Do Ask, Do Tell

Article Tools

Print

E-mail

Comments

RSS

All of this, however, should not be mistaken for dedicated friendship. Even when ideological commitments to truth and freedom are at work, the primary commitment of talk shows is, of course, to money. What makes these such inviting spots for nonconforming sex and gender identities has mostly to do with the niche talk shows have carved out for ratings. The shows are about talk; the more silence there has been on a subject, the more not-telling, the better a talk topic it is. On talk shows, as media scholar Wayne Munson points out in his book All Talk (Temple University Press, 1993), 'differences are no longer repressed' but 'become the talk show's emphasis,' as the shows confront 'boredom and channel clutter with constant, intensified novelty and 'reality.'' Indeed, according to Munson, Richard Mincer, Donahue's executive producer, encourages prospective guests 'to be especially unique or different, to take advantage of rather than repress difference.'

While they highlight different sex and gender identities, expressions, and practices, the talk shows can be a dangerous place to speak and a difficult place to get heard. With around 20 syndicated talk shows competing for audiences, shows that trade in confrontation and surprise (Ricki Lake, Jenny Jones, Jerry Springer) are edging out the milder, topical programs (Oprah, Donahue).

As a former Jane Whitney Show producer told TV Guide, 'When you're booking guests, you're thinking, 'How much confrontation can this person provide me?' The more confrontation, the better. You want people just this side of a fistfight.'

For members of groups already subject to violence, the visibility of television can prompt more than just a fistfight, as last year's Jenny Jones murder underlined. In March, when Scott Amedure appeared on a 'secret admirer' episode of the Jenny Jones Show, the admired Schmitz was apparently expecting a female admirer. Schmitz, not warming to Amedure's fantasy of tying him up in a hammock and spraying whipped cream and champagne on his body, declared himself '100 percent heterosexual.' Later, back in Michigan, he punctuated this claim by shooting Amedure with a 12-gauge shotgun, telling police that the embarrassment from the program had 'eaten away' at him. Or, as he reportedly put it in his 911 call, Amedure 'fucked me on national TV.'

Critics were quick to point out that programming that creates conflict tends to exacerbate it. 'The producers made professions of regret,' Neal Gabler wrote in the Los Angeles Times after the Amedure murder, 'but one suspects what they really regretted was the killer's indecency of not having pulled out his rifle and committed the crime before their cameras.' In the wake of the murder, talk show producers were likened over and over to drug dealers: Publicist Ken Maley told the San Francisco Chronicle that 'they've got people strung out on an adrenaline rush,' and 'they keep raising the dosage'; sociologist Vicki Abt told People that 'TV allows us to mainline deviance'; Michelangelo Signorile argued in Out that some talk show producers 'are like crack dealers scouring trailer park America.' True enough. Entering the unruly talk show world one is apt to become, at best, a source of adrenaline rush, and at worst a target of violence.

RSS | Comments | E-mail | Print

GET MORE INFORMATION ON THIS TOPIC:

SALONS: THE JOY OF CONVERSATION'

Sandra, Spayde, Utne editors

Paperback

Our Price: Price: $8.50

• Browse Utne Conversation Collection