The Jeopardy! Experience
2. Culling the Herd
It started with a scrolling message at the bottom of the screen at the end of the ABC nightly news in May 1992. All it said was “Jeopardy! auditions—Resorts Casino Hotel, Atlantic City—Call to register,” and a toll-free number. We weren’t paying close enough attention. “Did that say something about Jeopardy! try-outs?” Lynn excitedly asked.
Right after the message scrolled past that night, Lynn jumped up and raced around the living room like a pinball, scrounging for pen and paper. We waited and waited for the message to scroll again, but it only scrolled that one time. The next night, the message scrolled again—just once, but we were ready. She called the number and got a busy signal each time she tried, but she eventually got through to a recorded message: “Thank you for calling. Please try again at 7:00 PM Eastern tomorrow.” I remember she used a string of hockey terms, usually screamed at the blind referee or the ugly opposing team. It took three nights of increasingly explicit hockey terms to get through to a human, but she was finally able to register.
A week later, we drove over the bridge to Resorts Casino Hotel. Merv Griffin
owned Jeopardy! and Resorts at that time. 
It was Lynn’s first time in a casino. We were directed to the Carousel Cabaret (Lynn’s first time in a cabaret), where we sat at a long bar (Lynn’s first time sitting at a bar) and took a ten-question test designed to cull possible contestants from “The Herd.” After a quick “Oh, come on!” from Lynn, I took the test, too, solidifying my position within said herd. I can’t remember any of the questions from that preliminary test, only some of the general categories. There were a couple about geography, one about the Civil War, and a cooking question. Lynn remembered one, though. See if you know it without peeking: “This Canadian province is to the left of Saskatchewan.”1
The Herd of Hopefuls was directed to the casino floor; we were told our name would be called if we passed the test. After 50 or so names, Lynn’s name was called—well, sort of. “Lynn Looper?” “It’s Loper,” she muttered. There was another error, too—my name wasn’t called!
We were led upstairs and down a very long, wide hallway. At a set of double doors, we were met by a Jeopardy! contestant coordinator who explained that only those whose names had been called could go into the conference room. I gave Lynn a kiss for luck and took twenty dollars and myself down to the casino floor. I figured I’d play for as long as I had money. I was back upstairs in less than five minutes, sitting on the floor outside the closed and locked conference room doors. Fifteen minutes later, a large group of people came out—but not Lynn. Half an hour later, a smaller group came out, but still no Lynn.
Half an hour after that, the doors opened—and stayed open. A few came out, but I didn’t see Lynn. I thought, Oh no! She was let out while I was still in the casino. I missed her! She’s probably wandering around downstairs looking for me. I heard voices from the conference room, so I anxiously peeked in. To my instant relief, Lynn and a small group of people were gathered around the contestant coordinator. As I got closer, I heard the coordinator saying they’d all be added to the contestant pool in Hollywood (my mind was screaming, She made it!!!), and their names would be randomly drawn from a card file. “Even though you’ve all passed the audition,” the coordinator said, “it’s not a guarantee that you’ll be called. We randomly draw cards from the card file when we need contestants. If you don’t get a phone call within the next month or two, it means we have enough contestants to round out the season, and you’ll have to wait for another contestant search to try again. So, thank you all, and good luck!”
Lynn was stunned. On the ride home, she told me about the audition: a fifty-question written test (the number of clues in a game), a mock game, a second mock game, and finally, an ordeal of “stand up in front of the room and talk to us about anything.” Lynn kept saying, “I made it. I made it!” Then, with her typical “optimism,” she said, “They’ll never call. I don’t care. I just wanted to see if I could pass the test.”
Two weeks later, Lynn got a call at work. “Lynn Looper?” Loper. “This is Kelly? (Lynn said she like, you know, totally ended every sentence with a question mark?) I’m calling from Hollywood? Can you come out and play Jeopardy! with us?”