I’ve noticed that being on TV affords me the opportunity to actually see myself working. In this case, 25 years ago. Though I’m not really working. Well, maybe I am. This video is one I took myself at the 39th Annual Chicago/Midwest EMMY Awards in 1999 (I think.) I was doing volunteer work as a presenter. And I was there as an EMMY Award nominee, having produced Ben Loves Chicago on Channel 50, which was being recognized as one of the outstanding Entertainment Programs of the year. You could say I was working by representing my TV station, WPWR. And, of course, I was working by showing up at a very large networking event where there would be many executives from TV stations present. You never know who’s watching, right?
Here at The Ben Museum/One Continuous Take, I’m looking back frequently. But I cannot overcome the truth that, as I look back, I am firmly planted in the present moment. I respond to these sounds and moving images from my seat here in 2024. Like reading a great novel many years later, it’s going to affect me differently than it did in 11th grade. There will be things I see today that I didn’t see then. How could I not?
Surely you’ve gathered that I am very interested in spending serious time in “The Memory Mines” (credit: Memory Row, from “Ghost on the Beach” LP by Insiders, written by John Siegle and Gary Yerkins.) I think I’ve always seen it as historical work, my documenting so much of my life on video. Though I must admit, my ego has, over the years, gotten some nice boosts watching the old stuff. It’s nice to appreciate the work. And then, again, I need to be careful I don’t get too swept up in it. I’ve had a strong romance with the Past, especially in my 20s and 30s. Even, to varying degrees, up until more recent times. I need to be careful because here’s what happens: The watching of old videos gets me high. It’s like an ether. I feel myself get swept up in a cloud of sentiment, and I tend to idealize and romanticize “the good old days.” This can turn into resentment too. I can go to the place of saying in my head, Jeez, why the hell didn’t Hollywood discover what I genius I am, and transport me into The Big Time?
This kind of thinking, today, thank God, does not plague me the way it did years ago. This kind of thinking, described above, makes it impossible to be grateful for what did happen in my life. And what continues today, now, writing these words, editing these videos, and, I hope, bringing you pleasure. Inviting you to consider (I hope) stuff that may be new to you.
Watching this tape was something I was really looking forward to, in light of enjoying a marked freedom from the grips of my old thinking. There’s a phrase some of you may recognize. We shall not regret the past, nor wish to shut the door on it. That’s it! Exactly! I dare descend into The Memory Mines one more time, trusting I will return safely, without struggle from those boney, mean clutches that wish to grab ahold of my brain and wring it like a sponge, yielding the bitter juice of regret and resentment over what did or did not happen. (Evidently I still enjoy a little drama, eh?!)
Yeah, once I clicked on the video file fresh from the digitizing company I’d sent my old tapes to, I saw that this was the one where I took my video camera to the EMMYS and chronicled my time there, on stage, in “real time,” as they say. What fun! I remember thinking of doing this (shooting video myself, selfie-style, up on stage, (and being ready, just in case I actually won an award) and how cool it would be. I was scared too. Nervous. I’d certainly be calling a lot of attention to myself. Naturally I had the thought: what if I bomb? What if they hate me?
But my desire to play won out. I took the camera and, to my eyes and ears, it worked! There were laughs. There was appreciation. And then there was history: both my past show Wild Chicago, and my newer show, Ben Loves Chicago, were awarded EMMYs that evening. Amazing! The biggest audience response, strangely enough, was elicited by something I can’t even remember. The videotape catches the crowd roar. But there is nothing to see. I think I may have tripped or nearly fell on my face. But I honestly don’t remember. From how the audience responded, whatever it was, it was a surprise.
So why the reference in the title of this piece to something being “disturbing”?
While editing the piece, I noticed how, to my eyes, I was very “into” what I was doing. I noticed right away, when my co-host introduced me, (“Let’s hear it for Ben…” or something like that) that I cried out, “Yeah!” The crowd did cheer for me. And I didn’t say “Thank you.” I was surprised by that. How could I have not blurted out, “Thanks!”? Maybe it was just nerves. As I write today, it occurs to me that when I do shoot video selfie-style, I do get pretty selfie-absorbed. I’m shooting, directing, pre-editing, speaking, sometimes interviewing someone, all at the same time. I’m literally self-absorbed in a lot of thinking, planning, managing. All while looking like it’s no big deal, just breezy, easy-cheesy.
In that headspace, though, I am prone to not connect so well with my fellow human beings. I saw this on the tape, though not immediately. (On first screening, I was indeed mesmerized by looking at my own digital representation on the screen. Me!) But as I edited, I realized a few things. One was, I didn’t know the name of the woman I was sharing the stage with. I never said her name. Maybe never knew it. How could I have not made it a point to get her name, learn it, and use it while on stage? How? Well, because I was so into what I was doing. I was totally into making sure everything I did on stage was going to be a success. And, I suppose, I figured it was all on my shoulders! Today, as I watch, I see how gracious my co-host was, how she looked at me and played with me. I don’t think I had any eye contact with her at all, at least not initiated by me. Was I simply using her as a prop? And if I was, was this something I did regularly with people?
Performers reading this may be squirming right about now. Some of you will identify. It’s hard not to fall into this kind of self-absorption when you’re so invested in being up on stage, commanding attention, hoping you’re “going over.”
Cut to April 2024. I needed to find out who my dear co-host was. I posted a screen shot of her on Facebook. (No, she’s not Liza Minnelli.) Can you help me? I want to give her the credit and thanks she deserves. So far, no answers.
Yes, that was the disturbing revelation of this video. I just didn’t care about other people as much as I do today. Oh, and I do wish I’d been able to edit this video back when I actually shot it. Because back then, in 1999, I had no way to edit it on my own computer as I do today. My mother never saw it. And she’s long since gone, passing eleven years ago.
Sorry, Ma.
Amidst the Fun, a Disturbing Memory?