which happens to be a hoot. Right after the trailers, before the movie started, an employee of the theater stood up in front of the audience, introduced himself and welcomed everyone to the show. I’d seen this once before too at the Clairidge. I think it’s both simple and classy.
Both the Clairidge and the Caldwell theater sit on Bloomfield Ave., their old-fashioned marquees facing the street. You either park on the street or in municipal parking lots that you reach via alley. I know people who prefer to go to AMC’s because the screens are bigger and the sound is better. But to me, going to a storefront movie theater is the quintessential small-town experience. There aren’t that many left, and like the Clearview ones, they’re probably all owned by corporations now. I’ll say this for Cablevision: they paid money to a local entrepreneur and kept the experience pretty much the same for the customer.
So are the Clairidge and the Caldwell Cinema 4 authentically local? I’d like the term to be completely unambiguous, to refer only to locally-owned establishments. But in this case, I think the big corporation maintained an authentically-local experience and saved the local landscape. Reasonable people may disagree. But certainly it’s a better result than what befell the Franklin Theater in Nutley.
— Debbie Galant, Baristanet
