“This twice-weekly Star Search variation does in fact offer someone the chance to have his or her dream of stardom realized through a nationwide popularity contest. But, this being Fox, it’s also very much about crushing the delusions of the dozens of also-rans who might have thought they had talent but apparently were dead wrong” was the Chicago Sun-Times’s dismissal.
The Anne Robinson comparison was universally mentioned, to Cowell’s annoyance, and he hit back: “She is rehearsed and it is an act. I’ve been doing auditions like these for twenty-five years.”
On June 11, American Idol debuted with a ninety-minute episode, taking the air after a rerun of That ’70s Show. The first episode whipped through all seven of the audition cities in a single night and paused constantly to explain itself to viewers, with frequent references to “as in the British version.” American Idol began with the two hosts, Ryan and Brian, standing on a dark Kodak Theatre stage, where they promised the journey would end several months hence. “This show was created in the United Kingdom and it is hoped that the winner will be as big as the British winner who went on to make a million dollars,” Seacrest announced. They then introduced the judges, who attempted to explain the foundations of the cruelty that lay ahead.
“We are going to do something that I think is going to shock people,” Simon Cowell told America’s viewers. “We are going to tell people who can’t sing and have no talent that they have no talent, going to show the audition process as it really is. Warning you now, you are about to enter the audition from hell.”
That first episode of the show that would change the world established the basic plotline that would be repeated for years to come. First came a hilariously bad rendition of a cover song—in this case, “My Girl” sung by seventeen-year-old Steven Ware—followed by Simon Cowell’s first rebuke: “That was terrible, seriously terrible.” Then a handful of sob stories, and two “star is born” instant sensations in Justin Guarini and an R&B singer from Maryland named Tamyra Gray.
The show did not feature one Kelly Clarkson. Her audition wasn’t shown.
Simon’s barbs were the most noticeable element of this first episode, but so was the unmistakable love/hate chemistry between Simon and Paula as they argued, flirted, and blustered their way into a classic good cop/bad cop routine.
The charity was more charged behind the scenes. “Paula got very upset at some of the first things Simon said,” Darnell recalls. “She wasn’t ready for it and she cried.” Others remember her being so thrown off balance by Cowell that she threatened to quit. In the end, the threats proved more an early example of Paula’s propensity toward drama, a tendency that would haunt the show offscreen and on for years, than a true ultimatum. After being taken aside for a stern heart-to-heart with Lythgoe, Paula returned to her seat and shelved her threats. Forced to swallow Cowell’s role, however, Paula instinctively saw her place on the set as a counterbalance to his brutality, as his antagonist and the people’s defender. She warmed to the role and one of the most famous buddy acts in history was born.
Cowell recalls, “When I look back on the first show, no question about it, Paula was a huge reason why the show was a hit. We had this instant incredible chemistry which was real. We liked each other and then we would argue. I mean, I’ve never met anybody like her in my life, but I loved working with her because she was unpredictable and genuine. It wasn’t for the cameras.”
The critics were not impressed. To say that they slammed American Idol would imply that they gave the show some thought. The majority of publications continued to ignore Fox’s latest summer reality offering.
But those who did tune in came with a huge chip on their shoulders against the whole “unscripted” genre. “Ugly Reality Shows Will Provide Viewers with a Sleazy Summer” read the headline of the Cleveland Plain Dealer. The story continued: “As the temperature climbs, the medium’s IQ falls. And, sorry, that means another wave of reality programming. Rarely idle in the bad-taste department, Fox will unveil American Idol: The Search for a Superstar with a ninety-minute episode.”
“American Idol,” wrote the Chicago Tribune, “copied from a British hit called Pop Idol, operates under the flawed assumption that this nation wants or needs another treacly pop star. Don’t the producers know that Celine Dion is back from exile and only one of the ’N Sync boys is planning to go to space? The entirely typical moment is ill mannered and cruel. What might have been ‘kind,’ delivered in private, becomes brutal on such a public stage. What did this young man do to deserve such humiliation except exercise his apparently genetically mediocre vocal cords?”
Perhaps the only kind words Idol received were a throwaway comment from Diane Sawyer. Chatting with her colleagues on Good Morning America, Sawyer admitted to turning on the new show the night before. “I watched a little of it, I got hooked. It’s a little bit Star Search, a little bit Gong Show. But a lot of people come on to sing and hope for the chance to go to Hollywood and do it.”
In the end, the only vote that mattered was that of the viewers. Pop Idol had taken some weeks to take hold and catch fire, so Fox executives, with their expectations downsized to virtually nil, braced for the underwhelming initial response. And so it came that after being panned by the critics, ignored by the media, airing in the dead of summer, built around a format that was a proven loser in America—starring a foreign record executive no one had ever heard of—the first night of American Idol was watched by 9.9 million people. It was the biggest audience Fox had scored in seven months in the critical 18- to 49-year-old demographic. It added 3 million viewers onto its lead-in from That ’70s Show. Fox won the night for the first time in years.
“If it had stayed at 11 or 12 share we would have been thrilled,” says Darnell. “It launched at 15, which is still a shock. I think I was in disbelief.”
Cowell remembers having returned home from shooting the audition episodes. “I went back to the U.K. and genuinely forgot when the show was going to air. And I got this call out of the blue. It was either a producer or an agent screaming into the phone. ‘It’s a hit!’ ‘What’s a hit?’ ‘Idol!’ I had no idea the show was airing that night.”
More stunning still, the numbers only improved on the second night as the show brought its singers to Hollywood. The Wednesday night episode grew to 11 million viewers, despite going head-to-head against the final game of the NBA championship. The growth indicated that after Tuesday night’s show, people had started buzzing about the new program, which had the goal of placing Idol in the midweek Tuesday and Wednesday slots. “Here’s one thing I knew,” scheduling guru Preston Beckman recalled, “that reality shows work best if you could put them on during the week where people could talk about them the day before and the day after. I think that one of the secrets of reality shows is people like to talk about them.”
And people were talking. Following the single night of auditions, Idol brought the 100-some singers who had won their golden tickets to Hollywood for what they referred to then as “hell week.”
The episode continued to build on the themes developed the night before: a tear-jerking segment featuring Chicagoan Jim Verraros performing in sign language to his deaf parents; Simon telling an overweight singer she “doesn’t look right”; a hopeful dressed as Zorro. Compared to Hollywood Weeks of years to come, the tone was modest and low-key. Shot at the Pasadena Civic Center, the episode had the look of tryouts for a high school play, complete with the kids being summoned to gather around the piano for a little sing-along.
As they shot the episode, however, a concern began to develop on the set. After witnessing the contestants all together—gauging their stage presence, their confidence and comfort level, their basic skills and maturity—the producers worried that one competitor was so far above the rest that the contest would be over before it began. Justin Guarini, it was felt, was so strong that no one else stood a chance. Guarini himself credits his work entertaining at parties with teaching him to get comfortable before a crowd an
d how to get their attention whatever the situation. It certainly worked with Paula Abdul; Guarini oozed a sex appeal that sent her into vapors.
“He was what we call our banker,” Cowell says of Guarini. “Once I’d seen him I was confident that we had a genuinely good singer for the final. He was charismatic. Good-looking, confident. Girls loved him. And that was enough for me to go all right, we’ve got enough for me. Kelly Clarkson wasn’t even mentioned.”
The front-runner might have been in a different league from the rest. But he almost hadn’t made it. A week before he left for Hollywood, Justin was offered a part in the chorus of The Lion King’s theatrical run. After trying to break in on Broadway for years, this was the foot in the door he had dreamed of. However, he managed to stall for a few days while he flew out west to see what might come of this little game show.
He remembers arriving in Pasadena for the taping. “They sat us down and Nigel Lythgoe gets up and gives us a whole spiel about, ‘This is a television show. It’s designed to set you off, to put you off your guard. Just concentrate and focus and be aware of what you’re doing. We are going to film you.’ There were no punches pulled. With reality television nowadays it seems as though there is a sort of pull-the-wool-over-your-eyes mentality for the producers, like, ‘We won’t tell the talent that we’re going to be filming them 24/7 and we’re going to edit it together to make them look however we want them to look.’ American Idol was very, very open about that. They said, ‘Look, you do something stupid we’re going to catch it and we’re going to use it, FYI.’ Some people heeded that warning and some people didn’t. It was a very open system and I think that’s something I definitely respect about Idol because they’ve always been that way.”
After the disclaimer, Cowell braced the group for what was to come, telling the assembled singers that half of them would be gone by the following night. In short order, the singers stepped forward, and the numbers were whittled down from over a hundred to just thirty. Though the contestants still weren’t clear what it was they were auditioning for, having come this far they each now wanted the journey to continue, wherever it was going.
Guarini might have been the front-runner in the back-office buzz, but he had little sense of that. “I just remember thinking, Man, I have to go out and get some clothes. I went to Armani Exchange in Pasadena and ended up getting this blue sort of—it wasn’t jean but something like that—with a white shirt. I still have it. I remember going out and singing by myself on the very same stage where years and years earlier Michael Jackson had done the moonwalk for the first time. . . . I just remember going out and doing my thing, feeling good about it, and the audience went crazy. All my peers were happy, clapping for me at the end. The judges were clapping. Paula was touched. It was just such a defining moment that I’ll never forget because it was the first time that I thought, I might have a shot at this thing. I don’t know what this thing is but I may have a shot at whatever the heck this thing is.”
For viewers who weeks later would watch these defining moments, there was little doubt of Guarini’s place on the totem pole. The first breakout star, he seemed to get as much screen time as the rest combined, being placed in every shot, at the center of every group picture, the focal point of all the action on the set.
While Guarini was searching for a decent outfit, Nikki McKibbin was on the prowl for something else. The Texas girl had brought with her a sizable case of stage fright, as well as a burgeoning drinking problem. She remembers Hollywood Week as a time of searching for neighborhood sushi bars where she could throw back a few shots before her next number. Nikki’s issues with liquor would rage much further out of control in the years to come. But in her time on Idol, it was the hidden bottles and quickly tossed-back shots before airtime that would sustain her through the terrors of the show. She also recalls the nervousness at the hotel that first year: “I was like one of the only people that smoked in front of the cameras but everybody is coming to my hotel room, everybody, all hours of the night, ‘Can I have a cigarette,’ right? Then I was the only person smart enough to make the hotel clean out my refrigerator—the minibar stuff out of my refrigerator—and go grocery shopping and put groceries in that little refrigerator. I felt so bad for some of the kids who the only meal they would have all day because they didn’t have any money was a bag of chips and a peanut butter sandwich that they would come get from my room before they went to bed.
“It’s different now, but back then they didn’t know how big the show was going to be and they just didn’t know what they were doing yet. So they weren’t thinking, The kids are starving. We’ve got them sequestered and we haven’t fed them. There was nothing malicious but it was new and those are details you don’t think of.”
For many of them, coming out to this first Hollywood Week required a ticket on a very uncertain lottery. For Nikki, who won the money to make the trip in a bingo game, taking the time away from her karaoke company sent her finances dangerously close to the brink. While she was gone, her landlord locked her apartment for nonpayment of rent. “I wasn’t making any money. I had to leave my job, my company that I had just started. I left all this stuff behind, which seemed silly at the time, to go and try to do this television show, to win a talent show.”
RJ Helton recalls the time as the most stressful week of his life. “I remember screwing up a few times and I think that I ran out of one of the auditions. My mother was staying at a hotel nearby and I was like, ‘Mom, I just can’t do this. There’s just no way that I’m going to make it through to this next round. I screwed up and forgot my words,’ and most of the people that day did forget the words when we were doing the group numbers. I ran out of the hotel, down to my mother’s hotel, and she said, ‘Come with me.’ I went with her and she took me to the bar and she got me a shot of whiskey to calm me down and then I went back and I ended up making it through to the next round. It was a stressful week. I think that was the first time that I was called dreadful and terrible and all of those things. I think that each of us at one point was called something pretty negative.”
Despite being totally in the dark, these thirty young people suddenly had a lot riding on American Idol. Whether the producers were aware of it at the time or not, Hollywood Week tapped into the most potent myth in American culture, even more potent than the legend that any boy can grow up to be president. Idol breathed new life into the fantasies of millions who dreamed of going to Hollywood and being a star.
The audition episode had set it up, taking the show out into the country, cameras visiting the small towns, seeing the people in their homes. While other shows had brought people to Hollywood, none before had scoured the country in search of them, allowing the audience to meet them in their homes. And no other show on television actually visits the nation so completely, deepening the sense that this is America’s show.
As Idol’s director Bruce Gowers said about these establishing moments on the show, “Every time I see a shot of that water tower in the small town with the name painted on it, that is America. That’s Middle America. And I think everybody identifies with it. Totally. And so the backstory’s really so important. And sometimes obviously we plan it. Sometimes there’s a tragedy, there’s emotion, there’s whatever.”
Cecile Frot-Coutaz, the FremantleMedia North America chieftain overseeing Idol, said succinctly, “The auditions establish the whole point of the show. If you just met these kids on a stage in Hollywood, it would make no sense.”
And somehow, despite the fly-by-night, slapped-together-at-the-last-minute, no-one-was-quite-sure-what-it-was production, it all came through on the screen. The heartbreaks, the cheesiness of the group numbers matched with the desperation to get them right, the instant lights quality shining out of Hollywood Week’s two breakout players, Justin Guarini and Tamyra Gray. After two brief episodes, America was on board. By the end of the second week, even the media had heard the news, and suddenly stories about the new show were everywhere.
How
ever, there was an element that still had yet to come online, one part of the Idol myth that hadn’t even been glimpsed yet. The auditions had aired, thirty had survived hell week and made it through to American Idol’s semifinals. But as yet, America still had not heard a single note from the mouth of Miss Kelly Clarkson, and a greater myth than anyone could yet imagine was still to be born.
Photographic Insert 1
(2004) Built around a foreign record executive, a long-faded pop singer, and a former eighties backup musician, there was little to indicate the massive stardom that awaited Idol’s original panel. (KEVIN WINTER)
(SEASON 1, 2002) Rupert Murdoch’s order that nothing be changed from the British formula led to season 1’s greatest misfire, the hosting duo of Seacrest and Dunkleman, a pair that was awkward onscreen and openly hostile off. (KEVIN WINTER)
(SEASON 1, 2002) The first Top Three: Kelly Clarkson, Nikki McKibbin, and Justin Guarini. Of all season 1’s surprises, none was more shocking than the rise of the singing waitress from Texas. (KEVIN WINTER)
(SEASON 1, 2002) Along with the Idol format, Fox picked up its UK producers Ken Warwick and Nigel Lythgoe, who would bring a British sensibility to the American airwaves. (MATTHEW IMAGING)
(SEASON 2, 2003) With a jaw-dropping rendition of “She Bangs,” William Hung blundered his way into a career that most singers would kill for. (PETER KRAMER)
(SEASON 3, 2004) A functionally illiterate high school dropout from a background of abuse, Fantasia Barrino personified Idol’s rags-to-riches dream. (RAY MICKSHAW)
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