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“Randy Amasia’s Big Adventure
<or> How I Vanquished the Villains and Learned to Love Orange Screws” By Randy Amasia |
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“Randy Amasia’s Big Adventure
<or> How I Vanquished the Villains and Learned to Love Orange Screws” By Randy Amasia |
Last edited:
Sunday, October 05, 2003
I’ve always loved game shows…no, wait…I’ve always been obsessed with game shows, even as a kid. Some kids built houses with their building blocks, I built game show sets. “Normal” teenagers dated and went to the movies, I hung out at game show tapings. So it was only natural that I’d see game shows as a means of making some easy money.
You name it; I probably tried out for it:
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A combination guaranteed to make you say…well, we’ll get to that.
In spring of 1979, I was completing my sophomore year of college, and since I wasn’t really a morning person, I didn’t schedule my first class until 11am. This gave me ample opportunity to get hooked on this wacky new CBS game show, “Whew!” Since the show aired at 9:30 PT, I could get ready for class while watching it, get out of the house when it was over and still make it to class on time.
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I made an appointment to audition on the Monday after my last final of the semester. I still remember Kerry Newlin, the contestant coordinator, admonishing me that they didn’t validate parking and my informing her that I didn’t have a car, yet. With a twinkle in her voice, she said (I’m paraphrasing), “We’ll have to win you some money and fix that!”
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I got to their office on the Sunset Strip (one floor below Disco 9000 — ooh!) at the appointed hour, and I took the test. I thought I did pretty well on it, and I was right (well, duh!), I did. Kerry chatted us up a bit, had us tell her about ourselves and solve a few bloopers, and then she sent us home, telling us that if we didn’t hear about a callback interview within two weeks, “Thanks but no thanks.” As soon as I got home, I got The Message: “We want you to come back this Thursday to play the game in the office.”
The next few days crawled, but Thursday finally arrived. Kerry sat us down, played a tape of the pilot (what I wouldn’t give to have a copy!) and then introduced us to the show’s creator, producer Jay Wolpert. He spent a few minutes fielding questions and then turned us back over to Kerry. She paired us up, and we each blocked once and charged once — yup, they made their decision based on the initial interview and a five-minute audition. I just remember that I lost blocking and won charging — in fact, I got so into the game that I nearly had a heart attack when I got to the top!
They dismissed us again with the “Three weeks/Thanks but no thanks” routine, and I waited. And waited. Finally, I got The Call: “We like you, we really like you!” And so, on Monday morning, July 16, 1979, I arrived at CBS Television City wearing one suit and carrying two changes of clothes.
They brought us upstairs to the Green Room (actually, it was Bob Barker’s Dressing Room), where they told us to hang our stuff and set a spell, and they brought up some munchies. We had a preliminary briefing, i.e., we were under security, we could only talk to a few specific people (but no one would purposely try to trip us up), etc.
After make-up, we watched a rehearsal, we were given a walk-through of the set, and then it was back to the Green Room for the formal briefing. The formal briefing consisted of going over the rules of the game point-by-point as well as CBS’ contestant contract (i.e., we won’t cheat, we’ll tell the truth, if we win more than $25,000 we gotta retire.) After that…Show Time!
We watched the show from the Green Room, and a very exciting first show it was, the champion came oh-so-close to conquering the villains! While two contestants were battling it out on stage, we were watching the program feed or playing cards or just chatting or whatever. For the most part, my fellow contestants were a very affable bunch, and even though we were all strangers just a few hours before, by the time of the meal break (right after the first show), we all felt like old friends. This atmosphere was helped considerably by the contestant staff, who went out of their way to make us feel like we were the stars of the show.
One woman, though, her name was Pat Aiello (I’m not sure of the spelling), didn’t seem to be having as good a time as the rest of us, and she seemed to take a special disliking to me. Oh, well. Anyway, she got sent in for the last act of the third show (they taped five per day) and defeated a formidable champion in a tiebreaker. Another male contestant was sent in, and even though he forced her into a tiebreaker, he lost in the last act of Show Four.
The first act of Show Five was spent with Pat’s second, and ultimately unsuccessful, Gauntlet run. By this time, I was convinced that they weren’t going to use me, so figured I’d just relax and enjoy the show. Big mistake! As Pat was running the Gauntlet, Kerry turned to me and said, “Randy, get your jacket on, you turkey!” This command was met with a confident (well, as confident as I could be when my voice cracked five octaves), “You mean, I’m next?!”
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My nametag!
I guess Kerry must have noticed the, uh, “chemistry” between Pat and me, for I was indeed the next one to go up against the Aiello Juggernaut. Kerry told me, “You’re my ace in the hole!”
My first inkling that I might actually stand a chance was when the first category introduced was Television — hey, I was a Mass Comm major (I really was considering switching to Psych, but that’s another story), so I had every reason to believe I’d rock!
I was sent off-stage while Pat placed her blocks, I came back, took a deep breath and dived in…and lost. Unfortunately for Pat, though, I lost because I flubbed one blooper I should’ve known (Sam Jaffee from Ben Casey — I could see his face in front of me, but I couldn’t put the name with it — and 20 years on, when I watch the tape, I still blank out!), and just plain not knowing a couple of others.
During the break, while Pat was getting ensconced backstage, I remember thanking Kerry for putting me on the show, and I told her that I had a blast. She reminded me that I could still come back to win the next two rounds. Sure enough, Pat’s charging was off to a flying stop — she kept hitting blocks and I forced her into a Longshot — with less than one second left on the clock! Whew! Pat called for her Level Six blooper only to find that I’d already left a “present” for her. This meant…
A tiebreaker! The category was Women. Had I been in her shoes, I would have blocked; fortunately, I was in my own shoes, and she elected to charge. Whew! So once again, she was sent off-stage, and once again I set my traps. She came out, and the same thing happened — every time that she tried to take the easy way up to the top of the board, she hit a block. With four seconds left in the game, she called a Longshot. I placed my secret block, and I held my breath. She called for her Level Six blooper, and I didn’t even wait for the trilon to turn, I screamed with relief, because I knew I’d beaten her!
Since my game took place during the last three acts of the last show of the day, I had to wait a week to run the Gauntlet. So Pat and I, mortal enemies onstage, left the studio with our arms around each other. She was happy, as she’d been rewarded with over $2,000 for her efforts, and I was ecstatic, since I was already $1,190 richer, with a chance to add $25,000 in a week.
Just like when I was waiting for the call to the studio, the week dragged again. Between the weather (Los Angeles gets bloody hot during the summer!) and nerves, I didn’t get much sleep all week. But Monday, July 23, 1979 finally arrived, and I was back at the studio with a different suit and two changes of clothes. New contestants, but same orientation procedure. After what seemed like all day (it was only a couple of hours), and many trips to the bathroom, it was time to meet “Ten of the most black-hearted brigands that ever stood between a college student and his money!”
My run started off with a bang, I was knocking off Villains right and left, but then I lost my focus and stumbled over a couple bloopers. I recovered my footing, knocked off a few more, and then I heard, “A screwdriver is made with vodka and orange screws.” “Juice!” I yelled, having studied my share of Mixology during my misspent teenage years.
“You did it!” cried Tom Kennedy, the host, and I leapt into his arms, nearly breaking that poor man’s neck in the process. Claxons were clanging, the theme music was playing, and I paced back and forth along the Gauntlet, muttering “Oh, my God! Oh, my God!”
I jumped off stage, the audio man removed the wireless mic from me, and I hugged the Program Practices rep, then I hugged Kerry, who escorted me back to the Green Room to bask in the wild applause of my fellow contestants. Even Jay Wolpert came down from the control room and shook my hand!
I hung out in the Green Room for another couple of hours, driving everyone crazy until I asked that I be escorted out, so that I could go home $26,190 richer for my obsession. Not bad for a couple days work!
Oh, and it turned out to be a rather taxing day for their prize budget — they had three other $25,000 winners that same day. Whew!
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And thank you to master_of_the_3ws<at>my-deja.com, whoever you are, for remembering my Gauntlet intro.
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