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Take Five: Who Wants to be a Millionaire
by Mary McHugh
Well, actually, I wouldn’t mind being a millionnaire. I’ve been trying on an off for about 40 years now to win big money on a quiz show and the most I ever got was $186 and a gas grill.
In 1958 I went on a quiz show called Tic Tac Dough, produced by Jack Barry and Dan Enright. I was 30 years old, married, expecting my second baby and living in New York City with my husband who was an assistant in the U.S. Attorney’s office. Great job, poor pay, so I decided to go on a quiz show, make a lot of money and solve all our problems. I had aced most of the questions when I watched at home, so I thought it would be easy.
First I had to go to some hotel in New York City and pass a screening test. The questions were fairly easy and I had no trouble with them. Then we had to show that we could sparkle on television. Those of us who could jump up and down and react with manic enthusiasm when we won some money were chosen to appear on the show.
Around that time there were stories in the paper about cheating on quiz shows, especially “The $64,000 Question,” and “Twenty-One” (also produced by Barry and Enright.) When I asked the producer of “Tic Tac Dough” about this he said, “That’s ridiculous. The charm of the show is that we have real people and they are sometimes very smart and sometimes they forget things they should know. That’s the suspense and fun of the show.” I believed him, of course.
Everything was really relaxed the day of the taping. A bunch of us sat around discussing whether Valium would make us calmer or stupider. We exchanged the names of rivers and planets, Oscar winners and chemical symbols for hydrogen and sodium. The game was set up like a giant Tic Tac Toe board and each square had a different topic for questions.
When my turn came, I froze when the bright lights came up and as the camera closed in on my face, my smile ran off the edges of my lips. When Jack Barry asked me if I were expecting a baby, I blushed so violently I’m surprised they didn’t have to change the lighting.
When I looked at the categories, I heaved a sigh of relief - two or my specialties were up there: Shakespeare (I was an English Literature major) and France (I had lived in Paris for a year). My opponent was a tall, rather surly man, and I thought the audience was more likely to favor an expectant mother who could gestate and think at the same time.
I did fine when they asked me the name of an island in the middle of the Seine. “Ile de la Cite,” I stammered out after my wits temporarily deserted me. But then they asked me something about soldiers and woods and moving and I knew it was either “Richard III” or “Macbeth” and I chose the wrong one.
My oafish opponent said, “You didn’t know that?” Jack Barry said, “Oh too bad. But we hope you enjoyed playing the game.” He held out the Tic Tac Dough game that was my only compensation besides a Polaroid camera, and I grabbed hold of it and wouldn’t let go. He kept trying to tug it away from me because it was only a prop game, but I gave one mighty grab and pulled it right out of his hands. I was determined to go home with something.
When I read a few weeks later that Tic Tac Dough was fixed just like all the rest of them, I was really mad! No one had offered me any answers. Maybe they thought it wasn’t a good idea trying to corrupt the wife of an Assistant U.S. Attorney.
I kept on watching quiz shows and answering all the questions easily at home, and twelve years later I went on another one - Who, What, Where or When. The quiz scandals had obviously made their mark, because in 1970 we were not even allowed to go to the Ladies Room without a member of the staff with us. We were watched, warned, monitored and followed. Jokes about cheating were as welcome as funny remarks about guns when checking in at the airport. I’m embarrassed to tell you I didn’t do much better on that show than on the first one, coming home with $186 and a gas grill, which was really useful in a New York apartment.
So the years went by. I watched Jeopardy every night, winning big money in the living room and when the producers of that show announced they were giving tests for possible contestants in Atlantic City, I persuaded two of my crazier friends to drive down with me and try out.
You had to get seven out of ten questions right in three minutes. What would be so hard about that? Well, each of us only got six right, but we had a great time eating a $5.00 buffet lunch and walking around checking out the other casinos. Maybe some day I’ll get on Jeopardy when they have Old People’s Week.
Then along came “Who Wants to Be a Millionnaire.” I watch it four nights a week, practice my fastest finger technique, and usually do pretty well on the questions. I think I could at least get $32,000, so I call every night to see if I can answer the three questions correctly in 10 seconds. The last time I even got the lowest boiling points of helium, iodine, zinc and platinum in the right order (lucky guess), and the recorded voice said, “We may call you tomorrow to arrange for you to come to the studio for more tests. Be home between 12 and 3.” I waited, but no call. I don’t care. I’m going to keep on trying until I get on that show. Even if I don’t get into the hot seat, it will be an adventure. If I do get on, when the camera focuses on me, I’ll be waving at all of you.
Have any of you been on a quiz show? Tell me about it. If you have any hints for getting on “Who Wants to Be a Millionnaire?” I’d love to hear about that too.
