West Side Canvas: When There Were Street-Level Broadcasts on the Upper West Side

By Robert Beck

Every time I pass the ABC building on West 66th, which is presently wrapped in demolition boards and scaffolding, I’m reminded of my very first painting in New York City, done 25 years ago at ABC Studios on Times Square.   

I’m sad to see the UWS building go, with its street-level windows that let people outside see the anchors presenting the news. It was a significant part of the Upper West Side’s identity and self-perceived place in the world.  

The subject of that first New York painting—a live broadcast of Good Morning America, was done, February 2nd, 2000. I was supposed to paint the previous day, but when I arrived at 4 a.m. on the 1st, it was clear something unusual was going on. I stood in the control room looking at the bank of 20-plus monitors, each showing a different clip of a commercial airliner. One screen had a graphic of the Pacific Ocean with a dashed black line that ended in a large red X.

Air Alaska Flight 261 had crashed off California. The staff of ABC News was scrambling. The hosts, Charles Gibson and Diane Sawyer, would largely be extemporizing. I was told I would have to paint the next day—it was just too chaotic—but I got to stay and watch the production unfold from the edges: a marvelous experience.

The next morning was a “normal” day for them, and I began painting around 5:00 in front of the fireplace, the set’s home base for the show. The studio had five sets, and during breaks, the cameras, hosts, and guests would reposition themselves for the next segment by shifting just a few feet. It was engrossing to watch, especially a quarter-century ago, when the networks were king and technology was nothing like it is today.

Just before the show went live, the script was circulated. I looked to see when Charles and Diane would be in the locations I had blocked in. It wasn’t great news. Charles was scheduled to be at the fireplace for five minutes, Diane not at all. There was nothing I could do about that, so I shifted my focus to make the crew dominate. I’d indicate the hosts from my view of another set if I got an opportunity.

An hour later, I had Charlie painted in the chair and the crew silhouetted in place. The floor director came over to me at a break and we talked. She was wearing a bulky sweater and had a lot of communication gear hanging from her belt, and jokingly asked me to take some pounds off her in the painting. I told her I would if she got Diane to sit at the fireplace for three minutes.  

The next break, she walked over to Sawyer, who was studying the script on another set, touched her on the elbow, causing Diane to lift from the seat, and led her a few paces to the fireplace chair. Three minutes later, the director called out, “One minute,” did the elbow touch again, and took Diane back to where she had been sitting when they started. Sawyer never broke concentration. I made good on trimming the sweater.

When the show was over, they recorded a few promos for Good Morning America, the lights came down, cameras were stowed against the wall, and everybody left the studio. Outside the big windows, people streamed along Broadway. I packed my kit and joined them.

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See more of Robert Beck’s work and visit his UWS studio at www.robertbeck.net. Let him know if you have a connection to an archetypical UWS place or event that would make a good West Side Canvas subject. Thank you!

Note: Before Robert Beck started West Side Canvas, his essays and paintings were featured in Weekend Column. See Robert Beck’s earlier columns here and here.

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