Revealing the man behind the curtain: An interview with Emmy and Peabody Award winner Ira Glass

Scurrying about midtown Manhattan, a vague “Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court” feeling nips at my heels. Out of place, unsure about my whereabouts, consciously aware of unfamiliar faces peering out from the street, it’s all very disconcerting. The building numbers are indecipherable or in some cases completely obscured. Perhaps the majority is non-existent, explaining why I have been unable to pinpoint the illusive location of my next appointment.

It’s enough to send this Baltimore gal packing back down I-95.

Not so fast. A kindly looking soul directs me toward the entryway of a non-descript building with an undersized lobby and somber looking guard. Coincidentally, it’s the building I’ve been looking for, although I’d swear I’d just stumbled into 201 N. Charles. Lawyers, accountants and who knows what else may be lurking inside.

But this isn’t Charm City and I’m not here for a consultation. In the next few minutes, I’ll be meeting with none other than Emmy Award winning creator and producer Ira Glass, the force behind popular radio and cable TV series “This American Life” and recent recipient of a 68^th Annual Peabody Award for “The Giant Pool of Money,” a collaboration with NPR’s news division airing in May, 2008.

DISCLAIMER: IRA GLASS AND I ARE OLD FRIENDS, HAVING MET IN MRS. SHAPIRO’S THIRD GRADE CLASS AT BEDFORD ELEMENTARY SCHOOL. WE ATTENDED THE SAME JUNIOR HIGH AND HIGH SCHOOLS, SUFFERED THROUGH MANY OF THE SAME CLASSES, AND SOCIALIZED OUTSIDE OF SCHOOL. IF THIS INTERVIEW READS LIKE A SLOBBERING SYCOPHANT EXTOLLING THE ACCOMPLISHMENTS OF A CRITICALLY ACCLAIMED TALENT, IT IS ONLY BECAUSE I’M A SLOBBERING SYCOPHANT  HUGE, HUGE FAN AND ADMIRER.

Where was I? Oh, yes, Glass. He’s somewhat shy in person, self-effacing, contemplative, almost like a beloved absent-minded professor, reticent yet sublime. His corner office isn’t anything like I imagined, sparsely furnished with books, papers and files in a space more functional than large, but this is New York City after all, and if the room overlooking graffiti strewn walls thirteen or so floors off the ground pleases one of the more talented minds in the industry, who am I to complain?

Both radio and television incarnations of the show are critically acclaimed ratings success stories. The format draws on a formula taken from theater, which isn’t surprising considering Glass has enjoyed musical theater from as far back as I can remember. Not so much any more, as I later learn, his tastes having gravitated toward opera, but still, the parallels in production style are unmistakable.

Episodes of “This American Life” generally open with a loosely woven introduction, sashay to the opening act/story, seamlessly transition into additional acts/stories – two, three or four depending on the length of each segment - then conclude with a tidy epilogue, neatly tying everything together. The result is 30 minutes to an hour, give or take, of finely crafted entertainment. 

Each show builds around a theme connecting everyday events from all walks of life. Stories are culled from multiple sources, including ideas originated by the staff, people pitching ideas, and ideas extrapolated from published material. Storylines can make it all the way to production before they’re dropped from the show. Segments are dropped and tweaked up until the day of broadcast.

The radio program first aired in November 1995 on Chicago public-radio station WBEZ. The TV show recently completed its second season on Showtime. Season One received a wide DVD release in September 2008. Season Two was recently released as a Borders exclusive. I’m curious how he and  producer Julie Snyder consistently deliver quality entertainment week after week over such a long stretch of time. We begin by discussing the show’s production challenges.

“Pretty much half the staff time is devoted to just finding stories,“ Glass explains. “To do a show like this, you have to have almost a machine that produces story ideas. Usually, to get three or four stories at the level we think we want them to be we’ll go through 15 to 20 stories, go into production on 8 or 9 and then go forward with them until it’s clear which ones are good or bad.”

I delve deeper, wanting to know the selection criteria for stories that broadcast.

“The ones we chuck are literally ones that we just can’t get to work. Either the interviewee isn’t interesting in the way they talk about [the subject], or … ,” he seems lost in thought while answering, but quickly regains some momentum.

“For a story to work for us,” he begins, “because it’s not the news or stories about famous people … we are really dependent on the story having a surprising plot. These are stories about everyday life, but actual stories about everyday life could be sort of precious or boring. And so, for them to be interesting, they have to be stories that anybody can kind of relate to, but at the same time, surprising things have to happen. Otherwise it just doesn’t make any sense.”

“Tell me more about this surprising plot concept,” I prod. Lord knows I have my own challenges informing and entertaining.

“In order to have a surprising plot, the story needs to at least have a character in there who is interesting, who you can relate to. And it needs to have some point that’s interesting. It needs to be saying something,” Glass explains, quickly reaching the bottom line. “If any one of those elements is gone, sometimes the other two elements can make up for it, but usually they can’t. And you can only find those things out by getting to the point where it’s almost produced.”

I ask for examples of stories produced but dumped before broadcast and he rattles off two -- one about a Supreme Court case in Santa Rio, the other about slaughtered chickens -- right off the top of his head. Gliding over the answer, I silently note other chicken related broadcasts and wonder whether Glass is waging a personal crusade against the chicken industry. Then again, the segment was dropped. This leads to a more difficult question, one I’ve been pondering since critiques of the show began appearing online.

“You’ve been criticized for using the show to focus on underdog stories,” I begin. “Do you agree that the show is a vehicle to champion the underdog?”

Long pause.

“I don’t think I do. I don’t think we’re doing stories just about underdogs,” he responds. “I think we’re doing stories about … anybody, I mean, it’s possible that we are doing a lot of stories about underdogs, and it’s possible that’s a totally valid way of looking at it, but it’s not the way I look at it.”

Whew! That wasn’t so bad. Although one of Season Two's TV episodes was actually entitled, "Underdogs." I try to move on to my next question, but Glass quickly interrupts.

“And if we were doing that, I’d be fine with that," he says. "If that’s true, I see nothing wrong with that. The media is full of stories about successful people. And so, it’s okay if there are corners of the media about not such successful people.”

So, if not to reinforce feelings of self-worth in the kicked and downtrodden, who specifically is Glass trying to reach?

“We’re not trying to reach any particular type of person,” he quickly replies. “I mean, if anything, we want the stories to be as universal as possible.”

Makes practical sense to me, but still doesn’t explain how he’s managed to create a “This American Life” empire, if you will, that resonates with so many different people. He indulges me.

I think when the show works the stories are entertaining, but in addition, there’s a feeling you get with a story where you can relate to the person and they go through something and you just feel in a deep way what it would be to be them. And doing that, in a pop medium like radio is interesting to me.

When the show is good, it’s both funny and it’s really emotional. And it also gives you the feeling that you’ve been to a place where you haven’t been before, like you’re meeting with new people, like you’re in some part of the world, you’re in some part of the country that you wouldn’t normally have access to. Truthfully, just making the show entertaining is quite a task.

I couldn’t agree more. Especially for a weekly program, the bar has been set pretty high. Glass says there’s a ratio, but it’s hard to quantify. More often than not, I believe he hits the mark.

We chuckle over his anecdote about pitching the show to a major network. They loved the concept and offered Glass a deal, saying he could produce whatever stories he liked with one caveat. The majority of shows not only had to spotlight characters 18 to 35, but the characters also had to be good looking.

“And I have to say, I totally appreciated their frankness,” he manages with a sly smile as I erupt into uncontrollable laughter. “We almost said yes to that,” he continues.

Meanwhile, I can barely contain myself.

“I mean, we’re thinking, we’re craftspeople, right? Sure! We can do the stories with good looking people, we can do them with ugly people if you want,” he says, becoming more animated in the absurdity of it all. “Just give us whatever parameters you want, we’ll do them. We’ll make that work.”

Briefly, he pauses, clearly amused at the reaction of his one-woman audience. “We passed, but not for the reason you’re thinking. Truthfully, I appreciated the frankness. But that was the closest we ever got to selling out.”

My laughter finally subsides as I reflect between the lines. His “benefit of the doubt all works out for the best” recollection of the seedier side of the industry reaffirms, at least in my mind, that fame and fortune haven’t changed him for the worse. Effortlessly funny, yet still unassuming, some may mistake his desire to side-step controversy as standoffish or pompous, but I know he’s just being Glass. Even as a kid, he shied away from conflict. Mixing things up still isn’t his style.

“Why did you pass?” I ask, not wanting to drop the ball.

This was back in the ‘90s when we went to the networks. We got offers from two networks and said no because we couldn’t figure out how to do the show for network television. We didn’t crack the problem of how do you turn this radio show into a TV show that would feel like the radio show. It wasn’t clear what the show would be. And we sort of felt like why are we signing this huge contract for this thing that we don’t even believe necessarily can work.

Network contracts, unlike the deal we got with Showtime, were much more restrictive about their requirements, whereas Showtime basically said to us, ‘Let’s shoot 20 minutes, let’s see if it’s any good, and if you hate it, we’ll kill it. If we hate it, we’ll kill it. Let’s just see what happens.’ And I have to say it was a very humane and sensible kind of deal. It was easy to say yes. We shot the first 20 minutes, looked at it and said ah, this is fun. This is fine.

We chat about some personal topics: interacting with his 2-year old nephew, the pitfalls of owning a problematic pit bull, and his musings about celebrity. For the record, he enjoys being recognized by fans, which also doesn’t surprise me, considering his fascination with and ability to relate to people.

I’m really enjoying this one on one time then notice my video camera is about to run out of memory, indicating I’ve definitely overstayed my welcome. Already an hour or more has slipped by. I don’t want to monopolize any more of his time.

Glass graciously offers a quick tour of the studio, providing up close and personal moments with his prestigious Emmy Award and Snyder’s school trophies for speech and basketball. Don’t ask how the latter rate space alongside the Emmy. Must be some kind of parity among friends.

After all is said and done, I think Glass’ formula for success can be summed up in one short phrase: Make us care.

Week after week, he does so spectacularly.

On April 23, 2009 at 8 p.m., Ira Glass will present a live simulcast of "This American Life" in select movie theaters throughout country. For a list of theaters and to purchase your tickets before they sell out, click this link. For highlights of this interview, watch the following two videos.