Lorimar Television
Lorimar Television

14 Non-Judgmental Facts About The People's Court

Lorimar Television
Lorimar Television

Though it continues to air new episodes five days a week in syndication, most everyone nostalgic for The People’s Court remembers its glory days in the 1980s. Presenting real small claims cases with binding rulings, former Los Angeles Superior Court Judge Joseph Wapner, his trusty bailiff Rusty, and court reporter Doug Llewelyn became daytime television celebrities.

Premiering in 1981, The People's Court effectively launched the on-air reality trial genre that gave us Judge Judy, Judge Mathis, and Judge Mills Lane. (The latter was previously a boxing referee.) If you still have the show’s theme stuck in your head, you’ll probably enjoy some trivia about Wapner’s history, Rusty’s ties to Charles Manson, and why one Mr. America decided to sue the show.


In the 1970s, it was not yet common practice to see cameras installed in real courtrooms. That didn’t stop producer John Masterson from approaching Let’s Make a Deal host Monty Hall in 1975 with the idea to record legal proceedings and air them on television. While the idea was well-received by Hall, networks weren’t interested. It wasn’t until a Masterson associate named Stu Billett thought to tweak the idea by replicating a courtroom and staging a kind of mock trial that the format began to show promise.


Animal Court via YouTube

Billett’s notion to take a portion of small claims cases in Los Angeles and offer the parties arbitration in exchange for television coverage found a receptive audience at NBC. But the network didn’t want a real judge to preside: They preferred a comic—Nipsey Russell was one name floated—that would listen to the cases and make jokes while being coached off-screen by a legal expert. When Billett got television station KTLA interested, they asked him to make two pilots: one played straight and one played for laughs. Billett refused, taping only the “straight” version with retired LA County judge Joseph Wapner. After being passed up by networks—again—Billett took it directly to syndication in 1981, where it became an immediate hit.


Wapner had gotten a call from Billett and partner Ralph Edwards about appearing on the series as the judge. When he arrived to their offices for an audition with a real case, he found it amusing that it had been set up with a gavel—the prop was something he had never used in 20 years of law and never once picked up on the show.


Animal Court via YouTube

An aspiring professional baseball player, Rusty Burrell came to Los Angeles in the 1950s and wound up working in the sheriff’s department. After becoming a bailiff, producers spotted him and invited him to appear on Divorce Court, a series that staged mock trials using a mix of actors and real legal professionals. (Burrell also moonlit as an actor, appearing on General Hospital.) One of the attorneys who made frequent appearances on the show was Joe Wapner, Sr.—Joe Wapner’s father. Later, when Billett began insisting they use a “sexy” female bailiff on the air, Wapner refused and told him to hire Burrell instead.


In one moment from the series that got a lot of repeated play on blooper specials, Rusty was asked to show Wapner a clock that was at the center of a repair dispute between the plaintiff and defendant. When he got to Wapner’s bench, Burrell dropped the clock, damaging it. Wapner joked that it was a “cheap clock” anyway.


Bill Perron via YouTube

The show’s producers culled from real small claims filings in Los Angeles, enticing parties to drop out of the judicial system to come on the air and have Wapner settle their dispute in what amounted to arbitration. The appeal: The show would pay the damages, which at the time was limited to $1500 (and eventually $2000) in Los Angeles court. While that was the maximum, producers frequently got away with spending far less: Wapner once ruled on a moldy cake, awarding the plaintiff $9 for having her daughter’s birthday ruined.


Good work if you can get it. Owing to the shooting schedule of People’s Court, Judge Wapner was only needed on the bench for one day out of the work week. The production would shoot 10 cases—making for five episodes—in a single shift, leaving the rest of the week free and clear for the on-camera talent. In 2000, Wapner told that despite his condensed schedule, he made far more as a television judge than he did while on the bench in Los Angeles County.


At one point, it was reputed that Wapner was recognized by more people than Supreme Court Justice William Rehnquist. In acknowledgment of his popularity, The Tonight Show host Johnny Carson invited Wapner to mediate a “dispute” between Carson and Late Night host David Letterman in 1986 for Carson’s show: Carson once hauled away an old truck of Letterman’s, causing damage. While the hosts wanted to play it as a comedy sketch, Wapner refused to appear unless his ruling was binding. He awarded Letterman $24.95 for a new headlight.


After the “Helter Skelter” murders of 1969, cult leader Charles Manson became one of the most infamous figures in American culture. During his trial in Los Angeles, Burrell was charged with guarding him on a daily basis. Burrell recalled that Manson, who sat right beside him, would say, “You know, I could get up and walk out of here any time I want.” Burrell advised him that it wouldn't be a good idea.


Analog Child via YouTube

With 7.5 million viewers tuning in every week during its heyday, The People’s Court offered more than just entertainment: It acted as an educational tool for people who had never before considered small claims litigation. According to a 1989 New York Times report, the series led to an increase in the number of cases filed and even had some plaintiffs citing the television cases as if they were a proper precedent. And although the show offered an immediate financial reward, “real” litigants were often surprised to discover that many defendants preferred not to pay judgments. “If Judge Wapner were here,” one was heard to lament, “he’d see that I was paid.”


Not all resolutions were respected by the litigating parties. In 1988, former Mr. America Rex Ravelle sued the show’s producers for $1 million owing to Wapner’s ruling. Ravelle alleged Wapner had made him look like a “bully and a buffoon” during the proceedings, which saw him attempt to reclaim back rent owed by an evicted tenant. Wapner ruled in the defendant’s favor, prompting Ravelle to file the substantial lawsuit after the show ignored his request for his episode to not be broadcast. He settled for $2500.


Animal Court via YouTube

After 12 years and more than 2400 episodes, producers decided that The People’s Court had run its course in 1993. According to Wapner, he was the last to know: His brother-in-law had read of the show’s cancelation in a local San Francisco newspaper. “It irritated me to no end for a long time,” he said. “I don’t know if it was my age. I think I had all my marbles.” (The show returned in 1997, with former New York City mayor Ed Koch presiding.)


In 2002, after 20 years on the bench and 13 on television, the then-82-year-old Wapner ruled on Judge Judy Sheindlin, his heir apparent and a presiding television judge who acted in sharp contrast to Wapner’s own even temperament. “She’s discourteous and she’s abrasive,” he told the New York Post. “She’s not slightly insulting. She’s insulting in capital letters.” Sheindlin retorted she wouldn’t engage in “mudslinging.”


Animal Court via YouTube

Animal cases were a staple of the original People’s Court, which once had Wapner ruling on whether a cat that was supposed to be dyed blue and came out pink was worthy of financial restitution. (It was.) In 1998, Animal Planet enlisted the semi-retired judge to oversee Judge Wapner’s Animal Court, a series that pitted pet owners in disputes over grooming, vet bills, and furry custody issues. The show, which lasted two seasons, featured Rusty Burrell but not court reporter Doug Llewelyn; during the original Court, he was bitten in the knee by a plaintiff’s dog. Llewelyn got a tetanus shot.

An earlier version of this post ran in 2016.

Switzerland Just Made It Illegal to Boil Live Lobsters

No, lobsters don’t scream when you toss them into a pot of boiling water, but as far as the Swiss government is concerned, they can still feel pain. The path most lobsters take to the dinner plate is supposedly so inhumane that Switzerland has banned boiling lobsters alive unless they are stunned first, The Guardian reports.

The new law is based on assertions from animal rights advocates and some scientists that crustaceans like lobsters have complex nervous systems, making death by boiling incredibly painful. If chefs want to include lobster on their menus, they’re now required to knock them out before preparing them. Acceptable stunning methods under Swiss law include electric shock and the “mechanical destruction” of the lobster’s brain (i.e. stabbing it in the head).

The government has also outlawed the transportation of live lobsters on ice or in icy water. The animals should instead be kept in containers that are as close to their natural environment as possible until they’re ready for the pot.

Proponents of animal rights are happy with the decision, but others, including some scientists, are skeptical. The data still isn’t clear as to whether or not lobsters feel pain, at least in the way people think of it. Bob Bayer, head of the University of Maine’s Lobster Institute, told Mental Floss in 2014 that lobsters “sense their environment, but don’t have the intellectual hardware to process pain.”

If you live in a place where boiling lobsters is legal, but still have ethical concerns over eating them, try tossing your lobster in the freezer before giving it a hot water bath. Chilling it puts it to sleep and is less messy than butchering it while it’s still alive.

[h/t The Guardian]

Pop Culture
Why Mickey Mouse Could Soon Be in the Public Domain

Mickey Mouse debuted to the world in the 1928 animated short Steamboat Willie, and has since transformed into an icon recognized around the world. But the mouse’s status as Disney's exclusive property is under threat. As Ars Technica reports, Steamboat Willie is set to enter the public domain in 2024, and unlike in previous years, there have been no moves from Congress to stop that from happening. Once it does, in theory, anyone could use Mickey's image for free.

This is the third time the cartoon has been on the verge of losing its copyright protection. The first came in the 1970s, back when copyright terms only lasted 56 years. That meant every book, song, and movie made in 1923 was scheduled to lose its protected status in 1979, and Steamboat Willie would follow on its 56th anniversary in 1984. But in 1976, under pressure from companies like Disney, Congress extended the statute to 75 years, keeping all works made after 1923 from becoming public domain until 1998 or later. Mickey remained safely out of the public domain for another two decades. Then, when copyright terms were again scheduled to expire in 1998, Congress extended them a second time, this time to 95 years.

Now, the clock is ticking down for these older works once again as the 2018 expiration date of that copyright extension nears. Only this time, it looks like Congress may let them become public property without a fight.

Today’s constituents tend to care more about copyright law now than they did in 1976 or even in 1998. The rise of online streaming and easily accessible pirated content has made the issue more relevant to the life of the average person than ever before. The defeat of the Stop Online Piracy Act (SOPA) in 2012 made this clear to legislators. That bill, which would have empowered law enforcement to punish or block sites sharing pirated content, was so controversial that it sparked protests across the web. Because of the sheer scale of that public response, lawmakers are now hesitant to change any existing copyright protections, including those set to expire on January 1, 2019.

But even if those protections expire, Disney could still find a way to prevent rival studios from using Mickey’s image when 2024 rolls around. While copyrights are designed to be temporary, trademarks have the potential for serious lasting power. That’s because copyrights only protect a single work of artistic expression (in this case, the film Steamboat Willie), while trademarks are attached to images and logos that represent a brand (so Mickey Mouse, the character). As long as Disney can prove that Mickey has evolved beyond his first screen appearance into a symbol that’s synonymous with its corporation, he’ll remain a protected property. And if you take a look at their theme parks, cruise ships, media, and the dozens of Hidden Mickeys they've hidden in their movies, you’ll see that they can easily make that case.

But few works of art made in the 1920s have taken the same path to corporate dominance as Mickey Mouse, even other works made famous by Disney (like Winnie the Pooh, first introduced in A.A. Milne's stories in 1926). Even if Disney manages to protect Mickey, the public should have a big new batch of copyright-free content to access in the next few years.

[h/t Ars Technica]


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