IT was the perfect cast for an uplifting reality TV show: five orphaned siblings and the loving family friends who took them in.
The story line certainly appealed to the producers of ABC's "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition." After learning that Phil and Loki Leomiti had opened their doors to the Higgins clan -- their former neighbors and fellow church members -- the show's executives proposed transforming the couple's modest Santa Fe Springs house into a nine-bedroom showpiece.
"The Leomitis are an amazing family," a production document reads. "The home that they offered the Higgins' is not a temporary one. It is theirs forever, with or without enough space."
But "forever" proved to be a matter of weeks after "Extreme Makeover" rebuilt the Leomitis' house, chronicling the project in a carefully choreographed heart-warmer that aired on Easter Sunday 2005.
Shortly after moving in with the Leomitis and their three children, the Higginses were gone. What had begun as a nationally televised goodwill gesture quickly dissolved into a rancorous legal battle marked by allegations of fraud, greed, racism and broken promises.
Though the accusations are disputed, the rift has opened a revealing window on the lucrative world of reality programming -- and one of its most popular shows.
In the last two years, "Extreme Makeover: Home Edition" has reaped more than $500 million in advertising revenue, according to research firm Nielsen Monitor-Plus. Consistently a Top 25 prime-time performer, it drew 16.4 million viewers for the Leomiti-Higgins episode.
Without question, the Emmy-winning show has improved the lives of many people selected for its trademark renovations, conducted at warp speed by swarms of workers and volunteers while the families are sent on vacation. Those helped by the show include Hurricane Katrina victims, a wounded Iraq war veteran and a Los Angeles police officer paralyzed by a robber's bullet.
In the 1950s and '60s, "Queen for a Day" host Jack Bailey bestowed appliances and other gifts on women who shared their hard-luck stories on his show. Nowadays, it's "Extreme Makeover" design chief Ty Pennington unveiling life-changing house renovations for deserving families.
But despite the warm-and-fuzzy nature of such programs, altruism has little to do with their reason for being, said Robert J. Thompson, director of the Bleier Center for Television and Popular Culture at Syracuse University.
