The Peabody Awards 2024: Learning how “Stories That Matter” is so much more than a catchy slogan

(The author with Reservation Dogs executive producer Taika Waititi, Peabody judges Hannah Giorgis and Lorraine Ali, Peabody staffer Maggie Stephens and, below, Rita Ora and Kali Reis)

Midway through the ceremony, a thunderbolt struck in the form of a passionate speech from Sir Patrick Stewart, reminding me exactly why the George Foster Peabody Awards are such a special experience for judges, winners, staffers who works on the honors and media itself.

As a former judge and chair of the board of jurors, I had traveled to Los Angeles for the first Peabody awards held in person since the COVID lockdowns of 2020. It was also the awards’ first time taking place in Los Angeles, signaling a shift from the news-centered operation of old to a more Hollywood friendly production. And it happened to be the first awards ceremony since I stepped down as chair of the jurors in 2019, rotated off the panel – as is customary - after six years of service. (I was the first African American to hold the chair’s job, in fact.)

It is tough to describe what a special experience it is to be among the judges helping hand out such a prestigious honor. The first time I served, among the projects we gave prizes to were House of Cards and Scandal – two shows which heralded the rise of streaming and the impact of diversity on television. I was part of the panel which decided to hand special honors to Jon Stewart, Rita Moreno and Carol Burnett at various times, recognizing the world-shaking impact of legendary performers and satirists.

Deliberations take place over three separate weeks in different locations, with our debates centered on impact, originality, scope, quality, substance and diversity — among other considerations — always with an eye on what the bright light of a Peabody win might accomplish when trained on a deserving project.

(The Peabody judging panel during my last year in the group.)

At the end, judges must have watched/consumed every entry under consideration and we must agree unanimously. With a judging panel that ranged from world class academics to high achievers in media, expert journalists and critics and more, we bonded like rowdy siblings at a media nerd’s ideal summer camp.

(Chilling with Tony Goldwyn and Jeff Perry from Scandal during my very first Peabody awards ceremony in 2014.)

But when Sir Patrick rose in the middle of Sunday’s ceremony to speak eloquently of the amazing work on display in the acceptance speeches of winners, I realized why the Peabodys were truly special. Conceived as the electronic/broadcasting/TV equivalent of the Pulitzer Prizes, the Peabodys this evening united Hollywood favorites like FX’s The Bear and HBO’s The Last of Us with searing journalism, like the PBS NewsHour’s coverage of war in Gaza or Tennessee investigative reporter Phil Williams’ dogged exposure of a mayoral candidate’s ties to white supremacists in a tony Nashville suburb.

Ravish Kumar, the news anchor in India who serves as the centerpiece for the POV documentary While We Watched, gave a passionate speech criticizing mainstream news outlets in his home country for enabling Hindu nationalism by spreading misinformation. Ron Nyswaner, creator and showrunner for Showtime’s LGBTQ-focused limited series Fellow Travelers, talked on how “art is about trying to make people think and feel.”

And Larry Wilmore, co-creator of Black-ish and host of the late, lamented Comedy Central news satire The Nightly Show, cracked a joke on how supremely compromised Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas is kind of a dick. (Hey, everything can’t be highbrow during a three-hour show).

It occurred to me, that too many Hollywood awards shows are mostly about the star power and glamour of supremely acclaimed stars. Don’t get me wrong: it was gratifying and heartwarming to see the entire place leap to their feet for enduring icon and Career Achievement awards winner Mel Brooks, or Donald Glover presenting the Trailblazer award to his good friend Abbott Elementary star/creator Quinta Brunson or – for this Star Trek nerd anyway – the astonishing sight of watching castmembers/producers from Picard, Discovery, Enterprise and other corners of Trek gather onstage for the Institutional Award.

(The Star Trek crew, including LeVar Burton, Rebecca Romijin and Jeri Ryan, at the Peabody awards Sunday.)

But the secret sauce of the Peabodys is the way it utilizes Hollywood glamour to shine a light on quality journalism and public service programming like the micro-documentary series The Hidden Racism in New York City or PBS Frontline’s reporting on America and the Taliban or Dallas-Fort Worth NBC station KXAS’ look at how an organization of sheriffs were quietly radicalizing law enforcement officers across the state.

So, even though I’m no longer taking part in the long hours of viewing and debate required to pick these standout honorees – and it is part of the deal that every judge has to agree on every winner and finalist – I couldn’t be prouder of the selections my successors have assembled. We are all now part of a family dedicated to upholding the best in media, highlighting important work in a way almost no other modern awards ceremony can do.

(Me at this year’s Peabody awards.)

See the list of Peabody winners HERE.

Joining the Indiana Journalism Hall of Fame: Fulfillment from a life of helping a community understand itself

Journalism always seemed like a realistic career goal for me, thanks to my dad, Chuck Deggans.

He had a regular column in several newspapers around my Gary, Indiana hometown when I was growing up, writing for Black-centered newspapers like Gary INFO and The Crusader, in addition to the dominant local daily, The Post-Tribune. His column was like a local version of Jet magazine’s happenings pages, with tidbits on all the stuff going on in Gary’s Black social scenes, complete with a few photos of beautiful women in bikinis or local notables.

That’s why I spent time talking about him and my mother, Carolyn Williams, when I was inducted into the Indiana Journalism Hall of Fame. The honor, which has surprised and gratified me, was a direct reflection of both their influences.

My mom scrimped and saved to send me to private schools we could barely afford, giving me an education and experiences that broadened my horizons invaluably. And my dad showed me a career in journalism could bring a steady paycheck, community influence and great pride – knowing you were helping a community understand itself by telling its story, again and again, every day. Which was no small lesson for a Black kid raised in a tough neighborhood with few similar role models.

The Hall of Fame class this year includes some impressive names: Max Jones, editor of the Tribune-Star in Terre Haute; Bill Benner, a former sports reporter, writer and columnist at the Indianapolis Star; Sandra Chapman, reporter/investigative journalist formerly with WISH-TV and later WTHR-TV in Indianapolis; Francisco Figueroa (1896-1951), the printer, publisher and editorial contributor to Indiana’s first Spanish language newspaper, El Amigo del Hogar; Wallace Terry, 1938-2003, journalist, documentarian and author who covered war and civil rights for a variety of national newspapers and magazines and Kathy Tretter, owner and publisher of the Spencer County Leader and the Ferdinand News.

Joining this group was a distinct honor – a major highlight in a journalism life which has included everything from hosting shows on NPR and CNN to interviewing Oprah Winfrey and Prince, writing a book that predicted a lot of the modern shape of media and forcing the TV industry to face much of its hypocrisies regarding race and equity.

These days, it’s easy to despair over the waning impact of journalism, as audiences increasingly align with outlets telling them what they want to hear and those in power find more insidious ways to undermine a truly independent press.

But the Hall of Fame ceremony was poignant reminder of value in the ceaseless, constant work of journalists from my home state and around the world – a lifetime-long challenge which could not be more rewarding or necessary in the current moment.

Why hoping Lily Gladstone won an Oscar does not equal valuing race over talent.

Social media is never a great place to have discussions about race and culture. The real issues at hand are way too nuanced and detailed for outrage factories like X/Twitter and Instagram to handle.

Still, I was disappointed to see so many people – perhaps willfully – missing the point online when discussion rose after the Oscars about Lily Gladstone failing to win best actress honors.

No doubt, a win for Gladstone – who would have been the first Native American woman to earn a major acting Oscar – also would have felt like a serious triumph for champions touting the power of diversity in film.

Feeling the love big time today, especially from Indian Country. Kittō”kuniikaakomimmō”po’waw - seriously, I love you all ❤️

(Better believe when I was leaving the Dolby Theater and walked passed the big Oscar statue I gave that golden booty a little Coup tap - Count: one 😉)

— Lily Gladstone (@lily_gladstone) March 12, 2024

Those of us who clock these things regularly knew that Emma Stone’s turn in Poor Things was most likely to spoil that scenario. Stone offered a showy-yet-accomplished performance as a singular character in an ambitious, creatively weird production. A much-loved past winner delivering a career-best effort, she was just the kind of nominee that Oscar loves to reward. And, as Vulture pointed out, modern Oscar voters seem to enjoy turning against expectations in big moments like this.

But when I expressed those feelings online – that Stone was marvelous and more than earned the award, but the Oscar academy really missed a chance to make history by overlooking Gladstone’s more subtle, quietly powerful turn in a better movie – the knives came out.

The gist of most negative reactions was the implication that I and others lamenting her loss were insisting that ethnicity should trump talent. As if the only or most important reason that an indigenous woman could be nominated for such a lofty award, is by people trying to bring social justice to the Oscars. (I guess Gladstone’s wins as best actress at the Golden Globes and Screen Actors Guild awards, among others, were also nods to diversity?)

As if it couldn’t be possible that perhaps – just perhaps – some racial cultural preferences were mixed up in Oscar voters’ attraction to the story of a beautiful, young white woman who has loads of sex while learning to define herself in a male dominated world.

What really disappointed me, however, was reading an analysis which reached all the way back to the 2017 Oscars to imply that one reason Barry Jenkins’ masterpiece Moonlight won best picture honors over La La Land was the pressure to bring social justice to the Oscars.

Talk about missing the point by a mile. What I’m driving at, when I advocate for contenders like Gladstone, Barry Jenkins and Jeffrey Wright, isn’t a finger on the scale to make up for past exclusion.

It’s a plea for Oscar voters to see these performances the way I and so many other people actually see them.

I still remember watching last year’s version of The Color Purple in a screening alongside lots of folks from Black fraternity and sorority organizations. And when the moment arrived where Danielle Brooks’ character intoned about her husband, “I loves Harpo — God knows I do — but I’ll kill him dead before I let him or anybody beat me,” it felt like the whole theater said those words with her. That’s how iconic those lines – first spoken on film by Oprah Winfrey in the 1985 production – have become for Black America.

That same feeling came after I first saw Cord Jefferson’s brilliant American Fiction, centered on a frustrated, floundering Black writer who creates a stereotypical parody of a Black novel as a dark joke, only to see it become a best seller. I felt as if Jefferson had pulled the same bait-and-switch with his movie that his lead character managed onscreen – using the outrageous premise to draw us all into a more subtle and deliberately powerful story of a Black man struggling to connect with his family after huge losses.

I needed three attempts to get through watching all of Gladstone’s work in Killers of the Flower Moon. Not because the movie was so long I had to “get my mail forwarded to the theater,” like Oscars host Jimmy Kimmel joked. But because it was so hard for me to watch a film centered on the historic exploitation and murder of Native American people by white men.

It sounds like a simple idea, but it’s worth repeating: evocative moments in films will speak differently to different people.

Sometimes, when I’m pushing for a win in an awards category, or championing a particular project, it’s not because I’m putting a finger on the scale for the sake of equality. It’s because I’m more invested in that story than some others because of who I am. And I’m challenging some people, who might not see their cultural preferences as preferences, to consider exactly why they love one thing over another.

In many ways, it is sad to see great artists pitted against each other in these contests. Comparing the delightful, dangerous absurdity of Poor Things to the gritty, punishing tone in Killers of the Flower Moon feels like a fool’s errand, anyway.

But with so much that comes from an Oscar win – including proof that inclusion brings success, accolades and a great argument for more equity – it is important to understand why some people value some performances.

And part of living in a diverse society means valuing the wide range of opinions and reactions, not shrugging off those that don’t fit your worldview.

My List of the Best TV in 2023: An Abundance of Quality Even in Adversity

What’s the surest proof that there truly is too much television available these days?

The fact that, even though 2023 featured historic performers and writers strikes in Hollywood which crippled film and TV production for months, there was still enough great series and projects to fill an entire notebook page.

Way too many, in fact, for me to cover in my small part of NPR’s awesome annual listing of the best TV and film of the year, compiled among six different critics. It’s one reason the strikes went on so long in the first place – for fans of great TV, it didn’t really seem like much changed, as streaming services kept dropping cool stuff, thanks to their long production lead times.

Ironically, viewers may notice the strikes’ impact more next year – in part, because a lot of cool TV shows left us in 2023 (pour one out for Barry, The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, The Crown, Reservation Dogs, Succession, and, possibly, Ted Lasso) and also because the streamers will spend some time rebuilding lineups which got depleted.

Here, where I have a lot more room is my highly subjective and surprisingly long list of the Best TV of 2024:

TOP PICK - Succession – A show which perfectly captured how the dysfunctions of wealthy families can impact the world delivered a note-perfect finale that surprised – though I did predict Tom would win out – and yet felt completely inevitable. All while the world was second-guessing and writing their own endings. Masterful.

The Last of Us – Who knew reinventing the zombie apocalypse story was simple as coming up with a new cause – fungus, eww! – and the willingness to hand big chunks of the story over to compelling, fully drawn supporting characters. Doesn’t hurt to have ultimate zaddy Pedro Pascal and precocious acting genius Bella Ramsey on the case, either.

The Bear - Speaking of compelling supporting characters…this show’s second season sparkled by giving the other employees in Carmy’s greasy spoon-becoming-a-great-restaurant lots of narrative room. But it took flight with unexpected, brilliant cameos from Jon Bernthal, Olivia Colman, Oliver Platt, Bob Odenkirk, Sarah Paulson, and the legendary Jamie Lee Curtis.

Reservation Dogs – Proof of the amazing, authentic, original stories which come from letting indigenous people tells their own stories, smashing together a crushing realism with the sense that a jarring visit from the spirit world is always around the next corner.

Fargo – Not sure I love the ultimate message on the healing power of suburban, white, upper middle class Midwestern family life (or what happens to the one major Black character). But crackling performances from Juno Temple, Jon Hamm, Jennifer Jason leigh and Dave Foley make this year’s installment the best version in many years.

Shrinking – An emotional and truly funny comedy that reminds us how hilarious Harrison Ford and Jessica Williams can be while not making us spend too much time on Jason Segel’s angsty privileged white guy shtick.

Star Trek: Strange New Worlds – The TV series which scored the most by taking the boldest swings, leaning into Trek’s original heritage as an adventure-of-the-week which told the most ambitious stories on the small screen.

(The dancing, dubstepping, boy band-style Klingons on Strange New Worlds powered my favorite TV scene of the year.)

Star Trek: Picard – Yeah, I put TWO Trek series here, because everyone else in critic-land seems to be sleeping on the fact that they made more than one excellent season of a new Trek series filled with nods to what came before, including this show, which reunited the Next Generation cast in a storyline basically about old people saving the universe from young, clueless, mind-controlled pawns.

Barry – Wasn’t thrilled about how grim this series’ finale eventually became. But respected the fact that co-creator/star Bill Hader never shied away from the fact that the show was going to be his laboratory for all the directing and storytelling tricks he ever wanted to try, and a dark comedy about a hitman-turned-actor has to be seriously dark to mean something.

Beef – A road rage incident becomes a crackling, entertaining look at everything from Asian family culture to Elon Musk-level mogul dysfunction while also proving my girl Ali Wong can act her ass off.

Still: A Michael J. Fox Story – While other celebrities are executive producing documentaries to show how legendarily cool they are, Fox helped create an up close look at his struggle with Parkinson’s disease which show how hard it is to put on socks and take a walk on a new York street without crashing to the ground right in front of a concerned fan.

Only Murders in the Building – A comedy about over-privileged crime podcasters in an Upper West side apartment building should not stay entertaining over three seasons. But this show pulls it off, tossing in against-the-grain cameos by Paul Rudd and Meryl Streep that provide the best icing on a very fine cake.

Slow Horses – This show about a department filled with failed British intelligence agents not only subverts the spy genre, it subverts the satires which originally subverted classic spy dramas, like Get Smart. Topped by mesmerizing performances from Gary Oldman and Kristin Scott Thomas, I would have subtitled this one, Get Smarter.

Happy Valley - This series about an experienced, ball-busting divorced single mom of a police sergeant in a mid-size town in Britain notched an underappreciated series finale featuring the amazing Sarah Lancashire as Catharine Cawood, finally confronting the man she blamed for her daughter’s suicide and her grandson’s emotional turmoil.

BS High – A great documentary often tells a story which keeps going deeper and better, like a descent into a spellbinding madness. This film achieved that by giving center stage to master manipulator/football coach Roy Johnson, who got ESPN to air a game featuring his Bishop Sycamore High School team; the film contends their crushing loss eventually exposed that the school didn’t really exist.

I’m a Virgo – Creator and activist Boots Riley made an urban parable where Black excellence became superpowers and the world’s exploitive class came for a 13-foot-tall Black teen played by the always compelling Jharrel Jerome. Always inspiring to see how Boots turns mainstream media’s tropes and expectations against itself.

Archiving my work in a new place called Authory

When you’re a journalist creating content for many different outlets, sometimes, it’s tough to create a place where all your work can live and be easily accessible.

That’s why I decided to try a new platform called Authory, which places most of my stuff in one, searchable archive where anyone – especially me – can get a good sample of what I’ve been up to at any given time.

Right now, that means all my work for NPR, both on the radio and as print stories on the website, plus guest interviews I do for KCRW’s The Business radio show and podcast, my recent guest host stint on Tampa PBS’ politics show Florida This Week, interviews I’ve given to NPR member stations like LAist, WABE and WNPR, TV appearances on CNN or MSNBC, the often weekly TV talk segments on NPR’s midday show Here and Now, references to my book Race-Baiter, and freelance work I do for outlets like IndieWire and Columbia Journalism Review.

It’s still under construction now – the platform is still aggregating material and I’m not sure yet how useful this archive will be. But if you’re curious to see what it all looks like in one spot, click here and check it out. Also, feel free to let me know what you think of it!

The Thrill of Serving as Guest Host on WEDU’s Florida This Week

When I was a kid, as an only child, I had to amuse myself quite often. So it might not sound so strange to admit now that much of that time was spent pretending to be a news anchor, especially after my mom got me one of the most newfangled of gifts – a cassette tape player with a microphone which could actually record.

I note all of this to explain why it was so much fun over these past few weeks to fill in as guest host for my longtime friend Rob Lorei on his signature politics and news analysis show for Tampa PBS station WEDU, called Florida This Week.

Rob is a Tampa Bay area institution, at the helm of Florida This Week for more than 20 years. WEDU began airing a news/analysis/interview show many years earlier, when Syl Farrell began hosting a show in 1990 called From a Black Perspective, changing the name to Tampa Bay Week a few years later.

The program has always been a haven for substantive talk on political issues, featuring journalists, political leaders, activists, area business people and others who might have insight into important news affecting the region and the state.

I’ve had a loose connection to the show for quite a while. I profiled Farrell for the then-St. Petersburg Times (now Tampa Bay Times) newspaper back in 1998. I’ve also been a guest on the show countless times – including a special instance when I debated the ludicrous hysteria over Critical Race theory in schools with Christian Ziegler, now the embattled chair of the Florida GOP who has seen his powers and salary stripped down after he was accused of sexual assault by a woman who previously had a sexual encounter with Christian and his wife, Bridget.

So it was a treat when the opportunity arose to try and fill the host chair temporarily for Rob. I mostly just mimicked his affable and knowledgeable style, while trying to say everyone’s name right and ask halfway intelligent questions.

Did I get it right? Watch the video below of my last stint as guest host in 2023, which aired Friday, and tell me what you think!

Personally, I’m convinced that time in front of the cassette player eventually paid off!

Celebrating 10 years at NPR: The coolest job I never thought I’d ever have.

How to sum up the most amazing professional experience in a 30-plus-year journalism career?

That’s the challenge when it comes to talking about my 10 years at NPR.

My official decade anniversary was Oct. 1, marking the date my first contract with the network took effect back in 2013. Of course, I had been providing NPR with freelance commentaries about TV for more than two years before that – by the time I was hired on staff, I was probably appearing on air as much as most full-time correspondents, anyway.

(talking TV with Linda Holmes at NPR West.)

Working at NPR was the culmination of a dream I wasn’t even sure I had. I was a longtime fan of shows like Car Talk, Fresh Air and Wait, Wait…Don’t Tell Me, along with the newscasts, which I listened to religiously on Sirius XM back in the day. (To this moment, one of the things I love most about the NPR One app is that it allows you to listen to the latest newscast on demand.)

But I had also written a story in 2004 for the then-St. Petersburg Times (now known as The Tampa Bay Times) headlined “NPR’s White Noise,” where I documented how lacking in diversity the network could be back then. NPR continues to have its blind spots and issues with living up to its ideals regarding diversity and inclusion – but the network of today has made a lot of progress from what I wrote about back then.

I didn’t realize it in 2004, but seven years later, I would become a part of that effort – first, as a freelance commentator in the mold of Frank DeFord or Andrei Codrescu and later as a staffer who could talk about everything from how Black people are marginalized on CBS’ Survivor to the roots in civil rights and Black history of the song This Little Light of Mine.

(guest hosting Weekend All Things Considered earlier this year.)

For me, joining NPR brought professional benefits right away. I was asked to join the judges panel for the Peabody Awards the same year I was hired, which was also when I got to guest host CNN’s media analysis show Reliable Sources three times – allowing a transition from past host Howie Kurtz to its final host Brian Stelter.

But most of all, I gained a national voice as an arts critic at a place whose core journalism values I really respect – in an organization I would have never predicted I could join, even a few short years before I actually did.

This is something I tell young journalists all the time; keep professional goals in mind. But be willing to take chances that get you where you want to be in ways you might not have predicted. That’s certainly happened for me.

Now I’ve spent a decade at a job where I’m still grateful to feel challenged with new opportunities every day. And 33 years into this crazy career as a professional journalist and critic, that’s a truly wonderful place to be.

When your job is explaining race and media, what happens when you find a situation you don’t want to explain?

That moment came for me this week, as memes were rocketing around social media connected to the brawl in Montgomery, Ala., where a crowd of mostly-Black bystanders ran to help a Black ferry co-captain who was being assaulted by a group of white men.

Video filmed by a group of mostly-Black bystanders on a nearby boat captured it all: The co-captain throwing his hat in the air, once a white man pushed him harshly; an older Black man whaling on people with a folding chair, including a white woman who was just sitting on the ground by then; a young Black man on a boat close by who jumped into the water and swam with amazing speed to the scene, jumping up to throw hands.

And, in moments, Black Twitter jumped to life (I know he’s renamed it X, but we ain’t recognizing that, and the term refers to people being Black across social media anyway. Harrumph).

There was the quiz asking which folding chair are you? There was the graphic pointing out that an early version of the folding chair was invented by a Black man (seems to be true). The photoshopped picture showing glowing rings around Black folks rushing into the fight, mimicking the climax of Avengers Endgame, where superheroes rushed in to save the day. Images dubbing the young swimmer Black Aquaman, Aquamayne and Blaquaman.

And two of my personal faves: A photoshopped image of the Martin Luther King Jr. statue holding a folding chair. And a version of the brawl video remade as the opening to classic Black sitcom Good Times, with acerbic credits noting the show was “created by Consequences and Repercussions.”

I was blown away by how quickly Black folks across social media were converting horror over a narrowly averted, racialized beat down into funny memes celebrating the reflex of Black folks to stand up for one another, especially when we’re faced with danger from white people.

But when I posted the photo of MLK’s status with the folding chair on my social media feeds, I just added one word: Wow.

I wanted the image to speak for itself. And I wanted people who had questions about what it meant to jump into social media and find out for themselves. I felt the image and its implied humor – that the nation’s most revered civil rights leader might be hoisting a folding chair to defend Black folks in the modern age – was most powerful when not explained.

Unfortunately, some people on my social media platforms insisted on an explanation. One was pretty persistent about it. And I realized I just didn’t want to explain the image, for some reason I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

Yeah, it’s sometimes tiring to always be asked to explain your cultural nuances to the world. But that’s the gig I signed up for, many years ago. And yes, the joking was hiding a fear that today’s climate has left racists emboldened enough to attack a Black man in broad daylight for doing his job. So explaining only resurfaces those darker feelings in ways I wasn’t quite ready to process.

Still, something else was also at play. I always say social media is often like a giant dinner party, where people forget they are sometimes listening in on conversations between other people. In this case, being asked to explain the folding chair memes felt like having someone barge into an ongoing conversation to ask for an explanation. This was a moment where Black folks could be hilariously Black online and we could all share that moment together, laughing and consoling each other in one viral, social media moment.

Sometimes, in situations like that, understanding comes best by sitting back, listening widely and learning. Even for me.

I don’t know if this reaction is fair – especially given how much I’ve encouraged discussion about race over the years. But its all I have left, in a world where I increasingly feel like a frog in pot of steadily heating water, wondering when the heat will begin to burn me, my loved ones, my family, my friends and my people.

My current TV obsession: edited clips on Law & Order’s official YouTube channel

It may be cheesy and full of copaganda. But Law & Order remains a TV show that I love so much, I’m glued to edited clips of episodes on YouTube.

Note I am not talking about the new revival now airing on NBC, which is so wedded to the classic formula of creator Dick Wolf it’s been leached of nearly all creativity. And not the various spin offs, especially long-in-the-tooth Special Victims Unit, which mostly rely on the charisma of longtime stars like Mariska Harguitay to keep viewers hooked.

I’m talking the original flavor of the show, which ran from 1990 to 2010 – especially during its heyday in the late 1990s and early 2000s. Wolf, who was a writer on the classic cop show Hill Street Blues, built a series which captured the gritty, world-weary atmosphere of New York City, welding cops and lawyers stories into a formula which felt revolutionary at the time.

Half the episode focuses on discovering the crime and the search – usually by two acerbic NYPD detectives – to find a suspect. The other half of the episode follows the district attorney’s office as they try the accused and attempt to put them behind bars.

It’s a rigid formula, with act breaks punctuated by the trademark Dun! Dun! sound effect, that packaged a surprising amount of creativity and style.

So imagine my delight when I discovered the show’s official YouTube page offers edited clips of episodes ranging from Season 20 in 2010 all the way back to the first season. I binged them like televised potato chips, inspiring me to write a passionate essay about Law & Order on YouTube for NPR’s digital series on obsessions, I’M REALLY INTO.

To check out the full essay, which takes on the show’s drawbacks and features shout outs to both John Mulaney and Idris Elba, please click here.

Read the essay, check out the YouTube clips and after you’ve spent an evening falling down the rabbit hole of suburban moms-turned-murderous sex workers and teenage high school students who turn out to be murderous twentysomething grifters, you can feel free to come back to this page and thank me.

For more cool stories, check out my obit for Law & Order star Jerry Orbach (on the far right above), where I recall hanging with him during a visit to the show’s set in 1998, and a fun feature on the Law & Order character Tony Profaci, a minor role which turned out to be the only character who had appeared in every season of the show when I stopped by the production back then.