By John Montone, 1010 WINS
Ask me on a Friday what story I covered on the Monday of the same week and most weeks I’d have to flip open the pages of my reporter’s notebook to answer you.
But some stories stick.
In 2013, New Yorkers living in our most crime-infested neighborhoods began complaining about the police tactic that many law enforcement experts felt had removed guns and killers from the streets. The battle over “stop-and-frisk” raged in courtrooms and the City Council chamber.
A group of thugs riding motorcycles pulled a man from his car uptown and beat him bloody as his wife who was with their 2-year-old daughter watched in horror.
In Midwood and Crown Heights and over in Jersey City, young men sucker-punched unsuspecting pedestrians in the face, then ran away celebrating as their victims hit the pavement. In some cases, they posted the attacks on YouTube.
New Yorkers started riding Citibikes, some folks waited in long lines to gorge themselves on cronuts and the new World Trade Center was officially named the tallest building in America. As Casey Stengel would have said, “Amazing!”
And on the subject of sports, 2013 was the pits, the worst New York sports season since 1966. Neither the Jets nor Giants will play in the first hometown Super Bowl. The mighty Yankees failed to reach the post-season for only the second time in 17 years. And the Mets…don’t get me started.
And Anthony Weiner did what most of us thought would be impossible. He made a bigger fool of himself than when he was caught texting a picture of his namesake to much of the free world. Weiner continued to “sext” under the pseudonym, Carlos Danger. Oh, yeah, and he ran for mayor.
So what was my most memorable news moment of the year? It was on an August morning near Rockefeller Center where I was sent to interview teenage girls who had packed the plaza and nearby streets waiting to see “One Direction.”
“Who?” I asked editor Maloney when he gave me my assignment.
It’s true. I had never heard of the English heart-throbs. But an hour later I was reporting from the middle of the swarming, surging, sweating, shrieking crowd that, “….I feel like a war correspondent for Sixteen Magazine.”
What I also felt was nostalgic.
I recalled when I was a boy watching a similar crowd of teenage girls on a black and white TV screaming for John, Paul, George and Ringo.
That was 50 years ago.
From twisting to twerking and I’ve got a front row seat.