Queen for a Day

Who remembers that old television program “Queen for a Day”?  Jack Bailey would have three (usually female) contestants on his show. Each contender related separate tales of sorrow regarding their pathetic circumstances.  Despite being poverty stricken, the candidates were there to ask for only one thing.  A wheelchair for little Timmy who was struck by an ice cream wagon, hearing aids for the war hero husband who was deafened by a missile explosion, or perhaps new tires for the old beater she drives to haul around the house trailer.

Jack then walked behind the three seated ladies, holding his hand above their heads as the audience applauded in turn for each of them.  The applause-o-meter, looking much like a gas gauge on the dashboard of a '53 Plymouth, measured the decibel level of the applause.  This highly modern mechanism determined which contestant’s tale of woe was the most heart-rending.

When the winner was announced, an orchestra struck up Pomp and Circumstance while roses were placed in the trembling arms of our lucky winner.  She was led to a throne, shedding tears of joy and disbelief.  They always cried buckets.  The overwhelmed title-holder would then be seated and a crown deposited on her head, followed by Jack’s summation of all the prizes being awarded to the new Queen.

This was the part that bothered me when I was a kid.  The other two contestants disappeared immediately from the camera’s field, destined to trudge back to their hopeless lives.  I don't think they were even given a consolation prize.  What about Timmy who has to drag himself from room to room.  What about the valiant husband who for years has been shouting “WHAT?”.  No - the bitch who wants tires is given a new car, a houseful of furniture, the latest and most newfangled appliances, and a sturdy awning for the trailer’s back door.  Where’s the justice in that?

Anyway, Q4ADAY wasn’t always so cheesy.  Prior to becoming a television show, it was a radio program/contest. To enter, the hopefuls only needed to complete in 25 words or less why they would like to become "Vacation Queen".  In 1948, my mother, Kathryn, sent in her entry which stated she wanted to be Vacation Queen because she believed it would help her recover her identity, which she seemed to have lost somewhere between the maternity ward and the washing machine.

In May of 1948, a letter arrived.

      

A whole shitload of stuff huh?  In addition to the items listed in the letter, a four week “vacation” was included.  The Queen would travel across the country in a caravan, giving interviews, making personal appearances, being wined and dined with celebrities and of course, Jack.  Following the working part of the tour, she was to be treated to two weeks at a resort in Vermont, then two weeks in Bermuda.

There was only one problem.  At the time Kathryn received the letter about her winnings, she and her 8 year old son, David, were living with her mother, Ava, on a cotton farm.  Kathryn and her husband Glen were separated and planning on a divorce.

Kathryn notified the Prize Committee that Glen needed to skip the travel portion of the festivities.  She was then informed it might be “scandalous” for her to travel alone, and the honor would have to be awarded to the next runner-up.  Rather than forfeit all those many, many cool prizes, Kathryn and Glenn conjured up a cover story for the press, packed their bags and got out of Dodge.  They might have been on the outs, but not so much they weren't willing to attempt the pretense of marital bliss.

Guys, you've got to do better than that.  Those initial loving glances are not cutting it.  You look like you're at a royal funeral.  Don't blow the charade.

As time went on, it appears they managed to get past their differences enough to enjoy the adventure.  Check out that hotel doorman.

Get a load of the dude with the microphone.  Love the suit.

Here we are at Slapsy Maxie’s:

                  

Then at Cocoanut Grove: 

 

That's Jack Bailey in the center.  Notice the two pretty people sitting beside him.  No idea who they were, but those teeth fairly scream “starlet”.

Now, if this were a screenplay for a movie, I could imagine several possible feel-good endings. Our two characters have lived apart for awhile, probably having numerous squabbles, then forced to spend two months in continual proximity to one another.  Constantly in the public eye, looking all happy, holding hands.  There are probably many comic and near romantic episodes as a result.  Like Bogie and Bacall. One would expect that Bogie would get his woman back.  Right?

Nope, not my mother.  Kathryn and her husband returned to the tiny farming community of good old boys and devout Baptists - where they were already the talk of the town.  Their neighbors were named Johnny and Alvina.  After a fairly short period of time, in a move that set jaws to flapping and church ladies to clucking, Glen left his Queen and moved in with Alvina.  Johnny, who was a really cool guy, then moved in with Kathryn.  How much of this was planned beforehand, and how it happened, I'll never know.  But it's a hell of a story.

Everybody got all married up, and in 1950, Johnny and Kathryn produced a child of their union.  That would be me, and this is my favorite chapter in the divine play over which I have no control whatsoever.  Alls I know is I’m still here, entertaining and being entertained.

I've still got Kathryn's other gift from Jack.  This double strand of hand-tied royal pearls will eventually go to her grandchildren.  I wore them last when Wingman and I sealed the deal.

Thank you Mother.

RAM