Memories of a game mind

Jim Lange, who does the morning show on San Francisco’s KABL-AM (960), thinks of himself as a radio man. But to millions of Americans, he’ll forever be the host of “The Dating Game” and “The New Newlywed Game” -- two programs created by game-show king Chuck Barris, whose claim to have been a TV producer by day and CIA assassin by night is a theme of “The Gong Show” host’s 1984 autobiography, “Confessions of a Dangerous Mind.”

Who was the “real” Barris in his prime? As “Confessions” becomes a movie starring George Clooney (in his directorial debut), Julia Roberts, Drew Barrymore and Sam Rockwell, Lange offers his take.

Critics have called Barris “The King of Schlock,” “The Baron of Bad Taste,” “The Godfather of Tabloid TV” -- a guy who took TV to a new low. Is that unfair?

Chuck was a crazy genius with a strong ego and desire to perform. He’d walk across our set, Hitchcock-style, while we were saying goodbye. He was also a TV pioneer, willing to try things others wouldn’t. In the mid-1960s, when “The Dating Game” came out, women had to wait for a man to call. Having them make the choices appealed to the female population, the target demographic. We also had the first African American contestant, though never a “mixed” game. Chuck’s philosophy was that some people will do anything to get on TV -- and others want to watch them. We were the first reality show, paving the way for Howard Stern, Jerry Springer, “Big Brother.” Still, we dealt in innuendo, romance -- no swear words or off-color stuff. I doubt Chuck would want to take credit for all the filth that’s on the air now.

On TV, Barris’ currency was humiliation. Off-camera as well?

Though he let contestants make fools of themselves, Chuck liked people and had a common touch. He was a caring guy who marched for integration in Selma and was good to his employees -- down to “the seven bandits,” the lowest of the low [in the office]. Al Michaels, the “Monday Night Football” announcer, was one. The bandits would attend all our meetings, get company jackets and chaperon the winning couple, traveling all over the world. You just had to be 21 years old and make sure they didn’t sleep with each other.

While he was serving as a “Dating Game” chaperon in “fabulous Helsinki” and “romantic West Berlin,” Barris maintains, he was actually conducting “company business” for the CIA, for whom he says he killed 33 people.

Chuck calls his book “an unauthorized autobiography,” so he may be taking liberties. It’s all so strange. But, then, Chuck is a very strange man -- a bit remote and fidgety, a loner with few friends. He’d disappear for weeks, saying he was going to Europe, where his daughter was at school. A murderer, though? Unlikely, though I can’t say it didn’t happen. If he killed 33 people, he’s the world’s greatest actor. All this is wonderful theater, a way of getting recognition, perhaps.

Did you ever see the “con man” side of him depicted in the movie?

Part of him was a gambler. Chuck had this game in which he’d cover up his wristwatch and ask if you wanted to trade yours for his. You didn’t know if he was wearing a cheap one or a nice one -- he had plenty of both. “Wanna trade?” he asked. Since he’d just gotten back from Switzerland and mine was a worthless Timex, I agreed -- ending up with a $1,000 Philippe Whatever watch.

The movie ends with a mock TV show, “The Old Game,” in which “seniors” assess their lives. How do you think Barris would fare?

There’s a measure of contentment, I’m sure, and he certainly is comfortable financially. When his shows went off the air, Chuck bought the rights and resold them to local stations for syndication -- very rare today. When we spoke six months ago, he was living in New York’s Trump Tower, spending a lot of time in southern France playing boccie and sitting in cafes. Every so often, he’d come back to put a show together. One, I’m told, had a group of gorgeous women discussing world affairs -- a contrast to the pompous old men you see on “Nightline.” But, as far as I know, he hasn’t worked in a while. Unless, of course, he’s a CIA agent.

-- Elaine Dutka