A tearful return to the studio
Fox 5 anchor Rosanna Scotto was overcome with emotion on Tuesday morning during her first Good Day New York appearance since the death of her mother, Marion Scotto, just over a week earlier.
The 68-year-old presenter had returned to work six days after announcing on social media that the New York restaurateur had died on 26 August. The moment came as B.J. Thomas’s 1969 classic “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head” played over a weather segment, prompting tears Scotto could not hold back.
“Sorry, sorry. This song reminds me of my parents,” she told viewers.
It was a rare and human moment on a regional morning show that millions of New Yorkers have come to rely on for their daily dose of headlines, banter and breakfast banter. Scotto paused, composed herself, and thanked the audience for their support.
“My mother would kill me right now if she saw me crying on the air, so we’re going to get it together,” she said, managing a smile through the tears.
Colleagues rally round
Co-anchor Dan Bowens was quick to offer reassurance on air, telling Scotto: “Rosanna, you have our deepest condolences from all of us here at Fox 5 and all of our viewers.”
Meteorologist Mike Woods added: “Yes, nice to have you back. And we get it, we got you.”
The on-screen solidarity reflected a wider outpouring of affection for Scotto, who has fronted Good Day New York since 1996. Following the broadcast, she took to Instagram with a video message thanking her audience directly. “Time to get back to work. Mom would have wanted that,” she said.
She continued: “Thank you for the text messages, the comments, the Instagram messages; I appreciate it so so much. It was really lovely. I’m still going through everything, relishing every text message.”
Scotto also recalled how her mother had coped with grief of her own. When Scotto’s father died, Marion had the family back at Fresco by Scotto — the Manhattan institution the matriarch had founded — the very same evening.
“So, I’ve taken more time than she would have allowed if she was around. So thank you, thank you, thank you, see you on Good Day,” Scotto said.
A family steeped in the New York hospitality trade
Scotto first shared news of her mother’s death on Instagram alongside a series of photographs, several showing Marion at work in the family restaurant. The post painted a portrait of a formidable businesswoman who had built a hospitality empire against the odds.
“She taught us that family comes first, that hard work is a privilege, and that faith, love and determination can carry you through almost anything,” Scotto wrote. “Most people would’ve walked away. Not our mother. She believed in her family. She believed in hard work. And she believed that if you welcomed every guest as though they were entering your home, success would follow. She was right.”
She also revealed that detractors had urged Marion against opening the New York restaurant some three decades ago. Their warnings went unheeded.
“She taught us to work hard without complaining. To take risks when we believed in something,” Scotto added.
On X, the anchor said she was “back to work” while “navigating life without my Mom.”
Why it Matters
Scotto’s tearful return offers a reminder that even the most seasoned broadcasters are not immune to personal loss, and that live television remains one of the last spaces where such unvarnished emotion is broadcast to millions without the safety net of editing. For viewers in New York, the moment cut through the usual morning show bonhomie and offered something rarer: a public figure processing grief in real time, with the backing of colleagues and a community that has watched her at the breakfast table for nearly thirty years. It also shines a light on the legacy of Marion Scotto, a restaurateur whose work ethic and family-first philosophy shaped not only a celebrated New York dining institution but also a generation of broadcasters.
