Quote of the Day (Samuel Buell, on Tony Soprano and the First Amendment)

“Tony Soprano can’t invoke the First Amendment for telling his crew he wants someone whacked.”— Duke University law professor and former Enron prosecutor Samuel Buell, quoted by Michael Schmidt and Maggie Haberman, “First Amendment is Likely Linchpin of Trump Defense,” The New York Times, Aug. 3, 2023

What a concept: Tony, Paulie Walnuts, Silvio, and the rest of the crew as First Amendment defenders. It looks like they’re about to go defending their constitutional rights in this picture, doesn’t it?

Don’t be surprised if that involves baseball bats, knives, chemical sprays, axes, and other instruments you’re unlikely to find in a town square.

Oh, wait: some of those same objects showed up at the January 6, 2021 insurrection at the Capitol in DC!

In keeping with the link between a New Jersey figure (the real-life one has a golf course in Tony Soprano’s state) and criminal conspiracies, the object of Prof. Buell’s quote tweeted yesterday, “IF YOU GO AFTER ME, I’M COMING AFTER YOU!”

This came only a day after the judge in the case involving “The Former Guy” issued this extraordinary warning: “It is a crime to try to influence a juror or to threaten or attempt to bribe a witness or any other person who may have information about your case, or to retaliate against anyone for providing information about your case to the prosecution, or to otherwise obstruct the administration of justice.”

(Thanks to my friend Rob for alerting me to Buell’s apropos quote.)

TV Quote of the Day (‘The Sopranos,’ With Paulie and Christopher on the Afterlife)

[After being shot, Christopher Moltisanti goes into a coma, from which he emerges convinced that he went to Hell. But he’s not sure if it was hot there.]

Paulie “Walnuts” Gualtieri [played by Tony Sirico]: “Hell is hot! That's never been disputed by anybody. You didn't go to Hell. You went to Purgatory, my friend.”

Christopher Moltisanti [played by Michael Imperioli]: “I forgot about Purgatory.”

Paulie: “Purgatory—a little detour on the way to Paradise.”

Christopher: “How long do you think we've got to stay there?”

Paulie: “That's different for everybody. You add up all your mortal sins and multiply that number by 50. Then you add up all your venial sins and multiply that by 25. You add that together and that's your sentence. I figure I'm gonna have to do 6,000 years before I get accepted into Heaven and 6,000 years is nothin' in eternity terms. I can do that standing on my head. It's like a couple of days here.”— The Sopranos, Season 2, Episode 9, “From Where to Eternity,” teleplay by David Chase and Michael Imperioli, directed by Henry Bronchtein

As I’ve written before here, The Sopranos had some of the most laugh-out-loud moments on television during its seven seasons on the air. This is one of them.

At the same time, of course, this darkly comic dialogue helps the viewer accept the most agonizing moral and theological debates. No matter what form Hell takes (Paulie is all too optimistic about his chances of making Purgatory, let alone Heaven), Tony Soprano and his crew will be there.

In all their cynicism, fear and paranoia, they’re arguably in Hell even as they speak.

TV Quote of the Day (‘The Sopranos,’ on Revenge)

Anthony “Tony” Soprano Sr. [played by James Gandolfini]: “You know what they say: ‘Revenge is like serving cold cuts.’”

Dr. Jennifer Melfi [played by Lorraine Bracco]: “I think it's ‘Revenge is a dish best served cold.’"

Tony: “What did I say?” —The Sopranos, Season 5, Episode 10, “Cold Cuts,” original air date May 9, 2004, teleplay by Robin Green and Mitchell Burgess, directed by Mike Figgis

TV Quote of the Day (‘The Sopranos,’ on Carmela’s Relationship with Her ‘Good Man’ Tony)

Carmela Soprano [played by Edie Falco, pictures]: “He's a good man. He's a good father.”
 
Dr. Krakower [played by Sully Boyar]: “You tell me he's a depressed criminal, prone to anger, serially unfaithful. Is that your definition of a good man?... You must trust your initial impulse and consider leaving him. You'll never be able to feel good about yourself. You'll never be able to quell the feelings of guilt and shame that you talked about, so long as you're his accomplice.”
 
Carmela: “You're wrong about the accomplice part, though.”
 
Dr. Krakower: “You sure?”
 
Carmela: “All I did was make sure he's got clean clothes in his closet and dinner on his table.”
 
Dr. Krakower: “So ‘enable’ would be a more accurate job description for what you do than ‘accomplice.’ My apologies... Take only the children—what's left of them - and go.”
 
Carmela: “My priest said I should work with him, help him to become a better man.”
 
Dr. Krakower: “How's that going?”— The Sopranos, Season 3, Episode 7, “Second Opinion,” original air date Apr. 8, 2001, teleplay by Lawrence Konner, directed by Timothy Van Patten
 
I have not yet seen The Many Saints of Newark and am not sure when I will. But it is hard for me to imagine the prequel to The Sopranos matching the original in quality. The above dialogue, in its emotional anguish and clear-headed moral insight, illustrates why.
 
The aging Dr. Krakower is one of the few mental-health professionals who recognize early on that it is not possible—certainly not at this stage—to “work with” Tony. 

Carmela is right in only the most limited sense: her husband is capable of love, both towards herself and their children. But that only proves that he is human, not that he can be changed.
 
Dispensing with the jargon of the latest edition of The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Dr. Krakower speaks in old-fashioned terms about guilt, shame, and, without explicitly using the words, “fidelity,” “responsibility” and “complicity.”  
 
He does not say what viewers increasingly recognize as the series goes on: that, for all her anger at her husband, Carmela will not make the irrevocable decision to leave her husband because, with her beautiful house and the implicit power he gives her to harm others to cross her, she benefits materially from her association with him.

"Blood money," the phrase that the psychiatrist uses to explain that advantage—as well as his own refusal to accept her money from this session—inverts the label used by the faith Carmela cites as her thin fig-leaf for sticking with Tony.

 
There are no monsters as frightening as those that exist in our reality. This Halloween weekend, with geysers of blood spurting on TV sets and across screens, it is worth bearing in mind that Tony Soprano and his kind walk among us.
 
They might not have been concocted from the lab of a mad scientist, but—through whatever combination of genetics, culture or personality experience—they have become sociopaths, with enormous potential to spread their infection throughout society. (To see the characteristics of this type and how Tony fits it, turn to Alex Li San's 2020 post from Medium, “Are You a Psychopath?”)

In fact, Tony’s longtime therapist, Dr. Jennifer Melfi, finally breaks with him when she realizes he not only fits the definition of “sociopath” but also that his very sessions with her have—to borrow Krakower’s term—“enabled” her client.

 
As a mobster, Tony can wield power unavailable to Dracula, Frankenstein or the Wolf Man: he can direct the resources of a criminal enterprise as far-reaching and populated as any business to affect how people work and even whether they live. But his status only makes him the ultimate example of a particular form of sickness.
 
Consider that description by Dr. Krakower: “depressed criminal, prone to anger, serially unfaithful.” That describes a brand of toxic masculinity found far more often than just in the netherworld of organized crime. It is also shorthand for the domestic abusers in every socioeconomic niche in American culture.

TV Quote of the Day (‘The Sopranos,’ With a Plausible Excuse for a NJ Traffic Jam)

Christopher Moltisanti [played by Michael Imperioli] [to Uncle Tony and Silvio, on why he’s late]: “The highway was jammed with broken heroes on a last-chance power drive.”— The Sopranos, Season 5, Episode 12, “Long Term Parking,” original air date May 23, 2004, teleplay by Terence Winter, directed by Timothy Van Patten

TV Quote of the Day (‘The Sopranos,’ In Which Tony Distinguishes Nostradamus From Notre Dame)

Bobby "Bacala" Baccalieri [played by Steve Schirripa]: “Mom started going downhill after the World Trade Center. You know Quasimodo predicted all this.”

Anthony 'Tony' Soprano Sr. [played by James Gandolfini]: “Who did what?”

Bobby: “All these problems—the Middle East, the end of the world.”

Tony [shaking his head, like a teacher correcting a very errant student]: “Nostradamus. Quasimodo's the Hunchback of Notre Dame.”

Bobby: “Oh right. Notre Damus.”

Tony: “Nostradamus, and Notre Dame. Two different things completely.”

Bobby: “It's interesting, though, they'd be so similar, isn't it? And I always thought, okay, Hunchback of Notre Dame. You also got your quarterback and halfback of Notre Dame.”

Tony [exasperated]: “One's a f-g cathedral.”

Bobby: “Obviously. I know, I'm just saying. It's interesting, the coincidence. What, you're gonna tell me you never pondered that? The back thing with Notre Dame?”

Tony: “No!”— The Sopranos, Season 4, Episode 1, “For All Debts Public and Private,” original air date Sept. 15, 2002, teleplay by David Chase, directed by Allen Coulter

Over the last several months, I’ve been catching up on nearly two decades of TV shows on DVD—series like Foyle’s War, Monk, Game of Thrones. Last night, I started Season 4 of The Sopranos. 

In the past, watching prior seasons sometimes made me burst out laughing at its moments of dark humor, but nothing prepared me for this segment quoted here. Years ago, on a radio show, I recall Goodfellas screenwriter Nick Pileggi saying that Mafia kids in school were the type of guys who tripped other students walking toward the front of the class. 

Perhaps Tony Soprano was like this growing up, too. In fact, I’d say it was very likely.

But perhaps all those weeks watching The History Channel (before it became dominated by reality programs, mind you) improved his appreciation for knowledge. 

Who said television serves no educational purpose?

 

Essay: The Soprano Foolproof Method of College Admissions

[Carmela Soprano has decided to raise the chances of her daughter’s admission to Georgetown by going to the law office of the twin sister of her next-door neighbor.]

Carmela Soprano [played by Edie Falco]: “Joan, hi. Is this a bad time?”

Joan Cusamano [played by Saundra Santiago]: “Always. C'mon in.”

Carmela: “Ricotta pie with pineapples. I was in the neighborhood. My mother's foot surgeon is over here.”

Joan: “Oh, thank you. Listen, Carmela, I think I know why you're here. My sister told me you wanted me to write a letter to Georgetown for ‘Fielder,’ is it?” 

Carmela: “Meadow.”

Joan: “Sorry. But I just can't do it.”

Carmela: “Well, I thought you would at least want to take a look at her grades and her SAT scores and some teacher comments before you made up your mind. I think she would be a wonderful addition to the Georgetown campus.”

Joan: “Then I'm sure the admissions offices will see that.”

Carmela: “Well, I'm not sure that's true. The sad fact is that's just not enough these days.”

Joan: “I’m sorry, Carmela, but I can't do it.”

Carmela: “I don't think you understand. I want you to write that letter.”

Joan: “Excuse me?” 

Carmela: “I said I want you to write the letter.”

Joan: “Are you threatening me?” 

Carmela: “Threat, what threatening? I brought you a ricotta pie and high school transcripts so you could write a letter of recommendation for my little daughter to Georgetown.”

Joan: “I'm an officer of the court. A lawyer.”

Carmela: “Don't make me beg here.”

Joan: “I've already written my last letter of support for this academic year.”

Carmela: “How about this: I thought you could write a letter to Georgetown, tell them you discovered that Georgetown was not that person's first choice, and that in fact he was using Georgetown as a backup—I'm not gonna tell you what to write.”— The Sopranos, Season 2, Episode 8, "Full Letter Jacket,” original air date March 5, 2000, teleplay by Robin Green and Mitchell Burgess, directed by Allen Coulter

It was only a few weeks ago that I watched this scene from The Sopranos. I had no idea then how suddenly relevant it was going to become in the last week or so, following the news of a major college admissions bribery scandal ensnaring a number of high-powered people, but perhaps none more high-profile than actresses Lori Loughlin and Felicity Huffman, whose next long-term engagements might have to be called “Not, Not Full House--The Big House” and “Desperate High-School Kid’s Mom.”

I couldn’t help shaking my head at the whole thing. About 30 years ago, an English professor in a New Jersey college regaled me with a story of how an early 20th-century captain of industry had smoothed his son’s muddy path through a major East Coast university by donating a sum generous enough to have an entire library named in his honor.

Cynic that I am, I have always assumed that colleges and universities have made room for a certain amount of what are called “legacies” to ensure that they have enough money to fund scholarships for the less financially fortunate and to run the schools on a 24/7 basis. It turns out that my instinct is correct: Princeton sociologist Thomas Espenshade has determined, through a study of 10 highly selective colleges, that being a legacy can be the functional equivalent of an additional 160 points on the SATs.

Believe it or not, I’m even cynical enough to think that Donald Trump made it into and through Wharton not because he was a "stable genius" but because, according to Gwenda Blair's The Trumps, a "friendly" admissions officer did it as a favorite to Donald's late older brother Freddy, and the school’s admissions committee looked with favor upon his rich developer father, Fred Trump Sr. How terrible to think that, isn't it?

So yes, rich kids getting into big schools with a little help from Daddy Warbucks—what, exactly, is news about that? Except maybe that there's now a nickname for it: "affirmative action for the rich."

Well, William Singer, the consultant at the heart of the current scandal, called the method that this English prof told me about so long ago “the back door” into the school of one’s choice. Evidently, in Singer’s estimation, the “back door” was pretty effective—and perfectly legal!—but not exactly foolproof.

The second method outlined by Singer was “the front door.” That, too, was legal, even ethical, and less costly than “the back door.”  But the whole process—hoping your kid somehow musters good grades, high standardized scores, participation in sports/other extracurricular activities into an irresistible package—was, given the competitive nature of colleges, akin to taking your chances. The unspoken message: Go ahead, be a fool if you want to.

The approach that Singer advocated was “the side door.” The various methods described—having someone else take your kid’s standardized test, sending in fake photos simulating athletic achievement—were certainly unethical and, a few parents guessed, illegal. But nobody had been arrested yet, had they?

Well, there’s a first time for everything, isn’t there?

Now, nearly two dozen people are talking seriously to their attorneys about the possibility of doing significant jail time and/or hefty fines, all because nobody had thought of Carmela Soprano’s method of getting Meadow into Georgetown.

In keeping with Singer’s door metaphor, and with an activity that Tony Soprano and his associates may well have resorted to at one time or another, let’s call Carmela’s approach “jimmying the locks.” Unlike with “the front door,” Carmela was leaving nothing to chance. Sure, there are those who might argue it was unethical.

On the other hand, it was cheap. Carmela didn’t have to endow a library, secure a high-flying consultant, or arrange a half-dozen test-preparation activities for Meadow. Heck, all she had to spend was car- or airfare to get to the DC area, or the ingredients for that pie.

Carmela merely had to rely on gossip—including that passed along by her neighbor, Jeannie Cusamano, to her twin sister, the superlawyer Joan—about Tony Soprano’s—er, livelihood. And so, Joan’s question--“Are you threatening me?”—had an immediate answer: Threat? What threat? Whatever you perceive is all between the lines.

Sharp lawyer that she is, Joan soon realized she would not have a leg to stand on in court. That’s assuming Joan even took it to court. Many other lawyers, made of far weaker stuff, wouldn’t have even bridled at the thought of giving in, since Tony’s reputation is that formidable. 

No paper trail, no money. Simple and brilliant.