Miss America: How long will she wave?

By Cynthia Grenier

The Miss America Pageant saw its 80th year last week and — like many
an institution, or individual for that matter, up in years — was
beginning to get, well, a wee bit creaky in the joints.

Now the beauty pageant may seem on the frivolous — if not downright
silly — side until you realize the Miss America Organization is the
largest provider of scholarships for women in the country, dispensing
almost $40 million last year, $50,000 of which goes to the miss of the
year.

The organizers knew all too well television ratings for the show had
been steadily falling in recent years. And what’s more, folks in the
media had been pretty much making mock of its fusty ways for some time.
So, for the first year of the millennium, they decided out with your
grandmother’s pageant and let’s go the MTV route. Surely that’ll help
the ratings, they reasoned.

Prime time Saturday night brought on Donny and Marie Osmond — Donny
sans tie in all his costume changes (“We’re cool, man, see.”) Sister
Marie definitely on a bad hair night appeared in a rather sour mood
throughout the evening. Setting, lighting, music were all, I guess
you’d say, contemporary, without being exactly inspired.

The 51 lasses were paraded forth in batches to the music with
crosscutting camerawork coming to a close-up on each young woman as her
name was read out. Clad in silky, floating garments in interesting
colors that nicely harmonized with one another, the young women moved
briskly through their paces.

In no time, Donny had called upon a group of 10 contestants, leaving
41 other young women valiantly trying to look happy for those elevated
ever nearer to the crown and the $50,000. In passing, let me note the
“ladies,” as the Osmonds dutifully kept referring to them, while
generally a nice appearing group, well-groomed, graceful and all of
that, were really a collection of females you’d not necessarily
associate with a beauty contest. Nobody was downright plain but super
lookers weren’t that numerous.

The 10 were reduced pretty swiftly down to five: one
African-American, one Chinese-American (a Phi Beta Kappa to boot), one
Filipino-American from Hawaii, and two longhaired-blond, classic
American lookers of the sort that, in the past, regularly peopled the
event.

Each of the five was presented in a mini-documentary on her life:
family, interests, thoughts, philosophy. All in all, pretty anodyne
stuff. The lassies appeared sincere, engaging and all that.

Next they paraded in swimsuits. The one-piece number had gone the
way of history, and every variant of two-piece wear marched across the
stage to applause. They all seemed marginally embarrassed by exposing
themselves to the hundreds packed into a large hall in Atlantic City.

Next, it was their turn to appear in evening wear. The term “evening
gown” having also bitten the dust. The dresses were fairly on the
demure side. Dignity and class was clearly the goal being sought. No
see-through numbers or anything remotely close. They could probably be
presented to the Queen of England in these outfits.

Alas, the young women were then required, while in their eveningwear,
to demonstrate their talent. Worthy though their efforts may have been,
four were — let’s put it kindly — not destined to advance
professionally very far in their chosen talent. Miss Hawaii, however,
kind of stole the show, doing an exceedingly graceful hula. You really
haven’t lived until you’ve seen the hula danced in a white satin
strapless ball-gown with a full, flowing skirt.

The last step to the coronation was a sit-down (out of eveningwear)
with Marie Osmond who asked them one by one to answer a question each
that would reflect their “serious” thinking and general high-mindedness.
Here again, Miss Hawaii, who was the last to be quizzed, stole the show.
She answered spontaneously, straightforwardly and neatly sidestepped a
potentially embarrassing question as to how she would deal (she being a
teacher in a Catholic school) with a teen-age boy getting a crush on
her. “Actually,” she replied smiling pleasantly, “I’ve never
encountered that problem.”

Sundry musical numbers, more mini-bios and finally suspense, Donny
announced the winner: Miss Hawaii. The young woman, bless her heart,
immediately hugged her runner-up, a very worthy African American who
touchingly is in education and wants to become a superintendent of a
school — all because her mother couldn’t read. A moving and indeed a
touching story but at least, if she didn’t get the crown, she is getting
$40,000.

Miss Hawaii, Angela Perez Baraqulo, looked appropriately surprised
and utterly delighted — but no squeals and, above all, no tears.
Radiant with the crown of Miss American pinned atop her sleeked-back
glistening black hair and chignon, the former Miss Hawaii, new queen for
the year, strode gracefully and confidently up and down the runway into
the crowd.

Miss Baraqulo is one of a family of 10. Her parents raised them all
as devout Catholics and she is teaching at a Catholic school in Hawaii.
A few nights ago she appeared on the David Letterman Show. Poised,
cool, charming, natural — she clearly seemed to shake Letterman a
little off balance. She, of course, was called on to perform her hula,
which she did in a smart, long black gown.

Who knows the future of the Miss America Pageant? It’s not really
the zippiest of entertainments but one thing is sure: They certainly
crowned an ideal Miss America. Talk about a role model. She sure gives
big Christian families one fine name.

Cynthia Grenier

Cynthia Grenier, an international film and theater critic, is the former Life editor of the Washington Times and acted as senior editor at The World & I, a national monthly magazine, for six years. Read more of Cynthia Grenier's articles here.