The many lives of Jerry Springer
I’ve wanted to tell Jerry Springer this story for more than a decade. It was Feb. 27, 2009 and from my city desk perch I was enjoying the view as Gov. Jodi Rell and Stamford Mayor Dan Malloy tried to outdraw one another to blare the news that NBC was bringing jobs to Connecticut. Dueling news conferences were announced by staff members for the Republican and the Democrat. In the meantime, I got the scoop from sources in Chicago. They did double- takes when I told them Stamford would be hosting “Jerry Springer.” Essentially: “Umm, what’s that now?” I think they were expecting “Law and Order: The Gold Coast.” The eponymous host is — as always — unfazed when I share the memory. He counters that after taping the show in Chicago for 18 years, “I wasn’t too crazy about the idea” of moving the show to a smaller city. “I was wrong,” he says. “It is great being up in Stamford.” His initial trepidation was over losing the Windy City’s population, but he didn’t know Stamford then the way he does now. “We get the diversity that was typical of what we got in Chicago. It’s the Tristate area. I hadn’t thought it through,” he admits. For college students, visits to the Rich Forum studio for a taping became a “rite of passage,” Springer says. For many area fans ( and some non- fans), it was on the bucket list of Connecticut experiences. Springer doesn’t believe anyone who says they’ve never seen any of the 4,969 episodes ( though he has insisted he would not watch the show himself). Whether you’ve seen it or not, his name is synonymous with trash television. It famously topped a 2002 TV Guide list of worst series ever ( as a symbol of TV without a conscience, it has since been lapped by “The Bachelor,” “The Apprentice,” “Wife Swap,” and the 24- hour news cycle). After the show ended two years ago, Springer was reinvented as “Judge Jerry,” which just launched its second season and continues to tape in Stamford. Connecticut is the epicenter of staged justice, as “Judge Judy” Sheindlin resides in Greenwich and “The People’s Court” is filmed in Stamford. Springer has a singular biography. He started out as a lawyer, served as a campaign adviser to Robert F. Kennedy, ran for Congress in 1970 at age 26 (“All I cared about was getting out of Vietnam and I was very active in the civil rights movement. I was just one of these long- haired hippies”), became mayor of Cincinnati in 1977 (“the best job I ever had”) and was recruited by an NBC affiliate to anchor the news after term limits ended his tenure. Lawyer, politician, journalist. Who else could have hosted the juggernaut he reliably calls “the circus?” “I couldn’t run for president because I wasn’t born here,” says the native of England ( though he did portray the chief executive in the 2004 Dolph Lundgren flick, “The Defender”). He has blamed Donald Trump for bringing his show to the White House. “He gives license to inappropriate behavior,” says the man who was once the DMV of inappropriate behavior. The “Jer- ry, Jer- ry” chant that follows him in every crowd seems like a consequence of his split personality. The Jerry I’m speaking with still bears the dialect ( and love of the Yankees) from his childhood in Queens, New York. He’s self- deprecating, earnest about his liberal politics, and relishes the art of conversation ( a common thread in each of his careers). It’s what Springer does not say that grabs my attention. He does not utter a single profanity (“Oh my gosh” slips through). So I won’t be bleeping him. He so reliably mocks the source of his fame that when we discuss his critics, his defense sounds like a put- on. “One of the ironies is that you never saw anything dirty on our show, because first of all it was pixelated out and the bad language was bleeped out. If you were watching at home it was cleaner than soap operas.” Ahh, but so many pixels, so many bleeps. He laughs generously when I suggest spotting him in the pop culture landscape over the past three decades is his own version of “Where’s Waldo.” There he is on “The X- Files,” “The Simpsons,” “Space Ghost: Coast to Coast,” “Austin Powers,” ‘ Dancing with the Stars,” “Jerry Springer: The Opera” ... “I said yes to almost everything because it’s fun,” he explains. “It’s a way to live a life.” He particularly enjoyed appearing on talk shows in England and South Africa, allowing him to see the world. He also made memorable cameos in Stamford, warbling “Me and Bobby McGee” before Sugar Ray took the Alive@ Five Show stage and helping promote the Big Apple Circus in Mill River Park (“Jerry Springer won’t be the only circus in town”). If anything, the new gig seems like more work than ever. He preps by reviewing the cases to ensure he is familiar with applicable state laws. To give him his due, this isn’t a concern for the typical small claims court judge. He flies in from his Florida home and stays in an area hotel between taping 18 episodes from Tuesday through Thursday. I suggest his crew sorted out how to return to the courtroom safely during COVID much more efficiently than the Connecticut judicial system. While Springer and his reliable bailiff Najee Hinds are in Stamford’s otherwise empty courtroom during the pandemic, plaintiffs and defendants for his civil cases are piped in from sets in other states. To the viewer at home they all appear to be in the same room. Meanwhile, suspects in criminal cases had to cool their heels for months — often behind bars — while the justice system was put on hold. Judge Jerry, though, weighs the complexities of adding juries and lawyers, and pardons the delay. By the time he has finished offering his reasoning, I can’t argue with the verdict. While Classic Springer was the ringmaster who opened the Pandora’s Box that put America’s morality on trial, Judge Jerry projects compassion for those who stand before him in the courtroom. He’s able to recognize that the money at stake means a lot to those who seek his judgment. “That’s a function of being 76 years old. You live a life. You realize there’s not 100 percent good or 100 percent bad in anybody. Everyone is complex.” As we wrap up, I ask about his childhood television habits, as he favors political shows and sports these days. “Watching ‘ Perry Mason’ with my dad and later on in life seeing ‘ To Kill a Mockingbird.’ I think that more than anything else made me decide I wanted to be a lawyer.” Reach back a little further, though, and young Jerry was loyal to Westerns. It may be the only career box unchecked for Jerry Springer. Or maybe he’s been a cowboy all along, finally settling into the saddle as sheriff delivering justice.