‘Jeopardy!’ Tryouts in a Category All Their Own

Now entering our studio are today’s contestants . . . A newspaper reporter . . . from Ventura, Calif. . . . Massie Ritsch.

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Those are the words I hope to hear, perfectly pronounced by the golden-tongued Johnny Gilbert, if and when I am called to play “Jeopardy!” And with the help of a couple of Ventura County’s smart set, I’ll have my chance.

But then, many are chosen for America’s favorite quiz show, but few are called.

It takes guts, or maybe hubris, to even try out for the show. Being on “Jeopardy!” could bring tremendous wealth or tremendous humiliation. By auditioning, what you’re saying is, “I think I’m a real smarty pants.” But the vast majority then find out, “Um, basically, you’re not.”

The tryout in the show’s Culver City studio begins with a written test introduced by a videotaped Alex Trebek, who sincerely regrets he cannot be with you. Spelling doesn’t count, he tells you, and answers need not be written as questions. You never learn your score, but passing is 35. If you fail, Alex says, reduce the shame by telling your friends and co-workers that you missed the cutoff by one question.

I am embarrassed to say that when I took the test I didn’t know the governess to Mr. Rochester’s ward is Jane Eyre, but I did know there’s a sitcom about a New York delivery man called “The King of Queens.” I got a question about Andrew Carnegie because I remembered his library-turned-museum in Oxnard.

About half of the 50 or so folks who took the test with me passed and stayed for a practice game. There, they test your ability to use the buzzer and whether you can move the game along without prompting. Then you talk about yourself for a minute so they can determine whether you are someone the home audience would root for.

Judging all of this were Glen, who’s heard 10,000 vacation-gone-awry anecdotes but still manages to seem interested, and Grant, a former actor who wears cuff links with blue jeans.

“Great job, everybody,” says Glen, who doesn’t let his perkiness get in the way of his efficiency. “Everybody’s playing great! You’re all doing well with the buzzer.”

And when Grant, the Trebek stand-in, threw us a brain stumper, supportive Glen was there--”Oooo, hard one.”

Several who auditioned with me had tried out before. Judy from Eureka was there for the fourth time--she’s only failed once, but has never been called for the show.

Judy is, to say the least, a fanatic. Since 1992, she has kept a log of every match, with the names of the contestants, the amount of money each had at game’s end and all the categories for that night.

And then there was Harry.

Glen and Grant seemed to know this very strong player, but I think they wished they didn’t. When Harry asked, in a voice similar to Bill Murray’s in “Caddyshack,” whether Alex would accept “F-L-A” for Florida and “Frisco” for San Francisco, because, you know, sometimes he just says them that way, I realized we’ll never see Harry on “Jeopardy!”

Of course, you may never see me either.

Though I passed the written test, I know that simply mastering trivia is not enough to secure a spot on air. One must be a whiz with the buzzer, a sparkling conversationalist when Alex wanders over, and someone who doesn’t drool under pressure.

My fate is in the hands of Glen and Grant.

They tell me I could be summoned to Culver City at any time over the next year. Until then, I’ll be immersing myself in “Potent Potables,” “Fictional Heroines,” and the crowd favorite, “Before and After.” (That’s where two dissimilar people or things are linked in a clever wordplay. For example: The vampire novelist who’s also the San Francisco treat is Anne Rice-a-Roni.)

To find out how to best prepare, I consulted two Venturans who have appeared on the show.

Medical lab manager Dave Willis is in the no-need-to-study camp. That’s easy for him to say--in 1992, he won $58,001 over five games.

“I don’t think you can really study,” Willis told me. “You’re going to do well, or you’re not.”

“I think all three people know the answer most of the time and it just comes down to who happens to win the contest with the buzzers,” he said.

But Tom Mueller, a technical writer who appeared on “Jeopardy!” in 1995, said he crammed beforehand, using a book of trivia and strategy titled “Secrets of the Jeopardy! Champions.”

“I got one question right because I read that book,” he said.

But the book Mueller should have read was “Lady Chatterley’s Lover.” Not remembering D.H. Lawrence’s steamy-for-1928 novel in “Final Jeopardy!” dropped him from first to last place.

“I still haven’t read the damn book. I read those four or five pages that everybody read when we were in high school,” said Mueller, who ended up with a refrigerator as a consolation prize.

Neither Willis nor Mueller suggested that I study game theory for the crucial final-round wagering. Just bet big.

“If everybody’s close,” Willis said, “I think you just bet a lot and hope to get the right answer.”

After all, who goes on “Jeopardy!” to finish second?