As the show's green-room bartender, I tended to listen more than speak. But when producer Jay vowed that selecting the right person to answer viewer email would guarantee higher ratings and better contracts, I couldn't resist asking how this approach differed from his previous plan to incorporate Jewish mysticism into the show. "Easy," he said. "The kabbalah's a fad and the Internet's not."
He even suggested the Webmaster could resuscitate the kabbalah idea-spiritual merchandising, he called it, selling sacred water, online. It occurred to me that there wasn't much difference between anything anymore. Used to be Heaven was just Heaven; now they were calling it the Internet.
Despite my unsolicited plugs for Lee Majors or Lou Ferrigno, the producers settled on a guy named Yorick, who was, they agreed, just the right pinchable, sportscaster type to generate viewer response. Besides, he was the only smile in the box with an Internet start-up to his credit.
The first taping went smoothly enough except for one glitch: Yorick didn't get any viewer e-mail. There were calls about Francine's favorite diets and chocolates, but the only e-mail sent in was coerced from the lone production assistant who wasn't out scouring L.A. for the sole Pokémon missing from
Francine's collection. Luckily Yorick had improv experience and was able to invent most of the e-mail he read on air, but his make-up blistered so badly that the director demanded countless retakes.
Not the least discouraged, producer Jay requested freelance e-mailers from the agency that hired studio audience members. Once people heard they could earn almost as much money sitting home pressing "Send," Yorick was inundated with e-mail, and a Spring-like optimism swept over the lot. Instead of résumés, now the fax machines were stuffed with press releases announcing the "overwhelming" response to Francine's "pioneering" new show. Francine herself was so excited she had a computer installed in her zebra-upholstered golf cart and, to everyone's surprise, started coming to rehearsals.
The only trouble was, the show's finances were looking bleak. I heard producer Jay telling Francine that the production office was already verging on bankruptcy, and now ratings were so low that affiliates were threatening to drop the show. Francine took the news about as gracelessly as you'd expect from someone with seven body guards.
During the taping that day she went after Yorick with a vengeance. For a while she was merely nasty—until, that is, Yorick admitted on air that his Internet start-up was a male escort service. Then came the bitch-slapping and mouse-throwing, and enough ass-wrenching to bring tears to Yorick's eyes.
Beyond desperate, producer Jay aired a slightly edited version of the show the very next day. No one was more surprised when that week's ratings were the highest of the season, or that the show's success persisted. So long as Francine and Yorick kept it spiteful, viewers tuned in and e-mailed by the thousands.
As far as I could tell, the biggest cost of all this success was losing the green room, which was shut down because the show's guests were now dialing in from cyberspace. I wasn't so worried about finding another bartending job, but, surprisingly, I was worried about producer Jay and the other regulars. The green room was the only place they had to drink, nibble and kibitz, and I couldn't help thinking they'd be poorer without it.
Start
Founders' Note
Dateline
Dispatches about the interaction
of culture and technology.
Through a lens
People use cameras to answer
a question.
Backlash
Killthedot.com
Translator
Software interprets the classics
Send-up
Satire and ridicule.
Features
Silicon Valley
The Enigmatic Craig McCaw
Finish
Fiction
"Cyber-sized"
History of...
the typewriter.
The Watch
Reviews and commentary
Wind-up
Physicist Carver Mead explains why innovation requires courage and luck.
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