While I can't claim that I follow the mantra "underpromise and overdeliver" as religiously as I might, I am woefully fearful of events that have a big agenda. A party can be meaningful, it can have a message, it can spark excitement, it can crystallize the zeitgeist of a particular moment in time—but what a party invariably can not do is please all of the people all of the time. And in my book, an event that combines Jazz at Lincoln Center, Cirque du Soleil, Jewel, Marc Anthony (hot again by way of infidelity, one hears) and something called "Time Warner Celebrates With Paula Zahn, Larry King and Jon Stewart" is trying do a lot.
The grand opening of the Time Warner Center obviously meant well. The evening's program communicates nothing if not the best intentions to provide guests with a full sampling of what the slick new building has to offer. But the under-promising got thrown out the window.
Sometimes meeting the high expectations of eventgoers is impossible. I wanted to go to the opening in the worst way. I read the papers. I heard about the Architectural Digest designer apartments. The New York Observer filled me in on Donald Trump's tacky sign that faces the penthouses explaining (correctly, I'll admit) that his brassy building has the better view. And of course as a Nobu devotee, I was aware that some new sushi guy was giving Mr. Matsuhisa a run for the money.
The program noted that the second level would feature "Cocktails and Buffet" (as opposed to "Cocktails and Tastings" on the concourse level, brought to you by grocer Whole Foods). And at 8:30 in the Borders bookstore there would be a performance by "Grammy-nominated artist Jim Brickman with Jeff Timmons, multiplatinum vocalist from 98°." I guess suspecting that, like me, not everyone would come clamoring to see this well-qualified duo, the program made it clear that second-level visitors could have a separate sponsored experience in the "Borders Lounge." I visited this lounge, which while comfortably appointed with lounge furniture and unnecessary carpeting, did not have a book in sight. I suppose they figured, why bother with merchandise when you've got a hot act?
Some promises were kept. The third level advertised Caf? Gray with chef Gray Kunz, and there he was busily supervising the unfinished kitchen of his new restaurant and by all appearances being a real chef. Nice for a change, no?
But on to the fourth level we were again disappointed. Instead of viewing the apartments decorated by top interior designers for Architectural Digest, we are instead offered a "video montage." And it seems the building has trademarked the phrase "Five Star Living" to describe the One Central Park Condominiums and Residences at Mandarin Oriental to hawk their units.
But let's back up a second, shall we? Before I go on record trashing this event as the worst waste of a million dollars ever by a corporation desperate to regain its once unassailable stature, let's think about who's who in this picture. When you think "Time Warner Center," besides being grateful that they snipped AOL out of the title before the chrome letters were cast, you picture prestigious publisher Time Inc., television's highest quality purveyor HBO and a bit of Hollywood. But the truth is this event had to please even more masters.
First there are the retail tenants. These are big brand names (among them Coach, J. Crew and Williams-Sonoma) that commit to huge multiyear, multimillion dollar leases. So for opening night all hesitations must be cast aside, such as, will high-end buyers want to live in a mall, and will regular New Yorkers ever really shop here? (I'm proud that New Yorkers have a healthy allergic reaction to malls. When was the last time that you went to the so-called Manhattan Mall, née A&S Plaza, with the weird street lights on Sixth Avenue?)
So on this night all the stores were open for business, with "a percentage of sales going to Lincoln Center Corporate Fund," according to the program. I hate it when retailers don't disclose the percentage given to charity. It just seems so fraudulent. Maybe each store chose a different amount, but no store I visited displayed or mentioned anything about the charity. Instead, wide-eyed shopkeepers seemed incredulous that their halls were finally filled with wealthy-looking potential shoppers completely uninterested in buying groceries, books or midpriced sportswear during a black-tie dinner (well, half black-tie—invitations differed). One store manager rebelled by taping a hand-lettered sign in the window saying, "No browsing with drinks, please." The shop was empty.
In addition to a mall opening, this was also a real estate open house. There is housing inventory to be moved. And like any other business, in real estate, the more people look the more people will buy. And there were lots of lookers.
I was told that there was a V.I.P. cocktail reception from 6 to 8 PM with 500 expected guests, and then at 8 PM 3,000 guests would be admitted for the "Entertainment in the Great Hall." When I arrived at 7 PM there were 100 people on line to pass through the metal detectors. While we waited we were entertained by union picketers with that giant inflatable rat. (I wonder: Is it always the same rat? Or is there a store where you can get different sizes?) Architect Richard Meier looked daunted when he arrived, and I noted that the crammed entrance is not what fancy partygoers are accustomed to.
I couldn't really tell you who was responsible for the slow check-in. There were vendors on top of vendors at this affair. Before the event, Harriet Weintraub's team at WSC PR took my RSVP, then politely referred me to Rubenstein Associates for press information. The uncharming woman in publicist Alan Segan's office who fielded my call would not email me a general release; she told me instead to look on their Web site, and when I asked whom could I introduce myself to for questions during the event, she replied, "It's going to be very busy." Being acquainted with Mr. Rubenstein I inquired if he would be in attendance, thinking a quote from the grand pooh-bah of PR on the eve of this New York milestone might be fun, she told me, "Yes, he's attending, but only as a guest," which I took to mean "Leave him alone." Inside the event, Peggy Siegel—now one of Weintraub's partners, of course—greeted people.
But immediately inside I could see that there were already 1,500 people milling about, and throughout the night throngs more streamed in. The next day The New York Times reported that 8,000 had been invited (and put a picture of the party on the front page—press you can't argue with).
When museums have big openings, they usually have a press breakfast in the morning, a private viewing for big benefactors later, an evening gala for $500 or $1,000 a head, then a big party for $150 or so. The point is, they separate the groups. This event combined everybody. Salman Rushdie, Phyllis George, not-so-active politico Andy Stein and Cindy Crawford (husband Rande Gerber opened the Stone Rose bar on the fourth level) mixed it up with contractors and their bejeweled wives. I suppose you could say it was a melting pot, a mirror of the city's beautiful mosaic, but when I want that I take the subway. This was just throngs of people, milling up and down the escalators. It got real crowded and kinda pushy, and one lady editor remarked that it reminded her of a 70's disaster flick. I twice took the fire stairs rather than queue up for five minutes to ride an escalator. The elevators we tried seemed to be turned off.
On chef Daniel Boulud's advice, we went to see Thomas Keller's new restaurant. The routine was you followed a slow-mo conga line into the kitchen for an appetizer. If drinks were served I missed them, but they gave you popcorn in a bag like at the circus, which seemed fitting. Clearly, without 500 people crammed inside, this is a swanky joint, with dark, high-backed brocade-upholstered chairs overlooking a big-value vista. But fifteen minutes is too long for me to wait to get to see a kitchen. I heard it was great.
Despite my obvious cynicism, I really do get excited about good food, so I began grilling waiters from Glorious Food. Some hors d'oeuvres were theirs, others from the in-house restaurateurs, but most waiters were unable or unwilling to make the distinction. Hard to blame them, it seemed like bedlam from their standpoint.
Meanwhile still more people were coming in. I tried to warn fashion editor Kate Betts and author Steven Gaines. Then I decided the best way to sample Mr. Vongerichten's food is not by elbowing past 600 people to his new steakhouse on the fourth level, so instead I hotfooted it across the street to Jean Georges. When we arrived, despite the fact that it was full, we were greeted warmly, accommodated nicely and, importantly, not jostled. I hate being jostled by strangers, don't you?
Columnist Ted Kruckel is an experienced and opinionated former event and PR pro who ran events for 20 years for high-profile clients like Vanity Fair, Elle Decor, Christian Dior and Carolina Herrera. He shuttered his firm, Ted Inc., in 2003. You can email him at [email protected].
Photos by Gavin Ashworth
Additional reporting by Alesandra Dubin
Posted 02.11.04
The grand opening of the Time Warner Center obviously meant well. The evening's program communicates nothing if not the best intentions to provide guests with a full sampling of what the slick new building has to offer. But the under-promising got thrown out the window.
Sometimes meeting the high expectations of eventgoers is impossible. I wanted to go to the opening in the worst way. I read the papers. I heard about the Architectural Digest designer apartments. The New York Observer filled me in on Donald Trump's tacky sign that faces the penthouses explaining (correctly, I'll admit) that his brassy building has the better view. And of course as a Nobu devotee, I was aware that some new sushi guy was giving Mr. Matsuhisa a run for the money.
The program noted that the second level would feature "Cocktails and Buffet" (as opposed to "Cocktails and Tastings" on the concourse level, brought to you by grocer Whole Foods). And at 8:30 in the Borders bookstore there would be a performance by "Grammy-nominated artist Jim Brickman with Jeff Timmons, multiplatinum vocalist from 98°." I guess suspecting that, like me, not everyone would come clamoring to see this well-qualified duo, the program made it clear that second-level visitors could have a separate sponsored experience in the "Borders Lounge." I visited this lounge, which while comfortably appointed with lounge furniture and unnecessary carpeting, did not have a book in sight. I suppose they figured, why bother with merchandise when you've got a hot act?
Some promises were kept. The third level advertised Caf? Gray with chef Gray Kunz, and there he was busily supervising the unfinished kitchen of his new restaurant and by all appearances being a real chef. Nice for a change, no?
But on to the fourth level we were again disappointed. Instead of viewing the apartments decorated by top interior designers for Architectural Digest, we are instead offered a "video montage." And it seems the building has trademarked the phrase "Five Star Living" to describe the One Central Park Condominiums and Residences at Mandarin Oriental to hawk their units.
But let's back up a second, shall we? Before I go on record trashing this event as the worst waste of a million dollars ever by a corporation desperate to regain its once unassailable stature, let's think about who's who in this picture. When you think "Time Warner Center," besides being grateful that they snipped AOL out of the title before the chrome letters were cast, you picture prestigious publisher Time Inc., television's highest quality purveyor HBO and a bit of Hollywood. But the truth is this event had to please even more masters.
First there are the retail tenants. These are big brand names (among them Coach, J. Crew and Williams-Sonoma) that commit to huge multiyear, multimillion dollar leases. So for opening night all hesitations must be cast aside, such as, will high-end buyers want to live in a mall, and will regular New Yorkers ever really shop here? (I'm proud that New Yorkers have a healthy allergic reaction to malls. When was the last time that you went to the so-called Manhattan Mall, née A&S Plaza, with the weird street lights on Sixth Avenue?)
So on this night all the stores were open for business, with "a percentage of sales going to Lincoln Center Corporate Fund," according to the program. I hate it when retailers don't disclose the percentage given to charity. It just seems so fraudulent. Maybe each store chose a different amount, but no store I visited displayed or mentioned anything about the charity. Instead, wide-eyed shopkeepers seemed incredulous that their halls were finally filled with wealthy-looking potential shoppers completely uninterested in buying groceries, books or midpriced sportswear during a black-tie dinner (well, half black-tie—invitations differed). One store manager rebelled by taping a hand-lettered sign in the window saying, "No browsing with drinks, please." The shop was empty.
In addition to a mall opening, this was also a real estate open house. There is housing inventory to be moved. And like any other business, in real estate, the more people look the more people will buy. And there were lots of lookers.
I was told that there was a V.I.P. cocktail reception from 6 to 8 PM with 500 expected guests, and then at 8 PM 3,000 guests would be admitted for the "Entertainment in the Great Hall." When I arrived at 7 PM there were 100 people on line to pass through the metal detectors. While we waited we were entertained by union picketers with that giant inflatable rat. (I wonder: Is it always the same rat? Or is there a store where you can get different sizes?) Architect Richard Meier looked daunted when he arrived, and I noted that the crammed entrance is not what fancy partygoers are accustomed to.
I couldn't really tell you who was responsible for the slow check-in. There were vendors on top of vendors at this affair. Before the event, Harriet Weintraub's team at WSC PR took my RSVP, then politely referred me to Rubenstein Associates for press information. The uncharming woman in publicist Alan Segan's office who fielded my call would not email me a general release; she told me instead to look on their Web site, and when I asked whom could I introduce myself to for questions during the event, she replied, "It's going to be very busy." Being acquainted with Mr. Rubenstein I inquired if he would be in attendance, thinking a quote from the grand pooh-bah of PR on the eve of this New York milestone might be fun, she told me, "Yes, he's attending, but only as a guest," which I took to mean "Leave him alone." Inside the event, Peggy Siegel—now one of Weintraub's partners, of course—greeted people.
But immediately inside I could see that there were already 1,500 people milling about, and throughout the night throngs more streamed in. The next day The New York Times reported that 8,000 had been invited (and put a picture of the party on the front page—press you can't argue with).
When museums have big openings, they usually have a press breakfast in the morning, a private viewing for big benefactors later, an evening gala for $500 or $1,000 a head, then a big party for $150 or so. The point is, they separate the groups. This event combined everybody. Salman Rushdie, Phyllis George, not-so-active politico Andy Stein and Cindy Crawford (husband Rande Gerber opened the Stone Rose bar on the fourth level) mixed it up with contractors and their bejeweled wives. I suppose you could say it was a melting pot, a mirror of the city's beautiful mosaic, but when I want that I take the subway. This was just throngs of people, milling up and down the escalators. It got real crowded and kinda pushy, and one lady editor remarked that it reminded her of a 70's disaster flick. I twice took the fire stairs rather than queue up for five minutes to ride an escalator. The elevators we tried seemed to be turned off.
On chef Daniel Boulud's advice, we went to see Thomas Keller's new restaurant. The routine was you followed a slow-mo conga line into the kitchen for an appetizer. If drinks were served I missed them, but they gave you popcorn in a bag like at the circus, which seemed fitting. Clearly, without 500 people crammed inside, this is a swanky joint, with dark, high-backed brocade-upholstered chairs overlooking a big-value vista. But fifteen minutes is too long for me to wait to get to see a kitchen. I heard it was great.
Despite my obvious cynicism, I really do get excited about good food, so I began grilling waiters from Glorious Food. Some hors d'oeuvres were theirs, others from the in-house restaurateurs, but most waiters were unable or unwilling to make the distinction. Hard to blame them, it seemed like bedlam from their standpoint.
Meanwhile still more people were coming in. I tried to warn fashion editor Kate Betts and author Steven Gaines. Then I decided the best way to sample Mr. Vongerichten's food is not by elbowing past 600 people to his new steakhouse on the fourth level, so instead I hotfooted it across the street to Jean Georges. When we arrived, despite the fact that it was full, we were greeted warmly, accommodated nicely and, importantly, not jostled. I hate being jostled by strangers, don't you?
Columnist Ted Kruckel is an experienced and opinionated former event and PR pro who ran events for 20 years for high-profile clients like Vanity Fair, Elle Decor, Christian Dior and Carolina Herrera. He shuttered his firm, Ted Inc., in 2003. You can email him at [email protected].
Photos by Gavin Ashworth
Additional reporting by Alesandra Dubin
Posted 02.11.04
At the Time Warner Center opening, singer Marc Anthony performed on a stage built by Broad Street inside the building's 150-foot-high Great Room. Cirque du Soleil, Jewel and the Jazz at Lincoln Center orchestra also performed.
A row of white-clad Glorious Food waiters offered drinks to the approximately 6,000 guests. The vast menu included caviar, foie gras, tuna rillettes, croque monsieur, and mini BLTs—bacon, lettuce and truffle sandwiches.
Designer David Monn created four stark lounge areas dotted with bare white trees. Monn lit the white decor in different colors throughout the evening, so the look changed from magenta to orange to turquoise and other hues.
Mayor Michael Bloomberg joined event co-hosts Jon Stewart and Paula Zahn on stage for a short interview. Governor George Pataki also made a guest appearance.
