Local Show, National Prestige
On Nov. 20, local radio-production renaissance man Matthew Cowley won an Award of Distinction for Writing in the nationwide Communicator Awards competition for his Sixty Second Radio Hour series.The brief, unpredictable show has aired courtesy of WMNF-88.5 FM's Soundstage audio theater program for about a year now. Cowley was also presented with a Gold World Medal for Best Comedy Series this year from the International Radio Awards.
"It's kind of a series of unrelated short stories or slam plays," says Cowley. "Very quick audio movies, in a way."
Cowley writes, produces, acts in and creates music for the series, which, like most of the 4-year-old Soundstage's programming, also features other members of the project, local actors and students. Luminaries such as Firesign Theatre's David Osmond and Second City's Dick Schall have made appearances too.
While most radio-theater programs rely on either a connective story arc or multi-scene "sketch comedy" format, Sixty Second Radio Hour episodes need not relate to one another in the least.
"It's both easier and harder," Cowley says. "I don't have a continuing story to rest on. But on the other hand, I can try all sorts of things and don't have to support any kind of long story ideas. If it will hold up for a minute, that's all I need."
The writer credits some of the program's success to WMNF's willingness to let him screw around with the conventions of an entertainment form many see as dated at best, and a one-trick pony at worst.
"WMNF is kind of rare in showing a commitment to radio theater — most people think of the old-time stuff, The Shadow, genre spoofs. But they've been really supportive of contemporary audio theater of all kinds. I think it shows the viability of it, that it gets a response for folks."
Sixty Second Radio Hour airs on WMNF on Tuesdays at 8:10 a.m. and 5:10 p.m., and on Saturdays at 3 p.m. For more information on it and the station's Soundstage project in general, check out http://www.wmnf.org/soundstage. shtml.—Scott Harrell
Backpack Benevolence
Once again, the season of rampant consumerism and a fictional fat man has arrived. Once again, many citizens of the world's wealthiest nation can only sing along with pronouncements that "'Tis the season to be jolly" with a sense of grim irony.The organizers of the Backpack Project are hoping to change that a little by providing homeless men and women with backpacks containing items that will keep them clean and dry during the chilly winter months.
The project began officially two years ago when The Tampa Tribune featured a profile of Michael Bennett, a VA employee who had experienced the horrors of homelessness firsthand. Once he was back on his feet, Bennett and his wife began distributing backpacks to homeless men and women in Tampa. The 'packs contained items Bennett knew made homelessness slightly easier to bear. After the profile ran, the couple received donations of 315 backpacks and the Backpack Project was formally born.
Bennett has since moved away. But Alison Weber, who met Bennett in 2000, has kept the project alive. However, without the media blitz of 2000, the number of backpacks handed out has dwindled. Last year, the organization was able to give out only 150 packs. So far, there are only eight packs to give out this year.
Weber is accepting donations of backpacks or any of other items that are included in them. The backpacks contain basic toiletries, a sweatshirt (size extra-large), socks, hat, rain poncho, flashlight with batteries, water bottle, can opener, pocket knife, Ziploc bags, nonperishable food items, plastic utensils, Band-Aids, bug repellent, lip balm, prepaid calling cards, gift certificates to a fast-food restaurant, and a radio with headphones and batteries.
"Believe it or not, it fits in a backpack," said Weber.
While Weber will take whatever anyone is willing to donate, backpacks are preferred over duffel bags, she said. The duffel bags have to be set down and can be stolen more easily.
The goal is to give away 250 packs on Dec. 22. With less than a month to go, donations are needed fast.
"We have a pretty good supply of the basic toiletries right now, but as far as ponchos, sweatshirts, socks — we don't have any of that extra," said Weber.
Volunteers are also needed to help distribute the packs. Anyone interested in helping can contact Weber at 813-620-4475. Donations may be dropped off at A Ability Medical, 4010 E. Hillsborough Ave., Tampa.—Rochelle Renford Wanted: Talking Head
South Florida celebrity Hunter Reno will not be the host of New Florida when it launches as a statewide newsmagazine next month.Reno and Miami's WPBT-Ch. 2, producer of the newsmagazine, could not agree on terms to renew her contract.
New Florida has aired for 12 years on WPBT as a newsmagazine focusing on South Florida. Starting Jan. 9, the news program will broadcast statewide through a cooperative of eight Florida PBS stations, including Tampa's WEDU-Ch. 3 (see "Lights, Camera, News," www.weeklyplanet.com/ 2002-11-13/news_feature.html).
WEDU will contribute a weekly news segment to the expanded program.
The niece of former U.S. Attorney General and gubernatorial hopeful Janet Reno, Hunter Reno, formerly hosted the Travel Channel's Exotic Islands and Oxygen Media's Oxygen Sports. Her departure from the show comes as a surprise to the staff of WPBT, said spokeswoman Jody Rafkind.
WPBT plans to announce a replacement host for New Florida later this month.—Trevor Aaronson
Get Naked
The Tampa Area Naturists, a nonprofit organization advocating the creation of a clothing-optional beach in the Bay area, wants your help — even if you're one of those prudes who prefers the loincloth.In April, TAN attempted to persuade the Pinellas County commissioners to designate an isolated patch of Fort De Soto Beach as clothing optional. Citing Miami's Haulover Beach, the group told commissioners that a nude beach could generate $1-million in user fees.
But $1-million wasn't enough to blind commissioners to the thought of swinging genitals and undulating mammary glands. None of the commissioners warmed to the idea, and conservative Commissioner John Morroni made his stance clear: Keep the clothes on, you freaky exhibitionists.
TAN had hoped Democrat Dave Buby, who had seemed willing to support the nude beach, would oust Morroni in the November election and then lead a nudity charge at the commission. When Pinellas voters re-elected Morroni by a wide margin, TAN took its campaign to the streets.
Last month, TAN launched a bumper-sticker campaign that the group hopes will garner pubic — er, public (typo … really) — support for the clothing-optional beach.
"We don't think we've got much chance of getting it passed with the County Commission as they are unless we get the population behind us," said TAN Director Will Perras.
TAN would like the county to set aside a quarter-mile or less for nude bathers. A series of signs would prevent people from stumbling onto the beach by accident, according to the group's proposal.
Nude bathers have long used a stretch of sand on the northern part of Fort De Soto Beach that becomes an island at high tide. "It's fine as an isolated skinny-dipping beach, but it's not what we're looking for, which is a European-style clothing-optional beach," Perras said.
If Pinellas commissioners designate a beach for nudists, it won't be the first time they've given a patch of sand to a special-interest group. "Dogs have a beach at Fort De Soto," Perras said. "If the dogs can have one, why can't we?"
For more information on TAN's campaign for a nude beach at Fort De Soto, visit www.tanfl.com.—Trevor Aaronson
Rocky and Bullwinkle
Until a few months ago, Hillsborough County Sheriff's Maj. Rene "Rocky" Rodriguez was only a curiosity to G-men and news reporters.The second group wondered if Rodriguez, whose main claim to his lofty rank seemed to be an ability to raise tons of cash for political campaigns, took orders from Sheriff Cal Henderson — or was it was the other way around?
Henderson pulled a rabbit out of his hat last month by deciding his internal-affairs sleuths needn't trouble themselves with Rocky's recent misadventures.
Rocky has become a household name hereabouts. Earlier that week, he got caught in a columnist sandwich, squeezed by the St. Petersburg Times' Mary Jo Melone one day and The Tampa Tribune's Dan Ruth the next.
Rodriguez didn't deserve to be treated like a common perp, according to the criminal defense lawyer hired by the sheriff's major initially to explain how he came to be the target of a loan-sharking investigation.
Norman Cannella's story — and he's sticking to it — was that his client got taken while investing $24,000 in a business venture to corner the market in potted plants, or something horticultural. Why Rodriguez's investment came in the form of two checks made out to cash, Cannella couldn't say.
The FBI, apparently flipping a former business partner of reputed Trafficante crime family boss Vincent LoScalzo, sent the guy to see Rodriguez with a $5,000 loan repayment on behalf of the flower schemer. Perhaps tipped off, Rocky refused the dough and dispatched 10 — count 'em, 10 — deputies after LoScalzo's ex-partner.
Trying to top the flower show, Rodriguez next made the papers Nov. 14 when they reported that he had insisted on flying with four other sheriff's employees to pick up a new helicopter in Texas.
On the way back to Tampa, bad weather supposedly forced the crew to divert to a Mississippi airport, within driving distance of a Gulf Coast casino-hotel. Rodriguez was said to have been a good scout and went right to bed at the Beau Rivage. Uh-huh.
The casino story got better when the hotel comped Rocky's room. Hey, don't casinos only extend that courtesy to guests who gamble a lot with them? Oh, never mind.
At most cop shops, the alarm bells in IA would be deafening after these fairy tales. For all we know, they may have been at the Hillsborough SO. But, if you've got the biggest five-pointed star in the place looking out for you, who has to worry about IA?
Henderson, before giving Rocky IA-immunity and an oral reprimand, couldn't quite make up his mind.
"Everything looks legitimate," the sheriff told the Times Nov. 14. "It was nothing out of the ordinary except that it was in a gambling place."
The next day, though, Henderson was telling the Tribune: "Stopping at a gambling casino, whether they gambled or not, [was something] that citizens don't expect us to do."
By the time the guffaws died down at breakfast tables around Tampa Bay, citizens had already lowered their expectations for this sheriff and his merry men.—Francis X. Gilpin
This article appears in Dec 4-10, 2002.