- #PRIVATE PARTS HOWARD STERN COMES TO HARTFORD DRIVER#
- #PRIVATE PARTS HOWARD STERN COMES TO HARTFORD FULL#
Stern’s father was a sound engineer at a radio station in Manhattan.
“I have no idea what my place in show business is,” he tells me. Roosevelt taught Stern to be an outsider, a role he still plays every day. Though his parents soon moved to a whiter town, Roosevelt remains a place on his map. As one of the only white kids in school, he says, he was a symbol of oppression - a victim. He spent his first years in Roosevelt, a village that was one day all white, the next day all black. Stern grew up in Southwest Long Island, in New York, where the Manhattan skyline is never far from the horizon. “No different than Don Corleone or Stallone coming up as Rocky, or anybody who did it other than the conventional way.” “It’s the story of a guy coming up,” he later says. And there is Robin, being driven in reverse, like someone moving the wrong way through time - which is exactly what Stern has been doing all summer: moving back through time, playing himself at all ages, taking the moviegoing public on the 43-year journey that has been Howard Stern. When the monitor goes black, Stern looks at the street, where the cab is moving back into place. Howard Stern on Sex, Therapy and Charlie Sheen Robin rolling down her window, yelling at Howard, telling him to fuck off, the words echoing off the buildings like a gunshot.
#PRIVATE PARTS HOWARD STERN COMES TO HARTFORD DRIVER#
The driver also looking like something from the ’70s. Robin saying, “Oh, you’re going to hang me out like garbage,” climbing into a ’70s-style high-top yellow cab. Howard saying that’s just what the execs want him to do.
Robin saying she’s been fired and wants Howard to quit. The neon Rainbow Room sign glowing in daylight. Howard Stern’s Universe: Robin Quivers, Crackhead Bob and 14 More People to Know “Here it is,” he says, looking at the screen, which flickers to life. But I’ve seen it enough to get used to myself on camera.” He pushes back his long hair, revealing sharp Old World features. “I’ve never seen myself on a big screen,” he says later. He is dressed like a kid who has waited all night for Pantera tickets, in khakis, white T-shirt and a denim button-down, sleeves cut off. Stern, standing between Private Parts’ director, Betty Thomas, and a makeup man who waves a blush brush, taps his foot. The crew must finish by noon, before the Dominican Day parade rolls through midtown, grinding up any errant clipboard boys. He walks over to a monitor, where an engineer will play back the scene that has just been filmed. I want people to feel like they’re really watching this guy - like they’ve stepped into a photo album.” “So I go back and say, ‘OK, what the fuck was I really like?’ Then I try to tap into those moments in my life. “The advantage is, I’m playing myself,” he later says. He lives under their gaze, like a meal under keep-hot lights, bubbles coming up through the sauce. Stern lets his eyes move over them, scratches his stomach, yawns. They stand across the street, between Fifth and Sixth avenues, in Fashion Cafe caps and T-shirts that say things like “I’m With Stupid.” Yokels in town on weekend packages.
#PRIVATE PARTS HOWARD STERN COMES TO HARTFORD FULL#
“We try to shoot before the people show up,” says Stern, who has been here since 5, grappling with his past: How does a man at 43 remember the anxieties of being 20? Was I the same person back then? Even now, with the city still cool and full of shadows, the crowds have begun to gather. In America, if a celebrity wants to move through a city like a regular person, he must do it early. “When I bring back some of these old feelings, I get really fucking emotional.” “It can be very hard playing your life,” says Stern. In the movie, for dramatic effect, Robin is simply fired. Howard was hired by NBC radio Robin was not. Stern has now returned, along with a 120-person crew, to the Rockefeller Center entrance to NBC, where, 15 years ago, his radio co-host, Robin Quivers, was frozen out of a job. “We’re making a movie.” This is on location for Private Parts, the film that Paramount Pictures is releasing of Stern’s best-selling autobiography. “Let’s see it on the monitor.” And then he’s back on his feet, moving through a cloud of PAs and ADs, pleasant-looking young people (clipboards, Styrofoam cups) who control the block like an occupying army. “I don’t know,” he says, rubbing his hands together. Even when he is sitting still, he is moving. Sitting on a fold-out chair on 50th Street in Manhattan, Howard Stern just keeps moving.