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Il)« <t>uiz Kid. have uidre than brains on theii RIN'.Y) TEMPIiETO*^ and JOI-L M P]
THE QUIZ KIDS
OEL KUPPERMAN, twelve-year-old mathematical wizard of more than 200 Quiz Kid programs, and Rinny Templeton, thirteen, current authority on history and literature, join forces to tell you about the man Radio Mirror readers named the nation's best quiz master in the first annual listeners' poll last year.
Kids are like dogs. They can sense the difference between people who really like them and those who put on an act.
We Quiz Kids were happy when Radio Mirror readers named Joe Kelly the nation's best quiz master last year. He's our favorite quiz master, too, and the main reason we like him is because we know he likes us.
It doesn't take long for a new Quiz Kid to find out about Mr. Kelly.
Your first day on the show is like the first day at a new school. Everyone has told you not to be scared, but just the same, you are.
Everything seems big and mysterious when you come into the Merchandise Mart in Chicago, thirty minutes ahead of the show. You feel you can walk and walk down the towering corridors and never arrive at the NBC studios.
You wonder what kind of questions they will ask you, and whether you'll know any of the answers. You wish you could get just one little advance glimpse so you could be thinking about them, but you know that won't happen. You remember you have been told emphatically, "There's no rehearsal."
You zoom up in an elevator fast as an airplane, and when they bring you into the little corridor back of the big studio, you slip past the control room to peek through the door to see the row of little white desks on the platform. You find your name on a sign in front of one of them. You see the audience filing in.
All those people, and all those listening on their radios will hear it if you don't know the answers. You get that trembly feeling which comes before an examination in school. Only this is worse. If you're small enough, you hold tight to your mother's hand.
The other kids scuffle and joke about things that happened last week. They toss on their rustling red gowns as though they were old sweaters, but you get all tangled up with the hooks. They slap their mortar boards on their heads as though they were beanies, while you try
to balance that strange contraption so it won't slide down over your nose. You have had no practice wearing an academic cap and gown.
Just when you are sure you want to turn around and head for home, Mr. Kelly comes in. You're introduced, and he says, "Well, hello there Rinny!" — or Joel, or Lonnie, or Bobby, or whatever your name may be — "I'm certainly glad to see you here."
You know he means it, too. You feel he has been waiting for you all the time.
Then you notice he has almost as much difficulty with his green gown as you had with your red one. He fumbles with the big sleeves. He jabs a hook at an eye and misses. You weren't so clumsy after all.
He pats you on the (Continued on page 72)
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