I think I accomplished what I set out to do with the book, and that’s why I’m doing all the interviews.” “I wanted to write something of substance, so people thought I wasn’t ripping off the public. “With the book, if I can find a new audience, that’s great,” Stern said.
The legions of Sternophiles will adore “Private Parts,” and it is Stern’s fondest hope that the book will bring reinforcements from near and far to those legions. The book, which reached stores on Friday, has chapter titles like “Pig Virus,” “If You’re Not Like Me, I Hate You,” “Yes, I Am Fartman” and “Another Lesbian Story.” The cover jacket photo is of a nude Stern, his private parts covered cleverly only by the book’s title.
The book is Stern’s opus, “Private Parts,” 448 pages that are part autobiography, part diatribe, part comedy routine and all Stern. I always get (expletive) by pieces like this.” Not one of my points is going to be there. “What they do is they interview me, I make a couple of good points, then they chop it up. “These kinds of pieces can kill you,” Stern said after he had finally escaped from the antique radio shop and into the haven of Ronnie’s $50,000 modified Lincoln Town Car limo. Stern, 39, has reached this pinnacle while pretty much disdaining reporters, giving only a handful of interviews in his climb to the top.īut on this exquisite day, Stern is trapped inside the minuscule antique radio shop with a crew from the network newsmagazine show “Dateline NBC.” There he is explaining to host Stone Phillips why his radio show is filled with descriptions of his sex life, scatological humor, gibes at any number of ethnic groups and his problems with the Federal Communications Commission-those problems being based on Stern’s use of his sex life, scatological humor and gibes at various ethnic groups to spice up “The Howard Stern Show” to popular success. And they especially know Ronnie’s boss, Howard Stern, whose show is The Show, “The Howard Stern Show,” the most-listened-to morning radio program in New York, Philadelphia and, for much of the past year, Los Angeles. The lawyer’s fiance is one of millions who listen to The Show, who know who Ronnie, the Limo Driver, and Jackie, the Joke Man, and Fred and Robin and Baba Booey and Stuttering John-who are all part of The Show-are. “Then he knows who Ronnie, the Limo Driver, is.” “Does he listen to The Show?” Ronnie asks. She’s getting married soon and her fiance may want a limo for the wedding. A young lawyer, idling in what might be the last gorgeous New York afternoon of the year, works up a chat with Ronnie. Ronnie leans, as he has for a couple of hours now, against a railing in front of a dry cleaner on 13th Street in Greenwich Village, watching the passing scene, waiting for his boss, who is upstairs in an antique radio store doing business. Ronnie, the limo driver, who goes professionally by the name Ronnie, the Limo Driver, is about 10 hours into his day but still looks as crisp as the early fall afternoon, his shoes shiny and black, his tie, vest, shirt and slacks with the creases clean and proper.
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