"Ooo whee, say you
ought to come and see.
His dueling scar.
And brand new car."— George Davis
& John Taylor, 1964
Next to family, close friends, Takoma Park, and riding my Bad Boy, the last thing I wanted to see before leaving the United States for Bulgaria was New York City. I knew that paying a visit to The Capital Of The World would leave me with warm and everlasting memories of home. So, with just a couple of days left before my flight to the Sunflower Capital Of The World, Sarah and I spent some quality time in Manhattan — dining, shopping, people watching, and soaking up that one of a kind city vibe.
It's pretty tough to describe in words exactly why I adore New York. But during those last unforgettable days strolling the great blocks of Manhattan, I reminisced over some of my favorite moments in the Big Apple. And one of them could possibly rank as one of the most important reasons why I love it. You see, next to simply hanging out in the five boroughs, shopping for music and movies at Kim's and J&R or dining out at Dojo — it may come as a surprise to most that New York City just so happens to be the birth place of my travel bug.
Well. . . sort of.
It was nearly 20 years ago today when I blindly absorbed the greatest advice of my life after becoming well acquainted with the aunt and uncle of a close friend from New York. The Bronx natives, who were then residing in Queens, shared a tremendous love for traveling abroad and frequently shared countless numbers of stories and photographs from their journeys. And like Jedi masters who'd just spotted a young apprentice, it didn't take long before they sensed that ol' travel bug, buzzing its way into my soul. After each visit, they'd leave me with lasting words of encouragement; “Owen, never compromise a moment in life to step out of your comfort zone and see the world. The memories will keep you content for rest of your life."
Many years have passed, but I never forgot. And on the eve of making the biggest journey of my life, they gave me the strength I needed to take the leap. In recent times, in addition to discovering truth in their words, I also learned that a small detail was left out of the equation. They never told me that no matter how many cities I'd come across during my travels — and believe me, I've seen quite a few amazing ones — none will ever compare to The Empire City.
On that note, besides having New York's biggest admirer as a current resident, during the months of October and November, Sofia got a little taste of the Big Apple after it played host to the production of a new Israeli television series based on the city that never sleeps and a spectacular performance from the world's greatest jazz-vocal band — apply named after one of the city's five boroughs. Read on . . .
DURING THE SUMMER OF 1981 it was common place to find a low-volumed, static-heavy radio sitting atop of my grandmother's breakfront in constant rotation. Due to her strict no dillydally law, me and my brother Carlos — who was sentenced with me for an entire Summer on her 60 acre farm — were not aloud to watch television. So, next to riding our bicycles, playing stickball or taking a trip to the local general store, listening to the latest hit songs being broadcasted from a local Stafford County, Virginia radio station was one of our favorite pastimes.
To this date, me and Carlos still chuckle over this fact — but believe it or not, there was no more than twelve tunes rotating on their daily playlist, which included '81 hits like Bob Seger's "We've Got Tonite", Dottie West's "What Are We doin' In Love", Dr. Hook & the Medicine Show's "Sharing The Nights Together", Stanley Clarke & George Duke's "Sweet Baby," and Ray Parker Jr.'s "A Woman Needs Love (Just Like You Do)". Because there was such a short list, it was easy to learn the songs' lyrics. So, during the late evening hours, after my grandmother was fast asleep, me and my brother — and sometimes our uncle Timmy — would turn the volume up a notch, convert broomsticks to microphones, and sing along.
Each aforementioned tune, with their catchy sing-song hooks and melodies, were just fantastic. But, since I'd recently developed a knack for dancing — I couldn't quite get my groove on to any of their slow to mid-tempo speeds. However, there was one particular song on the shortlist that did the trick. It was called "Boy From New York City", a remake of the 1965 Ad Libs doo-wop classic recorded by a then virtually unknown jazz-vocal group called The Manhattan Transfer. Though danceable, to my 10 year old ears, the song was rather out-dated and peculiar sounding. But I still loved it.
I couldn't get enough of it!
As a matter of fact, out of the twelve or so songs in rotation, "Boy From New York City" was the one I'd anticipated hearing most throughout the day. The lyrics simply captivated me. And even though I'd never spent a single day of my life in the city so nice, they named it twice, my childhood television addiction, which included a steady diet of gritty pioneering New York-based detective shows like Kojak and Starsky & Hutch, helped validate the song's tale of a cool bad boy with hot chicks, scars and expensive cars. I wanted to live the life of the boy they were singing about.
I wanted to be him.
Three years later, after finally visited New York in the flesh, I became so enthralled with the city that the tune's lyrics and charm stuck like a theme song. I began to act and dress like a New Yorker. I even started bending the truth of my original birthplace; like telling friends and school mates that I was a native New Yorker — especially the girls!
I also got better ac- quainted with the group respons- ible for recording my theme. And that wasn't too difficult. In the same three years' time, The Manhattan Transfer had become one of the biggest jazz-vocal groups of the 80s, receiving twelve Grammy nominations for their classic Vocalese album — making it second only to my main man Michael Jackson's Thriller as the most nominated album ever.
FAST FORWARD BACK TO SOFIA IN THE YEAR 2011 — somewhere in the middle of another spectacular Halloween celebration and a Thanksgiving gathering generously hosted and prepared by my friend Joe — and I'm in eager anticipation to finally get to hear my theme song live after The Manhattan Transfer made their debut in Bulgaria. Unfortunately, on the eve of the concert, I had to roll solo. Sarah and Joe, two thirds of the original-Bulgarian-concert-going-trio, couldn't make the show due to work related events.
So, arriving prompt, energetic and elegantly dressed to impress, the classic four, which included Tim Hauser, Alan Paul, Cheryl Bentyne and lead vocalist Janis Siegel, took the stage at the sold-out National Palace Of Culture and put on the performance of a lifetime.
And despite the terrible disappointment of no live performance of my theme song, The four Manhattan natives, known for a fist full of flawless jazz-vocal albums, including the aforementioned record breaker, Mecca For Moderns and the Rod Temperton produced Bodies & Souls, made up for the loss by seamlessly sailing through stunning live renditions of hits like "Java Jive," "Route 66" "Chanson D'Amour", "Soul Food To Go," and the brilliant lyrical remake of Weather Report's "Birdland" — the soaring encore performance that kept me sky high for days to come.
Speaking of native New Yorkers and encore performances, a week or so after the concert, Jodi and Brian — two close friends of Sarah from her Peace Corps days — stopped by Sofia for a week long business trip to tend to matters on the Bulgarian Roma Camps, a sort of educational Summer billet set up for Roma (Gypsy) youths, founded by the three friends in 2006.
To cut costs and spend more quality time with Sarah — Jodi and Brian shacked up at our place. Me and Jodi, who currently resides in DC with her Bulgarian husband, had become well acquainted after meeting up on several occasions. But me and Brian, a native New Yorker and father of two, who still resides in the former, had only met briefly during that last New York trip I mentioned earlier. But despite the short comings, he and I got along just great and shared one of my favorite pastimes in common; outdoor running. So, with my injured knee completely healed, during four of the five days, we got up bright and early to hit the pavement.
Originally assuming he'd be a scrub, Brian gave me quite a workout. He kept an even pace while easily engaging in conversation. And being that he survived living in the Bulgarski for over six years, I needn't warn him of the stray dog issue currently plaguing Sofia. In fact, after a seemingly vicious one gave chase during one of our morning runs, he showed me a possible way out.
Well. . . sort of.
As the snarling hound got uncomfortably closer, Brian stopped running and played the calm and friendly approach. To my surprise, it completely worked! The dog's ears dropped, the barking ceased and it stopped chase. And even though Brian later confessed that he was more frightened than me — I was still amazed at his quick tact and remarkable bravery in what seemed to be a most scary situation.
After our ensuing mutt took a chill pill and we resumed running, there was just one small problem; it followed us for the duration of our run as if we were a part of his pack.
In the meantime, while me and Sarah were playing host to Jodi and Brian, Bulgaria's largest film studio was playing host to a brand new Israeli television series being shot in Sofia called New York. The series, which was directed by Ariel Benbaji and filmed on the studio lot's humongous artificial Manhattan, is the first of two shows being produced in 2012 that deal with Israelis living in the United States. The second show, called Postcards From Miami, is currently being filmed on location.
After getting the call to audition for New York, I was eventually chosen to play the part of Crazy B, the series' notorious gangster. And besides getting the part of a blood thirsty vampire, getting the part of a blood thirsty thug was the role I'd been hoping for ever since I stumbled into this acting game. But at the same time, it was the only role, so far, that I had reservations about. Mainly, due to Hollywood's shameful past history of the constant portrayal of African Americans as negative stereotypes, during a time when there was very few positive images of Blacks in film or television.
And to make matters more complicated, being that New York will be one of the first American themed television series broadcasted in Israel, I couldn't help but think of how Crazy B might shine that same negative light of African-Americans on the world's only Jewish majority state. But after a day or so deliberating, it only took one person to convince me to play the part. Barack Obama. And if the first African-American President ain't the most positive image of a Black dude being broadcasted throughout the world — then I really don't know who is.
Anyway, before I share my days on New York's set, I think you should know that it was a hard and humbling road getting there. You see, a few weeks prior to winning the part of Crazy B, I was nixed for a couple of major film roles. And in more ways than one — the rejection was good. It was like a wake up call. It humbled me. Yeah, I guess after winning seven consecutive auditions in a little over two years' time, I'd become over confident. Okay, okay... my head swelled to the size of a hot air balloon! I got to the point where I'd just assume I'd get the part before I even read for it.
So, in preparation for my Crazy B audition, I put my head back on straight and got down to business. I learned my lines so well, I could recite them backwards. And for inspiration, I studied Juice, Ernest R. Dickerson's critically acclaimed New York crime drama masterpiece from '92. But, mainly for the stunning Oscar-worthy performance from my main man Tupac Shakur, who played the role of Bishop, the films' sinister thug.
After studying Shakur's Bishop, I began to embody the typical street thug. No, I didn't join a Bulgarian gang or start selling drugs and robbing people. I simply turned into what I call a genuine house thug. During the long week leading up to my audition, I swaggered, shouted, and used plenty of slang and unnecessary profanity excessively around the house. Even, unfortunately, in the company of Sarah, and her friends Brian and Jodi — which, I'm sure, annoyed the fu. . . er. . . uh. . . I mean, the heck out of her.
But, eventually it all paid off. By the end of the week, I was awarded that blood-thirsty dream role of a lifetime.
cool, cool kitty —
Tell us about the
boy from New York City
Ooh wah, ooh wah,
c'mon kitty —
Tell us about the
boy from New York City."
— George Davis & John Taylor, 1964
ON THE FIRST DAY OF SHOOTING NEW YORK, it was the coldest November night I can remember in Sofia. But this time, the frigid temperatures wasn't the cause for my shivers. When I walked onto the set, I was, surprisingly, more nervous than a expectant father. One would think that after seven films under my belt, I'd have the hang of this acting thing by now. But in my defense, the role of Crazy B doesn't really go into the same category with the previous seven.
ON THE FIRST DAY OF SHOOTING NEW YORK, it was the coldest November night I can remember in Sofia. But this time, the frigid temperatures wasn't the cause for my shivers. When I walked onto the set, I was, surprisingly, more nervous than a expectant father. One would think that after seven films under my belt, I'd have the hang of this acting thing by now. But in my defense, the role of Crazy B doesn't really go into the same category with the previous seven.
It was my first role on a television series. And besides not really knowing what to expect, since I'd been a TV addict during my early childhood and teenaged years, I really wanted to nail this one good. So, even though I could recite my lines backwards, I was still worried about fumbling or forgetting them on set. And there was quite a lot to remember. Up until that point, it was the most I'd delivered since having a pretty sizable part in the upcoming horror-thriller Spiders 3D.
Nevertheless, after meeting Ariel and the rest of New York's majority Israeli cast and crew, my nervous jitters were put to rest. And Ariel's abiding faith in my thug knowledge was a key factor. Before shooting a single scene, while the wardrobe and make-up crew were getting me all thugged out, he bestowed the power in me to freely develop the Crazy B character and coordinate most of the street dialogue — an honor that enabled me to completely nix the original script's unnecessary use of the N-word from my scenes.
But after all of that, I was still trembling like an earthquake.
So much so, that with only a few seconds left before the lights went up and the cameras were set to roll at the shout of Ariel's voice, I couldn't manage to relax. And to make matters worst, as I timorously took stock of the set, it was clear to me that nearly every single body from the cast and crew — including the series' producer — had stopped what they were doing to come check out my first scene. It was as though they were in eager anticipation of a most worthy performance from New York's notorious villain Crazy B.
And though I'd spent hours practicing, studying and maintaining my thug character for weeks, I just felt like I was going to blow this one. My nervousness could only ensure a stiff performance. But just before I could take the plunge, the make-up girl shouted for a quick time-out to add a bit more foundation to my face.
After punctiliously powdering the patchy spots, she inspected my wardrobe and professed, "you're ready for action now, bad boy from New York City!" These were just the familiar words I needed. And in a flash, I could hear my theme song playing in my head as if it were blasting from a nearby speaker. It took me back to my grandmother's farm. Back to where I first heard the song that changed my life. I thought about the times when I used to fantasize and tell little white lies of a life in New York City. It was time to relive it. It was time to be the boy, again.
I was ready.
After that faithful scene, which involved a brutal confrontation between Crazy B and the series' main character — to cut a long story short — you can pretty much say I nailed it good. And from that point on, I found my groove. The director, cast, and crew responded favorably and christened me 'Crazy B' for the rest of the shoot.
I welcomed my new nickname with affection and it helped me to stay in character on and off set. I swaggered, shouted, and used plenty of slang and unnecessary profanity excessively. I gradually transformed into that cool bad boy with hot chicks, scars, and expensive cars. I was living the life, again.
I was him.
Be seeing you.
O
