Tell It to the Judges

By Richard Zoglin

Looking for real-life drama in the daytime? Forget about General Hospital and Days of Our Lives; consider the "Case of the Prom Night Fallout." A 16-year- old girl and her mother sue a hair salon for $150, claiming that a permanent the girl received was so bad that she had to miss her high school prom. In the mood for weightier legal matters? A high school teacher brings a sex- discrimination suit against her school board, charging that she was fired because she got pregnant -- without a husband. Or how about a juicy family squabble? The grandparents of little Tawny argue that the girl should be taken away from her widowed father, a punk-rock singer known as Lord Nasty, whose stage antics include biting the heads off live hamsters. (The father wins custody after revealing that the hamster trick is done by sleight of hand.)

All in a day's work on daytime TV's increasingly crowded courtroom calendar. Amid the games and soaps, no fewer than four syndicated shows now offer entertainment in the form of real or simulated law cases. The TV docket began filling up in 1981 with the debut of The People's Court, whose innovative concept was to show actual small-claims cases being argued on camera. Participants agree to dismiss their cases in real court and abide by the decision of the TV judge; in return, the show agrees to pay the financial settlement. (If none is awarded, the participants divide $500; thus no one winds up a loser.)

People's Court, with its busy agenda of disputes over defective products, mischievous pets and nettlesome neighbors, caught on quickly. The show is now watched by more than 18 million viewers on 184 stations, and its presiding jurist, retired California Judge Joseph A. Wapner, has become a cult hero. Its success was followed in 1984 by a revival of the venerable series Divorce Court, now seen on 150 stations. This fall two more TV tribunals have been convened: Superior Court, which re-enacts civil and criminal cases (132 stations), and The Judge, dramatizing disputes in family court (81 stations).

The newcomers have moved progressively further away from courtroom authenticity. People's Court remains the only show to feature real people arguing real lawsuits. On Divorce Court, the litigants are portrayed by actors, and the testimony, heavily spiced with tales of adultery and kinky sex, is scripted. The attorneys, however, are played by real lawyers, and the decision is left up to the judge, William B. Keene, a retired California jurist. On Superior Court, all the participants are played by actors, and the proceedings -- including the final decision by Judge William D. Burns Jr., a Los Angeles municipal-court commissioner -- are totally scripted to reflect the outcome of similar real-life cases. The Judge, with a title character played by Actor Bob Shield and melodramatic scenes outside the courtroom, often seems scarcely different from a daytime soap.

In contrast to the engrossing banalities of People's Court, the newer shows are filled with hokey courtroom theatrics. Defendants leap to their feet to protest adverse testimony, judges are portrayed as benevolent father figures ("This job sure gets to you once in a while," muttered Superior Court's Burns after one tough decision), and surprise witnesses abound. Viewers of Divorce Court have grown accustomed to salacious testimony that borders on parody. (Cross-examining lawyer to grocery delivery boy: "Aren't you the one ^ who propositioned Mrs. Cullen at the produce department, saying she was 'ripe and ready to eat?' " Delivery boy, indignantly: "No, I was talking about the avocados!") An attorney in The Judge breaks down while cross-examining an accused child abuser. Later, in the judge's chambers, she tearfully reveals her own abused childhood: "It was like I was facing my uncle up on that stand . . ." Though they could never be confused with the Supreme Court, these shows do deal with topical legal issues. The litigants on Superior Court have included a couple seeking a refund of their deposit on a new home after discovering that the previous owner had died of AIDS, a bank teller suing a TV station for libel after it falsely reported that he was a robbery suspect, and a retarded woman's mother petitioning the court to have her daughter sterilized. Among The Judge's tough assignments: a teenage brother and sister accused by their younger sister of committing incest.

Their advocates contend that these shows are educating viewers about the legal process. "I consider myself a judge doing on TV what I did for 20 years on the bench," says Keene of Divorce Court. People's Court, still the genre's great original, has clearly increased public understanding of small-claims procedures. "It tends to demystify the court system," says Wapner. The Judge and Superior Court have drawn good ratings in their initial weeks -- and another legal show, Parole Board, will debut in January -- but the jury is still out on whether TV viewers really want that much education in the law. Or whether, like the nation's real judiciary, TV's court system has already been overloaded.

With reporting by Scott Brown/Los Angeles