Prime Time
I watch em day in, day out, the quiz shows. Which isn’t hard. These days you can find duos and trios of greedy folks hitting buzzers and clutching themselves with rapture as the money rolls in from ten in the morning until five in the afternoon, with a half-hour breather from 2:30-3.
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Prime Time
Win Bio Bucks! (Or Possibly A Refridgerotor)
Moxene Fobe
by
I watch em day in, day out, the quiz shows. Which isn’t hard. These days you can find duos and trios of greedy folks hitting buzzers and clutching themselves with rapture as the money rolls in from ten in the morning until five in the afternoon, with a half-hour breather from 2:30-3. Of late, more and more have been sneaking into the prestigious 7:30 prime time slot.
Quiz shows are most definitely back with big bucks. You ain’t supposed to call them quiz shows, of course. No one on the networks has quite recovered from the quiz show scandals of fifteen years ago when Charles Van Doren took the fall. You’re supposed to call em ganie shows. Call em whaLyou want, a lot of people a lot dumber than you are walking away with ill that cash and merchandise. So why not pick your favorite and COME ON DOWN!!! You got a lot to choose from these days.
Unfortunately, iff a sense the shows are still Tigged in that you got to live on either coast to get tQ one easy. But if you know you’re going to be in LA (my sympathy) in the near future, where all but four quiz shows are taped, drop them a card saying when. These shows are all hungry for fresh blood and the odds are very good you’ll get on.
If you must exhibit yourself in this shameless fashion, let greed be your guiding light, and try to pick a show where you’ll be in good company. Pick a show with celebrities on it. Password is my personal favorite. Ah, to be tete-a-tete with Alan Alda, with Carol Burnett, struggling together to arrive at a synonym for ‘tumor.’ In fact it could be the high point of your sweet young life. And you can really rack up money on that show, too — a thou a morning.
My second choice would be Hollywood Squares. It has the virtue of being easy as pie, relatively lucrative, and the filthiest show on television. Regulars are Charley Weaver and Rosemarie, who haven’t worked in years. Pearl Bailey, Burt Reynolds, Rich Little, and of course, thfe superb Paul Lynde. Incredible people stoop to be on this show — like Helen Hayes — so if they can, why not you?
Why not me? Well, wise guys, one day I up and did it. I picked up the phone and called a quiz show. Unfortunately, as I quickly discovered, all the above advice goes out the window when you live on the East Coast. Only four shows come out of New York. And I know why. In New York City, survival itself is problematic. In fact, appropriately, in one of New York’s quiz shows, they don’t even bother asking for the
right answers. You have to come up with the question. The show is Jeopardy, and that’s the one I was on. And just my luck, it’s the hardest show on tv.
Not to discourage you right off the bat, if you think Jeopardy — the show — is hard, take their, little qualifying test. See, they screen you first. Two hundred people a week take that test. Of them, ten make the show. Who’s the coach of the Miami Dolphins? When was Custer’s last stand? Who’s the leading lady of Camelort None of these do I know. But when they ask “What’s a fluffernutter?” I know Jeopardy and I are made for each other.
Making the show means coming into the studio on a day’s notice with a change of clothes. Why the change of clothes? They tape three shows in one morning. Should you win, you gotta look like you went home and came back the next day. Disillusioned?
OK, so now it’s the day of the taping. Before you go on, the Jeopardy crew spends a couple of hours with you. There’s a rehearsal to get you used to how cold the studio is (this I didn’t get used to); how to hit the buzzer fast (I didn’t get used to that either); how to wager money on your Final Jeopardy answer and how to write on your little slate. Then they have you sign a formidable document that goes on for pages where you promise that you haven’t been on any other quiz show in two years and won’t be on any more for another two; that you won’t argue on CONTINUED FROM PAGE 26.
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the air with the host, Art Fleming; that if you attempt to sell your crummy encyclopedia you won’t mention that you won it on Jeopardy, and dozens of other intimidating stipulations. Oh yes, and forget about making a career of quiz shows. You also agree to be on only two quiz shows in your lifetime. You sign. Because you want the money. The money!
Which brings us to the show itself. At lastT’m on, pitted against a homemaker from New Jersey with gigantic biceps and a mousey girl from Westchester County. She’s a pushover, I think, especially when the crew keeps frantically waving at her to speak up and smile. But the bruiser next to me has me worried.
And then we’re off .and running to a blur of categories. Yes, thank God, one of them is my favorite, ‘Silly Songs,’ the one I’ve been praying for. The other two twits don’t know the words to “The Duke of Earl,” “Cathy’s Clown” arid “Blame It on the Bossa Nova.” Suddenly I have $150. I’m in the lead!
I am, aids, an early bloomer. The homemaker from New Jersey knows everything else, and what I do know she’s in there first with that buzzer.
In Double Jeopardy, where the stakes double, I manage to hold my own with a few literary coups: there' are references to Waiting for Godot and Peter Pan. Buzz! Not to keep you in suspense any longer, I ended up winning $590 by knowing that the largest Spannish speaking country in the world is Argentina. I come in second, which is just fine with me. The idea of going through that ordeal again is as taxing as the government will be with my winnings. The encyclopedia is mine, a check for $590 allows me to take a" dandy winter vacation on a sunny Caribbean isle. Not bad for a morning’s work, eh? Not bad at all. And even better, after my two year gag has been removed, 1 get to be on one more. Wowie Zowie! 1 can’t wait.
Though my quiz show days are over for a time, here’s a handy dandy guide for CREEM’s readers to cash in on.
Jackpot'. One of the few out of New York. Awful. You sit in a peanut gallery and answer riddles for money. Only/for seasoned exhibitionists or those whose mortgages are about to be foreclosed. The Wizard of Odds: Out of Hollywood. Not worth the humiliation. You get picked out of the audience arid hope that you can guess a bunch of things that total less than 30. Tricky and the loot’s not so hot either.
Gambit: Out of Hollywood. The host’s name is Wink Martindale.
Wink! It’s based on the rules of Blackjack, the questions are easy and the prizes are fantastic. Pretend you’re married to someone and go to town.
The Joker is Wild: Out of Hollywood. This one is a real bore. It’s based on the slot machine; you even pull a crank. Ridiculously easy questions, so-so money. This one is really beneath you. Or is it?
Now You See It: Out of Hollywood. New. It looks like a lot of easy money to me. All you db is pick out words from a bunch of scrambled letters and the ten grand is yours.
Split Second: Out of Hollywood. Almost as ,stingy as Concentration. Three people butt their humps, hitting the buzzer like crazy — and all to amass a pittance — . usually around $300. The person with the highest score gets to strap him or herself into one of five ugly American cars and hope it starts. It
never does. Helpful hint: the right car is always the, gasguzzling station wagon. You don’t want a station wagon? Tough darts.
Jeopardy: Out of New York. Has a lot of status, but it’s hard as shit. Not too much' money but the only real quiz show on tv. The home game is fun, too. Concentration: Out of Hollywood. No money 4 to be avoided like the plague. Three on a Match: Out of New York. Host is Bill Cullen, a genuine wit. Based on the slot machine, you answer easy questions to accumulate the money to w'ager on matching three pictures. Good money if you’re lucky.
Match Game ‘74: Out of Hollywood. So awful it’s a real must. Celebrities you’ve never heard of, dreadful money and truly stupid guests. You fill in the blank of a risque sentence and hope the celebrities think of tfie same word. They never do.
Hollywood Squares: Out of Hollywood. See article.
Password: Out of Hollywood. My favorite. Smarts plus celebrities and lots of money.
$10,000 Pyramid: Out of New York where Dick Clark is the* host! Loosely based on Password in that you have to guess words from clues. I’d avoid it. All you get from this one is an ulcer, since unlike Password, the celebrities tend to be dumb and do not make good partners. -
Truth or Consequences: Hollywood, and the granddnddy of them all. This show goes back to the 1930’s on the radio. For masochists only.
Let’s Make a Deal; The Price is Right, The Newlywed Game, The Dating Game: All out of Hollywood. Any reader appearing on these shows gets a lifetime subscription to CREEM and my undying devotion.
