I Wanna Be On a Game Show

If you watch game shows from TV’s black-and-white time, you’ll notice contestants are pleasant but without an awful lot of personality; even Let’s Make a Deal started out reasonably sedate.

There was a reason for it.

The Quiz Show Scandal of the ‘50s was a great cleanser. People got morally outraged, the shows they were outraged at were taken off the TV schedule, and then they carried on watching game shows as if nothing happened.

NBC’s game shows in the ‘60s were, I believe, for the most part filmed at Rockefeller Centre. This gave producers plenty of potential contestants from New York or New Jersey to pick from.

The philosophy behind screening potential prize winners was revealed in several newspaper articles of the day. The first one below caught my attention because of the cartoon that went with it; I wish it were of better quality, without the print bleed-through from the other side of the page. The story below appeared in a Sunday edition of The Daily Sentinel of Grand Junction, Colorado, March 6, 1961. There’s no byline and it’s written like a sales pitch, so I’ll bet it came from the NBC publicity department.

Genius, Crackpot, Keep Out
It was Jimmy Durante who first remarked, "Everybody wants to get into the act.”
The Schnozz might have been referring to "The Price Right, seen weekdays and Thursday evenings on KREX-Tv. Not only does everybody want to take part, quite few succeed.
This assistance is a source of pleasure to host Bill Cullen who, despite a staggering work load (25 hours a week of broadcasting), insists, “I’m basically lazy. I'm happy for all the help I can get.”
Cullen believe that the real stars of "The Price Is Right,” are the contestants, who vie for merchandise on the show.
“The reason they have so much appeal is because they are amateurs," he explained. Contestants on our show are selected from the.studio audience. We don’t go looking for geniuses or crackpots.”
Cullen also appreciates the assistance of statuesque redhead June Ferguson and vivacious blonde Toni Wallace.
“June does most of the fashion modeling, fur coats and the like, while Toni’s our demon driver,” noted Bill. "They sure brighten the scenery, eh?”
Another contributor to this team effort is announcer Don Pardo, whose mellow voice describes each lavish prize. A strapping six-footer, Don isn’t seen during the telecast but, before air-time, he’s the center of attention as he warms up the studio audience. He does this atop a ten foot Iadder, the only way the entire audience at NBCs huge Colonial Theatre in New York can see him.
“Don gets the audience so wound up, it’s sometimes tough to restrain them," continued Cullen. "But this is the way we like it. The enthusiasm of the crowd, encouraging the panelists, is part of the show.” The ides, insists Cullen, is to get as many people working as possible.
"The logical conclusion will be reached when I can sneak into my dressing room during the program and take a nap,” he said.
“Time was when shows went looking for unusual, off-beat people,” said Cullen, "The kind of folks who might be termed ‘kooky.’ You know, like a fellow who fights alligators or a 90-year-old woman who owns her own locomotive and three miles of track.”
Then television producers discovered that viewers enjoy sympathizing with contestants who are much like themselves. The result was "The Price is Right,” and other programs in which the contestants are plucked directly from the studio audience.
“We don't want publicity seekers, exhibitionists, or those with a personal axe to grind,” Cullen explained. “I remember one chap who used to show up in the audience every day with a crow sitting on top of his head. We saw him, but he never had a chance of getting on.”
The first rule for eligibility as a "Price is Right” contestant is, of course, to attend the telecast in New York. Tickets can be obtained by writing to Tickets NBC-Tv, 30 Rockefeller Plaza, New York, N.Y.
After each telecast, fifty to seventy five of those who have indicated a desire to appear, are interviewed briefly. This group is narrowed in more comprehensive interviews.
"FinalIy, we're down to three people, and that’s it,” said Bill.
'Why these three?
“Usually, they are people who balance each other. If we're having an elderly man on the show, we might want to put a pretty young girt beside him. If one of the contestants is from Alaska, another might be from Florida. The idea is to get a representative group so that each will react differently on the air.”
“The Price is Right” looks for lively, animated folks. But extroverts and showoffs are quickly dismissed.
"They're the first to clam up during the show,” explained Cullen.
The same goes for people whose interest in appearing is predicated purely on the fact that lavish prizes are given away.
"These folks usually turn out to be sore losers,” explained Cullen. “The fun of the show is in the bidding and all that goes with it. The prizes, no matter how stupendous, are secondary.”
Which gets us back to the first question—how to get to be a contestant.
“Be yourself,” said Cullen. “That's the key. Don’t act up or clown around because you think you’ll be noticed. You will . . . but in the wrong way. We’re interested in good natured, friendly, intelligent people.”
In other words, you could be next!



This Associated Press story from July 23, 1961 broadens the field a bit.

How To On Get A Quiz Program
EDITOR'S NOTE — If your profession is exotic, your hobby odd, your past dismal and your future bleak — you've got an excellent chance to be selected as a contestant in a TV game show. Assuming, that is, that you have a happy, wholesome, average American face.
By BERNARD GAVZER
NEW YORK (AP) — Critics may deplore and sociologists analyze TV's quiz and game shows, but most fans have only one question when they visit the TV capitals of New York and Hollywood: How do you get on a show?
The Answer
Here's the answer.
The field is wide open. There are 20 game-quiz type shows. Some are strictly variations of games played in parlors in olden days before TV—and you can win prizes even if you haven't enough talent to tie your shoelaces (“Video Village”). Some are pseudo-cerebral, requiring a degree of brain-work (“Concentration”). And others seem to be designed for hardluck characters who would break a tooth biting whipped cream (“Queen For A Day”) or who have strange and bizarre occupations or claims to fame (“What’s My Line?”, "The Groucho Show”).
Since the great scandal, operators of games and quizzes have been extremely sensitive. In a way, this has worked to the advantage of dreamers who want to win their way to riches and glory. To show that everything is on the up-and-up, and that no amount of pull can get you on most of the shows insist on picking contestants from the audience.
This is true, for instance, of "The Price Is Right," biggest quiz in popularity and prizes. NBC gets requests for 60,000 tickets each month for daily daytime telecast and the night show, hosted by amiable Bill Cullen.
Ticket holders are giving cards to fill out when entering the studio. While the show is on, staff members cull the cards for likely candidates. Hometown, birthplace and occupation have something to do with choice since the producer likes to get variety in background.
The Prizes
The prizes on the nighttime show have total price tags ranging from $16,000 to $23,000. That's one reason so many people try to get on it.
In shows like "What's My Line?" and "To Tell The Truth," being in the audience has nothing to do with getting on. The nonpanelists are ferreted out by staff people. Publicity men get into the picture by trying to get clients on such shows, not for the prizes but for the publicity.
Staff workers on shows like "Camouflage" and "Play Your Hunch" do a lot of random searching beside selecting from the audience, figuring they can find suitable people in any crowd.
At a recent telecast of "Play Your Hunch," Merv Griffin finished the show, addressed a few pleasant remarks to the audience, and then an associate producer took over.
"If there are any couples who wait to be contestants and who will be here until Monday," he said, emphasising Monday, "please remain in your seats. Also, if there is anyone who wishes to be a challenger, remain seated." Most of audience of about 200 cleared out, but there were six couples remaining, as well as a mother and three children. All were out-of-towners. The producer spoke with each of them briefly, and then selected one couple as contestants to standby for a show being taped that afternoon. One boy was picked as a possible challenger. All challengers get a flat $20.
The kind of people sought vary according to the general pattern of the show. You wouldn't be likely to see one of Jack Bailey's "Queen For A Day" potentials trying to exchange patter with Hugh Downs on "Concentration.” "Queen” contestants are picked from the audience. They fill in cards stating their big wish and telling something about themselves. About 21 are selected for quick interviews, and then four finally are picked. The Bailey show travels, so it could practically come to your doorstep.
"Concentration" is a different kettle of fish. You apply, just as though you're looking for a job. There's a quiz, just to see if solve a picture and word puzzle. And then there are personal interviews.
The Factor
Well, some of them like to get expectant mothers, so expectant there's an element of suspense. Others go for people of foreign birth, but not with heavy accents, unless it is British. Off-beat occupations have a particular lure.
It helps if you're attractive, "not good-looking, but looking good, since we don't want beauty queens and matinee idols."