When I think of the thousands of television shows that have appeared over the past 55 plus years of television history, there are only a few shows standing out as the all-time worst. Gilligan's Island was a piece of brainless matter in which everything possible on the island was found except a funny script (stole that line from Andrews and Dunning's great Worst TV Shows Ever, published in 1980); Happy Days was a huge hit in the mid-1970s but is virtually unwatchable because in addition to the stupid dialogue, the clothing and hairstyles never seemed to fit with the era being depicted; Three's Company was unbearable in its double and triple entendres; legendary shows like Turn-On and You're In the Picture were fiascos as they were canceled after a single broadcast; and anything produced by Chuck Barris was a paean to bad taste. These are only a few of the worst that come to mind right now.
However, there is one show that stands above all in the bad taste department, one show that took reality television to almost the extreme, one show that is the standard by which all other terrible television is measured: Queen for a Day, which ran on radio from 1945 to 1956 and on national television from 1955 to its tragic cancellation in 1964.
Many words have been written about this show, but since it was broadcast live from the Moulin Rouge restaurant in Hollywood, few episodes exist today (I have two episodes that are available through Shokus Video). This is very unfortunate because if more episodes existed, I have no doubt in my mind it would be a cult television series.
For those of you too young to remember the show, it went something like this:
Five (later four) women chosen from the audience competed for money and prizes by telling the immortal host Jack Bailey (one-time carnival barker, one-time voice of Walt Disney's Goofy) what item they wanted and why they wanted it. Most of the items were mundane; for example, a babysitter for several children, a job for a spouse, a wheelchair for a disabled child, but what sold viewers on the show was women telling miserable stories of why they wanted the item. The more miserable the story, the more likely the audience would sympathize. After Bailey's interviews, which were often humiliating, Bailey then had the camera pointed on each woman, and the audience would applaud. The applause was measured by an "applause meter." The woman who generated the loudest applause would be crowned "Queen for a Day." Bailey, in his element, would yell the immortal cry, "And I crown you QUEEN for a DAY!"
To the tune of "Pomp and Circumstance," the lucky woman then was wrapped in a tacky robe, crowned with a tacky tiara, and escorted to a tacky throne. The scantily-clad models would then present her with a dozen roses (thorns removed) and then the "fun" begins. The woman would invariably be granted whatever item she wanted (only items that could be plugged were allowed; no medical or legal help was allowed because of the inability to determine the expense of such help). Each day some $3,500 worth of appliances and other items (a lot of items back then in the late fifties and early sixties) would be presented, and Bailey and the announcer would talk about all of the virtues of each. Watching the surviving episodes, what one sees is a nifty piece of mid-century popular culture and consumerism, to say nothing of the brashness of the bad taste. After the plugs (which took up most of the show), Bailey would sign off.
Critics unanimously blasted the show. One critic, referring to the president of NBC, despaired, "What hath Sarnoff wrought?" Another called it a "chamber of horrors." It didn't matter; the show was a hit and remained so throughout most of its run. Eventually ratings dropped, and, when I was in fourth grade in the fall of 1964, it was canceled and replaced by a fictional soap opera. Apparently the real thing wasn't good enough for viewers.
One virtue the game show had over so many at the time was it wasn't rigged. "Queen for a Day is an honest show. If you can prove otherwise, then hop to it. Every promise we make is fulfilled. Every gift we say will be delivered, is delivered. That's more than can be said for a number of other giveaway shows. As for me, I genuinely enjoy meeting and talking to all these people. If I didn't enjoy it, I'd have left the show years ago. Our contestants aren't phony, and our emcee can't afford to be, either. The camera and the studio audience would spot it in a minute,'" said host Jack Bailey (1910-1979) to TV Guide in the June 22-28, 1957 issue.
When asked about whether the show was exploiting people for ratings, whether it was yet another "kick the cripple" spectacle like another legendary game show, Strike It Rich, Bailey said this:
"Well, that's really not a fair question. To begin with, the weeping on the show isn't half so evident as people seem to think. Sure, most of the queens break down and cry when they're crowned, but those are pretty happy tears. As for the sob stuff, I just don't let it happen if I can possibly help it. A woman who looks as though she'll really break down doesn't get picked as one of the five daily contestants. And if one of them starts the tears on the air, I can generally manage to kid her out of it in a nice way.
"We don't deal in tears for the sake of tears. We try to keep this a happy show. People come to us in trouble. If we can cheer 'em up and help 'em out with a lot of gifts they've never dreamed of owning, then we figure we have brought a little happiness into the world where it didn't exist before. If this can be called 'preying on human emotions,' then I guess we're guilty. The audience must like it; otherwise we wouldn't be one of the top-rated daytime shows on the air."
Not only was Queen top-rated, it also gave away more prizes than any other game show. By 1957, the program had given away nearly $14,000,000. A windfall of wonderfulness, if only for little while. After the euphoria of winning all of those gifts and going to a night on the town, the lucky winner went back to the same old problems.
There was an attempt to revive the series in the early 1970s, but without Jack Bailey hosting the proceedings, it flopped. Though Bailey is no longer with us in body, his huckster spirit is alive and well with the likes of Oprah Winfrey, Survivor, Big Brother, and of course our most beloved short-term game show host, Monica Lewinsky.
Bailey and Queen were big parts of my childhood, and I will always remember both fondly.
Source for this post: Bart Andrews and Brad Dunning's excellent The Worst TV Shows EVER, 1980.
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