Back in 1979 or 1980, I think it was, my bride, impressed with my responses as we watched Jeopardy! around the kitchen table, suggested that I audition to be a contestant (this was in the years B.A.T.--before Alex Trebek, when the show took place in New York City under M.C. Art Fleming).*
I eventually yielded and went to a scheduled audition. Not possessing matinee-idol looks (a tradition I maintain to this day), I did not have high hopes of being booked on the show. But the 10 or 15 other people in the waiting room with me all seemed to have appearances that could actually make audiences uncomfortable. I assumed none of us would be selected.
These other folks all seemed to know each other, and were part of a group that made a career of auditioning for local programs (and never being chosen). They traded tales of their many unsuccessful auditions.
Staff members interviewed each of us in turn, gave us the official rules and program positioning (“This is not an I.Q. test; it is about rapid recall of trivia.”), administered a written test and hosted a few sample rounds of live play—enough that each of us got to participate.
At the end, they dismissed everyone with a “we’ll let you know.” Except they asked me to stay. And then said, “Can you come back Tuesday for the next taping?” I was surprised, non-plussed, and delighted to agree.
When the cameras rolled, I found that the pressure of live performance was significantly different from sitting in your own living room. My competitor who finished second was a four-time winner trying to win a fifth and final time (in those days, you had to step away after five wins). The fellow who won went on to retire undefeated after five victories. Me? I, of course, finished third. I did give more correct answers than the other two—but also more incorrect responses, penalized for my haste to press the “Pick me!” button before my opponents.
In one seminal moment seen on national TV, Art Fleming said, “What’s the answer, Chuck?”
I replied, “I have no idea, Art,” and slapped the offending button-pressing hand.
I did take home $300 (the new show rules allow only the winner to profit, to keep also-rans from hedging their bets so as not to go home empty-handed), and a complete 20-volume set of the Encyopedia Americana (remember those?) I also learned that the program wanted to match all the contestants equally, for closer, more exciting matches. This apparently caused me to be asked to show up quickly to go against two guys whose test scores matched mine (he says boastfully).
I was making a presentation at my company’s sales meeting when the episode aired, but one of my colleagues heard a voice on his hotel room TV, said “That sounds like Durang,” and came out of his bathroom to find it, indeed, was. Fortunetely, I was not fired when word of this moonlighting gig got around.
*Fleming declined an offer to reprise his role as Jeopardy! host when Merv Griffin began developing a revival of the show in 1983. As a result, Alex Trebek (a personal friend of Fleming's) took the position instead and continued to host the program until his death in 2020. Fleming claimed that the new, Hollywood-based show was “too easy,” and the Manhattan-based competitors and their audiences were smarter...