American Idol column

Folks:
I wrote a column for MSNBC on being at a taping of American Idol. It was edited down a bunch, though, so I'm pasting on my original version as well. I'm much more satisfied with the longer -- and more detailed -- column. The URL for MSNBC column is down below for comparison.

Enjoy

By STUART LEVINE

Driving down Beverly Boulevard, you notice a group of 80-100 people lined up against the fence. Men and women, boys and girls have all gathered since early morning with placards and homemade signs. From a passing glance, it looks to be some sort of rally or protest.

But a closer examination of the signs say nothing about getting out of the war in Iraq or that Arnold must go. Instead, they read "Sick with McPheever" and "Marry me Ryan!" This eclectic group is gathered for a united cause, indeed, but nothing that's going to make the front page of the L.A. Times the next morning. They're all here to try and get a seat for tonight's taping of "American Idol."

There's only two ways to become part of the studio audience: scoring free tickets from someone associated with the show's network and producer - Fox and Fremantle - or if you're friends or family of any of the Idols. Either way, there's no charge for tickets but they're extremely hard to score. If neither of those options sound viable, waiting in line and hoping you'll be used as a seat filler is the way to go.

Once "Idol" whittles down to its final 12 contestants, the production moves to Stage 36 at CBS Studios, adjacent to L.A.'s historic Farmers Market and only a short walk from the sets where Bob Barker reigns over "The Price of Right" and "The Young and the Restless" has been filming for decades.

On this Wednesday night, taping begins at 6 p.m., live for the East Coast feed. By 4:30, both ticket holders and the first group of line dwellers are moved to a holding area in back of the stage. It'll be about 40 minutes till the doors open, so now's the best time to get a feeling for who the audience is solidly behind.

Sitting patiently is Sharon Pickler with her niece and two other girls. Pickler's dressed in a "Pickler for mayor/council" T-shirt but, surprisingly, she's not related to dopey but adorable Kellie. Rather, they just happen to share the surname. She lives in Tustin Ranch, an affluent Orange County suburb about an hour away and drove up for support. Her father was a local councilman for 12 years in Anaheim and the shirts, which were probably sitting in the closet for years with no meaning attached beyond politics, now perfectly capture the spirit of the day.

Pickler's rooting for Kellie, of course, and offers some motherly advice: "I think she's darling but I hope she doesn't overdo the makeup."

It's 5:20 and the doors open up. Upon walking in, the first thing that strikes you about the set - and it's pretty much true of any set where a popular show is filmed - is how small it seems in person. The cameras have a way of making it seem like a mini Madison Square Garden but, in reality, capacity is only 300 seats and no matter where you sit the performance stage is right in front of you.

As the chairs begin filling up, the crowd looks to be a majority of 12- to 14-year-old girls, with mostly moms and big sisters in tow. After the initial rush of being there slowly wears off, the fans look for any whiff of celebrity. The Idols are tucked away backstage and won't make an appearance until just before the show starts so contestants families, who are now mini-celebrities in their own right, will have to suffice.

They're all seated in the first five rows, as assigned by the producers. Having them in one general area makes it easier for the cameras to register their expression after each performance.

From a few rows above you can spot Katharine McPhee's mom and sister nervously talking to well-wishers and, oh, look, sitting a few feet to the right of them is Ace's hunkish brother. He's easy to identity as they're practically twins. There's a bunch of screaming girls who get a sight of him and shriek in a ear-piercing high-pitched tone as only 12-year-old girls can do. He waves to his adoring female fans - most of which don't even know his name - who shriek in response to his response and wave back.

The CBS pages now walk up and down the aisles holding up Styrofoam cups. For what possible reason? They're asking anyone with gum to throw it into the cup. Yes, these young adults and college graduates working at the studio, all in hope that this is their way into a showbiz career, are gum collectors. Mom and Dad, who paid $40,000 a year at USC for their children's education, would be proud.

"Yeah, it's kind of gross," says one blonde woman, realizing the demeaning nature of the task. "I don't look in the cup."

The band starts to take their seats, glancing at the sheet music they've been given for the night's songs. They only have to accompany two singers - Barry Manilow and whoever gets eliminated - so it's a fairly uneventful evening for them.

It's 15 minutes before showtime and twentysomething Cory comes on stage to warm up the crowd. He yells into the microphone, picks a couple of unsuspecting fools who join him in a few dance moves and the energy of the place rises considerably.

He tells the audience that at the end of the show there'll be three contestants standing right where he is now, and one of them will be voted off (like we already didn't know this). He then adds, "When the bottom three are announced, make sure you go 'Oooh,' 'aww,' gasp out loud in shock and act surprised. All of this will help the ratings."

I really don't think my vocal amazement that Bucky might be booted is gonna kick up the ratings from a staggering 24 million to 25 million, but if that's what it takes...

We're 10 minutes out and here come the introduction of the judges. In almost rock-star fashion, Cory announces the arrival of Randy, Paula and Simon. "Stand up and put your hands together for Ran-dy, Ran-dy, Ran-dy." Each judge gets his own intro and the biggest round of applause, by a slight margin, is for Paula. When's Simon's name is called, there's a very small smattering of boos but, mostly, its raise-the-roof adulation.

All three come out separately from a door on the side of the stage and high five their adoring faithful on the way in. It's like Springsteen in New Jersey. Randy and Paula - whose makeup is sparkling, even from several yards away - run through much of the audience to soak up the love. Simon makes a beeline right to the judge's table but has a big smile on his face and looks genuinely happy to be here.

Now the Idols arrive from behind center stage and make their first appearance. They all look a tad shorter in person than on TV (except for Taylor, who seems to stand above the rest) and, in general, more nervous. Maybe that's because there's a bit of trepidation in the air, though, knowing someone's not going to be coming back.

Oh, and Kellie seems much cuter. And Mandisa looks thinner than earlier impressions. If it's true, that television adds 10 pounds, then Mandisa suffers the most from that stigma.

It's showtime. After some prodding from the persistent stage manager, Ryan quickly runs to the back of the audience for his intro only seconds before 6 and the crowd is asked to be silent. Then, as soon as he finishes, the stage manager - a small woman with head-set mic - who just asked us not to make a sound asks us to cheer wildly. At this point, if they'd requested us to stand on our head it wouldn't be out of the question.

During the commercial breaks, the Idols banter with one another and wave to the fans. Names from the audience are yelled out in rapid fire one after another - "I love you Paris!," "You're so hot Chris!" - and the Idols never stop smiling, acknowledging their new-found fame with aplomb and sincerity.

As the stage manager announces that there's 90 seconds until we're back on the air, even the judges find time to interact. One man holds up a sign, proclaiming to have driven 1,400 miles from Kansas just to see Paula in person. Once she hears this, she runs up to him gives him a warm hug and a peck on the lips.

Another woman, Eleanor, boldly shouts: "Simon, I want a piece of you" in an overly seductive way. He doesn't hear her so she shouts it again. Finally, he spots her and asks, "What kind of piece?" She responds, "Any way you want. In a good way or a bad way." That line draws a big reaction from the crowd and Simon is laughing as well. Everyone's having a good time.

Paula and Simon then whisper into each other's ear and for what seems like a friendly conversation. Their backs are to the crowd so it's impossible to read facial expressions, though. Unlike the night before when they were at each other's throats, there's no ill will carrying over. At another commercial break later on, all three judges disappear via the side door, leaving the set entirely and returning just a few seconds before the show's back on the air.

Bucky, Lisa and Kevin have been chosen as the least-voted contestants and all look extremely nervous as they await their fate. During the commercial, they stand in their assigned spots, looking straight ahead and not talking to one another, all the while fidgeting a little and hoping they'll be around one more week. One girl shouts out that she wants Kevin to go to the prom with her. He doesn't respond.

The general sense is that Bucky will probably be the one to say goodbye but when it's Kevin's fate to bid adieu, a huge sadness fills the room, an emotion completely unexpected. The frivolity from just 30 minutes ago is now a wave of tears and heartbreak. While nobody was expecting Chicken Little to win, this just seems so unexpected and harsh.

He sings his final ballad on the cusp of the stage. With the band accompanying him and the room's wall-to-wall speakers and sound-proof acoustics, the song comes across vocally strong, much more so than on TV. That might be the biggest difference between being here and watching at home. When the Idols sing, it sounds so much better in person.

The red lights on the cameras turn off a few seconds into Kevin's song but that does nothing to change the somber atmosphere. During the song's final moments, Kevin walks over to his Idol contestants and dedicates the song to them, pointing to all of his friends who've gone through this surreal adventure with him.

As soon as the song ends, Kevin looks completely dejected. The first person to offer condolence is Paula, who runs up from her seat and gives him a long and compassionate hug.

Soon, the other Idols do the same, and Randy and Simon join too. There's a sense of real loss, one of the family gone. The camaraderie has never been more apparent than right now.

As soon as the hugs are over, Kevin is forced into doing a TV interview, the Idols slowly head off stage and the crowd meanders out. As people scatter, the CBS pages are offering studio audience tickets to a taping of "Game Show Marathon," in which "American Idol" tickets will be raffled off.

Only six more days until the hysteria starts up again. And, remember, no gum chewing allowed.

MSNBC version:
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/12038418/