JERRY SPRINGER

3rd Street Promenade

Santa Monica, CA

June 19, 2004

Photo credit: Jerry Springer

Jerry said it himself, “The show is stupid.”  

Wigs were yanked off, chairs were thrown, and there was often a good pie-in-the-face moment. Security guards sat in the audience ready to stop the inevitable brawl or catfight as viewers sat on the edge of their seats at home watching ridiculously vulgar, unscripted behavior unfold live on television. Every weekday. For 27 years. 

He'd seen just about everything, so what on Earth could surprise Jerry Springer? I was about to find out. 

One sunny Saturday afternoon I was walking down the bustling 3rd St. Promenade in Santa Monica when my friend glanced over and said, “Jerry Springer.” I looked to my left and saw the talk show Titan posing for a photo with a few guys. With all the activity going on around us, I could have easily missed him, but he shook free from his fans, retrieved his wife standing nearby, and proceeded down the way. My camera and I followed. 

They were a very traditional-looking, midwestern couple who appeared to have just stepped out of the LL Bean catalog. This is likely how he successfully played the straight man to his outlandish guests, who starred in some episodes like: ‘I’m Pregnant by a Transsexual,’ ‘I Married a Foot,’ and ‘I’m Cheating with My Mother.’ “Anyone could do what I do,” he’s said, but the contrast of his conventional persona is what made it work. 

The couple was walking fast and I was doing my best to keep up, then for some reason he stopped. She kept going. This was my chance. I said, “Hello,” and explained my table-turning premise. “Will you take my picture,” I asked. He was pleasant and asked for instructions, “What do I do?” I said, “Just push this button.” I pointed and handed him my camera. Jerry snapped a quick photo, looked approvingly at the viewfinder window, and handed the camera back.  However, before he left to catch up with his wife, he paused to consider what we’d just done.

He replayed it in his mind and smiled brightly letting me know he was impressed by my unique idea. I thanked him and he hurried off to catch up with the missus. 

Once reunited, he walked in time with her step and grabbed her hand as though she was passing the baton in a relay race. Together they headed down the Promenade. I didn’t see many people noticing him, but check out the guy behind me in the sunglasses. He knew something unusual was going on. 

For nearly three decades, Jerry Springer was the ringmaster of his circus of a show. It promised daily absurdity with no censorship, but my clever twist on a fan’s age-old request defied his expectations. I think he liked it.