A friend of mine took her Mom to see a taping of 'The Tony Danza Show'. Here's her account of what happened which she's mailing off to the show....
Today, my mother and I planned to see your show. It was a particularly special day for mom, because, at 76, she doesn't come into New York any more, but she's a really big fan of yours -- partly because you grew up in her neighborhood -- so we took vacation days from work, happily anticipating the treat. I'd written for tickets back in January and was so pleased to get the letter and the phone call.
In the letter from your staff was a highlighted line that read, "NO earlier than 11:30, no later than 12:00 noon." When Monica called, she said the same thing -- stressed it, even.
And so we, and a number of other people who were going to your show, waited in Starbucks until 11:15. At 11:15, we thought we might be impolitely early, but we were hoping for good seats. At 11:20, there were already dozens of people on line. Our little Starbucks group was the very last before the rope went up. One is a dialysis nurse who'd just finished a 12-hour shift and brought her 80-year-old mother. Another is a couple who got up at 4:30 this morning and rode in from Allentown, Pennsylvania, on a bus.
Now I was just hoping this was a fairly large studio....
It isn't, though, and after standing around on a grate -- in heels -- for over an hour, watching what seemed like random distribution of little blue numbered tickets (it's probably easier to get into Bungalow 8) and members of your staff who were mainly talking to each other, and who, when they tried to speak to the crowd, were inaudible, we realized that something had gone amiss. After at least another 15 minutes of standing tippy-toed on the grate, I was told -- only when I asked -- that there were no more tickets. Our coffee klatch was turned away by a staff that, while polite, was entirely disinterested in discussing it.
My mom thinks you're wonderful. She watches your show every chance she gets. She and my aunts discuss it at length. They were actually a bit giddy over the whole idea of her getting to see your show. They even collect your clippings, which mom -- in a first (except, I think, for a teenage letter to Frank Sinatra) -- wrote you a little note, with a couple of your own clippings her sister had sent her. You're their good neighborhood Brooklyn boy. I think that's in the note. She gave it to one of your staff when we left. I hope you got it.
These other folks from Starbucks think the world of you, too. While talking to them, it struck me that your fans are really nice people. It's a great thing to be able to have such nice people as fans. They deserved better.