Filed under: News
For quite some time, Miami city Commissioner Marc Sarnoff has represented himself as the grandson of the late commercial radio and television pioneer "General" David Sarnoff.
The Russian-American media executive rose through the ranks of the Radio Corporation of America, holding the title of chairman for more than two decades until his retirement in 1970. As RCA's president in 1939, David Sarnoff launched NBC, the nation's first TV network. That's a grandpa any ambitious tyke would love to call his own, and Marc Sarnoff has.
The commissioner's online bio states, "the 'General' David Sarnoff is also the grandfather of Marc David Sarnoff.... As his grandfather, he believes in establishing solutions for information, networking, and multimedia communications...." (As of Tuesday, the bio had been removed, but visit Riptide 2.0 to see it.)
This past October 16, as the guest of honor at an Urban Environment League dinner forum, the commissioner discussed his grandfather, though he didn't have much to share regarding his parents' splitup when he was eight years old.
"You won't hear me speak much about the Sarnoff side of the family," Sarnoff explained. "My grandfather died right around the time my parents were getting divorced. I do remember he would love to watch me go to swim meets when I was a young boy."
Could it be the commissioner doesn't have many memories of David Sarnoff because they are not really blood relatives? That's what the man charged with preserving the media tycoon's legacy says. Alex Magoun, executive director of the David Sarnoff Library in Princeton, New Jersey, insists Marc Sarnoff, who was born on December 18, 1959, is not one of David Sarnoff's nine grandchildren.
"It is quite a puzzle," Magoun says. "David Sarnoff had three sons, each of whom had three children of their own. None of them were born in 1959 and none of them are named Marc."
So Riptide checked New York newspapers, Internet resources, and author Eugene Lyons's 1966 tome David Sarnoff: A Biography to trace the commissioner's genealogy, all of which confirm Magoun's assertion that the commish is not one of those Sarnoffs.
On Monday, Sarnoff attempted to correct the record. David is his great-uncle, not his granddaddy. "I know very little about my family," he said. "My understanding is that he is my great-uncle or something like that."
David's connection with the Sarnoff clan ended in 1969, when his father Joel divorced his mother, the commissioner added. "I don't know my grandfather's name," Sarnoff replied when asked the identity of his paternal granddad. "I just remember he had big hands."
David had three brothers and one sister: Irving, Lou, Morris, and Edie. None them had a son named Joel or a grandson named Marc, according to Paula Sarnoff, Irving's 81-year-old daughter.
"I haven't a clue who this man is," she says of the commissioner. "He is certainly not David's grandson, nephew, or otherwise. He is not related to us." — Francisco Alvarado
We Represent the Lunatic League
Filed under: Sports
At the Marlins spring training camp at Roger Dean Stadium in Jupiter one recent sunny day, the Fish were nowhere to be found; maybe they were in a bar somewhere, celebrating the announcement of plans for their new stadium. It's about time. Having seen the vast stretches of empty seats in Dolphin Stadium during baseball season, Riptide thinks it's obvious what the Marlins need: some brand-new empty seats to play in front of.
No Marlins, but the St. Louis Cardinals were out in force. The 2006 World Series champs rippled with energy on the bright field, while children and autograph hounds clung to the fences.
In the bleachers, many eyes were on a slight man in a Wizard of Oz hat. The four-and-a-half-foot-tall dude munching hot dog after hot dog Mickey Carroll, one of the few surviving cast members from The Wizard of Oz. As a Munchkin in the film, he wore a purple jacket and handlebar mustache. Now in a blue blazer and little hat, the 88-year-old St. Louis resident says he tries to come to Florida for Cardinals camp every year.
"It's about five degrees in St. Louis this time of year, with ten feet of snow," he said. "It's a beautiful day here. Why not sit outside and eat some hot dogs?"
During lulls in practice, Carroll told old showbiz stories about Judy Garland (she and Elvis Presley were "the two greatest artists in American history," he said authoritatively), and he described doing a song and dance for Al Capone as a 10-year-old boy in Chicago. There were even a few tidbits for serious movie buffs in the audience. The famous tornado scene? It was Carroll himself, not actress Clara Blandick, who voiced Auntie Em in the howling wind. Carroll stood up and belted out a perfect rendition of "Door-theee!" as if screaming into a twister.
Would the octogenarian firecracker consider signing on as a Marlins fan? If Carroll bought a season ticket, that would guarantee at least one little butt in the South Florida seats.
No dice, Carroll said. But he offered an autographed picture. "May the magic of Oz always be with you," he wrote. "Follow the Yellow Brick Road."
Riptide passes those sentiments along to the Marlins. — Michael Mooney
Chickens, We're on to You
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All right. You know what this is. The oldest scam in the Miami books. A band of chickens rolls into town (down from Arkansas or up from Key West) loaded on cocaine. They're driving by this little house, listening to their loud music, smoking their reefers.
And some poor bastard comes out and asks them to keep it down. So they kill him. They fucking kill him and eat him. They move right in and start getting his mail. Before long, they've assumed his identity and taken over his house.
After the neighbors get used to having them around and suspicion dies down, they sell and move on to the next town.
Luckily the housing bubble has burst. And I've figured out their lil' scheme. Don't worry. I've tipped off the feds and local cops. These chickens are gonna swing for this. — Calvin Godfrey