Hey:
You know, you can look my name up on the IMDB but you're never going to see every gig I've done. That's because some of them are so under the radar that they're not worth listing but I have the feeling that you guys would want to know about them.
My background in performing is in comedy and it came in handy when I got asked to be the "crowd warm-up guy" for a couple of game shows shot up here in Vancouver.
The first one I worked was a bad, bad effort that I can't even remember the name of but was hosted by Wink Martindale.

Jesus.

Wink.

How can you take a guy named Wink seriously? This guy was born to be a game show host, starting with the hair, which was laquered into another dimension. You could've shot a ballbearing at the guy's head and it would've bounced off and shattered his podium.
Wink is like a national monument, never out of a suit and never without a quick comeback...as long as it's written on a cue card. The guy can say not word one without a cue card. There was a story going around the set about the time that he was hosting some American gameshow and asked the producers if it would be okay for him to wish his mom a happy birthday at the end of one particular show. They said, "Absolutely. Go for it." So the end of the show comes and the credits are rolling and Wink says his goodbyes and doesn't mention any birthday wishes to his mom. When the show goes to black, Wink explodes, demanding to know why there weren't any, "Happy Birthday, Mom," cue cards. The producers were speechless. Ironically, much like Wink without a cue card. The guy is so smooth reading cue cards that he makes it look like his regular way of speaking.

In this particular game show, there were so many variations on how the game could go that they built this special revolving credenza-type thing that had every possibility written down. And the guy who held the cue cards was this little 55 year old guy named Buddy who became Wink's whipping boy. Buddy would be staggering under the weight of about 80 pounds of bristol board and magic marker ink.
Wink would come out and intro the show. Depending on how fast or slow he spoke, that would determine how fast or slow Buddy would discard the cue cards. Buddy had to know exactly what was on each cue card in order to keep up with Wink. Throughout the tapings, I saw lots of the following:

WINK: (Reading cue card) Well, hello everybody and welcome. We've got a great show lined up for you today. Let's say, "Hi," to our two contestants, shall w--Jesus Christ! How fast is this guy gonna go here? What, are we speedreading? Slow down the cue cards, for Christ's sake! Follow...how...I'm...talking. Jesus!"

Then they'd recue the tape and we'd try it again.

WINK: (reading cue card) Well, hello everybody and welcome. We've got a great--Oh, so what, now I'm retarded? Now you're showing me one word at a time? Jesus! You can speed up, you know. Speed up to how fast I speak!"

Buddy was practically in a straight jacket by the end of taping and Wink could care less. The camera guys hated Wink and would be hiding behind their cameras rolling their eyes and snorting and chuckling derisively whenever he pulled some cue-card related tantrum. But they got him back at the wrap party. The camera guys were pretty drunk by the time Wink and his wife Sandy arrived. The guys had been cooling their beers down by blasting the cans with CO2 from the one of the studio's fire extinguishers while somebody held the can wearing welding gloves.

Anyway, Wink saunters in with Sandy, who by the way used to date Elvis. (Can you imagine that break-up line? "Sorry, Elvis. I'm with Wink now.") As soon as one of the drunken camera guys spots Wink, he rushes over, one hand outstretched for a handshake and the other holding up a cue card for Wink to read. The cue card said, "Hello, (name of cameraman here), it's been a pleasure working with you and I wish you all the best in your future endeavours. Sincerely, me, Wink Martindale."

Wink shook the guy's hand but wouldn't read the cue card. Instead, he stood there with weird grin on his face, a grin of the shit-eating variety, if you know what I mean. Everyone else was killing themselves laughing. Wink and Sandy vaporized moments later.

After that gig I then moved on to another game show. This one was the ultimate Canadian game show which out of the gate meant that there were no prizes. Canadian game shows are notorious for their lack of generosity after contestants have worked their asses off at something. I once saw an episode of, "Beat the Clock," shot out of Montreal, where they dragged some teenage girl out of the audience, made her do something totally embarrassing to try and beat the clock and then when she did it, gave her a six pack of motor oil as a parting gift.

This particular show I warmed up for was called, "Front Page Challenge." It was like, "What's My Line," wherein the panelists had to guess who the guest was by asking questions. The guest had always been a major news story at some point. The collective age of the four panelists was about 9,000 years old, being made up of such geezerly icons as Pierre Berton, Gordon Sinclair, Betty Kennedy and some newspaper columnist named Alan Fotheringham. The crowd, made up of old ladies and unemployed people, would burst into applause when these four druids would shuffle on-stage and take their padded seats.

I worked like a maniac to get the crowd going and of course, not once did any of these ancients ever say, "Hey, nice job on the crowd." Not a once. That's because they always assumed that people thought they were hilarious and didn't really need a warm-up guy.

They needed me.

Believe me.

The one taping that stands out for me was the one where Robert Kennedy Jr. was on. The son of the slain presidential hopeful was up in Vancouver on some environmental junket. I can't remember now exactly what it was, I'm thinking he was protesting logging somewhere. You know, the drive-by protest. And being on the studio floor standing near the security guards, I was privvy to all the security concerns regarding the high-profile nature of of Mr. Jr.
Apparently the CBC thought that there might be trouble of the civil disobedience kind from audience members, audience members that might want to show their disapproval with Mr. Robert Kennedy Jr's. political views. That was why they upped security from one security guard to...two. Anyway, they called it right because within about 20 seconds of the crowd settling, a lady reaches into her backpack and hauls out...bagpipes.

Bag. Pipes.

No shotgun.

No knife.

Bagpipes.

Suddenly the two guards are in the crowd and it turns into a comdey sketch version of, "Dog Day Afternoon." Instead of, "Put down the gun and no-one gets hurt," it was, "Lady, give me the pipes. Lay down the bagpipes and step back." I kid you not. And the lady looked frantic clutching the pipes, eyes darting everywhere. Finally, she handed the pipes over only after the guards had guaranteed her that she could stay and watch the taping and get her pipes back after. It could not be more civilized. More Canadian. So anyway, after the guards grabbed the pipes and secured the perimeter, the lady went down into the front row to sit with her friend.

I was standing next to one of the guards who was thinking that this whole incident had been averted when I hear her talking into her microphone to the other guard. She goes, "That lady with the bagpipes is sitting in the front row with her friend and I believe her friend has something in her bag. She's pulling it out of her bag. Wait a minute...is that a...is that a percussive gourd?"

Bagpipes and...a percussive gourd.

These two chicks could've done some serious damage to the taping. They would have for sure cleared the studio. But, thanks to the quick reflexes of the two CBC security guards, all trouble was averted and Robert Jr. was one of the lucky Kennedy's who dodged that bullet.

Finally, the last game show I was connected with was one that I was an actual regular on. It was called, "Acting Crazy," and this thing has followed me around in re-run hell ever since. It was quite an experience since they shot 60 shows in 10 days. That's six shows a day starting at 9:00 a.m. and ending around 5 p.m.

Eight hours a day of...CHARADES.

I wasn't just acting crazy by the end, I was crazy. I couldn't have a normal conversation with people for weeks after the taping. The minute someone made some kind of hand gesture, I'd go, "Sounds like!" "Two words!" or "Man of La Mancha!" I became insanely good at charades. I was lightening fast and could sometimes guess the charade within 5 seconds. It was weird. I remember one charade where another regular player on my team was standing reading the charade showed to him by the host. I swear that as he's reading it and thinking about how he's going to perform it, I think to myself, "It's A STITCH IN TIME SAVES NINE." It just poppped into my head. I just knew that was the charade. This is how tuned into the game I was. But, of course, I couldn't just yell that out before he'd even begun his charade. So, I had to sit there and wait for him to make some attempt at it. And sure enough, the host says, "Go!" and the guy mimes sewing one stitch and I yell, "A STITCH IN TIME SAVES NINE!" I think maybe 3 seconds had passed. The buzzer goes and the guy doing the charade stares at me with his mouth swinging open. No-one could believe it and they all went, "How did you know?"

I just knew.

But the best part of the gig was all the B-list guests. They flew them up from wherever and they performed for 2 days which was 12 shows. Jimmy Walker, the black comedian who always said, "Dy-na-MITE!" was the first guest. The guy would not shut up and finally the producer had to tell him, "It's not the Jimmy Walker show!"

Then there was the show that featured comedians Rip Taylor on one team and Borscht Belt comedian, Jack Carter, on the other. Rip Taylor was mad but Jack Carter was just angry. This guy was on the Ed Sullivan show about 60 times. In fact, I believe he's in the Guiness World Book of Records for how many times he appeared on the famous Sunday night variety show. So, imagine him going from the Ed Sullivan show to Acting Crazy. The guy blew up at me because I couldn't understand his charade of, "The Eiffel Tower." He kept doing the same gesture over and over like was in an asylum and we kept saying, "Move on!" But he wouldn't and so he ran out of time and then went crazy when the buzzer went and all we'd guessed was the word, "The."

Mickey Dolenz, the ex-drummer for the Monkees was on. All he did was talk about his ugly divorce. Larry Linville, who played, "Major Frank Burns" from the TV, "M.A.S.H." was on. This guy could guess NOTHING. Not a single charade. It was uncomfortable.

My favourite one, though, was actress Sally Struthers, "Gloria," from, "All In The Family." This was a woman whom I had a crush on when I was 13, who could now, thanks to a losing battle with steroids and weight, crush me. And here I was playing charades with her years later. It was so bizarre. It was even more bizarre when, at the end of one show, we were standing around waving goodbye to the TV audience when Sally Struthers picked me up, threw me over her shoulder and carried me off the set.

Try finding that on the IMDB.

Cheers,
jonesy

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