Family & Relationships
The story of one of the most important and beloved shows on television—how it got started, nearly failed, and was saved by Elmo.
When the first episode aired on November 10, 1969, "Sesame Street" revolutionized the way education was presented to children on television. It has since become the longest-running children's show in history, and today reaches 8 million preschoolers on 350 PBS stations and airs in 120 countries.
Street Gang is the compelling and often comical story of the creation and history of this media masterpiece and pop culture landmark, told with the cooperation of one of the show's cofounders, Joan Ganz Cooney. "Sesame Street" was born as the result of a discussion at a dinner party at Cooney's home about the poor quality of children's programming and hit the air as a big bang of creative fusion from Jim Henson and company, quickly rocketing to success.
Street Gang traces the evolution of the show from its inspiration in the civil rights movement through its many ups and downs —from Nixon's trying to cut off its funding to the rise of Elmo —via the remarkable personalities who have contributed to it. Davis reveals how "Sesame Street" has taught millions of children not only their letters and numbers, but also cooperation and fair play, tolerance and self-respect, conflict resolution, and the importance of listening. This is the unforgettable story of five decades of social and cultural change and the miraculous creative efforts, passion, and commitment of the writers, producers, directors, animators, and puppeteers who created one of the most influential programs in the history of television.
Read the prologue of Street Gang:
Joan Ganz Coney walked toward the corner of Amsterdam Avenue and 112th Street, lost in a fog of grief. Ahead were the crenelated parapets that crown the Cathedral of St. John the Divine, a Gothic Revival Glory on Manhattan's Upper West Side. Black limousines lined the curbside, clogging the street, as NYPD officers waved their arms in a futile effort to get vehicles moving. The sidewalks were overrun by pedestrians, hundreds of them, all moving toward the cathedral steps. Cooney walked alongside mothers with toddlers clutching Ernie dolls, students playing hooky from school, executives in crisp suits, Midtown secretaries in heels, Latinas in scoop-necked tops, and bohemian types sporting jeans, running shoes, and long ponytails.
It was May 21, 1990, five days after Jim Henson, her friend and creative partner since 1969, had died from a runaway strep infection gone stubbornly, foolishly untreated. There was no other word to describe his passing other than shocking, and it was played just that way in the papers and on the nightly news. People who didn't know him wept as if a favorite uncle had died, that subversive adult who sat with the adults at Thanksgiving but would have preferred dinner at the kids' table. They came out in force for the public memorial, filling the vast, vaulted sanctuary, even more than the organizers of the event had anticipated. Some five thousand attendees filled the pews, standing in the antechamber and spilling into the aisles. The overflow was so great that people had simply dropped their backpacks, folded up their strollers, and sat on the hard stone floor.
Clustered row upon row near them were mourners bound by their years together working for and with the Children's Television Workshop (CTW), the nonprofit corporation Cooney helped build. Cooney took a seat next to Christopher Cerf, one of the founding fathers of "Sesame Street."
From the alter, the congregation was an impressionistic canvas, dappled with a profusion of spring green. That was to be expected. Just as teams, tribes, and nations have representative colors, Jim Henson owned Kermit green.
Cooney's thoughts wandered to Kermit and the early days of "Sesame Street." Reminders of that time were everywhere. Sitting nearby was Frank Oz, who in 1969—Sesame's debut year—became a Henson protégé, having joined the Muppets right out of high school. For more than twenty years, Oz had been uptight Bert to Henson's mischievous Ernie, the straight man of the odd-couple comedy duo. On "The Muppet Show," their roles had reversed; Oz was outrageously pushy Miss Piggy to Henson's pushed-on-the-brink Kermit.
At no time had Jim Henson's disparate worlds collided quite as markedly as at this memorial. Over to one side was Henson's friend Harry Belafonte. A humanitarian and artist, Belafonte had appeared on "The Muppet Show", where he introduced "Turn the World Around," a joyous, syncopated African folk melody that would be part of the day's program.
Not far away was Lorne Michaels, who gave the Muppets a weekly showcase during the audacious first season (1975) of "Saturday Night Live" at a time when the ambitious Henson feared he might be trapped for eternity in children's television. Henson's talent manager, Bernie Brillstein, saw to it that that never happened. Brillstein, who signed John Belushi, Dan Ackroyd, and Gilda Radner, was like a second father to Henson, a Jewish one.
In the late 1980's, Henson had separated from his wife, Jane, the mother of his five children. For most of his career, he had been more married to his work than to Jane, and a relationship that began when they met as students at the College Park campus of the University of Maryland withered. Henson was known to work around the clock in the studio when a production deadline loomed, and his travel schedule and a list of business commitments would have seemed unreasonable to most. He seemed happier and more fulfilled away from home, but he craved time with his two sons and three daughters.
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