" Who is . . . Albert Schweitzer?"
After years of being a fan of the TV game show Jeopardy!, I'm finally on as a contestant, and so far my performance is not impressive. The game is flying by, and the stress is wearing me down. Still, I've managed to snare a "Daily Double" on the final clue of the first round. It's a crucial break, and I've staked most of my winnings on knowing something about "Humanitarians." The clue, as I hear it over the pounding in my ears: "Gabon . . . 20th century . . . organ concerts . . . Europe." I ask my question, and the show's host--Alex Trebek, the man who is Jeopardy!--looks at me and says something. I hear the word "correct." I exhale.
For months, it's been impossible to relax. Wherever I've gone, whatever I've done, if there wasn't some fact to be gleaned I've felt as though I were missing an opportunity to prepare. I've spent hours in the library studying atlases, books of American history, copies of Scientific American and the Times Literary Supplement. My son's baby books about airplanes and dinosaurs have proved to be fonts of information. Sleep has been difficult, not to mention work.
The day leading up to the taping was especially nerve-racking. Sitting in the cramped green room of Sony Pictures Studios in Los Angeles, I was less intimidated by the casual chatter of my fellow competitors--completing this Ph.D., lecturing at that university--than by the clothes. We're here to tape five consecutive shows, and the producers told us to bring changes of clothing so as to look fresh for each "new" appearance, assuming we win and remain in the game. Obviously, everyone here expects to be on the show for some time: They've brought overnight bags, hanging bags, rolling bags, steamer trunks. Looking down at my small carry-on containing a semi-starched shirt, a tie, and two collar stays, I wondered what I was in for.
The crew at Jeopardy! tried to make contestants feel relaxed, but it was difficult. In the morning, we ran through two full rehearsals, testing buzzers, taping a few spots for the show's website. Then, around 10:30 A.M., the audience began to file into the studio, and we retreated to the green room for some last-minute make up and coffee. We drew cards to determine who would appear on the first show against three-time champion Shad, and I was one, along with Lee Ann. The moment had come.
Hearing the familiar voice of announcer Johnny Gilbert read your own name is surreal, but no more so than the arrival onstage of Alex Trebek. I reminded myself that from the start, I'd kept my expectations low. My goals: Answer a few questions, win enough money to make a respectable "Final Jeopardy!" wager, then exit, dignity more or less intact. Yet from the very first clue, even this looked wildly ambitious. I couldn't make my buzzer work, and Shad and Lee Ann were sweeping the game. Prosciutto. Wuthering Heights. Maryland. I could have come up with those answers. I was frantic, sweating though it was 64 degrees in the studio. At the first commercial break I was in third place. But suddenly--Albert Schweitzer bails me out! I relax just slightly, and the rest of the game is taut: a terrific back-and-forth among the three of us to see who will emerge champion.
By the time we reach "Final Jeopardy!" we're only a few thousand dollars apart. The last question: Identify the source of an ancient aphorism about war. I make a guess: It has to be The Art of War. It is! In that moment, I relax completely for the first time in months. It doesn't hurt a bit that I've just won $32,001.
After a brief conversation at center stage with Alex, I wink to my wife in the audience and am ushered once more into the green room for make-up and coffee, then back into the ring to face new challengers. This process repeats itself three more times before I finally lose to Tracy, an attorney from Florida. She beats me at my own best category, "Authors." (Who wrote Harvest Home?)
Truth is, now that it's over, I miss the anticipation of being on the show. I miss coming home and having a reason to force myself to review old college textbooks, to read poetry, to reclaim some of the information, useless and useful, I've managed to forget over the years. I find myself studying even without the incentive of going on TV. I'm rereading Petrarch and Goncharov and some European and American histories. I guess that's fitting, since all my winnings will go to education. By the time my son is ready for college, the annual tuition at any half-decent private school should take the full $78,202 I ultimately won on Jeopardy! We're calling it the Albert Schweitzer Memorial College Fund.
NICHOLAS SWEZEY