
Timothy Noah chatted with readers about The Sopranos on June 7. Read the transcript here.
It's funny—I've spent 25 years or so working in my chosen profession. I've done some work I'm proud of, I have the job I always dreamed of having, I've received a few awards (details of my full life and many accomplishments—along with some great rib-eye recipes from your favorite NBC News personalities—are available on our Web site, where you can catch my daily blog), I've traveled the world, been shot at a few times, and have seen Donald Trump's hair up close. Then, a few weeks ago, along comes an invitation to join in on a little conversation among friends—about a show I love. Somebody had told somebody who told Goldberg that I was a fan of the show. Goldberg asked. I said yes.
Later, when I learned that my role was to go third in the batting order, to clean up whatever hadn't been touched on in the first two postings by Noah and Goldberg, I didn't mind, I didn't complain. I just told myself: This is the business we've chosen. When my public role as a network anchor prevented me from taking on the glaringly obvious in the last episode—some really good off-color material about Flatbush Bikini Waxing—again I told myself: Let it go, it's only business.
When I learned they were bringing in a new guy this week, a writer from the show, I knew that would mean less material for me. But when he turned up, I let it go.
So now I'm faced with a choice: either mope around like I'm persona au gratin, or find something useful from that great episode that hasn't been talked about yet by the dozen or so guys I'm now competing against for attention.
To wit: What's the deal with the red side of the electric shoe buffer? I get the black side, everybody does. But when I saw Sil (in one of his last acts while standing) using the red side on his white vinyl kicks, it got me thinking. I always figured that even cordovan was a stretch for the red side—hell, I was 20 or 21 before I even learned what cordovan was—but white shoes exposed to that red fuzz at such a dizzyingly high rpm? You don't know who's used the red side before you. Or for what. And mob shoes? You don't know where they've been. What does Paulie do to keep his so shiny and fresh-looking? We know he has a shading hierarchy in his California Closet—we remember him packing for Florida. He brought the "first-run" pair, and the necessary backups. Just in case. You can't have too many.
So that's all I've got. It's not like there was a lot of material left to work with. Now, I wait. Later I may go to the newsroom. I'll try to keep my head up around my co-workers and pretend everything's fine. I will read the comments and scoff at the conspiracy theories. Will I appear in this crowded space again? Right now, I'm going to take a nap. When I wake, if there's an e-mail from Goldberg or Noah inviting me to write about the last episode, I'll know I have a partner. If there isn't, I'll know I won't.
Brian













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Remarks from the Fray Editor:
As a basic cable slum-dweller, the Fray Editor has been following the discussion of The Sopranos with admiration and envy. The passion, erudition, and insight of the show's fans—Slate's commentators and Fraysters alike—proves the case that this series is not to be missed. Below, Fray poster lucabrasi considers how the 6.5 season story arc has led the show inevitably to the present moment.
May this weekend's finale exceed your wildest expectations. My prediction? Paulie Walnuts in the Bing with a shoe buffer.—G.A.
Remarks from the Fray:
I must salute the excellent close of the mob wars arc that started way back in Season One.
Looking back from today, with Tony's Jersey crime family indeed looking like a "glorified crew" in the eyes of New York, one can see it, almost clearly:
Season One: Tony's issues were of ascension in that smallish Jersey family. Jackie Sr. was dying; Uncle Junior was the designated "front don," and yet bitter enough about Tony's power to use Livia's ambiguous directives to hit Tony. Didn't work. Junior was exiled and took on Federal heat; Tony had the others killed.
Season Two: Richie Aprile gets out of prison. A theme begins: guys out of prison resent Tony, who never served. But Richie, too, is "local Jersey trouble." His escalating conflict with Tony is going to be dealt with rather easily -- Tony wants Richie hit, but Janice delivers a dose of even MORE "local" justice.
Meanwhile, I think NYC underboss Johnny Sack turns up living in Jersey, but promising Tony "I don't want to wet my beak."
The main NYC Don is Carmine Sr, an old school guy. Tony can deal with Carmine Sr, but Sack starts getting that lean and hungry look...
Seasons Three and Four: Other issues are on the table (Jackie Jr., Tony and Carm's marriage), but Tony's adversaries are manageable: made guy Ralphie and the ever-more-ambitious and angry Sack. Ralphie is eliminated, quietly (if NYC ever finds out...). Sack wants Tony to hit Old Man Carmine; Tony pulls out at the last moment. Sack looks to be vengeful.
Season Five: The big trouble all starts here, with the release of the "Class of '84". It's like four Richie Apriles. Tony has a lotta plates to spin: an old-timer named Feech who wants it all, locally, Tony's cousin Tony B, the "Rockford Guy" (Joe Santos) who Tony B idolizes as a father, and a real hothead named Phil Leotardo.
Carmine Sr. croaks. Phil joins with Sack against Little Carmine, Tony B joins with the Rockford Guy and Rusty in backing Little Carmine's play. Tony elects to back off and see how Jersey can benefit from the ensuing bloodshed, of which there is a lot.
During all this, two little matters occur: Seeking owed cash, Tony subjects Phil Leotardo to a body-breaking car crash and beats up Phil at the accident site as a "throw-in." Tony B kills Phil's brother Billy Leotardo.
In retrospect, these last two actions were perhaps...unfortunate.
Sack and Phil kill more guys than Little Carmine's team. Little caves ("It's a stagmire.") Sack ascends to Donhood. Tony can deal with Sack (having killed Tony B as a burnt offering), and Sack will stave off the still vengeful Phil Leotardo.
But right at the end of Season Five, the Feds nab Sack. Go directly to jail.
Season 6A: Sack's in prison, but the putative boss, with Phil fronting him on the outside. Tony's shot for a few episodes. The "gay Vito issue" gives Phil new reason for putting the pressure on Tony's Jersey boys. With Sack losing power by the day, Phil contemplates his rages against Tony: getting beaten up by Tony, paying money to Tony, brother killed by the cousin of Tony, gay Vito protected by Tony. Phil has a heart attack to match Tony's gutshot. Things seem peaceful between these two wounded warriors. But this guy Butch turns up, taunting Tony.
Season 6B. Tony's luck with New York runs out, via a series of crap outs: Sack dies of cancer; Doc kills Gerry; Phil kills Doc.. Phil is "the big boss man," finally, and the worst possible New York Don Tony Soprano could face. Filled with jailhouse vengeance and itching to consolidate power, Phil pushes Tony too far (with the sexual insult of Coco towards Meadow, ultimately). Tony retaliates (curbing); Phil says "there's nothing left to talk about," and here we are.
Now, I' m not sure how much of that was plotted early on by Chase and Company, but looking back on it, you see how this final, fatal gang war was literally years in the making. Tony Soprano fended off Jersey threats (Junior, Richie), kept the peace with Carmine Sr, dangerously dueled with Sack (the longest of Tony's strategic encounters), sat out the gang war to replace Carmine Sr...and ended up on the wrong end of Phil's bloody ascension to the throne of the New York Family.
Where things are now is where they HAVE to be. Inevitability.
--lucabrasi
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