Way back when I was a kid, maybe six or eight, I remember seeing a commercial that was shot in downtown Houston. It struck me then because most of what I saw on TV seemed to happen elsewhere, like L.A. or New York or Mayberry. Houston? The only thing we had was the local news. So the image stuck with me of all these kids singing in a park downtown where you could see the Tenneco building right behind them.

I pestered my father to take me there for so long, he finally gave in one evening when we were in that part of town. We drove around for a while, and I never actually found the spot. But now I wonder why I felt the need. Did I expect the chorus to still be there, maybe with lights and cameras on them? I don't know.

i can understand this sort of curiosity in a child trying to bridge the gap between television and reality. But now I know there are industries built on that same impulse felt by sane adults. One example is the tour buses in Los Angeles that drive people around just to look at celebrities' houses, as if. "On your left, the home of Barbara Feldon," and what do people expect to see? Miss Feldon through a window lavishly entertaining the cast of Laugh-In? Or standing out on the walkway in curlers waiting for the newspaper?

But even I, a full-grown cynic, have fallen for this. While roaming Manhattan on foot with my wife just a few years ago, we suddenly decided to seek out the 12th Precinct of NYPD Blue fame.

Never mind that we knew NYPD Blue was shot in L.A. like every other police show, and that the 12th we knew was probably made of painted foam blocks and now serves as a backdrop for most of the street scenes in CSI: Law & Order.

We asked a policeman to point us toward the 12th, and I'm grateful he spared us the humiliation we deserved. We must've seemed genuine, because he told us the 12th Precinct did not exist, and he showed no trace of sarcasm or condescension. In fact, he rattled off the precincts he knew before it dawned on him that we were only looking for the 12th because we'd seen it on TV. He chuckled a bit, but I think he understood, probably having encountered more tourists on his beat than criminals. Then he knocked the crap out of us.

Okay, not really. Regardless, we felt more than a little foolish. What were we expecting, to walk into the 12th and see Sipowicz at his desk? The cameras still rolling outside?

in my travels, i have been shown bob newhart's building in Chicago; the house in San Francisco where Basic Instinct was set, and the long, Georgetown staircase where Father Karras met his fate in The Exorcist. Each time, I paused, looked, and said something like, "Huh." And I know my life was not enriched as a result of having seen those things.

Nonetheless, if I were driving through Scranton, Pennsylvania, today, I would keep one eye open for the Dunder Mifflin building, and if I found it or one that looked close enough, I would expect to drop in and find Michael Scott bounding around the place.

I think there's a connection here to an essay I haven't written yet, about the human mind's vulnerability to images. When I get around to it, I'll link back.

Posted by: Michael Rittenhouse at 07:41 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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