Fran's World…and Welcome to It!

So far this has been a cool year for creative festivals. I have been invited to either participate in, have been a part of, or covered for my TV show, Fran's World; the Long Island International Film Expo (for independent films), The Fringe Festival (for plays) and now the latest was the New Yorker Festival (for writers). Each being huge in their own right.

The latest festival invite came late in the game and out of the blue. I get this email from Henry Alford, a writer for the New Yorker and Vanity Fair Magazines. He writes, "I've been invited to take part in the New Yorker Festival, the super-prestigious, weekend-long event in which writers for the magazine will be joined by Steve Martin and David Byrne and lots of other fabulous folks.
I'm doing an evening of parlor games on Saturday, October 6 at 8:00 pm and for one of the games. I'm looking for a fast talker to do a monologue. The room holds 200 people, and is at the Metropolitan Pavilion, in Chelsea (The festivals headquarters). Is this of any interest? Are you even available? I've watched your reel--you are AMAZING. Many thanks..."

Just hearing the combination of New Yorker Magazine, Vanity Fair Steve Martin and games... made it a no brainer (at least in my brain.) I looked on line at the event and it was huge. Apparently it was a three-day festival from Oct. 5th to Oct 7th. with a line up of people like Edie Falco, Trey Parker and even Wallace and Gromit from the Curse of the Were Rabbit! The tickets ranged in price from $5 to $50 most being in the $15-30 range... and the programs ranged from highbrow subjects (Activism without Action) to the other end of the spectrum with a "Salute to the Three Stooges." (I actually had a crush on Moe when I was a kid... go figure.)

Anyway, I looked at my calendar and luckily I was available. I had made plans prior with my friend, Lisa Wernick from CNBC, but she was always game for things like this. Just to make sure I asked her. To which she replied, "Yes, Frannie, of course I'll go. That's what I love about our get together's, you never know where we'll wind up."

With that I called Henry and we were set. I asked him how I'd recognize him that night... he said, "Well, honey I'll either be wearing a tuxedo or a bathrobe."

That alone told me what kind of night it was going to be.

That Saturday, Lisa and I arrived at the Metropolitan Pavilion aka festival headquarters, located at 125 West 18th street a half hour before show time. I was dressed casually since Lisa and I had walked around Manhattan earlier and attended some space conference which talked about some guys building rocket ships in their backyards... long story (but I was seriously thinking of offering to help them.)

Anyway, the outside of headquarters was all fancied up... with a red carpet, security guards and these cool looking billboards... I stood by one of them... the lighting actually made me look more like a hooker than a fast talker... all I needed was a fish net stocking...

After we passed security by telling them I was one of the performers Lisa and I were escorted past the empty booths where earlier in the day readings and such were going on. I of course had to stop and snap a picture.

After my digital moment it was onto the Green room, which had bottled water and delicious Italian pastries in it, just waiting to be devoured.

The performance space itself in the day was just a huge empty space. However through the magic of lighting, some black table clothes, cool orange lighting in the background, a stage with a backdrop that said, "New Yorker Festival" on it, and four candles on each table, was transformed into a trendy looking hot spot.

It was simple yet elegant... which of course made me glad I brought a change of clothes in my knapsack... yup, nothing like traveling first class with a hiking gear and a black evening wear.

After my quick-change artist feat in the women's bathroom, Lisa and I were approached by a man in a Pokka dotted shirt. "Hi Fran, I'm Henry... and this is my boyfriend."

"Wow. Nice to meet the man behind the parlor games. What happened to your tuxedo or bathrobe?"
"Yeah, well, Pokka dots are so much better."

We chatted for a while about the evening's events, and before we knew it, the audience was let in. I had no idea parlor games were so in fashion... about a hundred people showed up... and all in great spirits.

After a round of water was served, Henry jumped to the stage. In his very engaging personality he began. "Tonight we are going to have four parlor games. The first game is "This or That". You all have in front of you a sealed manila envelope. At a certain cue you will open them. Inside you will see lists with two sets of initials at the top of each list. I will tell you what each one stands for as we go along. You will have a few seconds to answer them. The winner will get a prize from our wonderful prize table to our left. Are you ready to begin?"
The crowd all cheered, "Yes!"

"Then open your envelopes and let the games begin."

"Okay now see the list labeled, (DEP/ITP). That means that each item on the list is either the name of an actual department at The New Yorker, or it's the name of an Industrial Toilet Paper". Right there the tone for the evening was set... we knew anything would go.

Henry continued,"Are you ready? Go!
With that we ran down the list putting initials next to each title:
1- Letter from Paris (Dep)
2- Letter from Mongolia (DEP)
3- Planet (TP)
4- That was pugilism
5- Main Street
6- The Race Track
7- Millennia
8- Acclaim
9- Never-out- executive
10- Our Own Business.

At the sound of a huge Chinese Gong (like the kind in martial arts movies which means the match of death) we were told to stop.

We tallied up our correct answers and the person with the highest score won. (In case you are curious, #3,5,7,9 is names of toilet paper). The crowd loved it and was eager to play more. Lisa and I kept comparing our scores.

The next parlor game was set up by putting a few volunteers onstage and then putting signs around their necks with a person's name on it. Without looking and with using one words clues from the audience, the volunteers had to guess who they were. It was fun to watch them struggle and many clues, led to many laughs.

The games were progressing nicely; it was now my turn at bat.
I was the third game up. Henry set up the scenario. "There is a writer who has written for The New Yorker for years and years and never uses a tape recorder when she reports stories—she takes notes or writes stuff from her head. I am going to ask two volunteers from the audience, that think they are good listeners, to come up to the stage."

At that point a girl quickly raised her hand, "I'm a mother of five and if anyone can listen I can." She jumped to the stage.

The next was a male volunteer, very laid back. "I'm a speech pathologist... I would say my listening skills are very good."

Both were now seated comfortably on the stage.

Then came the reveal. "Well thanks for volunteering. Now to make this interesting I have a subject who is going to come up and tell her story... you guys can either choose to just listen, or you can take notes. Your choice. At the end of her story I am going to ask you a series of questions, who ever answers them correctly will win." They both smiled confidently. Then Henry added with a smile,
"Oh and by the way, the subject just happens to be Fran Capo, the World's Fastest talking female, clocked 603.32 wpm... she is also an author, motivational speaker and holds two other world records but she will tell you what they are about."

The audience all laughed. The stakes were now higher. Henry invited the audience to play along. "Okay guys, As soon as Fran hits the stage the timer will begin".

I had been instructed by Henry to tell the stories as fast as I could. Now while I am a fast talker... the comic in me wanted to stop for laughs and comedic timing. I had to ignore my normal pauses in the stories, which was killing me cause I'm a sucker for laughter, but the bottom line is if I told the stories slow, there would be no game... so speed it was. I began quickly... The audience was intense... determination was in their eyes,

They wanted to win a prize... faces were studying my lips, people were writing furiously, pens were smoking... I tried to throw in as many facts and figures as possible. I heard laughter at points, but did not let it deter my speed. Out of the corner of my left eye I saw the mother of five intently looking and scribbling notes. I looked the other way and saw the pathologist just sitting there like it was just another day in the office examining a weird patient. He was calm, cool and collected with his legs crossed. Honestly, I wanted to throw in some gibberish... just to throw him off, but instead I sped up. "SothenIdidabooksigningdownbythewreckoftheTitanic...."

At the end of five minutes I stopped. People looked exhausted but happy. Everyone applauded.

Henry then leaped to the stage. He began asking each contestant a question.
"Mother of five: How fast does Fran speak?"
She answered, "603.32wpm."
Correct! 1 point.

"Mr. Pathologist, How many times did Fran break the world record?
"Twice, once on Larry King and once in Vegas."
Correct.

It went on like this for six more rounds. Finally the mother of five stumbled at the last question..."What record did Fran break down by the wreck site of the Titanic?"
"Ah... She um... She did the first ever prayer?"
"No. Sorry. She did that, but the record was for doing a book signing".

"Mr. Pathologist you are the winner." Henry rang the gong.
"Game over! Next."

I went back to my table where Lisa was, "Frannie you did great."
"Thanks Lisa. Do you think they enjoyed it?"
Before she could answer a lady from another table leaned over,
"Honey you were great. Do you have a card? I'd like to hire you for a party I'm giving."
I handed her my card. She smiled and nodded.
I turned to Lisa, "Guess that answers my question."

We hung around for the final parlor game. More prizes were given out. At the end of the evening, people came up to me asking me questions about my records (this time I told it at a normal speed).
I thanked Henry, Henry thanked me, I thanked Lisa, Lisa thanked me... it was one fun filled thankful evening of which I'd happily be part of next year, after all, if I'm not a New Yorker... no one is.

Fast Talker at the New Yorker Festival

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