04-10-2019, 05:10 PM
Yes -- there can be life after a scandal!
Charles Lincoln Van Doren (February 12, 1926 – April 9, 2019)[1] was an American writer and editor who was involved in a television quiz show scandal in the 1950s. In 1959 he testified before the United States Congress that he had been given the correct answers by the producers of the show Twenty-One. Terminated by NBC, he joined Encyclopædia Britannica, Inc., in 1959, becoming a vice-president and writing and editing many books before retiring in 1982.
On November 28, 1956, Van Doren made his first appearance on the NBC quiz show Twenty-One.[3] Twenty-One was not Van Doren's first game show interest. He was long believed to have approached producers Dan Enright and Albert Freedman, originally, to appear on Tic-Tac-Dough, another game they produced. Van Doren eventually revealed—five decades after his Twenty-One championship and fame, in a surprise article for The New Yorker—that he did not even own a television set, but had met Freedman through a mutual friend, with Freedman initiating the idea of Van Doren going on television by way of asking what he thought of Tic-Tac-Dough.[4]
Enright and Freedman were impressed by Van Doren's polite style and telegenic appearance, thinking the youthful Columbia teacher would be the man to defeat their incumbent Twenty-One champion, Herb Stempel, and boost the show's slowing ratings as Stempel's reign continued.[citation needed]
In January 1957, Van Doren entered a winning streak that ultimately earned him $129,000 (the equivalent of $1,150,759 today) and made him famous, including an appearance on the cover of Time on February 11, 1957. His Twenty-One run ended on March 11, when he lost to Vivienne Nearing, a lawyer whose husband Van Doren had previously beaten. After his defeat he was offered a three-year contract with NBC.[citation needed]
Numerous writings since have suggested Van Doren was offered a job as a special "cultural correspondent" for The Today Show almost at once—but Van Doren subsequently reminded people that his first job was as a newswriter, short-lived, before he began doing small pieces for Today host Dave Garroway's weekend cultural program, Wide Wide World—pieces that led quickly to Garroway's inviting Van Doren to join Today. Van Doren also made guest appearances on other NBC programs, even serving as Today's substitute host when Garroway took a brief vacation.[citation needed]
On November 28, 1956, Van Doren made his first appearance on the NBC quiz show Twenty-One.[3] Twenty-One was not Van Doren's first game show interest. He was long believed to have approached producers Dan Enright and Albert Freedman, originally, to appear on Tic-Tac-Dough, another game they produced. Van Doren eventually revealed—five decades after his Twenty-One championship and fame, in a surprise article for The New Yorker—that he did not even own a television set, but had met Freedman through a mutual friend, with Freedman initiating the idea of Van Doren going on television by way of asking what he thought of Tic-Tac-Dough.[4]
Enright and Freedman were impressed by Van Doren's polite style and telegenic appearance, thinking the youthful Columbia teacher would be the man to defeat their incumbent Twenty-One champion, Herb Stempel, and boost the show's slowing ratings as Stempel's reign continued.[citation needed]
In January 1957, Van Doren entered a winning streak that ultimately earned him $129,000 (the equivalent of $1,150,759 today) and made him famous, including an appearance on the cover of Time on February 11, 1957. His Twenty-One run ended on March 11, when he lost to Vivienne Nearing, a lawyer whose husband Van Doren had previously beaten. After his defeat he was offered a three-year contract with NBC.[citation needed]
Numerous writings since have suggested Van Doren was offered a job as a special "cultural correspondent" for The Today Show almost at once—but Van Doren subsequently reminded people that his first job was as a newswriter, short-lived, before he began doing small pieces for Today host Dave Garroway's weekend cultural program, Wide Wide World—pieces that led quickly to Garroway's inviting Van Doren to join Today. Van Doren also made guest appearances on other NBC programs, even serving as Today's substitute host when Garroway took a brief vacation.[citation needed]
When allegations of cheating were first raised by Stempel and others, Van Doren denied any wrongdoing, saying, "It's silly and distressing to think that people don't have more faith in quiz shows." As the investigation by the district attorney's office and eventually the United States Congress progressed, Charles Van Doren, now host on The Today Show, was under pressure from NBC to testify but went into hiding in order to avoid the committee's subpoena. It was another former Twenty-One contestant, the artist James Snodgrass, who would finally provide indisputable corroborating proof that the show had been rigged. Snodgrass had documented every answer he was coached on in a series of registered letters he mailed to himself prior to the show's being broadcast.[5]
One month after the hearings began, Van Doren emerged from hiding and confessed before the committee that he had been complicit in the fraud.[6] On November 2, 1959, he admitted to the House Subcommittee on Legislative Oversight, a United States Congress subcommittee, chaired by Arkansas Democrat Oren Harris, that he had been given questions and answers in advance of the show.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_Van_Doren
Charles Lincoln Van Doren (February 12, 1926 – April 9, 2019)[1] was an American writer and editor who was involved in a television quiz show scandal in the 1950s. In 1959 he testified before the United States Congress that he had been given the correct answers by the producers of the show Twenty-One. Terminated by NBC, he joined Encyclopædia Britannica, Inc., in 1959, becoming a vice-president and writing and editing many books before retiring in 1982.
On November 28, 1956, Van Doren made his first appearance on the NBC quiz show Twenty-One.[3] Twenty-One was not Van Doren's first game show interest. He was long believed to have approached producers Dan Enright and Albert Freedman, originally, to appear on Tic-Tac-Dough, another game they produced. Van Doren eventually revealed—five decades after his Twenty-One championship and fame, in a surprise article for The New Yorker—that he did not even own a television set, but had met Freedman through a mutual friend, with Freedman initiating the idea of Van Doren going on television by way of asking what he thought of Tic-Tac-Dough.[4]
Enright and Freedman were impressed by Van Doren's polite style and telegenic appearance, thinking the youthful Columbia teacher would be the man to defeat their incumbent Twenty-One champion, Herb Stempel, and boost the show's slowing ratings as Stempel's reign continued.[citation needed]
In January 1957, Van Doren entered a winning streak that ultimately earned him $129,000 (the equivalent of $1,150,759 today) and made him famous, including an appearance on the cover of Time on February 11, 1957. His Twenty-One run ended on March 11, when he lost to Vivienne Nearing, a lawyer whose husband Van Doren had previously beaten. After his defeat he was offered a three-year contract with NBC.[citation needed]
Numerous writings since have suggested Van Doren was offered a job as a special "cultural correspondent" for The Today Show almost at once—but Van Doren subsequently reminded people that his first job was as a newswriter, short-lived, before he began doing small pieces for Today host Dave Garroway's weekend cultural program, Wide Wide World—pieces that led quickly to Garroway's inviting Van Doren to join Today. Van Doren also made guest appearances on other NBC programs, even serving as Today's substitute host when Garroway took a brief vacation.[citation needed]
On November 28, 1956, Van Doren made his first appearance on the NBC quiz show Twenty-One.[3] Twenty-One was not Van Doren's first game show interest. He was long believed to have approached producers Dan Enright and Albert Freedman, originally, to appear on Tic-Tac-Dough, another game they produced. Van Doren eventually revealed—five decades after his Twenty-One championship and fame, in a surprise article for The New Yorker—that he did not even own a television set, but had met Freedman through a mutual friend, with Freedman initiating the idea of Van Doren going on television by way of asking what he thought of Tic-Tac-Dough.[4]
Enright and Freedman were impressed by Van Doren's polite style and telegenic appearance, thinking the youthful Columbia teacher would be the man to defeat their incumbent Twenty-One champion, Herb Stempel, and boost the show's slowing ratings as Stempel's reign continued.[citation needed]
In January 1957, Van Doren entered a winning streak that ultimately earned him $129,000 (the equivalent of $1,150,759 today) and made him famous, including an appearance on the cover of Time on February 11, 1957. His Twenty-One run ended on March 11, when he lost to Vivienne Nearing, a lawyer whose husband Van Doren had previously beaten. After his defeat he was offered a three-year contract with NBC.[citation needed]
Numerous writings since have suggested Van Doren was offered a job as a special "cultural correspondent" for The Today Show almost at once—but Van Doren subsequently reminded people that his first job was as a newswriter, short-lived, before he began doing small pieces for Today host Dave Garroway's weekend cultural program, Wide Wide World—pieces that led quickly to Garroway's inviting Van Doren to join Today. Van Doren also made guest appearances on other NBC programs, even serving as Today's substitute host when Garroway took a brief vacation.[citation needed]
When allegations of cheating were first raised by Stempel and others, Van Doren denied any wrongdoing, saying, "It's silly and distressing to think that people don't have more faith in quiz shows." As the investigation by the district attorney's office and eventually the United States Congress progressed, Charles Van Doren, now host on The Today Show, was under pressure from NBC to testify but went into hiding in order to avoid the committee's subpoena. It was another former Twenty-One contestant, the artist James Snodgrass, who would finally provide indisputable corroborating proof that the show had been rigged. Snodgrass had documented every answer he was coached on in a series of registered letters he mailed to himself prior to the show's being broadcast.[5]
One month after the hearings began, Van Doren emerged from hiding and confessed before the committee that he had been complicit in the fraud.[6] On November 2, 1959, he admitted to the House Subcommittee on Legislative Oversight, a United States Congress subcommittee, chaired by Arkansas Democrat Oren Harris, that he had been given questions and answers in advance of the show.
Quote:I was involved, deeply involved, in a deception. The fact that I, too, was very much deceived cannot keep me from being the principal victim of that deception, because I was its principal symbol. There may be a kind of justice in that. I don’t know. I do know, and I can say it proudly to this committee, that since Friday, October 16, when I finally came to a full understanding of what I had done and of what I must do, I have taken a number of steps toward trying to make up for it. I have a long way to go. I have deceived my friends, and I had millions of them. Whatever their feeling for me now, my affection for them is stronger today than ever before. I am making this statement because of them. I hope my being here will serve them well and lastingly.Authorities differ regarding the audience's reaction to Van Doren's statement. David Halberstam writes in his book The Fifties:
I asked (co-producer Albert Freedman) to let me go on (Twenty-One) honestly, without receiving help. He said that was impossible. He told me that I would not have a chance to defeat Stempel because he was too knowledgeable. He also told me that the show was merely entertainment and that giving help to quiz contests was a common practice and merely a part of show business. This of course was not true, but perhaps I wanted to believe him. He also stressed the fact that by appearing on a nationally televised program I would be doing a great service to the intellectual life, to teachers and to education in general, by increasing public respect for the work of the mind through my performances. In fact, I think I have done a disservice to all of them. I deeply regret this, since I believe nothing is of more vital importance to our civilization than education.[7]
Quote:Aware of Van Doren's great popularity, the committee members handled him gently and repeatedly praised him for his candor. Only Congressman Steve Derounian announced that he saw no particular point in praising someone of Van Doren's exceptional talents and intelligence for simply telling the truth. With that, the room suddenly exploded with applause, and [Congressional investigator] Richard N. Goodwin knew at that moment ordinary people would not so easily forgive Van Doren.[8]By contrast, William Manchester, in his narrative history The Glory and the Dream, recounts a diametrically opposite response:
Quote:The crowd at the hearing had been with Van Doren, applauding him and his admirers on the subcommittee and greeting Congressman Derounian's comment with stony silence.[9]An Associated Press story dated November 2, 1959, seems to verify Halberstam's version of events:
Quote:While there was a burst of applause when Mr. Harris dismissed Mr. Van Doren with a "God bless you", there was applause, too, when Rep. Steven B. Derounian, Republican, New York, declined to go along with compliments that other committee members showered on the witness for telling the truth. "I don't think an adult of your intelligence ought to be commended for telling the truth," Mr. Derounian declared in severe tones. Mr. Van Doren winced, flushed, and ducked his head.[10][11]
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_Van_Doren
The ideal subject of totalitarian rule is not the convinced Nazi or the dedicated Communist but instead the people for whom the distinction between fact and fiction, true and false, no longer exists -- Hannah Arendt.