Seeking ‘Love’ on the Fuzzy Border Between TV and Real Life

The “Love Connection” guest coordinator was late.

Like a bad date.

Three carefully coiffed women, turned out in coordinated suits and matching accessories, were not pleased.

They had arrived at Forte’s Supper Club in Encino promptly at 8 p.m. to audition for the television show that matches up single men and women, then sends them out on a date for the audience’s amusement.

“Oh, God,” one of the women said.

“It’s awfully dark in here,” another murmured.

“Where are we supposed to go?” the third asked.

Haltingly, the women picked their way through the dark bar, guided by the feeble glimmer of the floor’s track lighting, the kind that is supposed to guide passengers to safety in wrecked jetliners.

“The ‘Love Connection’ will be here soon,” the smooth maitre d’ reassured them.

“Love Connection” representatives scout locations throughout Southern California for people who are less likely to take the initiative to audition at the show’s Hollywood headquarters. Mainly, the show has trouble finding men and older contestants.

Those chosen to appear then select a date from videotapes of three candidates. The couple later return to the studio to discuss their outing with the audience and host Chuck Woolery, who interjects wry comments that make love--and heartache-- tres amusing, at least for spectators.

The show, in its 10th year, credits itself with 21 marriages, six births and nine engagements.

(Well, and one divorce.)

According to a press release: “The premise of ‘Love Connection’ grew out of the rising popularity of video dating and the demise of the singles bar scene.”

But the singles scene at Forte’s seemed alive and well and hopelessly mixed up with the “Love Connection” tryouts, as would-be contestants dodged barroom advances.

Or sometimes didn’t.

After guest coordinator Shirleen Doggett arrived, about 15 minutes late, she commandeered a tiny cocktail table scrunched between two others. Doggett laid out questionnaires and No. 2 pencils next to her assistant’s beer and her own champagne.

She said the show chose to hold the interviews at Fortes because it was a “happening place.”

Indeed, confirmed one Forte’s customer, “I can make the love connection faster here than on TV.”

At the next table, a paunchy man blew olive picks out of a cocktail straw into the air while a pal invited “Love Connection” hopefuls to stop by their table.

“You do pre-interview screening at this table,” he leered, sipping a class of Chardonnay.

The three women opted to fill out the forms at their own table.

Height. Weight. Number of times married. And a relative’s phone number. In case you move and “Love Connection” just has to reach you.

“What do you hate to do on a date?” one of the questions asked. “What do you do when you’re by yourself?” queried another.

“We can’t put that down,” said Janine Everts, a 33-year-old Encino accountant. She said she came to the bar because she didn’t have anything better to do on a Wednesday night.

Her friend Pattie Evans, 39, of Van Nuys, said she wanted a chance to go on “Love Connection” so she could use the $75 the program pays for a date to indulge her passion--golf. The third member of the group, who declined to give her name, thought it would be a lark to go on TV.

None was looking for a date, they said.

“ ‘Describe personality,’ ” Everts mused over a question on the form. “What should I put?”

“Put ‘sleazy,’ ” Evans said.

“I don’t have any personality,” Everts worried.

“Don’t copy me,” said the friend who refused to give her name, pulling her paper away. “We have to look like individuals.”

The three individuals trooped back to Doggett’s table, hovering as she grilled other hopefuls on what they wanted in a date.

She interviewed 14 women and four men, ultimately inviting all but four to make a video for the show. The candidates were judged on their candor and ability to have fun.

Some men were attracted to “redheads with happy faces” and “women with turquoise eyes.” Others delved into that universal experience--the bad date.

But the question stumped Al Rosen, a Forte’s regular who said he mostly wanted to see what kind of people would audition for the show.

“What was your best or worst date?” Doggett asked.

“Can I run down and check my computer?” asked Rosen, 47, who has been divorced for 13 years.

“You’re getting worse here,” Doggett warned, taking notes on her clipboard.

“Look,” Rosen said. “I can still make ‘Studs,’ you know.”

Doggett, apparently unimpressed, turned her attention to Pattie Evans, who described her best date--a Jimmy Buffet concert with a guy who did a lot of singing and kissing.

“You’re a good sport--I like you,” Doggett affirmed. “If we were at the office, I’d say, ‘Give her a good hand.’ ”

She also took kindly to Everts, complimenting the slim woman on her youthful appearance.

“You don’t look your age. You look wonderful. I hate you.”

Not that the compliments swayed the women’s impression of the experience.

“It was not romantic by any means,” Evans said later. “This place is really sleazy and dark.”

“It was a little phony,” her nameless friend agreed. But just then a man came up and tapped her on the shoulder. He just wanted, he said, to get her phone number.

He didn’t.