. Here Comes the Neighborhood I would enjoy watch…

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Here Comes the Neighborhood

I would enjoy watching the Sopranos even if they didn’t film it on my street.

Friends, I have the dubious honor of living in the clenched fist of North Jersey municipalities known as The Caldwells. Tony Soprano lives in North Caldwell, I live in just plain Caldwell. Or, as I call it, Stone Caldwell. Some residents call it Call’well. Some prefer Caw’dwell. Doesn’t matter.

Unless you’re Steve Buscemi in season 5. He beat the crap out of a guy for constantly saying “Wes’ Call’well.” That was cold. And to think–the Buscemi character lived right across the street and down two doors in Anne’s basement.

Most people in Essex, Hudson, and Bergen Counties have had at least 15 minutes of Soprano fame. My neighborhood? We got two days. Here’s what happened

David Chase, the creator and producer of the show, came knocking a few years ago, in person, at my neighbor’s door. Chase, who grew up in North Caldwell, explained that he had played in a rock and roll band in the basement of my neighbor’s home when he was in high school in the 1960s. He asked if the family would be willing to let HBO film at the house for the upcoming season. My neighbor said no—they were in the middle of a family situation that wouldn’t permit the disruption.

Chase went down the street and knocked at Anne’s door. Anne, an older Italian woman who didn’t know the Sopranos from the Ippolito’s, told him to get lost. Anne’s next door neighbor was on hand, however, to whisper in Anne’s ear about how the deal would probably work. The neighbor was right, and the deal went down. Steve Buscemi would be moving into the basement.

It seemed perfect. Only a few weeks earlier I had walked the block with my daughter to deliver Girl Scout cookies. It was the first time I was ever inside Anne’s house, and I was immediately impressed with how her home exuded an aura of the Italian American aunt. Having grown up in Northern New Jersey, I’m very comfortable in such living rooms. When I heard that Chase signed with Anne, I was not surprised. He’s shown he has a good eye for location.

Now, having worked in New York City for two decades, I have traversed my share of shoots—streets taken over by film crews. In fact, movie and television production crews are working a lot more in the suburbs of New York these days. I know what it’s about. Locals get all excited for about two hours, after which they feel like they are living under military occupation. Well, when the Sopranos moved in, they came with enough equipment for five shoots. I remember driving home one night and seeing 18-wheel trucks in front of every house on the block. I thought, “Good! Everybody’s moving!” Then I remembered it was shoot-day for the Sopranos. Not only were there a lot of trucks, there were also hundreds of people, many of whom–I’ll never understand why—had set about immediately taking everything Anne owned out of the first floor rooms, putting it all on one of the trucks. They then refurnished these rooms with much less authentic items.

This happened on two days, months apart from each other. Most of the filming went on while I was at work. When I got home the first night, my wife reported seeing the squinting, haunted visage of Buscemi as he leaned out of Anne’s front door. The whole neighborhood stood by, I am told, and watched as the crew repeatedly filmed James Gandolfini—Tony–walking up to the door with a rope in his hand. Even off camera, Gandolfini had a rope in his hand. Someone asked about this—apparently it’s a stress management thing. Like worry beads. Everyone agreed, “Hey, he needs rope? Give him rope, no problem.”

Despite everything you’ve read about certain actors’ attitudes during contract negotiations, etc., all of the cast were extremely friendly to the people on the street. My little one, Lydia, was beaming when I got home from work one night because she had gotten an autograph from a man. “What’s the man’s name?” I asked. “Mr. Candle-Feeny.” Brushes with big stars are old hat for us, though. Several years earlier when they were filming One True Thing in Maplewood, our former home town, my daughter Emily was rounded up with other local kids to be an extra in a Halloween party scene. She was about eight years old. “So, Emily, what was Meryl Streep like?” I asked. “Like any other old lady,” said the jaded Emily, up $90.00 for a day’s work wearing a sheet.

I have to say it was a little disappointing when, by my count, less than five minutes from these two extravagant filming days made it onto the TV screen. There was no scene with Tony going into the house with a rope. That’s Hollywood.

Well, the Sopranos will be back on Sunday night, and no kids better bother me starting at 9 o’clock, you got that? And here’s a spoiler alert for those of you renters who haven’t caught up with last season—stop reading NOW. Anne’s house was put back in order and left that way three years ago. No more creepy TV neighbor (though the TV neighbors are not the ones that worry me).

And if anybody’s interested I can show you where Silvio whacked Adriana.

Yo, Paulie!
Vanx