Charles Van Doren

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_Van_Doren

Charles Lincoln Van Doren (born February 12, 1926) was an American intellectual, writer, and editor who was involved in a television quiz show scandal in the 1950s. In 1959 he confessed before the United States Congress that he had been given the correct answers by the producers of the show Twenty One.

Background

The son of Pulitzer Prize-winning poet and literary critic/teacher Mark Van Doren and novelist and writer Dorothy Van Doren, and nephew of critic and Pulitzer Prize-winning biographer Carl Van Doren, Charles Van Doren was a committed academic with an unusually broad range of interests. He graduated from The High School of Music & Art and then earned a B.A. degree in Liberal Arts (1946) from St. John's College in Annapolis, Maryland, as well as a master's degree in astrophysics (1949) and a doctorate in English (1955), both at Columbia University. He was also a student at Cambridge University in England.

Quiz show star

Twenty One was not Van Doren's first interest. He was long believed to have approached producers Dan Enright and Albert Freedman, originally, to appear on Tic-Tac-Dough, another game they produced. Van Doren eventually revealed—five decades after his Twenty One championship and fame, in a surprise article for The New Yorker—that he did not even own a television set, but had met Freedman through a mutual friend, with Freedman initiating the idea of Van Doren going on television by way of asking what he thought of Tic-Tac-Dough.

Enright and Freedman were impressed by Van Doren's polite style and telegenic appearance, thinking the youthful Columbia teacher would be the man to defeat their incumbent Twenty One champion, Herb Stempel, and boost the show's slowing ratings as Stempel's reign continued.

In January 1957, Van Doren entered a winning streak that ultimately earned him more than $129,000 (more than $1 million in 2009 dollars) and made him famous, including an appearance on the cover of TIME on February 11, 1957. His Twenty One run ended on March 11, when he lost to Vivienne Nearing, a lawyer whose husband Van Doren had previously beaten. After his defeat he was offered a three-year contract with NBC.

Numerous writings since have suggested Van Doren was offered a job as a special "cultural correspondent" for Today almost at once—but Van Doren subsequently reminded people that his first job was as a newswriter, short-lived, before he began doing small pieces for Today host Dave Garroway's weekend cultural program, Wide Wide World—pieces that led quickly to Garroway's inviting Van Doren to join Today. Van Doren also made guest appearances on other NBC programs, even serving as Today's substitute host when Garroway took a brief vacation.

Quiz show scandal

When allegations of cheating were first raised, by Stempel and others, Van Doren denied any wrongdoing, saying "It's silly and distressing to think that people don't have more faith in quiz shows." But on November 2, 1959, he admitted to the House Subcommittee on Legislative Oversight, a United States Congress subcommittee, chaired by Arkansas Democrat Oren Harris, that he had been given questions and answers in advance of the show.

I was involved, deeply involved, in a deception. The fact that I, too, was very much deceived cannot keep me from being the principal victim of that deception, because I was its principal symbol. There may be a kind of justice in that. I don’t know. I do know, and I can say it proudly to this committee, that since Friday, October 16, when I finally came to a full understanding of what I had done and of what I must do, I have taken a number of steps toward trying to make up for it. I have a long way to go. I have deceived my friends, and I had millions of them. Whatever their feeling for me now, my affection for them is stronger today than ever before. I am making this statement because of them. I hope my being here will serve them well and lastingly.

I asked (co-producer Albert Freedman) to let me go on (Twenty One) honestly, without receiving help. He said that was impossible. He told me that I would not have a chance to defeat Stempel because he was too knowledgeable. He also told me that the show was merely entertainment and that giving help to quiz contests was a common practice and merely a part of show business. This of course was not true, but perhaps I wanted to believe him. He also stressed the fact that by appearing on a nationally televised program I would be doing a great service to the intellectual life, to teachers and to education in general, by increasing public respect for the work of the mind through my performances. In fact, I think I have done a disservice to all of them. I deeply regret this, since I believe nothing is of more vital importance to our civilization than education.

Authorities differ regarding the audience's reaction to Van Doren's statement.

David Halberstam writes in his book The Fifties that

"Aware of Van Doren's great popularity, the committee members handled him gently and repeatedly praised him for his candor. Only Congressman Steve Derounian announced that he saw no particular point in praising someone of Van Doren's exceptional talents and intelligence for simply telling the truth. With that, the room suddenly exploded with applause, and [Congressional investigator] Richard N. Goodwin knew at that moment ordinary people would not so easily forgive Van Doren."

By contrast, William Manchester, in his narrative history The Glory and the Dream, recounts a diametrically opposite response:

"The crowd at the hearing had been with Van Doren, applauding him and his admirers on the subcommittee and greeting Congressman Derounians's comment with stony silence."

Steven Derounian (R, NY) and the Congressional Subcommittee that investigated the 1950s Quiz show scandals are presented in Robert Redford's 1994 film Quiz Show where Derounian dissents saying:

"I'm happy that you've made the statement. But I cannot agree with most of my colleagues. See, I don't think an adult of your intelligence should be commended for simply, at long last, telling the truth."

His actual remarks, taken from the published transcript, were: "Mr. Van Doren, I am happy that you made the statement, but I cannot agree with most of my colleagues who commended you for telling the truth, because I don't think an adult of your intelligence ought to be commended for telling the truth."

Aftermath

Van Doren was dropped from NBC and resigned from his post of assistant professor at Columbia University. Van Doren became an editor at Praeger Books and a pseudonymous (at first) writer, before becoming an editor of the Encyclopædia Britannica and the author of several books, of which the popular-market text A History of Knowledge may be his best known. He also co-authored a well-received revision of How to Read a Book with its original author, philosopher Mortimer J. Adler.

In his eventual New Yorker article, Van Doren revealed he had actually been contemplating the Britannica job even at the height of his celebrity: taking a long walk with his father around the farmlands they both loved, the elder Van Doren mentioned to his son that Mortimer J. Adler, the philosopher and a member of Britannica's board of editors, had spoken of making Van Doren Britannica's editor-in-chief. Van Doren eventually accepted the job, he would write, by way of intercession from a former college roommate. Van Doren retired from Britannica in 1982.

Van Doren also revealed he had been offered an opportunity to do a PBS series on the history of philosophy but that its tentative producer, Julian Krainin, might actually have had in mind Van Doren's explicit cooperation on a planned PBS program recalling the quiz show scandals. When that did not occur (though the program thanked Van Doren explicitly, among other credits), Van Doren wrote, Krainin later sought his cooperation and consultation when Robert Redford was beginning to make Quiz Show—even conveying that Van Doren would be paid in six figures for it. After wrestling with the idea—and, he wrote, noting his wife's objections—Van Doren rejected it. It would be five decades before Van Doren finally broke his silence on the quiz show scandal to The New Yorker magazine.

Today, both Van Doren and his wife, Gerry, are adjunct professors of English at the University of Connecticut, Torrington branch. They live in a "small, old house" (his words) on the land his parents had bought over eighty years earlier.

Film version

The story of the quiz show scandal and Van Doren's role in it is depicted in the film Quiz Show (1994; he was portrayed by British actor Ralph Fiennes), produced and directed by Robert Redford and written by Paul Attanasio. The film made $24 million by April 1995, and was nominated for Academy Awards in the categories of Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor in a Supporting Role, and Best Adapted Screenplay. The film earned several critiques questioning its use of dramatic license, its accuracy, and the motivation behind its making.

The critics have included Joseph Stone, the New York prosecutor who began the investigations; and Jeffrey Hart, a Dartmouth College scholar, senior editor of National Review, and a longtime friend of Van Doren, who saw the film as falsely implying tension between Van Doren and his accomplished father.

Until recently Van Doren had refused interviews or public comment on the subject of the quiz show scandals. In a 1985 interview on The Today Show—his only appearance on the program since his dismissal in 1959, plugging his book The Joy Of Reading—he answered a general question on how the scandal changed his life. He has revisited Columbia University only twice in the 40 years that followed his resignation: in 1984, when his son graduated; and, in 1999, at a reunion of Columbia's Class of 1959. The graduating class of 1959 entered the university when Van Doren first became a teacher there in 1955.

During the latter appearance, Van Doren made one allusion to the quiz scandal without mentioning it by name:

Some of you read with me 40 years ago a portion of Aristotle's Ethics, a selection of passages that describe his idea of happiness. You may not remember too well. I remember better, because, despite the abrupt caesura in my academic career that occurred in 1959, I have gone on teaching the humanities almost continually to students of all kinds and ages. In case you don't remember, then, I remind you that according to Aristotle happiness is not a feeling or sensation but instead is the quality of a whole life. The emphasis is on "whole," a life from beginning to end. Especially the end. The last part, the part you're now approaching, was for Aristotle the most important for happiness. It makes sense, doesn't it?

"All the Answers"

The July 28, 2008 issue of The New Yorker included a personal reminiscence titled "All the Answers", written by Van Doren, in which he recounted in detail the scandals and their aftermath. Other than very occasional and often very abbreviated references to it, Van Doren had never before spoken publicly about the scandal, his role, and its effects on his life.

He referred to the film, saying he was bothered most by the closing credits' reference that he never taught again: "I didn't stop teaching, though it was a long time before I taught again in a college." But he also said he enjoyed John Turturro's portrayal of his Twenty-One rival, Herb Stempel.

The article also belied many impressions the film gave of Van Doren: it portrayed him as a bachelor when he was actually engaged; it suggested he had a fascination with the burgeoning, popular television quiz shows when in fact he did not even own a television set; that the only reason he became even mildly acquainted with Twenty-One was because co-producer Al Freedman shared a mutual acquaintance with one of Van Doren's friends; and, that he had been offered his job with The Today Show promptly after losing to Vivien Nearing when, in fact, NBC was not sure at first what to do with him, until he did work for Dave Garroway's Sunday afternoon cultural show, Wide Wide World, which then led to the invitation to join Today.

Van Doren also upended another, critical impression the film left: that he had engaged a friendship with Congressional investigator Richard Goodwin while he was Twenty One's reigning champion (and as Herb Stempel had begun his bid to expose the show's rigging). According to Van Doren, the two men had not met until August 1959, when the subcommittee to which Goodwin served as counsel had begun investigating the quiz shows and Van Doren was already established on The Today Show.

After 49 years, Charles Van Doren talks

By Alex Beam

"It" is his career-ending involvement in the great quiz show scandal of 1959, which reduced him from a glamorous Time magazine cover boy and "Today" show regular to tabloid humiliation as one of the most reviled men in America.

After pleading guilty to perjury for lying to a grand jury about the rigged NBC game show, "Twenty One," Van Doren confessed at a congressional hearing in October 1959.

"I was involved, deeply involved, in a deception," Van Doren told Congress. "I have deceived my friends, and I had millions of them." The day he testified, he lost his jobs at NBC and at Columbia University.

In the intervening 49 years Van Doren kept his peace, working at the Encyclopedia Britannica in Chicago, and afterward retiring to a small, bucolic family compound in Cornwall, Connecticut.

To avoid talking about the scandal, he chooses euphemisms carefully. Speaking at a Columbia 40th reunion, Van Doren alluded to the "abrupt caesura in my academic career that occurred in 1959."

At the 2001 memorial service of Mortimer Adler, a close friend of Van Doren's father, the famous writer and poet Mark Van Doren, the disgraced son talked of "the time when I fell down, face down in the mud, and [Adler] picked me up, brushed me off, and gave me a job." I interviewed Van Doren about Adler last year, and he called the late 1950s the time "when my life changed." He said he was working on a memoir, which he declined to discuss.

Now 82, Van Doren is telling pretty much all, in an article scheduled for publication in next week's New Yorker. The classically educated Van Doren - St. John's College; Columbia; the Sorbonne - pulls no punches describing his Mephistophelian epiphany, when he first appeared on nationwide television in a show he knew was fixed.

"Papa, forgive me! Mama forgive me! Uncle Carl, forgive me!" he writes, referring to his famous uncle, Columbia professor Carl Van Doren. "I've remembered that moment for more than forty years."

Speaking from his home, Van Doren said he had no idea how people will react to his story. "I hope the reaction is positive, but it may be a disaster," he said. "I'm a little nervous about it, to tell you the truth."

Van Doren writes at some length about his dealings with Julian Krainin, a producer for WGBH's "American Experience" program. In 1991, Krainin almost lured Van Doren back onto television to participate in a PBS episode, "The Quiz Show Scandal." In his New Yorker article, Van Doren strongly implies that Krainin - "skilled in the art of journalistic seduction" - was less than honest in his dealings with him.

"He never conveyed that suspicion to me when I was dealing with him," Krainin said in a telephone interview. "He may want to portray himself more as a victim than an active operator."

In Van Doren's life, history did repeat itself. When Krainin co-produced "Quiz Show," the 1994 Robert Redford movie about the scandal, he sent Van Doren a $100,000 contract to sign on as a consultant.

Van Doren wanted to say yes, without realizing that this was 1956 all over again, except now it was Robert Redford offering him money. Van Doren's wife, Geraldine, saw the moment for what it was: Mephistopheles taking a second pass at her husband's soul.

Van Doren turned down Redford's money, and saw the movie in a theater like everyone else. He is remarkably restrained in his judgment of "Quiz Show," in which Ralph Fiennes depicted him as a shilly-shallying fop.

Krainin says the hit movie "has an enormous amount of respect for Charles Van Doren, but a sadness that this fine human being took a little bit of a short cut."

It's a problem being Charles Van Doren, where fully half the United States remembers your name for the wrong reasons.

In his self-imposed exile in rural Cornwall, he writes, "I can sit with my thoughts without having to respond to people who say, 'Aren't you Charles Van Doren?"' Actor Fiennes did drive all the way out to Cornwall just to get a look at his character in real life.

"I am not who you think I am," Van Doren concludes in the article, "or at least, I don't want to be. It's been hard to get away, partly because the man who cheated on 'Twenty One' is still part of me."