Robert Osborne at home
Posted: January 27th, 2010, 10:49 pm
"A Home Destined by the Stars" by Joanne Kaufman from the New York Times is from almost four years ago, but I just came across it, thanks to a generous blogger at Midnite at Sunset and Vine. Robert Osborne has a home (that really looks like a home) in New York City. I think that you might enjoy it too. Don't miss the Multimedia show that goes with this. It may require you to register there to see the general coziness of the place so I'll include the text below with the link to the original, (registering at the NY Times is simple and doesn't cost anything...for now). I'm not big on invasions of privacy, but Mr. O. seemed to be inviting us in, so here goes.
The original story is at http://www.nytimes.com/2006/05/21/reale ... .html?_r=1
Habitats | The Osborne, on 57th Street
A Home Destined by the Stars
By JOANNE KAUFMAN
ROBERT OSBORNE, the genial host of Turner Classic Movies, lives at the Osborne; in fact, he has three apartments there. It is a situation that appears to have been fated by the stars — and not the celestial sort.
"I was interested that there was a building called the Osborne spelled the same way I spell my name," said Mr. Osborne, who is in his mid-60's ("My age and my phone number are both unlisted," is his standard line) and who first became aware of the Osborne, a Renaissance Revival building on 57th Street just off Seventh Avenue while reading Rosalind's Russell's autobiography, "Life is a Banquet."
Russell, he recounts, went to Leonard Bernstein's office at the Osborne to sing for the composer before being cast in his 1953 musical "Wonderful Town."
It makes perfect sense that Mr. Osborne would make hay of real estate information from a movie star's memoir; his whole life has been shaped by people whose names tended to appear above the title.
Growing up in Colfax, Wash., a farming town, he spent every Saturday afternoon at the movies. "I'd see Clifton Webb and Gene Tierney in 'Laura' and Bette Davis in 'All About Eve,' " Mr. Osborne recalled. "And I'd think, 'Those people are so much more interesting than what I'm living around in this town.' "
But it was Lucille Ball who helped shape his destiny as a movie expert extraordinaire. As a struggling young actor (he appeared in some television westerns and comedies, including the pilot of "The Beverly Hillbillies"), Mr. Osborne was under contract at Desilu, the studio founded by Ball and Desi Arnaz. "She was kind of impressed because I had gone to college," he said. "She took me under her wing and said: 'You come from a nice middle-class family. You've studied journalism. We have enough actors already; we don't have writers. Write a book.' So I did."
The result, a short history of the Oscars, "Academy Awards Illustrated," subsequently led to jobs as an entertainment reporter for television stations in Los Angeles and New York, and then, in 1994, to the job at Turner Classic Movies.
Mr. Osborne, who still owns a sunny apartment in Los Angeles, was after a completely different feel for his place in New York. "I wanted something that looked like a gentlemen's club," he said. "I wanted something that felt old and stable."
That gentlemen's club would require a severely limited membership. Much of the visual space in Mr. Osborne's 650-square-foot apartment is vertical; there are 15-foot ceilings. Two sets of windows line the southern wall of the living room; the top panes are Tiffany glass "installed by the original Mr. Tiffany," he said. The bottom ones are fronted by mahogany Venetian blinds.
In fact, mahogany is something of a theme here, as is the small collection of objects dating from 1885, among them a pair of whaling lamps and a ceramic figurine from a carousel — Mr. Osborne's way of tying in interior decoration with the year of the Osborne's construction. The mosaic parquet floor is inlaid mahogany. The pocket doors separating the snug bedroom from the rest of the apartment are mahogany paneled.
Guests (Shirley Temple Black, Jane Powell, Dickie Moore and Stephen Sondheim) can perch on the leather couch or one of the green-painted wood chairs that ring the coffee table and get a great view of the display case housing Mr. Osborne's memorabilia: a heart-shaped pin cushion from one of Elizabeth Taylor's birthday parties; ashtrays from the Brown Derby, the Copacabana and the Stork Club; two Golden Globe awards and a Tony award given to him by friends; a wooden box etched with the words "Frank Sinatra" that once held a bottle of liquor, a thank you gift from Ol' Blue Eyes. Most precious is the Sarah Siddons statuette — fans will remember it from the awards ceremony scene in the movie "All About Eve" — handed off to Mr. Osborne by his late friend Bette Davis, the star of the movie.
In a corner near the bedroom is another present from Davis: a flowered screen painted by her mother. An armchair holds a needlepoint pillow — "In the cookies of life friends are the chocolate chips" — that was a gift from his buddy Roddy McDowall. So was a rifle in the foyer, a prop used in "Planet of the Apes."
Mr. Osborne's first brush with the building came in 1978, when he was in town from Los Angeles to review a movie for The Hollywood Reporter. He happened to be across the street from the building on the day the actor Gig Young, a resident, fatally shot his wife of three weeks, then turned the gun on himself. A decade later, when Mr. Osborne began appearing daily as an entertainment reporter on the "CBS Morning News," he said, "I realized I wanted to stay in New York and started looking for a place."
The search had been going on for a year when Mr. Osborne made a brief trip home to Los Angeles. His plans included dinner with his friend Carol Burnett, who had been collecting mail for an absent neighbor. "The woman had just gotten back, and she told me she had a friend who was getting a divorce and was selling his apartment in the Osborne and that it might be right for me," Mr. Osborne recalled. "I came and looked at it, and that was it."
But just to be certain, Bette Davis came along on one visit to eyeball the spread, too. "I hadn't thought to tell the owner that I was bringing her by, and his reaction was hysterical," said Mr. Osborne, who bought the co-op unit in 1988 for around $500,000.
"Bette loved the apartment," he continued. "I remember when I was showing her the kitchen I was apologizing because it was so small and she said: 'It's supposed to be small. It's a New York apartment.' "
In any case, Mr. Osborne also has the use of a kitchenette in his office, one of his two other holdings in the building. It was once Leonard Bernstein's composing room, the very place Russell auditioned for the maestro. "A few years after I moved in, I found out his estate was selling it at the insider price, which was ridiculously low," around $300,000, Mr. Osborne said.
The demands on Mr. Osborne's time — a weekly column for the international edition of The Hollywood Reporter, the 150 movie lead-ins he must write and record every month for TCM, the update he's doing on his book "75 Years of the Oscar" — explain the cluttered desk in his office and the pictures that have yet to be hung.
They also explain the unmade bed in the first-floor studio apartment that Mr. Osborne uses as a billet for guests and that features posters from New York-themed movies like "Up in Central Park."
Just back from Los Angeles and saddling up for a week of TCM tapings in Atlanta, Mr. Osborne settles into a corner of his couch. There are stacks of CD's in the bedroom, but they rarely get played; when he's home, he wants quiet. When he's out, he must frequently contend with folks eager to show him up. "Oh, I'll bet I know a movie you've never heard of," a fellow party guest recently challenged Mr. Osborne. " 'Where the Sidewalk Ends.' "
"Well," Mr. Osborne replied. "Do you want me to tell you who's in it in order of their billing or would you rather I tell you what theater it played in New York and for how long?"
"I just have that kind of mind," he said. "But if someone asks me what time it is on the clock in 'Gone With the Wind' when Rhett Butler carries Scarlett up the stairs, sorry, I don't know."
The original story is at http://www.nytimes.com/2006/05/21/reale ... .html?_r=1
Habitats | The Osborne, on 57th Street
A Home Destined by the Stars
By JOANNE KAUFMAN
ROBERT OSBORNE, the genial host of Turner Classic Movies, lives at the Osborne; in fact, he has three apartments there. It is a situation that appears to have been fated by the stars — and not the celestial sort.
"I was interested that there was a building called the Osborne spelled the same way I spell my name," said Mr. Osborne, who is in his mid-60's ("My age and my phone number are both unlisted," is his standard line) and who first became aware of the Osborne, a Renaissance Revival building on 57th Street just off Seventh Avenue while reading Rosalind's Russell's autobiography, "Life is a Banquet."
Russell, he recounts, went to Leonard Bernstein's office at the Osborne to sing for the composer before being cast in his 1953 musical "Wonderful Town."
It makes perfect sense that Mr. Osborne would make hay of real estate information from a movie star's memoir; his whole life has been shaped by people whose names tended to appear above the title.
Growing up in Colfax, Wash., a farming town, he spent every Saturday afternoon at the movies. "I'd see Clifton Webb and Gene Tierney in 'Laura' and Bette Davis in 'All About Eve,' " Mr. Osborne recalled. "And I'd think, 'Those people are so much more interesting than what I'm living around in this town.' "
But it was Lucille Ball who helped shape his destiny as a movie expert extraordinaire. As a struggling young actor (he appeared in some television westerns and comedies, including the pilot of "The Beverly Hillbillies"), Mr. Osborne was under contract at Desilu, the studio founded by Ball and Desi Arnaz. "She was kind of impressed because I had gone to college," he said. "She took me under her wing and said: 'You come from a nice middle-class family. You've studied journalism. We have enough actors already; we don't have writers. Write a book.' So I did."
The result, a short history of the Oscars, "Academy Awards Illustrated," subsequently led to jobs as an entertainment reporter for television stations in Los Angeles and New York, and then, in 1994, to the job at Turner Classic Movies.
Mr. Osborne, who still owns a sunny apartment in Los Angeles, was after a completely different feel for his place in New York. "I wanted something that looked like a gentlemen's club," he said. "I wanted something that felt old and stable."
That gentlemen's club would require a severely limited membership. Much of the visual space in Mr. Osborne's 650-square-foot apartment is vertical; there are 15-foot ceilings. Two sets of windows line the southern wall of the living room; the top panes are Tiffany glass "installed by the original Mr. Tiffany," he said. The bottom ones are fronted by mahogany Venetian blinds.
In fact, mahogany is something of a theme here, as is the small collection of objects dating from 1885, among them a pair of whaling lamps and a ceramic figurine from a carousel — Mr. Osborne's way of tying in interior decoration with the year of the Osborne's construction. The mosaic parquet floor is inlaid mahogany. The pocket doors separating the snug bedroom from the rest of the apartment are mahogany paneled.
Guests (Shirley Temple Black, Jane Powell, Dickie Moore and Stephen Sondheim) can perch on the leather couch or one of the green-painted wood chairs that ring the coffee table and get a great view of the display case housing Mr. Osborne's memorabilia: a heart-shaped pin cushion from one of Elizabeth Taylor's birthday parties; ashtrays from the Brown Derby, the Copacabana and the Stork Club; two Golden Globe awards and a Tony award given to him by friends; a wooden box etched with the words "Frank Sinatra" that once held a bottle of liquor, a thank you gift from Ol' Blue Eyes. Most precious is the Sarah Siddons statuette — fans will remember it from the awards ceremony scene in the movie "All About Eve" — handed off to Mr. Osborne by his late friend Bette Davis, the star of the movie.
In a corner near the bedroom is another present from Davis: a flowered screen painted by her mother. An armchair holds a needlepoint pillow — "In the cookies of life friends are the chocolate chips" — that was a gift from his buddy Roddy McDowall. So was a rifle in the foyer, a prop used in "Planet of the Apes."
Mr. Osborne's first brush with the building came in 1978, when he was in town from Los Angeles to review a movie for The Hollywood Reporter. He happened to be across the street from the building on the day the actor Gig Young, a resident, fatally shot his wife of three weeks, then turned the gun on himself. A decade later, when Mr. Osborne began appearing daily as an entertainment reporter on the "CBS Morning News," he said, "I realized I wanted to stay in New York and started looking for a place."
The search had been going on for a year when Mr. Osborne made a brief trip home to Los Angeles. His plans included dinner with his friend Carol Burnett, who had been collecting mail for an absent neighbor. "The woman had just gotten back, and she told me she had a friend who was getting a divorce and was selling his apartment in the Osborne and that it might be right for me," Mr. Osborne recalled. "I came and looked at it, and that was it."
But just to be certain, Bette Davis came along on one visit to eyeball the spread, too. "I hadn't thought to tell the owner that I was bringing her by, and his reaction was hysterical," said Mr. Osborne, who bought the co-op unit in 1988 for around $500,000.
"Bette loved the apartment," he continued. "I remember when I was showing her the kitchen I was apologizing because it was so small and she said: 'It's supposed to be small. It's a New York apartment.' "
In any case, Mr. Osborne also has the use of a kitchenette in his office, one of his two other holdings in the building. It was once Leonard Bernstein's composing room, the very place Russell auditioned for the maestro. "A few years after I moved in, I found out his estate was selling it at the insider price, which was ridiculously low," around $300,000, Mr. Osborne said.
The demands on Mr. Osborne's time — a weekly column for the international edition of The Hollywood Reporter, the 150 movie lead-ins he must write and record every month for TCM, the update he's doing on his book "75 Years of the Oscar" — explain the cluttered desk in his office and the pictures that have yet to be hung.
They also explain the unmade bed in the first-floor studio apartment that Mr. Osborne uses as a billet for guests and that features posters from New York-themed movies like "Up in Central Park."
Just back from Los Angeles and saddling up for a week of TCM tapings in Atlanta, Mr. Osborne settles into a corner of his couch. There are stacks of CD's in the bedroom, but they rarely get played; when he's home, he wants quiet. When he's out, he must frequently contend with folks eager to show him up. "Oh, I'll bet I know a movie you've never heard of," a fellow party guest recently challenged Mr. Osborne. " 'Where the Sidewalk Ends.' "
"Well," Mr. Osborne replied. "Do you want me to tell you who's in it in order of their billing or would you rather I tell you what theater it played in New York and for how long?"
"I just have that kind of mind," he said. "But if someone asks me what time it is on the clock in 'Gone With the Wind' when Rhett Butler carries Scarlett up the stairs, sorry, I don't know."