The Jeopardy! Experience

4. Setting the Stage

Lynn and I met when we were still teenagers. Complicated circumstances meant we would never have children. It was just the two of us sharing our lives, our dreams, our thoughts. We were rarely apart. When she traveled on business, she made sure I could tag along. She wanted me to be with her so she could share the trip with me. We shared everything: our first kiss, her last breath.

Just before I took that picture of Lynn in what she jokingly called “the Green Room,” I was worried she’d be anxious because I couldn’t go backstage with her now and share her experience. But by that time in our lives, we no longer needed words. I sensed she wasn’t anxious at all and needed those next few hours to be hers alone. At the same time, I could tell she felt bad for wanting those hours for herself. I kissed her and said, “Go have fun.” Lynn smiled; she knew I understood. I cherish the fact that no matter how badly I might feel as I’m tossed about in these unshared days, I can close my eyes, remember that moment, and float in the calm of that smile.

I took this following picture just before I was tossed into the back alley like I was some pushy game show fan trying to “catch a glimpse:” Actually, the tossing was done by a very kind Glenn-the-coordinator, who told me that I couldn’t follow them in this way but that I could go in through the audience entrance around the corner at 1:00 PM. “Just give them your name,” Glenn said. “We’ve got an area set up just for contestant family members. They’ll let you in early if you want to avoid the stampede.” (That’s Glenn on the left. Lynn is in the big sunglasses just behind him.)

In case you didn’t know (I certainly didn’t), some people make the rounds from show to show, trying to win door prizes or get an autograph from a possible future champion or star they could sell. They know all the schedules and studios, whether you need advanced tickets (the tickets are free), and where the important people come out after filming. It’s a steady job for them. It’s bizarre. Later, while waiting to go into the studio as Glenn had suggested, I overheard a fan saying to her friend, “Jeopardy’s cheap. They don’t give away anything: no door prizes, a fact sheet, or even a filming schedule. Nothin’. And then, they only let maybe 50 people in. We’ll try ‘Wheel’ later. They have snacks and door prizes!”

So, I wandered around Hollywood for a few hours. I went over to Vine, turned left, headed up to Hollywood Blvd. (you know, just so I could say I was at Hollywood and Vine), west to Cahuenga, and then back down to Romaine. “Walking in L.A.” by Missing Persons¹ started playing in my head. Very depressing.

I did see some stars, although they were being trampled under the feet of modern times: Bette Davis, Gypsie Rose Lee, W.C. Fields, Joan Fontaine, Lionel Barrymore, Henry Fonda; there were many dozens; I only remember a few.

As I was walking and stargazing, I thought how ironic it is to be looking down at the stars instead of up. But is it so strange? We’d just spent the last few days watching the local news in our motel room. Back home, in northern Delaware, the local news was like local news everywhere, focused on the industries and culture of the area. Where northern Delaware had the chemical industry, in Hollywood, the dominant industry was entertainment. And it is an industry like any other. What better way to honor these giants from the entertainment industry than to use them as the very foundation of your town?

I had pictured Hollywood as a glamorous town filled with wealth and fame. I’m sure the wealth and fame are there, but just as you can’t see the wealth and fame at a chemical industrial park, neither can you see that glamour at a film studio. It’s an industrial park. I shouldn’t have been so surprised that it looked like one. That picture of “The Green Room” is typical of what you’ll find in the entertainment industry.

In 1992, Jeopardy! filmed five episodes daily: a week’s worth each day. Their workweek began on Monday and ended on Tuesday evening, which gave them two weeks of shows for each week of filming until the season “wrapped.” It also gave them a two-day workweek, with five days off in between. Lynn and I thought that was extraordinary until we witnessed the pressure under which everyone involved with the show worked. The closer to perfection, the greater the profit, and nothing is ever perfect.

Lynn received information about the filming schedule about a month before we flew to California. She was to be at the studio at 10:30 AM on Tuesday, August 11^th, to prepare for filming, which began at 2:00 PM. Based on that, we could plan how we would afford to get out there and back without destroying our chances of getting our mortgage approved. We figured we’d get the cheapest flight and book the return flight home late in the evening on Tuesday after Lynn had completed filming. We didn’t pay attention to the legalese buried within the information packet:

In 1992, if you won five consecutive games, you were sent home (with lovely parting gifts) and invited back for the Tournament of Champions. Also, the most you could win was $100,000, and the clue dollar amounts were half what they are today. Today, you play until you lose, with no limit on how much you can win. I watched them film three episodes that Tuesday, but none included Lynn. With that Missing Persons earworm playing in my head (“Only a nobody walks in L.A.”), I counted on my fingers and figured out only two episodes were left that day. I hadn’t seen Lynn since 10:45 AM, and that all-caps legal notice was floating before my eyes.

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