Random Behind-The-Scenes Look At 'Who Wants To Be A Millionaire' From A Contestant Who Won $500k (14 items)

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  (#2) It Took Six Months To Get On 'Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?'

  12 years after the Jeopardy! debacle, I began trying to get on Who Wants To Be A Millionaire? The show's producers devised an ingenious method to select contestants: you called an 800 number and were prompted to answer three digitally recorded questions via your telephone keypad.

  The first question would be easy, something like "Put these American Presidents in order from oldest to most recent." You would then hear "Reagan, Washington, Jefferson, Truman." The correct answer was 2, 3, 4, 1. From there, the questions would get harder, with the third question something like, "Put these NFL running backs in order from the year they won the league's MVP award."

  If you got all three questions correct, you were placed in a pool of 40 individuals and given the opportunity to call in during a 15 minute window and answer five more questions in the same format. 10 of those 40 individuals would be picked for a live taping, based on the number of correct answers they gave.

  To guarantee potential contestants could only call once a day, you needed to provide your birthday and last four digits of your social security number during your call, a method of establishing a unique identifier for any contestant. This also gave the producers a method to determine what you knew and didn't know based on what answers you supplied during the qualification process. 

  It took months of answering these questions before I heard anything. Then, after I answered the three questions correctly several days in a row, I got a call from a live operator who told me that I qualified for phase two. I was given a time, a different 800 number, and told to call and answer five questions. The time was non-negotiable, and I had to answer the questions while on a business trip and was interrupted by co-workers while on the phone. The questions were more difficult; one was, "Put these television show addresses in order from newest to oldest programs."

  When I hung up the phone, I immediately presumed I had blown it, and became preoccupied with the details of my business trip. So I was surprised when I received a call from the show's staff just a few hours later inviting me to fly to New York for a taping of Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?
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  (#7) I Blew All Of My Life Lines Too Soon

  At this point, I was both surprised and frustrated by the questions I had gotten. What happened to all of the easy questions I had watched for months in my living room? These were really hard. It didn't get any better when, at $8,000, I was asked who starred in the 1970 film Hercules In New York. Arnold Schwarzenegger was an option, but 1970 seemed awfully early for him to be in a film. I used my last lifeline, the "phone-a-friend," where you can call one of five pre-selected individuals who are standing by. Luckily, that panned out and Arnie was the right answer but now, at just $8,000, I was out of lifelines.

  I got a breather at $16,000, when I came up with the university that awards the Pulitzer prize (Columbia) but, during the break, Regis barely talked to me and the contestant coordinator was practically shaking his head sympathetically. My early demise felt like a foregone conclusion. I could also see out into the contestant's row, and clearly they were mentally preparing for an imminent Fastest Finger contest. I figured I would try and take this one question at a time and hang in, but my dreams of $1,000,000 now seemed laughably absurd.
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  (#9) The Questions Remained Difficult At $64,000 And $125,000

  At some point I expected the questions to get easier, regardless of dollar value. We had been told each contestant had a pre-selected stack of 16 questions that was not altered based on the show's situation. At least that's what they claimed. I believed the law of averages was about to turn my way. They couldn't keep asking me about topics I knew nothing about.

  But $64,000 was about books by the offbeat writer Douglas Coupland. The tension and stress actually prevented me from immediately remembering I knew at least some titles he had written, the most famous being Generation X. I successfully came up with the one book he hadn't written (High Fidelity, by Nick Hornby) and I was on to the next question. By now Regis was getting pretty excited, exclaiming, "We can't stop him!" as I seemingly pulled another horseshoe out of my butt.

  For $125,000, I got, "In 1997, Students Against Drunk Driving changed their name to what?" Television studios are typically much smaller than they appear on screen at home. The audience was actually about 200 people shoehorned into a compressed, circular bowl and our podium put Regis practically on top of me. He was close enough to read my facial expressions and when this question came up, he again sensed I was overwhelmed.

  But the question was actually easy to figure out if you thought it over carefully. I eliminated "Discrimination and Denial" and "Dangerous Delinquency"; nobody with any kind of PR flair would come up with that. "Drugs and Drinking" also didn't sound snappy enough, so I was left with "Destructive Decisions." I was also close enough to Regis to see he was surprised when I didn't hesitate before making that my final answer. He tried to drag out the suspense by acting as if I got it wrong, but I saw through the fake-out. I was correct and now three questions away from 1,000,000 dollars.  
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  (#13) The 1,000,000 Dollar Question Provided Very Little Suspense

  In between the $500,000 and $1,000,000 question, there suddenly was some kind of issue with the lighting in the studio. The three electricians who had spent the previous few hours hanging out drinking coffee on the set were pressed into service. They had to pull up the floor. Regis suddenly got animated.

  "C'mon, the kid's on a roll! Let's get going here!" Regis entertained the studio by telling the audience I would buy drinks at the Irish pub we had gone to the previous night if I won a million dollars. I didn't argue. I didn't mind stretching out this very surreal moment and stared into the 20-foot electronic mirror in front of me. It all felt completely bizarre.

  Both the executive producer and another producer came out and cautioned me not to go crazy. I had already qualified for the annual greatest hits show for the big winners of the previous year. I think they wanted to avoid a downer ending. Even the new contestants were pretty jazzed, knowing that one way or the other, I would be on my way out soon after 90 minutes in the Hot Seat.  

  Then it was time, but the suspense was short lived:

  In the United States, the Sony Walkman personal cassette player was originally marketed in 1979 under what name?
  A. Soundabout   B. Listener   C. Eardrummer   D. Stowaway

  The correct answer was "Soundabout," but I had no idea, and even though Regis tried to entice me to take a guess or at least stretch out the drama, I decided to take the money and not guess. Had I been wrong, my prize money would have been reduced to $32,000. I tapped out. When I got out of the chair, Regis graciously shook my hand and handed me a facsimile $500,000 check. I hugged my dad and my uncle to resounding applause, and left the stage, not quite comprehending what had just happened.

  We were led backstage and not allowed to leave until the taping was over. Unfortunately, network rules precluded any alcohol, so I had to be content with diet soda until the show ended. Only two new contestants got on, immediately reminding me how lucky I had been. We did make it back to the Irish pub and various other locations that night, despite my scheduled early work day, which I actually made it to reasonably on time. I finally crashed on the redeye flight home, having used up every ounce of energy in my body. Later, I would find out I was the only contestant in the history of the show to use every lifeline by $8,000 and still make it to the 1,000,000 dollar question.
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  (#4) At First, It Looked Like I Wouldn't Make The Hot Seat

  Before the taping, nine contestants filed into a locker room area, where we changed into our dress clothes for the taping. Because the show always ended with someone in the Hot Seat, we also met David, who was coming back after winning $4,000. Immediately, I realized it would be a while before we even got a shot at the Fastest Finger, as David seemed relatively bright and would probably be able to answer a few questions correctly. We all gathered in an organized line backstage (everything we did was choreographed by a couple of clipboard-wielding production assistants) and were personally greeted by Regis Philbin, who walked down the line and shook each contestant's hand, wishing them good luck.

  Before the taping began, we were introduced by name and home town and given a round of applause by the studio audience. Regis and David walked on last while the theme to the show played and the tape rolled. Exactly as I suspected, David not only got several questions correct, he was also very deliberate and the taping crept along at an excruciating pace. David made it to $32,000, leaving the rest of us to wait a long time before finally having our first Fastest Finger attempt.

  After a studio break, the taping continued and two cameras swept the contestant ring in front of the audience for the brief televised introduction of all of the contestants. I totally bungled the first group question about best sellers, not even close to getting it right. Fortunately for me, the first contestant crashed and burned at $4,000, but I screwed up the next Fastest Finger and had to sit through another contestant who bombed out at $8,000.

  We were already almost two hours into the taping, and I figured I had one more shot at the Fastest Finger since it was pretty rare to see four contestants moving to the Hot Seat in one show. This was it. I had to put four American civil rights figures in order, but was both careful and deliberate.

  In front of all of us was a giant screen with the contestant names. If you got it correct, your name flashed green with your time, the board blinking rapidly. Mine the first name with a time of 6.1 seconds. There were a lot of contestants who got all the answers correct, but I was faster by a couple of seconds and for an instant I thought I had pulled it off. Then the final contestant name flashed with a time of 5.42 seconds! I sat back stunned. Someone had beaten me. When the next Hot Seat contestant was introduced as a grad student from Johns Hopkins and he began easily answering questions, I knew I wasn't going to make it.

  At the next studio break, one of the contestant coordinators came over to tell the remaining contestants the final segment was about to be taped, a kind way of saying we were not going to make it to the Hot Seat. Our grad student would have to answer one or perhaps two more easy questions, and we would be out of there. I was shocked and depressed.
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  (#5) A Miracle Occurred, And Then Was Almost Rescinded

  I barely paid attention as the taping started up again. I began to calculate how many people I would have to tell that I didn't make it. Losing on Jeopardy by $2 and now missing the Hot Seat by six-tenths of a second had to be some kind of record for game show nightmares. I braced myself for one more question and Regis read it to the contestant. Instead of pausing to think it over, the contestant immediately came up with the correct answer. That meant the taping would continue. 

  The next question was a relatively easy one about which individual in the Godfather series did not win an Oscar. This time, the contestant hesitated. He decided to use one of his lifelines and ask the audience, who gave him the wrong answer. He went with it and, suddenly, he was toast. Now, we would get a fourth Fastest Finger opportunity.

  The stage crew scrambled quickly back to their places and I focused on the question. I had to put four rock songs with the word "Don't" in the title in order. I was reasonably confident and this time only two contestants got it correct, my time the fastest by over two seconds. Regis excitedly beckoned me over to the Hot Seat, and in an exhilarated daze I stumbled in his direction.

  But as soon as I sat down, I got a strange feeling. Regis, who had been so ebullient moments before, looked away from me toward the stage manager who was speaking into his headset. They both ignored me. In a hyper voice, the stagehand kept saying "Are we good or do we need another?" Clearly, someone was looking at the last sequence and they were taking a long time. Long enough for me to think that maybe there might be a problem.

  The show's lawyer told us that any glitch meant the Fastest Finger would have to replayed. I was about to have a seizure when the stagehand blurted out "Good to go, Regis!" Regis lifted his head, looked me square in the eye, and enthusiastically said "Congratulations." Incredibly, I was in the Hot Seat, only the second time the show had featured five contestants in one episode.  

  Later, between my dad in the audience and some things I heard from the stagehands, I pieced together what happened to cause the drama. The woman who had gotten all four Fastest Fingers in rehearsal had not gotten a single one correct during the actual taping. Before the last opportunity, she complained that something was wrong with her keypad, but to to no avail.

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