It’s a podcast.

Each episode features a single question and guests who remind me of my journalist dad’s extraordinary friends.

He gathered them in endless combinations at New York City dim sum brunches —

2,546 Saturdays in a row, between 1966 and 2015.

Eleven-year-old, 1980 me called these folks 'the trees'.

Fifty-six-year-old, 2025 me, ridiculously, still does.

Listen and you'll hear it.

I send out episodes via email. To get on the distribution list, shoot me an email me at ted@thetre.es.

From time to time, I'll gather together a bunch of former episode guests —

for a few days, someplace beautiful.

In most episodes, you'll just hear the guest or guests thinking out loud about one question. In a lot of ways, it's better without a host.

I'm Ted Pearlman.

I'm married to Allison, an architect. We live in Denver with our 18-year-old, Oscar.

He's a few months away from starting college.

I have a BA in Music (Cornell University ’90).

Until 2012, I worked at technology companies, including Sony and IBM.

From 2012 to 2020, I helped a small cadre of technology CEOs find specialists to tackle acute business challenges.

In 2012. It became a full-time effort in 2020.

The first time dad brought me along to one of his brunches, in 1980, everyone at the restaurant was wearing 'Hi Ted! I'm...' name tags.

The name tags were shaped like maple leaves (I think they were repurposed Thanksgiving Day decorations).

My dad, Sy (1930-2015), and his dad, Ted, had the same sense of humor.

During the weekend and after school, working together in the family’s Brooklyn candy store, dad and Ted spent much of the time trying to make each other laugh.

In the evening, they’d listen to radio comedy variety shows like Texaco Star Theater.

When Sy was 14, Ted died of leukemia.

Dad coped with the loss by becoming doubly obsessed with making people laugh. He started writing comedy skits with his high school friends, modeled on the ones he heard on the radio.

In 1949, a year after high school, dad’s favorite comedian, Sid Caesar, got his first television show, the [Admiral Broadway Review](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/AdmiralBroadwayRevue).

By the time the first episode ended, dad had figured out what he wanted to do with his life. He was going to be a television comedy writer.

The next day, while working alongside his mom at the store, dad announced his plan —

“I’m going to be a comedy writer for Sid Caesar’s Admiral Broadway Review.”

She was not amused.

Dad, however, was dead serious. He began to ply his craft by writing stand-up bits during the week and heading to the Catskills on the weekends (four hours each way, via subway, bus, and hitchhike) to hawk them to Borscht Belt comedians.

He was well on his way to a career as a television comedy writer. But the Korean War and the draft derailed him. Dad wanted to avoid combat at all costs, so he put his aspirations on hold and enlisted. With a plan.

Growing up in the rough, ethnically divided neighborhoods of post-Depression Brooklyn, and being the man of the house from age 14, he became exceptionally street smart. He could quickly assess people and their motivations, avoid pickpockets, trade favors, and talk himself out of any pickle.

He was also conversant in Russian, which his parents had spoken at home (along with Yiddish) when he was small.

All of this gave dad the idea to apply to the US Army Language School (now called the Defense Language Institute) in Monterey, California. This, he schemed, would enable him to finally become fluent in Russian, meet cute girls on the beach, and groom himself for a commission as an Army intelligence officer, based in Europe, in charge of recruiting and handling Soviet spies, a safe 4000+ miles from armed combat.

13 years later, after his stint in the Army, a masters degree in Russian studies from NYU, another in journalism from Columbia, and a bunch of positions at small city papers, he landed his dream job as an editor for The New York Times.

Right after he got to The Times, however, an old friend from his days inside the Borscht Belt got hired to write for [Get Smart](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/GetSmart)_, a TV comedy about a bumbling secret agent.

It seemed like some kind of omen to dad, and, for a few weeks, he contemplated sacrificing his career as a journalist to follow his friend out to Hollywood. For various reasons, it didn't happen.

Funny enough, dad did eventually become a bonafide TV comedy writer (while still somehow remaining a serious journalist) when Reuven Frank, the President of NBC News, recruited him to join [Weekend](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Weekend(1974TVprogram))_.

It was the first sardonic, long-form news show on network television, running once a month, in Saturday Night Live’s time slot, when SNL was taking the week off.

I'm convinced it's the (mostly forgotten) great grandfather of The Daily Show and Last Week Tonight.

Below is an excerpt from an episode. Dad co-wrote the script.

Dad won many awards for his journalism. But he never displayed them.

Dad's favorite quote. From the poet Avvaiyar.

Yes. If you know someone who might enjoy helping me with this project, please reach out.