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©Russell Johnson
Mr.
Peanut, with top hat, tails, white gloves and monocle, is a Broadway kind-a-guy.
His salty self first appeared on the Great White Way in 1942. Peanut staged a
comeback in 1999 and now occupies a huge billboard. Probably deservedly so as
he is the official snack of NASCAR.
Endearing old Mr. P., the Fred Astaire
of legumes, offers me comfort in this place in America where new, garish symbols
scream loudest. These glaring jumbotrons, this neon nouveau may be the rule in
Tokyo, but few other places in the US would tolerate this storm of lumens and
hype. Times Square has always been itself a symbol: GIs smooching with their lovers
at the end of WWII, urban sleaze through the 70s and 80s, and beginning in the
90s. big media belting it out like Broadway stars: "look at me now!" Disney and
its ABC, MTV, FOX, ESPN gazing with kinescope eyes on America's square. Little
kids screaming to dad, "I wanna be on TV.waaaah!" Reuters stringing out its news
sausage ticker along a billboard while Conde Nast editors peer down from their
tower and sniff. Even little Air America, the liberal talk show network, has a
sign: "We need to talk," it says. Aside from Conde Nast, not a lot of media is
really located here. Like NASDAQ, which commands a corner of Times Square but
really exists only in the abstract world of hard drives, it is all hype and mirrors:
propaganda with location, location, location.
Mr.
Peanut is now "intellectual property" owned by Kraft, even though Planter's
Nut and Chocolate Company bought him for $5 from a 14 year old boy in 1916. After
a kerfuffle with media giant Clear Channel, a huge anti-war billboard commands
a corner on Broadway near an Army recruiting station and an exhibit by the Drug
Enforcement Administration. Even "Off Broadway" is consumed by current
events. "Eat the Taste," by the creators of the hit Urinetown, is about an unemployed
John Ashcroft trying to make it as a Broadway hoofer and a Karen Finley takeoff
on "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf" called "George and Martha" imagines the unimaginable,
a tawdry affair between George W. Bush and Martha Stewart. The thought of Martha
smearing Dubya with chocolate is disgusting, to say the least.
I suffer from nostalgia, however, walking around this neighborhood. Even though
it too is symbolic.from my memories of old movies and songs. Once I sat alone
at an 8th Avenue deli, just off the square, and listened to a young actor pleading
with his ageng whose only encouragement was to take more classes. Having grown
up doing a showtunes program on the radio and watching dozens of musicals on TV,
I really know these people. In my dreams I have danced with the best of them In
my nightmares I have strutted with my fly open and fallen into orchestra pits.
Last weekend my wife and I got a taste of that nostalgia, a revival of Comdon,
Green and Leonard Bernstein's "Wonderful Town," a cliché story, for sure, of a
pretty young thing from Ohio and her gawky sister played by Brooke Shields, trying
to make it in the big city. But great songs, some tearful nostalgia.and Brooke
Shields, who has a future as a comedic actress. She is clumsy in a a long-legged
good way, like a giraffe attempting ballet or like Lucille Ball or Candice Bergen,
for whom a lack of grace is a plus and very funny.
So a tip of the top hat to Brooke Shields, Mr. Peanut, the Great White Way.and
Times Square. Some of its symbols will change. Some, happily, will stay the same.
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