You never know where John Montone will spend his morning.
It may be in midtown interviewing irate cabbies and truckers about the latest ticket blitz. Or at a noisy diner chatting up patrons about taxes, Bloomberg or baseball. Or in the bowels of the subways shouting to strap-hangers as the A-train roars by.
Montone is 1010 WINS morning street reporter. His tape recorder is like a giant stethoscope taking the pulse of the city and its suburbs. Too much snow? Not enough sex? The President is coming to town? The LIRR can’t make it into town? Trump said what? Excuse me sir, do you use Viagra?
When buildings burn, Montone is there. When a serial rapist is on the loose, Montone is there. When editor Maloney barks, “Bed-sty,” Montone doesn’t ask why.
At 4 A.M. when the wind-chill is 30-below he’s talking to homeless men around a trash can fire. When the snow drifts across the BQE he’s in the 1010 WINS Mobile Unit jumping out to get the sound of cars spinning their wheels and drivers cursing their fate.
He can be sarcastic or outrageous, solemn or angry. His tongue is never far from his cheek and he pours his heart into his notebook. To Montone news and life are one and the same. He writes movies to play in the listener’s mind.
And once in a while Montone even wails on his harmonica.
But as a blues man, he’s a pretty good news man.
Wonder where he’ll be tomorrow morning?
You can send John tips and story ideas at: firstname.lastname@example.org.
Want to Mouth Off? E-mail email@example.com to share your opinion.
1010 WINS’ John Montone spoke with longtime “Late Show” announcer Alan Kalter this week about what it’s been like working with Letterman for two decades.
I’m going to sound my age now, but tough. When I was a teenager and I had a job, I did that job right. Even if I didn’t like the job.
On 1010 WINS, the news watch never stops. Here’s a weeks worth of my contributions.
While questioning folks from different boroughs and neighborhoods about a report that says there has been a spike in murders this year, I was reminded just how commonplace the sound of gunfire has become.
The city’s hawk population is thriving and as these killing machines of the avian kingdom will do, they have left the carcasses of squirrels and pigeons strewn about the gardens and grass.
Hey, Ben Franklin, stick to lightning rods. Leave our clocks alone.
Can al-Shabab get shopaholics to drop…the habit? I doubt it, but….
So what kind of fool was I? A wet, freezing fool. But I just had to try to catch the setting sun as it hit the ice because who knows if the opportunity will ever arise again.
Before Bill de Blasio bans carriage horses, he’s trying his hand at horse trading.
Butts…big, big butts…well, let’s just say they are trending.
Pimpin’ ain’t easy. Know what I mean?
Might that shield the NFL is so proud and protective of some day stand for the National Felons League?
As for me, after watching the south tower of the World Trade Center vaporize, I am rarely “shocked.” But the story called “Young Shooter” did the trick.
I couldn’t have done it without Toni-Roni, Raji, Mohamed and Mike.
The rooms are almost barren but for boxes of our belongings. No pictures on the walls, no family photo albums on the coffee table.