May 28, 2018
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Alex Trebek: Master of the trivial still has plenty of questions

By Dan Zak, The Washington Post

WASHINGTON — If 6,300 episodes of “Jeopardy!” count as scientific data, human beings can be classified as a cordial and sedate species, partial to demure wardrobes and simple haircuts. Each human displays a rigorous grasp of general knowledge and possesses both a typical occupation and a charming anecdote that defines his or her life. They enjoy using their knowledge to win modest amounts of money, three at a time, Monday through Friday, on a soundstage in Culver City, Calif.

There is a fourth human who remains apart, behind a lectern near a wall of flat-screen TVs. He is also cordial and sedate. He is the host of the show. He cracks few jokes. He hugs no one. He wears suits in gray and navy. He announces categories and reads clues and says “Right” or “Correct” or “Yes” and, sometimes, “No.” He has all the answers, which means he knows all the questions. He used to stand behind the lectern but now he sits. He used to have a mustache but now he doesn’t.

Three rounds, 13 categories, 61 pairs of answers and questions, 28 seasons, 13,000 contestants, one Alex Trebek. The master of the trivial. On television, anyway. In person . . .

“I was just reading something by Immanuel Kant about perpetual peace, and I’m looking at that, and it’s a great idea,” Trebek says, sitting in a hotel suite last week, a couple of days before taping the show’s “Power Players” edition in Washington. “But I’ve got to read it about three or four times in order to figure out exactly the point he’s trying to make.”

You have Kant with you?

“Yeah I just printed it out because I was interested in something going on,” he says, his voice lowering, like he wants to change the subject.

What something?

“Well,” Trebek says, almost muttering, “just — the future . . . ”

The future.

“How are we going to deal with the future,” he says without question marks. “How are we going to achieve peace.”

– – –

Here we have Alex Trebek. He’s a quiz-show host from Los Angeles. It says here that one of your earliest memories is breaking through thin ice on a creek in your native Sudbury, Ontario.

“Mid-winter,” Trebek says, in a hypnotized monotone. “When I was about 7 years old. My sister and a couple of her friends were playing on a frozen creek that was not frozen entirely. And I told her, ‘Get off the ice. It’s not safe. It’s too dangerous. I’ll check it out for you.’ And then the ice cracked under me, and I fell in.”

The boy dried off, learned his lesson, completed his French Canadian upbringing, majored in philosophy at the University of Ottawa, took a broadcasting job because it paid his tuition, went with the flow to California, knocked around in a half-dozen game shows in the ’70s and early ’80s (“Wizard of Odds,” “The New High Rollers”) and landed a winner in 1984. A reboot of the original version hosted by Art Fleming in the ’60s and ’70s, “Jeopardy!” was expected to last for six or seven seasons, according to its late creator, Merv Griffin, but ended up becoming a syndicated staple of Americana.

Trebek is 71. The past three decades have passed by in a blur, he says. He wanted to be many different things when he was growing up — actor, doctor, prime minister — but somehow ended up doing what he’s doing: presiding over five tapings every Tuesday and Wednesday, arriving at work at noonish and returning by 6 or 6:30 p.m. to his mansion in Studio City, his wife of 22 years and his 91-year-old mother. He spends the rest of the week traveling (he’s been to every continent except Australia), devouring television (“The Borgias” and “Law & Order” marathons) and books (he recently bristled at the iffy merits of Bill O’Reilly’s “Killing Lincoln”). He mentions, as he has in previous interviews, that he likes to fix his property’s aging sprinkler system. L.A.’s gurgly water pressure — which varies from 105 to 155 pounds per square inch, he says — strains the system’s old rubber diaphragms. Trebek talks about the sprinklers like Lennie talks about the rabbits or Norman Thayer talks about the loons on Golden Pond.

His two children are out of the house, in college.

His tan is perfection.

He tends the sprinklers.

“I don’t spend any time whatsoever thinking about what might have been,” he says when asked to imagine life without “Jeopardy!” “It is what it is. My life is what it is, and I can’t change it. I can change the future, but I can’t do anything about the past.”

“The Future.” The only category on the board that seems to challenge him. He’s worried that the United States has lost its reputation as the ultimate world power. He thinks politicians are mishandling their responsibilities. A staunch independent, Trebek says he’s refused donation requests from Republicans and Democrats and wishes “a pox on both their houses.” Audience members always ask if he’d run for office, but that’s one game he doesn’t want to play.

“When you’re in your 30s and actively pursuing a career and a home life, a wife and children, you’re busy doing as opposed to busy thinking,” he says, dissecting his own introspection. “As you get older, even as you don’t have as much time, I think you tend to think more and reflect more on what is happening in your own life.”

– – –

And now a final break in taping at Constitution Hall, to approximate commercials for auto insurance and prescription sleep aids. Trebek is taking questions from the audience again.

“Do you have pets?”

He used to have two dogs, he says, but one died and the other was dragged off by a California coyote.

“Have you ever been invited onto ‘Dancing With the Stars’?”

Yes, he says, but he declined because of his 2007 heart attack, several operations on his back and knee problems.

Trebek in person is not just a host, the hollow vessel for a cultural entity, but a regular guy with joint pain and a sweet tooth.

The show runs like clockwork. As it should. It’s been the same for generations. As has Trebek’s job, though his mind seems more adrift. Or free. Free enough to realize that even though he’s been lodged behind a lectern for 28 years, with all the questions in front of him, he’ll know neither his true place in the cosmos nor the answers to everything.

“I don’t think we ever figure it out,” Trebek says. “Some people can tell you, ‘Oh, I figured it out.’ Oh yeah? Good for you. But my life has been a quest for knowledge and understanding and I am nowhere near having achieved that. And it doesn’t bother me in the least. I will die without having come up with the answers to many things in life.”

So he creates, on a soundstage, a safe Trebekian world where everyone is competitive but kind, where the only politics is a category of honest-to-goodness facts, where we pursue knowledge for the sake of knowledge, where he keeps America off thin ice, at least for 30 minutes every weekday night.

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