Jerry Springer’s cause of death revealed, TV paid a price for the legacy of ‘The Jerry Springer Show’

Longtime television host and former mayor of Cincinnati Jerry Springer died from pancreatic cancer, his longtime representative Linda Shafran confirmed to CNN Friday. He was 79. Springer’s death had been announced Thursday. “Jerry’s ability to connect with people was at the heart of his success in everything he tried whether that was politics, broadcasting or just joking with people on the street who wanted a photo or a word,” Jene Galvin, a lifelong friend and spokesman for the family, said in a statement. His tabloid talk series, “The Jerry Springer Show,” premiered in 1991 and was wildly successful in syndication. It ended in 2018 after more than 4,000 episodes. Both Springer and his show were often criticized for helping to popularize “trash TV” due to the often outrageous guests he hosted. Springer once told CNN that he did not mind being referred to as the “grandfather of trash TV,” saying in 2010, as “The Jerry Springer Show” celebrated its 20th anniversary on the air: “It’s probably accurate. I don’t know what the award for that is, but I think it is true that we were probably one of the first shows to present some of the outrageousness we have.” Springer had not publicly shared he had been diagnosed with cancer prior to his death. In his heyday Jerry Springer consistently played down the significance of his talk show and its drift into what became known as “trash TV,” dismissing the daytime program as “stupid” and basically a big joke that the audience was in on. Yet TV paid a price for the excesses “The Jerry Springer Show” helped usher in, with the advent of anything-goes reality television and a nastier mentality that oozed across the media spectrum. Springer, who has died at the age of 79, had a background in politics as well as television, and he was a cheerful ambassador for his form of TV escapism, calling the show “silly.” His producer, Richard Dominick, spoke of the wacky content appealing to “the Letterman crowd,” a reference to the sophisticated late-night audience, heavily tilted at the time toward college students and young adults, which originally gravitated toward David Letterman’s brand of comedy. Television hits don’t exist in a vacuum, though, and Springer’s sensationalism bled across the TV landscape, in a manner that was hardly free of consequences. The “craziness” over which Springer presided crept into other daytime fare, as well as the growing trend of “reality” television, mixing the outlandishness of professional wrestling with ordinary people in one big colorful, watchable and occasionally toxic stew. That included the murder of Scott Amedure, a guest on Jenny Jones’ rival daytime show in 1995, after he revealed his “secret crush” on Jonathan Schmitz, who later shot him. In 1999, a Michigan jury issued a $25-million judgment against the show and its distributor, Warner Bros. (like CNN, part of Warner Bros. Discovery), for its negligence in Amedure’s death. An appeals court later overturned that judgment. “Jerry Springer” was also sued unsuccessfully in 2002 by the family of a woman killed by her ex-husband after appearing on the show.  Brawls became a daily staple of Springer’s program, offering just enough titillation to keep the audience coming back. Yet as USA Today critic Kelly Lawler noted, while Springer himself was generally respectful toward his guests – and indeed, often conveyed a sense of bemused detachment from the circus where he served as ringmaster – “part of the series’ success stemmed from trafficking in racial stereotypes, homophobia, transphobia and the othering of disabled people.” While there are few straight lines in pop culture, Springer’s antics clearly played a part in the zigzagging staircase that the media rode into the 21st century, which hinged on pushing boundaries on programming that billed itself as “reality,” despite all the editing and manipulation employed in shaping those stories. Although there were speed bumps along the way, such as the Jenny Jones case, producers and executives found it difficult, if not impossible, to put the toothpaste back in the tube. The occasional excess, even tragedy, became a cost of doing business. In a podcast interview last year, Springer apologized for the influence of what his show helped unleash, saying, half-jokingly, “What have I done? I’ve ruined the culture.” To be fair, Springer had plenty of company and accomplices in leading television down the path that it followed. Yet even Springer appeared to acknowledge that amid the garishness, money and chants of “Jerry! Jerry!,” there was a darker side, too, to that legacy, one whose ripples can be seen not just in what’s on TV, but what flows from it.