Hey pallies, loves how much Regis Philbin loves our Dino. Here is a cool article 'bout the Rege's show that begins with his Dinodevotion. Written by interviewer Raakhee Mirchandani for the New York Post blogg (clicks on tagg of this Dinogram to go there), Mr. Philbin's true Dinodevotion comes shinin' through.
Have added a great clip that I have shared before of Regis and Kelly puttin' of the cardboard rendition of our great man. Enjoys pallies... Dinolovin', DMP
2 in the morning
Backstage at 'Regis and Kelly'By Raakhee Mirchandani
Last Updated: 10:59 AM, September 6, 2009
Posted: 2:30 AM, September 6, 2009
Dean Martin is singing in Regis Philbin’s office. The sound of Martin’s soft voice evokes a time when men wore smoking jackets and girls were named Kitty and Betty. And Regis Philbin was a senior at Cardinal Hayes High School in the Bronx.
“Dean Martin. Jerry Lewis. Remember them?,“ asks Philbin, punctuating Martin’s velvety croon with his rambunctious excitement. Before he gets to work, though, someone pushes PLAY on the CD player, which is always, always loaded with Dean. “Those were the days, Raakhee. Copacabana, many years ago for my prom, there was Dean and Jerry. When show business was a lot of fun.
At ABC’s studios on Columbus Avenue where “Live! With Regis and Kelly!” is taped and is celebrating its 22nd anniversary, show business still seems like a lot of fun.
Philbin, 79, flips through the paper (a life-size cardboard cut-out of Martin watches from behind his desk) while eating half a buttered bagel. He cackles about Michael Gelman, his executive producer, and talks clothes with his in-house wardrobe man, Goldie. One possible reason Philbin seems so at ease is that his commute is a breeze — a three-minute stroll from his building to the studio garage, where an army of tourists with cameras have been waiting since before 7 a.m. for a glimpse of him.
“This guy’s in love,“ Philbin serenades me. “This guy’s in love with you.“
Philbin is singing the Burt Bacharach song – a hit for Herb Alpert in 1968 — that he has recorded with his wife, Joy.
“Any guy ever sang that to ya, Raakhee?“ he asks.
No. And not like that. Not ever.
When I’m not here, he spends his days serenading Kelly Ripa, his bubbly, on-air co-host of eight years. In real-life they come across as more father-daughter (or niece and favorite uncle) than colleagues. Their on-screen chemistry is real. And they keep things fresh by ignoring each other. Until show time at least.
Pre-show, Philbin and Ripa don’t converse, except for a brief hello when they cross paths in hair and make-up. That’s how he says their chats stay spontaneous. And hysterical.
But Philbin spends the whole day before he does a show collecting items he plans to share with her. He usually runs through the day’s events before going to bed, jotting down the key moments on a notepad.
Anything is fair game. Recently Gelman and Philbin went to lunch with some friends and Gelman ordered East End fluke. But on the following day’s show the fluke turned in to an epic story including photos, Philbin’s dramatic rendition of Gelman’s ordering style and a subsequent on-air conversation a few shows later.
“Regis loves to complain. That’s his shtick,“ says Gelman, 48, who has worked with Philbin almost every day for 24 years. “Trust me when I was at the restaurant, I looked at the menu and said, “I’ll have the East End fluke“ and to Regis it’s a story that’s really funny.“ Of Philbin’s hysterically affected impersonation of him, Gelman says, “All of a sudden I’m like some guy from Connecticut, with lockjaw or Niles from Frasier.
“I’m a foodie. I love my wine. I’m not watching sports on Sunday,“ he says. “Regis is a man’s man. I’m more of a metrosexual. I produce a show for women!“
But that’s the Philbin charm — his incredible victimization by Gelman, computers, the internet, Twitter and of course, Kelly Ripa.
“He’s the best storyteller on the planet. I mean the best. And the fact is that he exaggerates everything,“ she says giggling, taking a break from her iPhone and her new Twitter obsession. Ripa tweets constantly, from the car, from the beach, even during fittings for Electrolux commercials. “No matter what the story, you are the villain and he is the victim.
To be on-air ready by 9 a.m., Ripa, 39, leaves SoHo, where she lives with handsome hubby Mark Consuelos and their three kids Michael, Lola and Joaquin, in a car with her driver, Leo, at 7:30 a.m. On the drive to the Upper West Side, she listens to Howard Stern. Her tiny rear parked in a makeup chair shortly after 8 a.m., she settles in for 45 minutes and producers pop by to brief her on the day’s guests, news and anecdotes she night need for the show.
“I’m usually reading the newspaper. Although now that I’ve started tweeting, I’m tweeting constantly. It’s my sister-on-law’s birthday and I have a lot of people who are staying with us and I’m trying to think about how I will have time to tweet. It’s twitter anxiety. How will I tweet my peeps?
At around 8:50 Gelman warms up the audience of over 100 people, coaching them on how to laugh and how to applaud. “Fast claps are louder than slower ones,“ he says. In 10 minutes it’s go-time and with a flury of hair, makeup and wardrobe the show begins.
The two take the stage, hand-in-hand, with Kelly tweeting just before she runs through the door. They discuss the night’s activities, Regis’ sleep issues (he famously did an overnight sleep study last season) and how he spent the previous evening ringing the closing bell at the NYSE. In between guests Rachel McAdams and Jon Hamm and during commercial breaks the duo step down and chat and pose with the audience.
“Do you remember me Regis? I met you at the airport a few years ago and you helped with my bag,“ says a woman visiting New York for the week.
Philbin smiles, nods and waves. Of course he doesn’t — he barely remembers what happened this morning — but she’ll never know.