‘Jerry Springer’: 20 years of fights, bleeps and sleaze TV

Jerry Springer may cut an unassuming figure, but there’s just something about the talk show host that brings out the worst in his guests. Fights have been breaking out around him for 20 years, and it doesn’t seem that it’s going to stop anytime soon.

Springer, whose daily talk show has featured topics such as “Wives Battle Mistresses” and “Hot Headed Hookers,” has transcended past criticisms of being a “sleaze peddler.” He is increasingly recognized as one of the most influential pioneers of the reality television genre that has sparked such outlandish fare as “Jersey Shore,” “The Real World” and the “Real Housewives” franchise, which emphasize spectacle over substance.

He’s enough of a cultural icon that he inspired an opera in 2002 and mainstream enough to score gigs on “Dancing With the Stars” and “ America’s Got Talent.” But Springer prefers to embrace his more notorious side as one of the enduring champions — and controversial lightning rods — of “trash talk” as he celebrates the 20th anniversary of the syndicated “The Jerry Springer Show” on Wednesday in a special edition that will air on KTLA-TV Channel 5. He will spotlight some of his greatest hits — and slaps — in a pretaped episode from New York’s Times Square that airs at 10 a.m. Wednesday.

The celebration comes as the program, which in the late 1990s rivaled “The Oprah Winfrey Show” in popularity during afternoon hours, is enjoying a surge in ratings. And during the installment, he marks the milestone with a mix of joy and mock bewilderment. “We’re still on the air!” he proclaims to a crowd that launches into the bloodlust-fueled ritual chant of “JER-RY! JER-RY! JER-RY!”

In an interview earlier this week from Stamford, Conn., where the show is taped, Springer put a low-key perspective on the celebration, insisting that anyone looking for meaning or significance in his show should switch the channel: “It’s just a silly little show that has a niche. People enjoy it and it has absolutely no redeeming social value whatsoever, other than escapist entertainment.”

“The Jerry Springer Show” (which has just been renewed through September 2014) is up in viewership — from about 1.7 million last year to 1.9 million this season, according to syndication research by the ad-buying agency Horizon Media. NBC Universal Domestic Television Distribution, which syndicates the series, said this year’s season premiere of “Springer” had its highest household rating in three years, up 27% from last year. Even though the show is growing, its viewership is still down considerably from the 11 million per episode it enjoyed in 1998, when there was less competition for viewers.

With its violent fisticuffs and wrestling matches, onstage security guards, offbeat participants (a one-armed tattooed man, strippers and “our favorite little person ‘Sassy Cassee’,” who does handstands) and Springer’s inquisitive and bemused demeanor, “The Jerry Springer Show” has survived while his other competitors in the trash talk arena, such as Sally Jessy Raphael, Ricki Lake, Charles Perez, Richard Bey and Jenny Jones, have faded into obscurity. And though the show takes a mock-serious approach to repairing dysfunctional relationships, the final result is more punchy-kicky than touchy-feeling.

His longevity, Springer said, is largely due to the fact that he was among the first to offer a wilder alternative to the more serious and subdued shows hosted by Winfrey and Phil Donahue: College students at night would watch the show to let off a little steam.

“The person who is out there first usually has the most staying power,” he said. “It clearly has nothing to do with me. It’s the craziness of the guests and the format that seems to work.”

Tracie Wilson, senior vice president, programming and development for NBC Universal Domestic Television Distribution, said Springer is an integral part of the show’s appeal. “He’s a real likable person, and the show is just wildly entertaining. All the reality TV you see now stems from what was going on in daytime TV when Jerry started out.”

Another key to Springer’s appeal is his insistence on not taking himself or the show seriously. His charisma has led him to other projects: He’s the host of the Game Show Network show “Baggage” and hosts a touring version of “America’s Got Talent.”

Still, the format of “The Jerry Springer Show” has come under fire several times over the years. Studios USA, which owned the show during the late 1990s, banned all violence on it. The move came after religious leaders complained about the fights, as well as the obscene language and the nudity. Ratings dropped, management changes at Studios USA came, and the fights slowly began to creep back in.

The show is now as outrageous as ever. The 66-year-old bespectacled Springer enters the studio by sliding down a stripper pole. A clanging fight bell cues the guests to start brawling. Women fight more viciously than men. Males often take their shirts off, but leave their ties on.

Janice Peck, author of “The Age of Oprah: Cultural Icon for the Neoliberal Era,” which explores the influence of daytime talk shows, sees a more tawdry class dynamic at play: “College students may find Jerry Springer entertaining, but what does it say about society to watch people without education go at it? The producers may say it’s harmless and not hurting anyone, but I’ve always felt there was an ugly side to this. The people on the show are there to entertain those who feel they are superior.”

Springer insists the action on the show is authentic: “This is how people behave when they get angry. You can’t have it both ways. You can either have authentic and not let it get out of hand, or you can be inauthentic and let people stay in their seats. That’s the choice. It’s not my cup of tea, but this is not a show that’s aimed at a 66-year-old man. I don’t watch the show. It’s more of a fraternity party sort of thing.”

“The Jerry Springer Show” is still the center of his professional universe, however. He quipped, “I told NBC Universal I’ll stop when I’m 107.”

greg.braxton@latimes.com