The war on journalistic women continues:
Katie Couric gone from “Today” to yesterday, Ann Curry in tears, empress Barbara Walters retired, my longtime colleague Sue Simmons out of WNBC, the Times’ Jill Abramson we know about, now radio’s Joan Hamburg — sayonara.
A voice heard 35 years, Matrix awardee, Hall of Fame Broadcaster, New Yorker of the Year, a Sardi’s portrait, a book coming out, more trophies than Meryl Streep, Thursday — with no advance hint — was Joan’s last day on WOR.
A pro, too classy to complain, this lady won’t diss the station. She says, “If they want new merchandise . . . it’s their candy store.” So, me, I’m saying their execution reeked of Guantanamo’s finishing school. What happened was:
“In my office just before airtime I noticed the human resources person you see before ‘OMG, somebody’s getting fired.’ My phone rang with ‘The program director wants to see you.’ She’s with the program director. Holding a large envelope. I’m told only: ‘They’re changing programming. Your position’s been eliminated.’
“Unprepared and due at my mike in minutes, I said: ‘You’ll explain when I’m off the air.’ Like I’m some clerk from somewhere, they answered: ‘No. Leave now. You can’t go on the air.’ Excuse me? Pushed out? No goodbye to my audience of 35 years?’ It was, ‘No. No farewell.’
“Three boxes of belongings plus my computer arrived at my home immediately.”
Nice programming’s gone out with the word “decency.” The station owns Rush Limbaugh and Sean Hannity. It’s trash-talk time. Dog eat pig.
And Joan’s replacement? Infomercials. Paid ads pushing vitamins, legal firms. Joan Hamburg being aced out for dog trainers teaching a poodle to pee.
I know she’s received offers, so she’ll soon make an announcement. I also now know what WOR stands for. With Out Respect.
She’s always close to good things
Glenn Close. Tomorrow, Sundance’s Vanguard Leadership Award. Next, out with Kathy Bates, Danny Glover, Julia Stiles in “The Great Gilly Hopkins” about a book thief. Coming up — Broadway.
“ ‘A Delicate Balance,’ which I saw in ’66 with Jessica Tandy and Hume Cronyn. The ’96 revival had Elaine Stritch and George Grizzard. It’s about a family, which all great plays are. Scott Rudin’s producing; Santo Loquasto’s doing sets.
“I’m working on the words. Albee’s precise syntax. Walking, I’m learning the lines. It’s exciting. Not just a musical, something meaty, and with a great cast — John Lithgow, Bob Balaban. Also, I never played the intimate John Golden before.
“My last play, ‘Sunset Boulevard,’ was 20 years ago. My daughter, 26, was then 6. I’m training to be strong. Emotional theater’s about muscles. I’m on a gluten-free, no-sugar diet. And daily exercises.”
Will Glenn ever do a play about mental illness and her sister? “I don’t know . . . It’s taken courage to speak about it, but I’m glad she wants to travel here from Montana for the opening . . . Seems plays are often about families where one has some form of mental drama.”
Odds & Ends
Bond 45, the theater restaurant, offering a meringue cake taller than Tommy Tune. He ate five inches worth.
Jimmy Fallon inhaling lunch at East Hampton’s Bostwick’s fish joint.
B’way’s “Casa Valentina” by Harvey Fierstein a worthy night of stagecraft. Transvestites, a first such theatricalized subject.
VIP foot specialist Dr. Rock Positano: “New York’s the only city where dancers get advice from trainers and masseurs.”
Park Avenue types talking: “Washingtonians should play a game. Tie one end of a rubber band to a limo’s rear axle and the other end to Obama’s tongue — then ask him how great he is.”
Only in New York, kids, only in New York.