Q & A
Page 26
A:
Never. Not once.
Murrow says: If the sponsor always invariably reaches for the largest possible audience, then this process of insulation, of escape from reality, will continue to be massively financed…
“I love Fluffo! It makes such a golden-brown pie!”
… and its apologists will continue to make winsome speeches about giving the public what it wants, or letting the public decide. …
“Oh, man, that’s some apple pie!”
Murrow says: We are currently wealthy, fat, comfortable, and complacent.
We have currently a built-in allergy to unpleasant or disturbing information, and our mass media reflect this.
The day after Lacky’s testimony, NBC issues a public statement:
“In light of the intense scrutiny brought upon the quiz programs produced by their firm, we have temporarily relieved the personnel of Mint & Greenmarch Productions, Inc. from the day-to-day administrative responsibilities relating to the quiz programs aired on our network. This decision has been made at the direct request of Fred Mint and Raymond Greenmarch, in order that they may devote more time to disproving the charges against the programs. NBC remains confident of the absolute integrity of Mint & Greenmarch Productions…”
“You’ll wonder where the yellow went / when you brush your teeth with Pepsodent!”
Murrow says: But unless we get up off our fat surpluses and recognize that television in the main is being used to distract, delude, amuse, and insulate us, then television and those who finance it, those who look at it, and those who work at it may see a totally different picture too late. …
“For our next problem,” says Play Your Hunch host Merv Griffin, velvet-voiced, debonair in his dark gray suit, “We go into the art world. Observe three classic-looking busts here. Of course, they are labeled X, Y, and Z. Now, two of these gentlemen were famous Roman emperors, the third is just nobody in particular. Look closely and tell me, which is the bust of Mister Nobody?”
From the District Attorney’s office, Kenyon Saint Claire receives by mail—not a summons—but a request to be interviewed. A rush of relief overcomes him.
“Maybe I won’t have to testify after all,” he tells Ernestine.
“Should you have a lawyer?”
“It says here it’s just an interview.”
One October morning, Kenyon finds himself in the D.A.’s office, seated on one side of a gleaming maplewood table. Across the table, with stacks of green legal files at hand, Assistant D.A. Joseph Stone undertakes the questioning while a court reporter makes a record. Also on the other side of the table, a Mr. Donnelly and a Mr. Barrett attend, though Kenyon is unsure of either man’s function.
Meanwhile, in the book-lined office of his home, Jacques Barzun, Columbia colleague to Maynard Saint Claire, writes the first chapter of a cultural study to be entitled The House of Intellect:
The truth is that Intellect can be diminished in its own eyes only with its own consent; its troubles become obsessions, its presence a canker, only from within…
“Now, boys and girls, I need your help. We’re gonna show Winky some real magic...”
Murrow says: I cannot believe that radio and television, or the corporations that finance the programs, are serving well or truly their viewers, their listeners, or themselves.
“Now this is gonna call for some really super magic. Got your Magic Red Crayons?
I want you to put your Magic Red Crayon right where my finger is. You ready?...”
Q:
Mister Saint Claire, have you read the Time magazine cover story
about yourself, which was published on February 11th of last year?
A:
I have not. But I have spoken with several people who have read it—my wife and family members and so on—and from what they’ve said I’ve gathered that the story was substantially correct.
Q:
I am particularly interested in one short section of the Time story, which I’m sure you’ll allow me to read to you right now.
A:
Of course.
Q:
[reading]
“Saint Claire is the first to admit that he is no genius and
claims neither a photographic memory nor total recall. Indeed
most of his education was in schools that had little interest
in memory work or tests, regarded facts as mere accessories in the handling of ideas and the development of taste and reasoning.”
Now, is this an accurate portrayal of your education, Mister Saint Claire?
A:
All that is true. But I should add that, for whatever reason, I’ve
always had an excellent memory. I’ve always been fond of reference books, for example, and a great many facts and figures from such books have stuck in my memory over many years of reading.
Q:
Mister Saint Claire, our calculation is that in your fifteen appearances on the quiz program you played twenty-nine games, and sixteen of these were ties. Do you have any explanation for that extraordinary ratio?
A:
Well, the large number of ties is not all that extraordinary, really.
Not when you consider that most contestants are going to shoot for twenty-one points within two rounds. If both players make it, there’s a tie.
Q:
Did you meet regularly with any of the program’s producers
prior to your appearances on the show?
“That’s the signal, folks,” says Merv Griffin. “I need to ask you for your answer now.”
Murrow says: If we go on as we are, then history will take its revenge, and retribution will not limp in catching up with us. …
“What’s the question again?” asks the contestant.
“The question is: Which one is Mister Nobody?”
A:
No sir.
Q:
No? You never met with any producers
or other personnel before your appearances?
A:
Sometimes before my appearances Mister Lacky met with me
in my dressing room. His advice was always the same: to relax,
to be natural, to take my time. He said to never
give an answer before I was sure of it.
Q:
Did Mister Lacky at that time or any other time
give you instructions about how to breathe or speak or
what facial expressions you should use?
A:
No, never.
“One of them is Nobody. Which one is Nobody?”
Murrow says: If this instrument is good for nothing but to entertain, amuse, and insulate, then the tube is flickering now, and we will soon see that the whole struggle is lost.
Q:
Did you receive assistance of any kind from any personnel of
Mint & Greenmarch Productions—questions, answers,
categories, or point values to request?
A:
No, never. Absolutely never.
“Which one is Mister Nobody? You’ll win the game if you get it right.”
Q:
Mister Saint Claire, do you have any explanation for the difference between your answers today and the things that Sidney Winfeld and some other former quiz contestants have said
in the newspapers about the quiz programs?
A:
I can’t comment on Mister Winfeld’s or
anybody else’s motivations. All I can do is
speak for myself.
Jacques Barzun continues:
…the alienation, the disinheriting, the loss of authority have occurred, not between the intellectuals and the rest—the commercial rump—of society, but among the intellectuals themselves and as a result of their own a
cts.
“Now here we go, boys and girls, follow me right around. … And this’ll be a very very big surprise at the end!”
Q:
I would point out one final time, Mister Saint Claire,
the large number of quite difficult questions you answered correctly
on the program, as well as the very broad range of subjects covered
in those questions. Now, don’t you see why we should think it extraordinary
that you were capable of answering every one of those questions?
A:
I don’t know what to say except to repeat that I have always
had an exceptional memory, and also that I have spent a
great part of my life reading.
Q:
Mister Saint Claire, thank you for agreeing to
this interview, but I must say to you frankly that I
cannot believe you’ve told us the truth today.
You will have need of a lawyer for your appearance
before the grand jury. You will hear from us again when
we’ve settled the date of that appearance.
Murrow says: This instrument can teach, it can illuminate, yes, and even it can inspire. But it can do so only to the extent that humans are determined to use it to those ends.
“You think it’s Z. Let’s turn over the card please….”
Otherwise, Murrow says, it’s nothing but wires and lights in a box.
“…You’re right, it’s Nobody! You’ve won Play Your Hunch!”
Jacques Barzun concludes:
They have abdicated but live on, self-exiled.
“We still lead the world in stimuli.”
“In this new landscape, everyone gets a channel.”
FORMERLY REIGNING
QUIZ PROGRAM
CANCELED
NEW YORK, Oct. 16, 1958—In the latest result of the continuing investigation into the quiz shows, it was confirmed today that N.B.C. has canceled the program that once commanded the largest television audience of any. The cancellation, effective immediately, was decided after a study of Trendex ratings which show an irreversible downward trend. From its peak rating of 54.7 percent of “television homes” tuning in during contestant Kenyon Saint Claire’s three-month winning streak last year, the show had fallen precipitously to 21 percent by the time of recent champ Mrs. Von Nardroff’s defeat. Now, six weeks after former quiz show contestants began to report foul play behind the scenes, the program’s ratings have bottomed out at a dismal 10.3 percent. According to many in the industry, this plummet can only be interpreted as a consequence of the public’s loss of faith in quiz programs.
In early November, Sidney Winfeld testifies before the grand jury.
On November 5th, it is reported in all the papers that CBS has canceled The $64,000 Question, effective immediately.
On November 8th, the New York Times prints a picture of Sam Lacky in handcuffs.
KENYON
God help me, thinks Kenyon Saint Claire. He’s seated on the morning train, headed uptown, holding the newspaper open before him.
TV QUIZ SHOW PRODUCER CHARGED WITH PERJURY
NEW YORK, Nov. 8, 1958—The producer of television’s most successful quiz show was indicted yesterday on charges that he had lied when he denied giving questions or answers to contestants in advance of their appearance on the program…
The train skirls along through darkness, the underground utility lights a sickening blur in the black windows, the bodies of all the passengers swaying, and the shrill screeching of the wheels is the noise of his own anxiety rising. He reads: detectives led him on foot to the Fifth Police Precinct on Elizabeth Street for booking.
A criminal, thinks Kenyon. Handcuffs and all!
Lacky has a family, a wife and two kids. They’ll see this.
Mr. Lacky appeared stricken with shock and embarrassment as detectives led him on foot to the Fifth Police Precinct on Elizabeth Street for booking, and was overheard to say of the handcuffs restraining him, “Can’t somebody at least put a coat over those? I’m not an armed convict.”
“Excuse me, aren’t you Kenyon Saint Claire?”
It’s a woman seated across the aisle, her hands gloved, her gray hair kerchiefed.
“You are, aren’t you? You’re him.”
Other faces are turning now.
“I’m sorry,” says Kenyon. “I can’t—”
“Sorry. Oh, sure, you’re sorry. Well, there’s more to life than apologies, young man. There’s consequences. A person’s actions have consequences.”
Her voice is loud, even amid the train’s noise.
“I saw you on television this morning. You may act as if there’s no consequences. But most of us here know better. And you should be ashamed. Ashamed. Shame on you!”
The other faces, looking on, are grim now, stern, some smiling sardonically. A tattered sound of applause begins. Then a few roars of agreement arise, and the applause grows. And now they’re all but jeering, jeering, as Kenyon folds the paper in his lap and waits for the slowing train to stop. They’re chanting, “Shame! Shame!” as he stands and wedges his way forward between their crushing bodies. “Shame! Shame!” as he waits for the doors to open, though he’s three stops short of his destination.
Then he’s out onto the platform, pushing forward against the crowd pouring into the car. And now at his back they’re cheering anew as the doors slide closed and the train pulls away.
He’s breathing again. He’s shaken but walking, heading for the light of the street above. And burned into his mind now is that photo of Lacky, handcuffed. Kenyon would never have thought, only two years ago while taking his first turn in the isolation booth, that a person could be arrested for … television. They can get Kenyon now too. They got Lacky for lying. And if Kenyon testifies—no matter what he says, lies or tells the truth—they’ll get him too.
Up in daylight, on the street, he feels a new malevolence in every motion of the busy city around him, everything—the taxis and bustling bodies, the piles of trash along the curbs, the doors of buildings opening, shutting—all of it laced with an unforeseen brutality. He walks the remaining ten blocks to Columbia in a stupor, head down, his whole system aflood with confusion and fright.
Alone in Dad’s office, he plugs in the telephone and calls Ernestine. He’s on the verge of losing control. It’s a kind of primal state. His tie is choking him, his shirt damp, his heart racing.
“They’ll get me too,” he says. “No matter what I tell the grand jury, that’s it. I’m hung. What’s to keep them from charging me with perjury for what I said before? Putting me in handcuffs? They want to get me, Ernestine, I see that now.”
She tells him to slow down. He’s scaring her, she says. He needs to get himself under control. Nobody is chasing him.
“We could lose everything, Ernestine.”
“Let’s think clearly,” she says. “Take a minute now and think clearly, Kenyon.”
Why did I lie? At the D.A.’s office, during the interview. Why?
“Did they swear you in for your interview? Were you under oath?”
“I don’t know. I can’t remember. I must have been. There was a court reporter, I’m sure of that.”
Why did he lie? He wanted to tell the truth from the beginning. Ernestine wanted that too, though she never said as much—never needed to say it—so why did he lie?
Because he’d already lied on television, the TODAY Show. Because telling the truth on television—was there anything more unnatural? With the network and the whole apparatus hanging over you. Because at the D.A.’s it was only an interview, or that’s what he told himself. Because who was Kenyon to undermine the testimony he knew Lacky had given? Because why would Kenyon change the story and put Lacky at risk, along with the other contestants�
�they’d all lied, after all—all of them except that damned Winfeld.
It’s entertainment, for Christsake. We’d die for you.
And now it spills out, the question itself: “Why did I lie, Ernestine?” From his mouth it spills into the telephone and travels unencumbered through the wires south along the length of Manhattan to arrive instantaneously at her ear.
He wants her to answer for him, on his behalf. To stand between him and his own actions.
She breathes.
“That I can’t tell you, Kenyon. That only you know.”
SIDNEY
Sonofabitch, thinks Sidney, the newspaper in his hands and the thought itself a smile in his brain—in actual fact it’s like his whole body is smiling as he reads.
They got Lacky. Yes, they got Lacky, which this means they can get Greenmarch too. And as for Kenyon Saint Clueless, you can go right on lying, Professor, your own turn is coming.
But next morning Sidney wakes thinking, why wait? Why wait even longer now, haven’t I waited long enough? They’ll catch Saint Claire lying, sure, maybe that’s inevitable even, but knowing how these things go, that’ll be later rather than sooner, but meanwhile, right now there’s still the matter of impressions, the problem of public opinion, so-called, which for example Sidney goes to the grocery or the post office or the butcher’s and everywhere it’s “Hey Sidney so it was one big sham all along, huh, like one big setup? like fake from start to finish?” and what can he say—once, twice, ten times a day—what can he say but sure, sure, unfortunately it is true—and then, quick-like, “The funny thing though is that I coulda won it straight probably,” or in other words: “I knew a lotta those answers already I am not after all an unlearned man”—or, speaking of public opinion and the matter of impressions, for another example: there every morning on the television is Kenyon Saint Claire—and sometimes nights too—Steve Allen, Jack Paar—Saint Claire in that suit and tie every time, the favorite champ and professor, the Daddy’s Boy and winner in that Family of Winners, and even with the grand jury and with Lacky’s arrest and with the quiz fix in the papers every day, still Kenny Boy wins and goes on winning, which isn’t it time somebody asks him to try winning on his own merits for once and for once for a good cause? Surely the guy won’t refuse—surely he’ll want to show his so-called intellectual prowess. And as for Sidney, he knows he can beat him, he just knows it, and that’ll be his chance to show himself capable, to show everybody that hey, he’s more than just rigged, more than just some actor in this fix and if he’d so chosen he could’ve gone right on winning.