In the aftermath, some of the actors paid the breach-of-contract fine of twenty-five or fifty thousand; others pleaded temporary insanity; still others gained a lot of publicity by taking a philosophic stand, saying that it was true, they had been overcome with nausea at that drivel, and that they themselves were too sensitive and serious for it, had too much integrity, moral fiber, etc. With a million behind them, none seemed to lack adequate defense arrangements. Those who were kicked out of their union usually became producers.
Meanwhile the show went on. People started tuning in to see what new outrage would happen; it even appeared to have a sort of elusive comic appeal. It became the talk of the industry; the rating soared—but somehow it looked bad. Finally the producer and the sponsor of the show were put on the carpet before Mr. Harlan, the tall and distinguished head of the network.
“Listen,” he said to the sponsor as he paced the office, “we want your business, Mr. Levet, don’t get me wrong—but if you guys can’t control that show of yours ... well, I mean goddamn it, what’s going on over there?” He turned to the producer now, who was a personal friend of his: “For Christ’s sake, Max, can’t you get together a show, and put it on the way it’s supposed to be without any somersaults? ... is that so hard to do?... I mean we can’t have this sort of thing going on, you know that, Max, we simply cannot have....”
“Listen, Al,” said the producer, a short fat man who rose up and down on his toes, smiling, as he spoke, “we got the highest Trendex in the books right now.”
“Max, goddamn it, I’d have the FCC down on my neck in another week—you can’t schedule one kind of hour—have something go haywire every time and fill out with something else.... I mean what the hell you got over there ... two shows or one, for Christ’s sake!”
“We got the top Trendex in the biz, Al.”
“There are some goddamn things that are against the law, Max, and that kind of stuff you had going out last week, that ‘I pity the moron whose life is so empty he would look at this,’ and that kind of crap cannot go out over the air! Don’t you understand that? It’s not me, Max, you know that. I wouldn’t give a goddamn if you had a ... a mule up there throwing it to some hot broad, I only wish we could, for Christ’s sake—but there is a question of lawful procedure and....”
“How about if it’s ‘healthy satire of the media,’ Al?”
“... and—what?”
“We got the top of the book, Al.”