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EarlyGrube Tube,circa 1976The story of Steve Gruberg coincides with the history of public access Television in New York. Before 1970, television was a predominately black-and-white medium. The signals for color channels weren’t able to reach homes in the maze of high-rise buildings, and so television sets were suspended in an outdated format. This made Manhattan a perfect candidate to be hardwired for cable. Two major companies emerged as the players to do so–TelePrompTer and Sterling. Within their franchise agreements, they were required to provide two channels for public use–channels C and D. As is described by Leah Churner in her Moving Image Source story, “The cable companies would provide studio space, training, equipment, and airtime for free, to anyone who wanted it, on a first-come, first-served basis. Other than a ban on advertising, patrons would enjoy full First Amendment protection, with no restrictions on content.” By 1971, public access was born.Steve’s early aspirations were to become a stand-up comedian. Like all beatnik Brooklynites of his creed, he identified with acts like Robert Klein and Richard Belzer. On May 13, 1975, The Grube Tube first aired as an attempt to get closer to that dream. The original format was 30 minutes of sketches–sometimes funny, sometimes not. But as the friends who took part in the early antics left for more sustainable lifestyles, he needed a new companion. And so the dial-in format was introduced.
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Jackie Mason onThe Grube TubeThe show became Steve’s life. Not that it was the only thing, but it touched nearly every facet of who he was. An incredibly private person, the show offered a way for Steve to interact with the world, while still possessing the control he desired—the ability to hang up. “The show was his vehicle,” Adrienne said. “He would look for apartments on the show. He would meet women through the show.” And in 1979, when Adrienne tuned in to The Grube Tube, Steve, who was fresh off a first divorce, was attempting the latter. Adrienne decided to call, and so began their 30-plus year relationship. But The Grube Tube wasn’t only how Steve met Adrienne. Soupy Sales, Al Goldstein, Al Lewis, Robert Klein, and Jackie Mason—men he had admired even before the show took form—appeared in his life via the program, too.
Perhaps Steve’s greatest moment behind the desk was when entertainment icon Soupy Sales came on set. For eight months, Steve had been asking his viewers where Soupy was, hoping that some connected Manhattan caller might have his hero’s contact. The pleas for Soupy paid off, and the man who served as the inspiration for entertainers like Howard Stern, Pee Wee Herman, and Andy Kaufman came to Channel J. Watching the short clip, listening to Steve greet his guest with a jubilant “Souuuuupppppppyyyyy!” is like watching a ten-year-old meet Mickey Mouse. The pair's relationship lasted until Soupy’s death in 2009.
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Steve Gruber and Al Goldstein on Richard Auriello, and the possible cancellation of Channel J.An equally funny, but sadly prophetic clip came towards the end of Channel J, in September of 1990. The president of Time Warner's New York City Cable Group, Richard Auriello, was attempting to replace Channel J with C-Span. Steve was joined by Al Goldstein to take their First Amendment fight public. A week prior, in a New York Times article, Auriello explained that no city official lobbied for the continuation of channel J. “I guess that implies they believe the experiment failed,” he said. Steve and Al proved the contrary when they began publicly berating Auriello on The Grube Tube, a show being funded by the very cable company in question. “Auriello! Lick this baby!” Screamed Goldstein into the camera, as he fingered his belly button with his right index, and smoked a Monte Cristo in his left. After a puff of his cigar, he continued, “You are a piece of shit, like the Eichmann organization. You are a cog in the bureaucracy of Nazism. You are a turd!” His rage suddenly subsided, and he turned to Steve calmly, “I’m looking at the monitor here, and we look like an ad for Slimfast!”Steve began to laugh. He stood up and removed his shirt. Al followed suit. The two men pressed their bare stomachs together. Steve looked in the camera, “Now that’s obscenity! That’s indecent, obscene, and it shouldn’t be made available to anyone under the age of 47!” Then he answered the next caller, who sounded like an 80-year-old Staten Islander claiming to have cut himself on a Screw Magazine. Before he could say where, Steve hung up and continued berating Auriellio. Even with their very existence in jeopardy, the unpredictability and immaturity of The Grube Tube continued. But in the end, Channel J did in fact disappear from cable, and was replaced by C-Span.
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The Grube Tubecirca 2010When I tuned in towards the end of Grube’s tenure, the calls were less insightful discussions than sophomoric antics. And though the antics were always part of The Grube Tube, their proportion eclipsed the idea of television as a two-way medium. When a new viewer stumbled upon a live program that didn’t screen or censor their calls, an unleashing of vulgarities seemed in order. Sorry to say I fell into that category many times, not knowing enough to act differently. In a clip from one of the later episodes, someone asked Steve, “You take so much abuse. I’m wondering why you keep doing this.” His answer could really be boiled down to three words: “I enjoy it.” I did too. I just wish I could get one more call in.