What's Going On With "Mister Rogers & Me"?

What's going on with Wagner Bros. Pictures, LLC's still-forthcoming documentary, "Mister Rogers & Me?"

I'm glad you asked. Or, I'm glad my pen pal Magnus did.

"When I inquired about the documentary a few months ago [you said] it was on hold," he writes. "I don't know what the progress is, or what's holding it up, but I just wanted to encourage you to keep at it. I know you are extremely busy with all your other endeavors, but this project is as important now as it ever was. Keep at it! You were chosen to remind people of the deep and simple."

Thanks, Magnus.

Yes, I am busy. My day job at MTV News continues to expand. And I'm releasing two records in the next three weeks: my own "Live At Rockwood Music Hall" tomorrow, and our second holiday benefit CD, "A Holiday Benefit, Vol. II," December 1.

So here's the deal.

It took us an inordinate amount of time to get the first thirty minutes together for our Independent Film Week application. We worked every night until three o'clock in the morning for about a month. Then we didn't get in, which knocked the wind out of our sails. Then summer swallowed me up: Movie Awards, Video Music Awards, etc.

After a period of deep discussion and soul searching, it became abundantly apparent to my brother, Christofer, and I that he didn't have the bandwidth to finish the edit. His day job requires him 10-18 hours of non-linear editing as is. Plus, he's a father of two with a third on the way.

So, "Golden Days" director Chris Suchorsky currently has a drive with all of our footage, and has agreed to edit the Tim Russert segment on spec. If that works out (which we should know by Thanksgiving at the latest), Wagner Bros. Pictures, LLC, will hire Chris to finish the film with us.

If not, I'm going to take over. I've learned enough ProTools to self-produce my own albums (see: "The Invention Of Everything Else"). I figure I can do this too. I just won't do anything else after work and on weekends until it's done. If I were a bettin' man, I'd say that's where we're headed. Which is fine with me, as no one is more committed to finishing "Mister Rogers & Me" than me.

Mister Rogers is everywhere in my life. Here in my office, there are three photos of him within eyeshot of my computer monitor, and one more on the shelf above my head. At home, he's on the fridge, and in the living room. Rare, then, is the day pass in which I don't pause, look at him, and smile.

So, Magnus, thanks for asking.

We will finish the film.

I promise.

The Fred Rogers Center, Brian Linder & Me

Just shy of a year ago, Chris and I drove through Latrobe, Pennsylvania, looking for a sign of Mister Rogers in his hometown. We couldn't find a statue or school, didn't know his childhood adress, and didn't think visiting his grave was in keeping with the film.

We drove to the highest spot we could find, looked out over the valley, spotted Saint Vincent College shining in the distance. There, just below the twin-steepled, red-brick basilica, we could scarcely discern a muddy patch of construction where the Fred Rogers Center For Early Learning & Children's Media sat half-built.

Truth is, we'd done little more than a drive-by less than an hour prior. At the time, while we had Mrs. Rogers' blessing, we still weren't sure whether we had his Family Comminications'. We didn't want to jeopardize it by setting up a tripod and camera outside the center, so we slowed down, shot out the window, and kept going.

Fast-forward a year, and the Fred Rogers Center has officially opened its doors.

The center's mission is to advance the state of early learning and children's media by acting as a catalyst for communication, collaboration and creative change across both fields.

Moreover, the center has a new director who appears to understand just how radically the media landscape has shifted in the five years since Mister Rogers passing.

"The distinction between a child being a user and consumer [of media] has been obliterated," said Maxwell King, who became director of the center last month. "We want to provide guidance and standards" for children, parents and educators.

In a stroke of synchronicity, "Save Mister Rogers" advocate Brian Linder called yesterday.

Seems Brian -- who's frustration with PBS' decision to cease daily delivery of the show to its affiliates inspired his movement -- is finding himself drawn to the storytelling around The Neighborhood too. Specifically, he's connecting with former cast members like Neighbor Aber (Chuck Aber), Lady Aberlin (Betty Aberlin), and Handy Man Negri (Joe Negri), all of whom have terrific stories to tell.

I told him that if I had unlimited resources and time, I'd quit The MTV today, and we'd go interview all of 'em together. Brian (who works for IGN, is married and the father of twin daughters) laughed and agreed; unfortunately, resources and time are limited.

Instead, we hatched a plan to meet at the Center -- with or without cameras -- sometime soon.

"It's written into the films' epilogue anyway," I told him. "I'll send you the script."

I hope we can pull it off.

Mister Rogers, Divorce & Me

"Mister Rogers Talks To Parents About Divorce" premiered on Sunday February 15, 1981, just as my parents' marriage was falling apart.

Unfortunately, it took twenty-five years to learn of the show's existence, and until this afternoon to see it myself for the very first time.

All I knew of Susan Stamberg's relationship to Fred Rogers when I walked into NPR's Washington, DC, studios way back in November, 2006, was that the two had taped some television specials together in the '80s. Imagine my surprise, then, when I discovered the topic of the specials was divorce, something my family had endured, and about which Mister Rogers and I had conversed.

When our copy of the show was finally shipped from FCI last week, my sense of serendipity was heightened still when Chris told me the original air date.

The hour-long special is nothing if not deep and simple. Susan hosts, fielding questions from the WQED studio audience, while Fred and author and bereavement counselor, Rabbi Earl Grollman, respond. Periodically, Fred tosses to brief interview segments with young children.

The set, graphics, and wardrobe are antiquated to be sure. Still, the premise, pacing and patience is so Fred Rogers: deep and simple through and through.

At one point, Susan asks him why the Neighborhood had recently taken its viewers on a tour of the inside of a plane.

There are a lot of children who have to fly alone back and forth between their mothers and their fathers. And I've talked to stewardesses who say that sometimes they're scared, and sometimes they cry.

For any of you who know anything about my recording career (and for those of you who don't, my 2001 song, "Crash Site," was a metaphor for my parent's divorce, and the airplane trips shuttling between them), it was a section I had to watch twice.

As Susan wrapped up the show, and Fred said his final words -- warm and sage as always -- I found myself standing there in front of the television with a big smile on my face, and even bigger crocodile tears in my eyes.

"Remember," he said, "How persistent the feelings of childhood are all through our lives."

Saving Mister Rogers

I'm blessed and lucky for my brief but meaningful time with Mister Rogers, and the wheels those few moments set in motion.

When I need a dose of calm, or insight on managing my anger, sadness, or fear in the face of this crazy, crazy world, I don't have to go anywhere or do anything. I just pause, and I hear him in my head.

What's more, he's rarely out of eyeshot. At my office, a photo of us in the living room of his Crooked House rests on a shelf above my desk, and a postcard reading, "It's such a good feeling to know that we're friends" is tacked to my bulletin board. At home, I've framed the very first photo he sent me, one that reads, "For my real ACK neighbor!" Another postcard (this one reading "You make each day a special day by just your being you!") is on the refrigerator.

When the news broke a few weeks ago that PBS told member stations it would send them just one weekly episode of "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood" instead of one daily, I'll be honest: I was sad, but not terribly surprised.

He is a permanent part of my life, as influential as many of my friends and family. What's more, by the time I have children old enough to watch, best as I can tell from my conversations with FCI, Fred will be available either on DVD or on-demand, or both.

As media executive, I wasn't terribly shocked. Throughout the making of "Mister Rogers & Me," Chris and I have seen tiny examples of Fred's on-air presence diminishing on the local level. At one point, I launched a small letter writing campaign.

In general, though, while Chris and I discussed addressing it in the film, and even advocating on the show's behalf, it felt like more than I could chew given the context of my day job, the film, the music, etc. Plus, it felt like a different story than the one we were trying to tell. And, honestly, I was exhausted from hitting our IFP deadline.

Television is a rapidly-shifting landscape. When "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood" premiered, PBS was the fourth of four networks. Fred insisted that "We have to remember to whom the airwaves belong, and we must put as great an emphasis on the nurturing of the human personality as we can."

I believe that those of us who are the producers and purveyors of television -- or video games or newspapers or any mass media -- I believe that we are the servants of this nation.

But the market place has exploded. There are hundreds of channels, thousand if you consider online video -- all of which are radically fragmented and commodified.

To be just a little jaded for one second, I witness corporate media machinations every day. And while, in my experience, intentions are generally the best, the bottom line always prevails -- even with strong advocacy. With Fred gone, the power of that advocacy is too.

Now, I'm not entirely sure that's what's at play here. As I've witnessed at work and as I understand it (and as I witnessed first-hand when I toured Iowa Public Television last month), broadcasters are increasingly digital.

The aegis will be on local stations to manage their own "Neighborhood" libraries, no easy task as you know from keeping all your files straight on your computer. It also means that there will no longer be a shared experience; what airs in Columbia, SC, will be different than what airs in New York City.

That said, it's the subtext of the once-weekly vs. daily transmission that's disconcerting. It suggests, however implicitly, that "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood" lacks daily urgency or import.

In these days of global unrest, economic insecurity, school shootings, and a news media more interested in Lynn Spears than Lynn Cheney, Mister Rogers' soothing, patient and sage insights are

Which is why South Carolina journalist and parent Brian Linder did not rest so easily when he heard the news. As the Pittsburgh-Post Gazette put it, "he didn't have to be told twice what to do with the mad that he felt, to paraphrase one of Fred Rogers' songs."

And so, Save Mister Rogers was born.

Brian's premise is simple, his intentions the absolute best:

We’re asking PBS to please reconsider their decision, and allow Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood, with its timeless expressions of care for children, to remain a part of their syndicated Monday through Friday schedule.

Brian and I spoke real quickly yesterday. He's doing his best to helm this increasingly-visible project while retaining his day job (ours are remarkably similar: he's a freelance writer for IGN Movies) and parenting his newborn twins, Grace and Zoe. He sounds sweet, smart, and passionate. I appreciate his efforts, and look forward to speaking with him further and helping however I can.

I have every confidence that the "Neighborhood" will remain available, though, to Brian's point, it may be increasingly difficult and expensive to find and thereby increasingly limited in its reach.

The key, as always, is to remember that the airwaves belong to the public. And so the public must remain vigilant with its local PBS station in demanding that deep, simple, and essential programming like "Mister Rogers Neighborhood" remain free and unfettered on all media platforms.

For me, then, the best part of Brian's efforts, the show's future discoverability notwithstanding, is the reminder that, in this increasingly fragmented, emotionally disconnected world, we are all neighbors.

Ixnay On The Independent Film Week Debut

Rare is the day that I don't ask myself, 'What would Mister Rogers say?'

In fact, just now, I was staring out the window at the sunset doing just that. And as always, I heard his voice in my head.

"It's fine," he said. "Just keep trying."

The question?

What would Mister Rogers say when I told him our documentary, 'Mister Rogers & Me,' was not accepted to Independent Film Week?"

That's right. "Mister Rogers & Me" was not accepted to Independent Film Week. I got the email as I was walking through the turnstile at work. "Dear Benjamin," it started.

Thank you for your submission to the Documentary Work-in-Progress section of the 2008 Independent Film Week’ Project Forum. We regret to inform you that your project, “Mister Rogers & Me“, was not selected. We are only able to accommodate a maximum of 75 projects in this most competitive documentary section, which had approximately 500 submissions and numerous strong projects not selected this year.

Please be assured that all submitted projects were carefully reviewed by the Selection Committee. Final decisions were based on a range of criteria, including compliance with all application requirements, amount of financing in place or needed, available rights, artistic merit, and quality. That said, many projects "passed" these criteria, yet still could not be included due to space limitations.

I think I said, "Damn," before stepping into Times Square and cranking Billy Joel's "A Matter Of Trust" (of all things).

My first thought? 'Next!'

My second thought? Many.

First, I thought about early this afternoon. I was sitting in my office scheduling out the next few weeks: San Diego for ComicCon, Indianapolis for Brickyard 400, Meadowlands for Springsteen, Nantucket, Seattle, Nevis and on and on and on.

'I'm pretty blessed,' I thought then.

'Maybe this is some sort of message,' I thought now.

Second, I thought about how difficult the home stretch towards the Independent Film Week deadline was for Chris and me.
'Maybe this is some sort of message,' I thought.

Finally, I thought about how many times I said that, if all else failed, we'd load the movie into a van and drive it to every church basement and rec center that'd have us. Which still stands.

And then I thought, 'Back to work.'

We just have to keep trying.

Mister Rogers On The Penny?

My friend Jen Snow over at 826NYC sent me this link.



Kinda' hilarious, huh? I'm not sure I ever thought of it, or noticed it, but it sure made me laugh this morning.

Tim Russert, Mister Rogers & Me

The New York Times just confirmed some sad news: Tim Russert has died of a heart attack.

You'll recall that Chris and I visited Tim in his NBC offices in November, 2006 to interview him for our documentary.

We scored the interview courtesy of my uncle, with whom Tim had worked for years, after I read Tim's wife, Maureen's, remembrance of Mister Rogers in The Nantucket Inquirer-Mirror some months earlier.

It was a cold, drizzly Monday morning as we pulled into NBC's Washington, DC, bureau. Despite a fair dose of preparation, I felt exceedingly nervous. Here I was -- some kid from Iowa -- interviewing on of journalism's foremost interviewers. Worse, it was only Chris and my third shoot, and one that had to take place under challenging circumstances; we had just fifteen minutes to get what we needed.

We were ushered through the lobby by his assistant, Lisa, past the "Meet The Press" set, to a large, off-white, windowless conference room dominated by a huge, oak table. Chris and I quickly conferred on our set up, and tossed up our two lights -- one of which, we discovered, was missing its bulb. Moments before one of the biggest interviews of my life, I dashed through the rain to our car for a replacement.

I was pacing the conference room when Tim finally walked in. I'd asked Chris to roll on our handshake, which he did. He asked about our uncle, asked about the film, made a quick sports reference of some sort (which I probably feigned to understand), then sat down and began mic'ing up like an pro.

I remember noticing some makeup in the corner of his eyes, presumably left over from a previous TV appearance. I led with a question about Nantucket, which threw him a bit. "Is the film about Nantucket? Or FredRogers?" I explained, and we were off.

We talked a while longer than fifteen minutes, moving from his first trip to Nantucket as a college student to meeting Mister and Mrs. Rogers when his son, Luke, was five-years-old. Then I asked about his parents.

Benjamin Wagner: Reading your book, it struck me that your parents and Mister Rogers were somehow on the same page.

Tim Russert: I remember my mom would wake me up every morning she would stand at the foot of the steps and say,"Tim, Tim, Tim." Very soft, sweet voice. But she had a direct frequency to my heart. And it taught me so many lessons which I use every Sunday morning.

You don’t have to be loud for people to pay attention to you. And I think that's something that Mister Rogers taught too. You can walk into a room and be respectful, and be civil, and have very strong views but learn how to disagree agreeably.

And the thing that baffles me about Washington as we sit here and talk is that we all learn these same lessons but somehow people come here and forget them. And I think that the world would be a lot better off and I know that the relations between Congress and the White House would be a lot better of if they remembered and listened to Big Russ and Mister Rogers.

As we wrapped our our interview, I drew a parallel between the two shows, "Meet The Press" and "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood."

BW: "Meet The Press" is the nation's longest running network television program. And "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood" is public television’s longest running program. I wonder if you can draw some meaning or connection from that fact.

TR: Well, they’re both national treasures. I happen to be a temporary custodian. And I think Fred would see himself as a temporary custodian in allowing more and more people to see it as it's replayed and replayed even after his death. And the essence of those programs was to get people of good intentions and open hearts to sit down and talk with one another, and learn from one another.

I've always believed as my mom and dad taught me and as Fred Rogers taught millions of Americans that true quality, true wholesomeness does rise and is embraced and respected.

His warmth, substance, intelligence and humor really shone through in our interview. You can see it in our trailer: his is the first testimonial at roughly 1:10 in.

Just like with Mister Rogers, it seemed like there was a segment of culture that wanted to tear Tim down in some way, whether for being too partisan, or not too partisan enough, or playing some role in the Valerie Plame case, or whatever. I don't really where the truth is on any of that and, to be honest, I don't really care to.

All I know is that this immensely well-connected and busy gentlemen took a half an hour out of his day to talk with a couple of young guys making an independent documentary about something as esoteric as the need for depth and simplicity in modern culture. In addition to contributing a few terrific stories and some great insight to "Mister Rogers & Me," Tim's participation lent an air of legitimacy to the rest of our production.

As I've said before, eulogies are usually hurried and artless. This is surely both.

But it is also well intentioned, full of love, and full of gratitude. I'm so grateful Chris and I met Tim Russert, and spent a little bit of time talking about some pretty important stuff: soft voices, good intentions, and open hearts.