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The year is 1988, after decades of political tensions, the Cold War is finally beginning
to thaw out. But despite this, we start our story underground in a windowless room. It was literally called the bomb shelter. This is Terry Eldridge. It was a basement space, just as wide open room.
“On this particular winter afternoon, Terry found himself hunkered down in the bomb shelter.”
But he wasn't taking cover from an incoming missile or nuclear fallout. The bomb shelter was just a recroom and a dorm where Terry went to college. He and some classmates had gathered there because Terry had recently received a phone call from his dad, Roy. And he told Terry to make sure he was going to be near a TV in just a few days time, because
something really good was going to be on.
And watched my dad on Wheel of Fortune, then it was really surreal. Did it surprise you to learn that he was going to be on TV with was this out of character for him? Oh, absolutely. He was a retired cop.
He had been a Denver cop for years. Roy Eldridge from Brimfield, Colorado. What do you do back there? I'm chief of physical security for our large government facility. Uh-huh.
Sounds kind of secretive, Roy. Not really. All right. It turns out Terry's dad was good at the game. Roy was the biggest earner of the day and qualified to play the bonus round for a pretty
sweet prize. Roy, you're going to be playing for the Jeep Wrangler Open Air Model with room for four. Retail value $12,765. He won this beautiful, red Jeep Wrangler 15 seconds to talk it out. Good luck.
But turn it TV. I knew you could. I'm thinking you got this 19 or 20 year old kid in college. You don't need a Jeep Wrangler, but I would love one. I was so excited thinking I am getting a Jeep.
Terry wouldn't get the Jeep, but there was another thing. At the time, Wheel of Fortune had a segment called The Shopping Round. You got there by spending the wheel, of course, solving the puzzle and hopefully winning thousands of dollars. You didn't get to take any of that cash home instead contestants had to spend it all
right there during the shopping round, where they forced you to buy random things that filled the stage. Jet skis, vacation packages, you got whatever you could afford and every episode, the answer would hype up those very prizes that you'd been forced to buy. My dad bought these horrible gold plated sunglasses.
And he also bought what at the time was a very pretty crystal peacock. Towards the end of the round, once people got down to less than $200, there wasn't much left to buy.
Except for about $150, there was always this ceramic dog.
A life-sized black and white polka dot dog made out of baked clay. It was kind of a consolation prize. Here's what you get with whatever money you have left that isn't enough to buy anything else on the set, except for this dog. It was truly just the thing you got when you couldn't afford anything else.
“Terry doesn't even really remember seeing his dad buy one, but he did.”
And like so many people who went on wheel of fortune in the 1980s, a ceramic dumbation ended up back at Roy's house. After the excitement of watching his dad on wheel of fortune, Terry finished college, moved, bought a home, got married, and started a family of his own.
His father kept the dog all that time, and then one day he pulled Terry aside.
And he said, "Hey, take the dog home with you." So he has sat in our house, guarding the top of the stairs for the past 20 plus years. Thanks to his dad, Terry is the proud owner of perhaps the ultimate useless object. The Wheel of Fortune's ceramic dumbation has no discernible purpose whatsoever, functionally,
nothing would change in Terry's life if he got rid of it, but he insists he never, ever
will. And it's not just beloved to Terry. For a brief moment, it became the mascot for one of America's most popular game shows, appearing on tens of millions of TV screens, night after night, all across the country. If you watched Wheel of Fortune in the 1980s, I bet you big money, you remember the ceramic
dumbation.
“But why did this fake useless dog capture the fleeting attention of our nation?”
From 99% visible and BBC studios, this is a history of the United States in 100 objects, I'm Roman Mars. Today, why the Wheel of Fortune's ceramic dumbation is the perfect symbol of the game show, and what the fascinating history of game shows and game show prizes tells us about the changing definition of the American dream.
One of the things that fascinates me about game shows is the prizes. I probably seen thousands of hours of game shows in my life, growing up, I remember skipping school to watch Wheel of Fortune, or the prizes right, but I wasn't just into solving puzzles or guessing the price of a bottle of dish soap. Like millions of other Americans watching along with me, I wanted to see the stuff people
won. Rises are central to a game show. They are the reason viewers keep tuning in, imagining we could be the ones driving home in that brand new car.
“And those prizes have been there since the very start before they were even called game shows.”
As far as we know, the quiz show is an American invention. It appears that the first one on the air was a show on the radio around 1924 called Brooklyn Daily Eagle Quiz on Current Events. This is Adam Nettiff, author, historian, and researcher for the national archives of game show history.
The Brooklyn Daily Eagle was a newspaper in New York, and they had these events called Current Events Bees. These events were kind of like a spelling bee for topical issues. Give a correct answer. You stayed in the contest, and the final person standing, one, both bragging rights, and
a small cash prize. And whenever Brooklyn Daily Eagle ran a current event to be, they would run a special edition of the paper, where they printed all of the questions and all of the correct answers,
and always sold a lot of extra copies.
“So Brooklyn Daily Eagle had the idea that, hey, we can sell copies in the paper with”
these things. Let's start putting the current events be on radio. So that was the idea originally. The first game show was invented to sell newspapers. Around the same time, another radio show emerged called Vox Pop.
It started out with hosts asking random people on the street their opinions on things happening in the news. Do you read the paper today? Well, I got about halfway through it. Eventually, they came upon the idea.
Let's see a segment of the show where we see what people actually know about these subjects. We'll ask them questions about what's going on in the news. I want you to give me three prominent items that were featured in the newspaper this week. And people didn't want to participate in this segment, because they didn't want to risk
looking foolish on the radio. So the hosts had this idea, well, let's take a lot of money with us, and we'll give people a dollar if they give the correct answer. A single dollar for a correct answer was all the incentive many needed. After all, this was the middle of the Great Depression.
Quiz shows quickly became a potent form of distraction. Swoths of listeners who couldn't afford other entertainment could fantasize about winning a dollar for knowing a factor too. These first quiz shows were also the perfect snapshot of a quintessentially American idea. If you applied yourself and you were smart, you could really achieve something, like winning
a cash prize.
These shows were always modest affairs.
During World War II, the feds actually asked a lot of the shows to shut down for fear that an audience member would leak war secrets live on the air. But if you quiz shows stuck around, like one called "Information Please," where the prizes included a $25 defense bond, practical and patriotic, then the war ended.
Quiz shows had never been about big giveaways anyways.
The idea of "Boy" wouldn't be great to win on a quiz show.
That would solve all my problems.
“No, that never happened until the end of World War II.”
When all of a sudden they turned on the money faucet. That money faucet would change Quiz shows forever. When it started, thanks to the post-war boom in manufacturing. "Word needed to get out that goods were being produced again, and so that led to big giveaways on radio because giving away your furniture or your appliances from your factory was a good
way to let Americans know, "Hey, we're up and running full speed again. We have so many things coming out of our factory that we can just give away a refrigerator on this radio show, so go out and buy a refrigerator this weekend at the department store."
As a nation, the U.S. was becoming increasingly more wealthy.
Not only could more people know afford consumer goods, they wanted them. Keeping up with the drone just really became a big deal at the end of World War II. There was this dream that you were being sold of, it's not just about being able to provide
“for your family, it's about having nice stuff for your family, and Quiz shows had evolved”
to a point where they suddenly fit into that American dream. Not the same time that Americans are trying to acquire stuff, that's when the Quiz shows all of a sudden are giving stuff away in massive quantities, so these radio shows evolved in the same direction the country at large was evolving. Quiz shows became a kind of mirror of American society.
As consumer culture took off, Quiz shows became more and more popular, but it started 30 years before, as a way to sell some newspapers, was exploding into a full-blown American phenomenon. TV played a huge role in this, turning the radio quiz show into a visual spectacle with dramatic studio lighting on-screen countdowns and glitz-c sets. But it wasn't just the over-the-top production that made these quiz shows so successful.
Many of them continue to push that core American value that you can have all the stuff you want.
“You can get that American dream by working hard and using your own wits.”
New program called itself the show "knowledge is king" and the reward is king size. You see, as everything else got bigger, more shows, wider audiences, bigger sponsors, the prizes they were offering grew too. And those king size rewards, they were literally 1,000 times bigger than what had come before.
The explosion of massive cash prizes began in the 1950s, when a producer named Lewis Cohen decided to reimagine a hit radio quiz show called "Take it or leave it." At the heart of "Take it or leave it" was the $64 question. An opportunity for contestants to gamble the $32 that already won for $64. If they could successfully answer the hardest category of question on the show.
But in his version, which would be made for TV, Lewis Cohen wanted to raise the stakes. Considerably. And so he pitched a new show called the $64.000 question. The $64.000 question is the monster hit of television in 1955 and, of course, imitation is the sincerest form of television, so the shows that are already on the air start introducing
big money elements. And tonight, SuperBone is upon beat the clock. Beat the clock introduces the SuperBones stunt, which is worth $64,000 for even more. The grand prize on name that tune had been $1600, and all of a sudden, they're offering $25,000.
The quiz shows were offering way more money than they ever had. But the people who are actually paying for these massive prizes still wanted a return on their investment. In fact, they expected bigger returns than ever. And to guarantee big returns, the shows looked to replicate what was already working elsewhere.
The $64.000 question is a big hit show and it has an isolation booth. So producers Jackbury and Dan and Wright have this idea, let's do a quiz show with two isolation booths. Good evening. This is the television program called $21, and my name is Jack Barry.
The promise of $21 was simple. Two contestants answered trivia questions in isolation booths, neither them knew how the other one was doing. Questions were worth up to 11 points each, whoever got the closest to $21 without going over.
It's basically a blackjack mixed with your standard issue general knowledge quiz.
That'll be welcome back to $21, that thunderous reception from our studio audience indicates
That both of you are well-liked and having a hard job deciding who they want ...
on their allus on this program.
“As $21 became more successful, the producers wanted to do more with the show than just”
build dazzling sets and give away insane cash prizes. They wanted to push the boundaries of what defined a quiz show by elevating the average Americans that you'd see on these programs and making the contestants larger than life. Dan and Wright kind of cast his contestants, not cast them just in the sense that game shows cast contestants now, which is, oh, these people have engaging personalities that you want
to see on television. No, Dan and Wright would actually cast contestants as in, they were characters to him.
Wright was casting 21 as if it was a movie. In every good movie, needs a star.
And fifth wide, up Henry VIII, and described their fate. The producers found that star in a contestant named Charles Vandorin. Charles Vandorin was from a very famous family. His relatives were authors and poets and critics and professors.
“And Vandorin himself, as a professor, very good-looking guy, incredibly charismatic, incredibly”
engaging, incredibly likable. Charlie incidentally, I've had a lot of questions about you, well, whether or not you're married or single. I was single. You are. And along with all that charisma and those good looks, Vandorin was intelligent too. So intelligent, in fact, that he went on a winning streak that lasted 14 weeks.
Our current winner, Charles Vandorin, has so far won $46,500. In just a moment, Mr. Vandorin
can conceivably bring his total winnings up to $88,500. Vandorin's winning streak catapulted him from an Ivy League English lecturer to national TV celebrity. Charles Vandorin makes the cover of Time Magazine. Charles Vandorin makes the cover TV side. Charles Vandorin becomes a star in a way that with show contestants don't normally
become stars. It was like a fairy tale, the charming handsome intelligent academic plucked out of obscurity and transformed into a national superstar. In fact, it was a little too much like a fairy tale. This show was totally rigged. Charles Vandorin didn't win 14 straight weeks in a row, at least not legitimately. The producers
of 21 had hands selected him as their champion before he even went on the air. They told Vandorin and all the other previous handpicked winners, all of the answers ahead of time. And this wasn't just 21 in Vandorin. Pretty much all of the big money quizzes in the late 50s, not all of them, but the vast majority of them were fixed.
But at some point to keep the drama going and viewers hooked wanting more even handpicked winners had to eventually lose. And the producers of 21 were deciding that too, not only did they tell him to throw the match, but how and on which question. But Vandorin had been such a success that NBC didn't want to let him go. When he was set to lose and leave 21 NBC decided to find him another gig that would keep him on the network.
They made him what they called the cultural court's bottom for this day show. But not everybody was happy about this. Previous contestants were looking at Charles Vandorin's soft landing and thinking, "Hang on. Where was my television gig after I agreed to lose?" These were just everyday people. And you can pull them off the street and say, "You can't
tell anybody what we're doing. You've got to keep this secret." You can tell people that. But realistically, they're going to tell their spouse. They're going to tell their best friend for every one contestant that you rig five people were going to find out what's happening behind the scenes. And when you have this many shows that are operating this way, it's only a matter of time before the word gets out.
And word did eventually get out. In August of 1958, the successful quiz show Dotto was unceremoniously yanked off the air. And for days, nobody knew why. And then the press got word of a story. A few months earlier, a man who was due to a peer on the show found another contestant's notebook backstage. It was filled with all the answers for that evening show. Answers to questions she couldn't have known yet. The contestant who found the notebook
“leaked it to the papers. And here's the thing, technically, rigging a game show wasn't”
illegal. As in, there weren't really any laws that said you couldn't. But that technicality didn't stop the scandal from dividing the public. As the news that quiz shows were being investigated, got out, many were upset and felt they had been deceived. The reaction to rigged
Quiz shows was so great that federal lawmakers started to investigate.
room, the dramatic climax of the probe of fixed and rigged quiz show. I mean, it is pretty
amazing to think of Congress getting involved in quiz shows. And what do you think that says about
“how important they are and that the presentation is truthful? You know, there's a cynical answer”
in why Congress wanted to be involved with the quiz show scandals, which basically, 1958 was a reelection year. So the idea of having something to police was a good look or the congressman who wrote for reelection. And Charles Van Doren was at the center of those congressional hearings. As a result of the congressional hearings, Van Doren was fired from NBC and forced to leave his job at Columbia University. He had gone from celebrity to the face of
a scandal he would never escape. As for the TV programs themselves, after dazzling us with the drama
of impossible questions, charismatic contestants, incredible feats of human intelligence and giant cash prizes, the era of the great American quiz show was over. All these shows, $64,000 question, $21. All of these rig quiz shows are off the error by the autumn of 1958, because okay, now we have our proof that these quiz shows rig. Maybe the worst part of all this
“was the scandals left many of us kind of broken hearted. I think it does say something about”
quiz shows that people were this upset. The American public was hurt to learn this stuff wasn't real. A lot of that hurt came from the fact that the story quiz show fans had been sold,
that the most knowledgeable, hardest-working person would win the game. That story was a lie.
And in the wake of the scandals, everything about quiz shows seemed tainted. All of a sudden, you needed to come up with new ideas for what to do on these shows. And quiz was a dirty word. It had this negative connotation, which is how we ended up with the term game show. These game shows that weren't quizzes became popular in the 1960s, and you started looking for other things that people can do to win money.
“This wasn't just a rebrand. It was a whole new approach to the format. The chance to win simply”
with quiz show style book smarts, that was out. Instead, these new game shows relied on motor skills, everyday knowledge, and something anybody could have, even if they had nothing else. Luck. And you need a lot of it. If you wanted to win the new game show, that was about this week, the nation. Let's take a break to talk about our sponsor for today's episode,
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spreadsheet, or presentation directly in your file system. No need to worry about rough drafts that need heavy editing. For problems we're solving, get started with Claude at Claude.ai. That's Claude.ai. In the 1970s, the game show industry was moving away from hard-knowledge-based programs. Instead, TV producers were designing new shows that were more physical and leaned on common sense. This shift was led by a guy named Murrv Griffin. Murrv Griffin was the singer and
talkshow host who also dabbled in making game shows. And for somebody who dabbled, Murrv was pretty good at it. He was the brain behind the hit 60's show Jeopardy, which had aspects of the old school quiz shows tailored for the Charles Vandorans of the world. But now, at Delegate later, he was developing a new idea that was a blend of luck and common knowledge instead. At the heart
Of Murrv's new vision were two of his fondest childhood memories.
trips during a summer, and he and his sister would play Hangman with pencil and paper in the
“back seat to entertain themselves during the cart trip. The other memory was he went to a carnival”
once, and he was enamored by the big carnival wheel that people were spinning for prizes. And so he came up with this idea that you would play Hangman, but you spun the wheel before every letter you called and what the wheel landed on determined what the letters were worth. So Murrv pitched the show to an NBC executive who insisted on one change in order to make it more appealing to a female audience. She had this idea to do a shopping game show. And what she described
Murrv Griffin was, we have prizes all over the stage and contestants take their money and they just immediately buy prizes every time they solve the puzzle. Murrv didn't exactly love this tweak, but he wanted to get the show on the air. So they developed it into this format initially called shoppers bizarre. And they shoot this pilot and the pilot kind of sucks.
“All right now ladies remember you must earn enough money to pay for your gifts and solve a puzzle”
in order to take them home. The pilot is confusing. I mean, you may select any letter you wish or buy a vow. Now if you select a letter that does not appear in the puzzle, you lose your turn. So let's continue the puzzle we were playing, the wheel is spinning, and I believe
Marilyn you have the most to play for, so you go first. All right. Okay stop the wheel.
Even the contestants seem confused. They had to pre-select prizes. There was an accounting department to make sense of who was in profit and who was in debt. The contestants didn't even spend the wheel themselves. They just shouted, stopped the wheel, and usually before the wheel even started spinning, it didn't work. So they tried again. Except this time, they subbed out the upright carnival wheel and replaced it with a giant horizontal roulette style wheel, big enough to practically
fill the holes to the overflow. The wheel was so big, in fact, that the producers decided that they really ought to make it the centerpiece of the whole show. Wheel of Fortune debuted on NBC in 1975, but even though it was a major upgrade from shoppers bizarre, one innovation stuck, the contestants took their winnings and shopped for prizes right there on the show. So there's this boutique of prizes all over the stage, and there are the usual
game show goodies. So you can buy furniture, you can buy a boat, you can buy a car if you've done really well with the puzzle and if you landed on the big money spaces. The quiz shows evolved were built around the fantasy that being book smart could make you rich. Wheel of Fortune was different. For one thing, it was more physical, require a contestant to spin that giant glittering wheel. It felt almost like gambling, like spinning a roulette wheel, with fingers crossed that you
wouldn't land on lose a turn or bankrupt. But you needed a little knowledge to solve the hangman puzzles too. You had to be just clever enough and lucky enough. It was a game that felt less like a classroom and more like a casino. But despite Wheel of Fortune's huge, mesmerizing wheel, and its studio filled with beautiful and imaginative gifts, the ratings were just fine,
like pretty good. The first eight and a half years on the air were hardly earth-shattering.
Then, in early 1983, CBS ended its insanely popular show "Mash," which had been airing at APM. NBC saw a golden opportunity to win a lot of new viewers. Alongside their daytime offering, they were going to debut a new nighttime version that would premiere at 730, right before Prime Time, and it worked. All of a sudden, everyone was watching. There was a staff that I heard once, and I love it, and I hope it's true in the year of 1986, on an average day, more people saw
an episode of Wheel of Fortune than saw Star Wars in 1977. Not after night, millions of Americans were now tuning into Wheel of Fortune from the comfort of their homes. But they weren't just shouting answers at their TV screens. If they had enough money, you'd be saying, "You'll go get the jet skis, go get the vacation package, do this."
“This is Terry Eldrich again. I think a lot of people I included really watch the show more to see”
what people were buying in the shopping ground, rather than how they did in the puzzle rounds.
Oh God, for $14.
The he's in her motorcycle side. For $250, my dad made the suit.
“All right, and you have enough for either a fluency hydrant or a pig.”
I can't do it without the pig. Well, you probably could, but I guess you won't. It was more just watch the shopping and say, "Oh, if I had that money, I would be. I would be buying this here." Yeah. Yeah. I grew up with pre-limited means and to me, the idea of having a nice TV was so overwhelming, so seductive that I'd be like, "Why would you get a vacation?" And now, as an older man, I'm like, "I would take the vacation anyway."
In a way, the shopping ground was kind of its own puzzle. Contestants might try to do the
mental math and gain it, so they could spend all their money only on big things that they really
want, but often enough, they'd end up with just enough cash left to buy something they didn't really want. Let's say you have $5,000 and you've bought the boat and you've bought the
“weekend vacation in Las Vegas. Okay, so you still have $350 left. What's on the stage that you can buy”
for $350? And that's where it gets kind of fun because what they had on Wheel of Fortune was a handcarve nightstand that resembled an elephant, or you could buy a Gucci calculator. I didn't know that Gucci made calculators until they gave one away on Wheel of Fortune. Prices like that really odd, really weird, really eccentric junk. And one of the cheapest items on the show was the most eccentric of all. The ceramic delmation NBC had a team of people who acquired prizes for all of their
game shows, so you would just go to the prize department and say we need this for the next day from the wheel of fortune. And one of the people who worked in the prize department was a guy named Sheldon Link. And the apocryphal story is that Sheldon Link was enamored with this ceramic delmation and bought a bulk order of them, like 100 ceramic delmations. More than the show was ever going to need. The ceramic delmation was even more useless than most of the other prizes on Wheel of Fortune.
You can't put a lamp on it. You can't solve math problems with it. It's purely ornamental, but it definitely wasn't a piece of art, either. You still have almost $3,800. Oh, holy. But for my co-workers, so $154 was the ceramic delmation. I promised it. You're too generous with it. And to top it off, and more than 150 bucks a piece, it was like kind of expensive. And it took up a lot of space, too. He is about two and a half to
three feet tall and probably a total front to back 18 inches. So he's sizeable. And a strange thing happened when Wheel of Fortune exploded. And suddenly a massive audience was seen that porcelain pooch in the shopping round every night. If you watch those show in the 1980s and the contestants are shopping for prizes, what you'll notice is the studio audience will sometimes burst into a round of applause when a contestant says, "I'll buy this ceramic delmation."
And not quite finished, Jerry. I have 356. Guess what you can get. Oh, I would really love this ceramic delmation. They don't applaud for the speedboat. They don't applaud for the trip to Akapoko. They applaud for the ceramic delmation. It was a total accident, but the ceramic delmation was the signature prize of Wheel of Fortune during a period where Wheel of Fortune sort of suddenly became a pop culture phenomenon. People went crazy for the consolation prize that the game
forced you to buy when you couldn't afford to buy anything else. The delmation became such a hit that over time it even got a name, Shelton, after the prize coordinator, who first put it on stage. Okay, so the ceramic dog became known as Shelton. Yes. How did that get out? Like, how did
“average people know that? Honestly, this is going to sound self-aggrandizing. I think I'm the”
reason that people know that now. Because the one year that I worked at Wheel of Fortune for Christmas, everybody who was employed by Wheel of Fortune got a small tabletop-sized ceramic delmation.
And it comes with a tag and it mentioned that the delmation's name was Shelton. And I had never heard
that and I did what any game show fan would do. I promptly ran to the internet and told every game show fan on Earth what I had just learned. As popular as Shelton was, his time on the show was pretty short-lived. Viewers may have loved Wheel of Fortune. But the shopping round was kind of an agronistic. It's quaint nature suited a homely daytime show. But in prime time, with an audience of millions watching, the makers of the show, including host Pat Sajak, felt that the shopping
Round only ate up time that could be used plain more puzzles.
Instead of making contestants spend their winnings on the show, Wheel of Fortune just let them keep the cash. And as you can imagine, everyone preferred money over buying stuff they didn't really want. We love you Shelton. But I'll keep my 200 bucks. Thank you very much. By 1989, just six years after Wheel of Fortune moved to its prime time slot, the shopping round was gone. No more Gucci calculator, no more jet skis or sandals vacation packages. And no more two-foot tall, decorative
ceramic domations. Today, Shelton lives on as an icon under glass. When you first walk into
Wheel of Fortune's studio, you see him immediately, enshrined in a display case. And every now and then, he comes out for anniversary's and special events. Otherwise, Shelton just sits there like a good dog. And I, for one, am glad Shelton's been preserved. Because even though he was only on the show
“for less than a decade, I think that medium-sized ceramic domation actually has a lot to teach us”
about this elusive complicated thing that we call the American Dream. Okay, no, it's a big claim. But bear with me here, I'm gonna get to it. Back when Game Show's first wheelie took off. Back when
there was still called Quiz Show's. Many of those programs were based on this old American ideal
that just using your smarts was enough to win big. $64,000 big. The idea was that a contestant could potentially change their whole life just by using what they knew and winning fair and square. But it turned out the Quiz Show's weren't fair at all. There was no true meritocracy. The fix was in. And then the industry pivoted from Quiz Show's to Game Show's. No more can do ism. And winning big on your own steam. Now you need it common sense and lots of luck. But maybe
the biggest change wasn't how you won. But what you won? Instead of a life-changing cash, the new game shows offered us our own lives. But slightly better. If you're lucky, appearing on Wheel of Fortune might get you a new car or a holiday or even a statement piece like a ceramic
“delmation. Small prizes that can improve your life slightly. I think a ceramic delmation”
points to the desire to just have enough money in the bank that you can buy crap. The idea that all of your essentials are taken care of and you can just spend $154 on a ceramic delmation to keep in the corner of your house. And that is a good feeling that you've got stuff taking care of enough that you can have stuff just for the sake of having it. In a lot of ways, the Dalmatian was like a micro dose of the American dream. And that dream was conspicuous consumption, the freedom
and financial security to buy obnoxious crap without a purpose. To be seen to have the money to own an ostentatious, motionless pet dog. But at the same time the Wheel of Fortune was becoming wildly popular, American television was also offering other competing visions of what it meant to make it in the United States. Super popular shows like Nots Landing and Dallas and Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous flaunted and ultra wealthy lifestyle. I mean, we're millionaires a hundred times
“over. I called less at the bank and asked him to transfer $12 million from the account. So what?”
We've got a hundred times that much. TV was showing Americans what it looked like to live with ridiculous amounts of cash. And we loved what it looked like. Soon, our new dreams started to reflect those lifestyles. No more consolation prices. We wanted more than a Dalmatian. We wanted really big money. And so the game shows changed again. They got bigger. Again, the settings, the drama, the stakes, everything grew. I think what you're seeing now is just how our sense of what we
want has changed a little bit. Because game shows now are presented in a bigger way. You have Mr. Beast, Beast Games, which is a gigantic enormous production. Are you all ready? Start the timer. Or dealer no deal Island where now instead of a TV studio, they're in the sweeping expansive nature. The banker is back with vengeance to prepare to face the most dramatic and unpredictable twists ever. We want the entertainment to be bigger. We want it to be grander. We want it to be
more intense. And we want to see bigger money, too. Once again, the old money faucet started flowing.
I am standing on $5 million the grand prize of the most insane competition show you've ever seen.
This is by far the highest offer in deal or no deal history.
$5 million, $800 million.
just offer you a slightly better version of your own life. It offers you an entirely new one.
“And that is the point. So not only do I think that America wouldn't cheer the”
ceramic Dalmatian, if it was a prize on Wheel of Fortune. Now, I think we wouldn't tolerate it at all. Remember, back in the Great Depression, people were willing to look like a fool in the radio for a single dollar. But by the time the ceramic Dalmatian crates the stage of Wheel of Fortune, that must have seemed like a staggeringly small level of ambition and insult almost. Much like how the ceramic Dalmatian seems to us now. Well, most of us anyway.
As a collector of Game Show memorabilia, I will tell you I have never come across the ceramic
Dalmatian on eBay or anywhere else. And I think what happened is the people who won them genuinely cherished it. That is something that you can keep in your home and point to it and say, "My dad was on Wheel of Fortune. I was on Wheel of Fortune. And I won that ceramic Dalmatian.
“It's not just a prize. It's a trophy." Tell me about your dad. Did he pass other things”
down to you? Like, um, you know, like other sentimental items or was the Dalmatian kind of, you know, he didn't pass a lot down. By the time he passed away, his belongings were quite meager. He had been in a medical facility for dementia and some physical ailments in that
for years. So every time he moved his physical belongings got smaller and smaller. But really,
the Dalmatian is, you know, I kind of look at it as a physical reminder of him. And I was joked that he's guarding our upstairs hallway, which is, you know, my dad was in law enforcement. So, you know, having a dog to guard our house that's a reminder of him is kind of appropriate. Seeing the Dalmatian atop his stairs doesn't just remind Terry of his father, it takes him back to that wintery afternoon in the bombshelter, going wild with all of his friends.
Thinking he was about to be driving to college in a brand new beautiful red Jeep Wrangler.
“And I ask you a question that might be loaded, but like of the two prizes, the one you have to”
this day is the ceramic Dalmatian. Are you happy about that? Heck no, I would have loved to have the Jeep. I was a college kid and I would have loved to have the Jeep Wrangler. But the ceramic Dalmatian, I'm sure holds a more dear place in, in my heart, and kind of in the the lore of our family. Yeah, yeah. Turns out, despite everything, the ceramic Dalmatian is still the consolation prize.
After all. Adam Newtiff is a game show author and researcher for the National Archives of Game Show History. If you enjoyed this episode, you should check out his book, Game Show's FAQ, which explores even more of the fast name history of American game shows that we didn't have time for in this episode. And Terry Eldridge remains the proud owner of this ceramic Dalmatian,
which he and his family, call, say Jack. If you like the idea of having a say Jack in your own home and you're thinking, "Hey, maybe I can get a ceramic Dalmatian from my house."
Terry assures me that say Jack is not for sale and probably never will pay.
Sorry guys, I asked already. A history of the United States and a hundred objects is a production of 99% of visible and BBC studios. It's hosted and curated by me, Roman Mars. This episode was produced by Isaac Fisher, or the producers are Ellie Lightfoot, Brenna Daldorf, and Priscilla Alibi. This episode was edited by Christopher Johnson.
This series was edited by Annie Brown and Courtney Harrell. Mixing by Iver Manley, fact-checking by Amy Bracken. Our theme song is by Swan Real. From 99% of visible, our executive producer is Kathy too. From BBC studios, our executive producers are Annie Brown and Courtney Harrell. Our production coordinator is Shan Palay, and the production manager is Mabel Fennigan Wright,
artwork by Stefan Lawrence. 99% of visible is part of the serious XM podcast family, headquartered in beautiful, uptown, Oakland, California, and BBC studios is headquartered in beautiful, white city, West London. If you want to get in touch or have an object for us to consider,
Email us at 100Objects@99PI.
You also heard audio from the Quiz Show Scandal Senate hearings, plus excerpts of
“Fremantles Beat the Clock, Prestige Entertainment Groups name that tune. NBC Universal's 21,”
Merve Griffin Entertainment's Merve Griffin Show, one of Brothers, not Slanding, and Dallas,
Beast Industries, Beast Games. Benny J Entertainment's Deal or No Deal Island,
“and Vox Pop, and take it to leave it, which both aired on CBS Radio.”
If you've enjoyed the podcast, please share the show with your friends,
listen on BBC sounds, or wherever you get your podcasts. Thank you again to the sponsor of today's episode, and Thropic, the team behind Cloud. Cloud is the collaborator making your day-to-day life easier, set up workloads with co-work to run on a schedule, like daily reports and weekly summaries. Cloud can scan your Slack and email to build you a prioritized action list.
“That's how I use it for this project, actually. It takes all the suggestion emails and puts”
me in this spreadsheet for me, so I can check them all out and share them. You can build interactive tools and apps by describing what you need. Like custom calculators, data visualization dashboards, even prototypes, all without writing a single line of code. For problems we're solving, get started with Cloud at Cloud.ai. That's Cloud.ai.
