The old "People's Court" turned real-life litigation into a TV game show. During 2,340 half-hours starting in 1981, defendants and plaintiffs pled their cases before Judge Wapner, who then sternly ruled on who had won.
After four years in adjournment, "The People's Court" reconvened earlier this month with former New York Mayor Ed Koch on the bench. (In Utah, it airs weekdays at 9 a.m. on Ch. 13.)Much about this version is the same as the original, including the law governing them both: People love to be on TV.
But also in effect is a second principle of human nature: Everyone, not just the duly appointed judge, likes to hand down opinions.
Particularly when we gaze into the halls of justice, we all think we're qualified to pass judgment. Thanks to Court TV, cameras in the courtroom, and gavel-to-gavel miniseries like the O.J. Simpson murder trial, we viewers have convinced ourselves we know more jurisprudence than Alan Dershowitz.
With that in mind, "People's Court" now invites us to go on-line (www.peoplescourt.com) where we can render our own verdicts and second-guess Judge Koch's. The show is "totally new and interactive," its anchor, Carol Martin, likes to tell her audience.
"Let's check on our live Web-site poll," says Martin, a former local-TV news anchor sitting at what looks like a - well, a local-TV news set. An up-to-the-moment tally appears on the screen.
Then she cuts to sidewalk reporter Harvey Levin, who consults passersby bunched before the camera on the newly dubbed People's Corner (others know it as Manhattan's Herald Square).
"Carol, a split decision down here on the street," Levin declares. He turns to a member of the gaggle. "Let's find out who should win and why."
All this interactivity is taking place during a recess in the trial. Adjacent to Martin's installation back in the studio stands the three-walled, paneled courtroom set where, a few days earlier, the trial had been taped, then pruned for airing.
In this, the case of "the dad-eat-dog world," the plaintiff is suing his stepfather. It seems the defendant, after volunteering to take care of his son's pit bull puppy, gave Essence away when he found out the city had ordered all pit bulls removed from the housing project he lived in.
The claim is for $400, Essence's value.
Before his day is over, Koch will also adjudicate, among others, disputes over fraternity sweatshirts and a band booked to play at a wedding reception. Little wonder that some fans find "The People's Court" to be kind of campy - small potatoes writ preposterously large - just as they did during Wapner's dozen years presiding.
But if the cases seem familiar, the style with which they are disposed of varies wildly from the old days. Wapner's gruff, no-nonsense manner is as distant a memory as is erstwhile host Doug Llewelyn and court officer Rusty Burrell.
In contrast to Wapner, Koch is a model of affability, as go-down-easy as an egg cream, with a comparable proportion of gas.
"Let me ask you something," Hizzoner coos to the defendant, "and tell me the truth, as I know you will . . . "
At another point, he is the robe-clad mensch unable to resist holding forth on pet safety.
"When I was mayor - you know, I was once mayor - there were numerous incidents involving pit bulls attacking children and others."
Whenever the plaintiff gets around to replacing the pup, Koch counsels, "Why don't you try a nice little collie? They're really very sweet." He hands down a generous laugh. "That's just a little advice."
The verdict, of course, was never in doubt. But before he socks the stepfather for $400, Koch urges both parties in this family dispute to "re-establish and restore warm relationships."
"A dog is a dog, but a family" - Koch, smiling beatifically, pauses for effect - "is a FAMILY!"
Despite his chatty, warm-as-a-subway-grate approach, there is no suggestion that Edward I. Koch takes his judicial duties any less seriously than did Joseph A. Wapner or, for that matter, Oliver W. Holmes.
"I'm doing to the parties that come into that courtroom what I did as mayor," Koch explains, back in his chambers. "I want them to feel they got a fair shake from someone who cares about them."
They probably do. But even more important, they got it on TV.