To see a complete list of the 2009 NorthBay biz Readers’ Poll winners, click here. You can also read the stories for each company by clicking on their corresponding links.
The buzz has always been out there, floating in the air like all the pollen during the Mustard Festival.
But it’s different than most of the loose talk and gossip in the North Bay. If people want to chatter about Sean Penn catching breakfast at Spanky’s or Robert Redford picking up supplies at Steve’s Hardware, let ’em. And it isn’t about secrecy, either. At least not the brand of concealment the Lucas Empire practices, which makes Dick Cheney’s rewrite of the constitution from an undisclosed location look like healthy paranoia. Unless somebody in the Industrial Light and Magic clan wants to come clean on where George buys his cowboy boots, the sell-by date for the down and dirty on Star Wars Central has expired.
No, the bizies have never been about secrets. It’s just that the trio of tastemakers at the top of the NorthBay biz masthead have always felt a more intimate gathering is simply more fun.
But the noise and chitchat coming out of the magazine’s annual bash has grown louder with each successive year. Whether it was wild tales of celebrity chefs showing up unannounced—one year it’s Thomas Keller and the next, Tyler Florence—raucous anecdotes about naked pre- and post-soirees or the legend of a gang fight between rival businesses fought with corkscrews, it seems the bizies have a life of their own.
My personal favorite fable has to do with the owner of a pro football team (that used to train in the Wine Country) stripping out of his jumpsuit and leaping into a rather substantial Italian fountain while screaming, “Just swim, baby!”
And it isn’t just the locals talking up the annual awards soiree. Au contraire. The networks, always clamoring for another awards ceremony to televise, have been trying to buttonhole publisher Norm Rosinski for years regarding TV rights. But like another Chicago native, former Illinois Governor Rod Blagojevich, Norm can be elusive. Unlike Blago, however, Norm isn’t under indictment (as far as we know).
Word of mouth and other communicable diseases
The unique thing about the bizy buzz is, it’s always been word of mouth. Because the awards ceremony has always been on an invite-only basis, the North Bay media has never been able to cover the party. So tales regarding the event have spread the old-fashioned way—by people nattering on and rubbing it in that they were there and you weren’t.
The best revenge, it seems, is attending an event revolving around a mythical beast with a lower-case name. Still, the drumbeat regarding opening the small-plate-and-drinks awards bonanza to the public at large or to a televised audience has picked up momentum. If it’s not friends or family bugging me about getting them in, it’s colleagues in the fourth estate wondering why they can’t cover it.
Putting my family and friends off is easy enough: In a quiet voice with a measured cadence, I look them in the eye (sometimes tenderly holding their hand) and explain that I simply don’t like them very much. This is much easier than admitting I have no pull for seats. As for the discussions with my media brethren, I say something like, “It really isn’t that big a deal. Being there is like a cross between the Super Bowl and the Oscars, with a touch of Kentucky Derby, a hint of ‘Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader?’ and maybe a soupcon of the ‘Jerry Springer Show.’” This usually proves vexing enough so they lapse into a conversation about how their editor is killing their career.
So this year’s initial bizies planning meeting got off to a surprising start. I was still trying to find an inconspicuous place to sit, out of my editor’s gaze (I was past deadline) while still close enough to the pastries and fruit so that breakfast could happen. As Norm speared the bear claw I had designs on, he casually announced, “We may televise this year’s bizies.”
A fierce silence fell over the room, not unlike when Katie Couric asked Sarah Palin for her reading list. Some of us looked mournfully at each other. Others stared out the windows, aware that the very soul and integrity of the bizies was perched upon a large dollar sign. I spied a maple old fashioned, but our design guru got there first.
Norm went on, “For years I’ve avoided this issue by simply saying no, but that hasn’t dampened their appetite. So we’re going to meet with the networks and talk a bit. Since this is our event, I thought I’d share this with you. Are there any questions? Does anybody want to sit in on the meetings?”
I raised my hand. We’re nothing if not civil and organized during our confabs. “Norm,” I said, “could you hand me the chocolate croissant there on the end?”
He smiled. “Have you been listening or simply planning breakfast?” he asked, finishing the bear claw that rightfully should have been mine.
“Both,” I replied. “You want to meet with a bunch of Hollywood suits so they can either give you a ton of money or leave you alone, right? And I’m still waiting on the croissant.”
He nodded. “Bon appetit. And you will be sitting in with me on the meetings.”
His pronouncement seemed to make the pastry chewy. Maybe it was just me.
Have your people call my people….
Our first meeting took place in San Francisco with execs from the E! Network at the W Hotel in a room that was more hip than comfortable. It seems that folks who spend their days in Hollywood drink a lot of bottled water and speak some dialect particular to the city where the big letters live up on a hill. “We looked at a pay per view deal but we don’t know if it has those legs,” said a twentysomething with hair that carried a Western Regional record amount of “product.” He was texting somebody while he gestured with the other hand, “What kind of talent do you have lined up as presenters? I mean, awards for businesses? It doesn’t exactly sing ratings, babe.”
Norm lit a cigarette over the protests of the Vice President of Ostentation. “You can’t light that in here,” his voice so cold you could have poured infused vodka over it.
My publisher took a big puff and said, “I need this if the meeting is going to actually go any longer.” He blew little smoke rings as one of the suits began to drone on about money up front versus taking points on the back end and foreign rights. It was all downhill from there.
Our second and last meeting took place in Laguna Niguel at the Ritz Carlton. Our meeting with officials from Fox was cordial as we did the whole ceremonial exchange of business cards. We made small chat. “Don’t you love the Duke’s airport?”
I was still hiding behind my shades, trying to get with the whole SoCal vibe. “Love it. Nothing says air travel like a big ol’ statue of John Wayne.”
A gent in a suit that was worth more than a car gave me a very tight smile. “In his day, he was the biggest star in Hollywood and quite patriotic. You have a problem with the Dukester?
Not me, I assured him. “As for patriotism, any way you could get me Bill O’Reilly’s autograph?”
“You a fan?” the suit inquired.
“Big admirer,” I said. “You seldom see a guy so gifted in terms of speaking out of both sides of his mouth at once. And no matter how many times he’s sued, nothing ever sticks to him. Very impressive.”
A breathtaking blonde with unnatural assets broke the uncomfortable silence by asking Norm, “How was your flight? Any time it’s that short we just take the Gulf Stream.”
He replied, “Who doesn’t love Southwest? The peanuts were particularly tasty.”
The meeting lasted two hours and, at one point, some guy with teeth so white they hurt my eyes announced with a great deal of pride that Fox had a “first look deal” with Howie Mandel.
“Do you have any possible host lined up with, say, hair…or talent?” I asked. Norm nodded.
Shortly after my remark, we were sitting in the airport bar waiting for our flight. I told Norm I was sorry I’d lost my patience with the network, “But seriously, Howie Mandel? Who was the runner up, George Hamilton and his tan?”
Norm took a sip and shook his head. “We accomplished what we needed to do. I think these people will leave us alone from now on, and that’s worth a trip to L.A., trust me.”
A new year, new awards?
Just as we strive to serve our readers with the best in business news, analysis and features, I thought this year’s bizies should add a pair of new categories to reflect the new economic realities.
The first new award draws its inspiration from the inclusion of wine varietals, everything from Cabernets to Pinots. But as we all face an unforgiving economy, with credit tightening and unemployment on the rise, I thought, Why not give a nod to beer? Sure, it lacks the panache of tasting rooms and showy tableside service, but who can argue with Ben Franklin’s thought, “Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.” It’s also more economical, something else the bespectacled Franklin touched on: “A penny saved is a penny earned,” more if you didn’t invest it with Bernard Madoff.
The second new award I was advocating for was Best Place to Buy a Used Car. Near as I can tell, Franklin had no writings on this subject, and Madoff never actually owned a used car.
My thinking about the used car concept was that the bold new economy was going to present all of us with new choices as consumers, some out of necessity, others out of reason and a few out of desperation. Regardless of our motivation, a “pre-owned” automobile may represent a new area of excellence that we can all celebrate, and perhaps the time has come for its inclusion among other divisions of the bizies.
I bounced these ideas off Norm and he bounced me out of his office.
This year’s venue is particularly exciting. The 2009 bizies event will take place at the venerable Sonoma Country Day School in Santa Rosa. The school, which turns out wonderful students on a regular basis, makes me a bit nervous, if I’m completely honest about it. And of late, honesty seems to be something my probation officer insists on; he can be scratchy that way. At any rate, locating this gala event on school grounds makes me a tad uncomfortable with the thought I could be in the midst of an appetizer and be called into the dean’s office.
The upside is that this time around, drinking on school grounds won’t land me in detention. I was also quite enthusiastic to learn that the facility was suitable for fencing, so I figured I could put my experience to good use. But as it turns out, they’re referring to the sport with swords and not the selling of stolen goods.
So there you have it, the backstory as they say in Hollywood, about this year’s bizies. To all of you who attend this year’s bash, congratulations on nailing down one of the toughest tickets in town. To those of you who spread rumors about the event every year, get busy cooking up those tall tales. And to those Fox TV execs, I have no idea what happened to all the minibar stuff, so stop calling me.
