The Bus Stops Here for a Beloved N.Y. Bigmouth

It could have been an argument right out of Ralph and Alice Kramden’s kitchen on “The Honeymooners.” Swelling with indignation, the bus driver shouts: “One of these days, Alice! One of these days they’re gonna build a statue to me in this town!” To which Alice replies: “Sure they will, Ralph. And they’ll call it the Tower of Babble.”

Well, hardy har har, Alice, the joke’s on you: As city buses roared by during the Monday morning rush hour, New York unveiled an 8-foot-tall bronze statue of Kramden in front of the Port Authority Bus Terminal. In a city where generals, politicians, religious leaders and even a dog have been honored with statues, the working stiff immortalized by Jackie Gleason has finally gotten his due.

Weighing in at 4,000 pounds, the Kramden memorial illustrates the power of television icons in American culture (“Baby, you’re the greatest!” onlookers shouted as the statue debuted). But it also speaks volumes about the steady commercialization of open public space in New York City.

And how commercial it is: The dedication was part of a new campaign by TV Land, a Viacom-owned cable channel, to memorialize iconic characters like Kramden (and boost ratings) across America. The network commissioned the sculpture with the cooperation of Gleason’s estate and promoted the event with the eager cooperation of New York Port Authority officials. They were happy to install a statue donated “by the people of TV Land” at the entrance to America’s busiest bus terminal.

“Who better than Ralph Kramden to greet commuters and bus drivers in front of a place where more than 200,000 commuters and 7,000 buses pass through every day?” said Ken Philmus, director of tunnels, bridges and terminals. “We think this is a wonderful gift to all the people of New York City.”

Could Los Angeles be next--maybe “Dragnet’s” Sgt. Joe Friday in front of Parker Center? “I really can’t comment,” said Rob Pellizzi, vice president of marketing for TV Land. “But we are definitely going to go bicoastal.”

Owning a Slice of the Apple

Nowadays, you can own a piece of the public rock in New York--but only if the price is right. Concerts in Central Park, generally frowned on by city officials, can be staged by corporate sponsors that make generous donations to the city coffers. Endangered city gardens bear the name of business benefactors. And amid booming real estate values, space in Times Square is generally available to the highest bidders.

Sometimes there are glitches. Plans for a statue of Frank Sinatra in Times Square, for example, have run into flak from those worried about traffic congestion. Mayor Rudolph W. Giuliani, a staunch backer of the project, has scoffed at such opposition; he vows that Old Blue Eyes will get his memorial, right in front of the site of the old Paramount Theatre where Sinatra first wowed bobby-soxers in 1942.

The Kramden hoopla generated its own gridlock Monday as onlookers fought for sidewalk space with thousands of commuters pouring out of the terminal. “Hey, Norton, where’s my bagel?” a construction worker shouted at an actor dressed up to look like Ed Norton, Kramden’s loyal companion. “I don’t care who you are, get the hell out of my way!” an impatient bike messenger yelled at Port Authority honchos.

It was noisy, it was sweaty--and Ralphie Boy would have felt right at home. As “The Honeymooners” theme boomed from loudspeakers, Joyce Randolph, the original “Trixie,” pulled a sheet off the statue designed by Lawrence J. Nolan Jr. Fans broke into cheers and she dabbed tears from her eyes.

Randolph and Art Carney, who played Norton, are the sole surviving members of the cast, which also included Gleason and Audrey Meadows as Alice.

“Boy, would Jackie have been proud,” Randolph said, recalling the live performances she and other cast members delivered at the Adelphi Theatre in the early 1950s. The show has been airing continuously in reruns ever since it was syndicated in 1957, spawning books, magazines, dissertations, TV documentaries, fan clubs and numerous Web sites.

“Ralph symbolized so much,” Randolph said. “You look at him and you see the struggles of ordinary people to make a living. You see the comedy, the disappointments of life.”

Through good times and bad, Kramden’s turbulent world “was one jubilant, defiant explosion of noise and pain and marital rage,” wrote Gerard Jones in “Honey, I’m Home!” a history of sitcoms. “Ralph evolved into a classic American type, a perennial loser who persisted insanely in seeing himself as a man of the world, a master of his destiny, an opportunist eternally on the brink of making it big.”

Many of those who crowded around the statue weren’t even born when the show began airing in 1950, but the blowhard bus driver from Brooklyn and his pals--who lived in a Bensonhurst walk-up--struck a chord. They were average Joes taking time off before work, and the image of Kramden clutching his lunch pail--seeming to burst out of his drab city uniform--triggered some emotional responses.

“I like that guy Kramden,” said construction worker Tino Rivera, jostling for a better view. “He was a bigmouth, but there are millions of bigmouths in New York City. So, naturally, people here are going to identify with him.”

‘Gleason Really Told It Like It Is’

For Ruthie Escalante, a record store clerk, Kramden’s nonstop battles with his wife--and reconciliation at the end of each show--came about as close to defining married life as anything she has ever seen on American television.

“Gleason really told it like it is,” Escalante said. “And I watch the reruns all the time with my husband. It’s like a ritual.”

As the curious inspected the statue after the ceremony, some took pictures while others pondered the inscription: “Jackie Gleason as Ralph Kramden. Bus Driver. Raccoon Lodge Treasurer. Dreamer.”

For Joe DiNucci, a longtime truck driver, it all seemed very personal.

“He [Kramden] got frustrated a lot, but he kept going,” said the burly man, taking one last look. “I can relate.”