Talent Competition

Bodies Beautiful

Corrections or additions?

This article by Bart Jackson was prepared for the October 4, 2000

edition of U.S. 1 Newspaper. All rights reserved.

Miss America’s Makeover

Jennifer Makris Hill coaches winners as the ideal shifts from

lovely Aphrodites to sharp Athenas.

by Bart Jackson

Pop Quiz: What is the greatest source of women’s

scholarship

funding in the world? A.) The U.S. Army? No. B.) Michael Douglas’

short list for fiancees? Warmer, but still no. The correct answer

is C.) The Miss America Pageant. By the time the tiara is lowered

on the queen’s lavish coif and "Here She Comes" flows with

the mascara through the Atlantic City Convention hall on Saturday,

October 14, nearly $30 million in scholarship aid will have been

awarded

to these gorgeous and clever lasses.

In fact, today’s Miss America Scholarship Foundation funds not only

the elite circle of winners at each level and category, but a host

of non-competing worthies as well. There’s only one catch: all

scholarship

monies must be spent on scholarship. Tuition, yes; housing, yes;

Lamborghinis,

alas, no. Any surplus funds, after all the school bills are paid,

must be turned back to the Miss America Organization.

More than any other factor, this has changed the type of woman —

and the intensity of competition seen in Miss America’s last decade.

In l993 Jennifer Makris stood trembling before these new style

contestants

in womanhood’s world series. "They were all dream girls,"

Makris recalls, "beautiful of course, but Ivy League. . . going

to law or med school, or seeking scholarships for Juilliard

training."

Jennifer (now Jennifer Makris-Hill) had pictured herself on the runway

ever since age 12, when her cousin Julie Phillips donned the Miss

Missouri

crown. As a Rider College freshman she decided to toss her all toward

the tiara. Venturing for the first time west of Pennsylvania, she

flew to Houston where her cousin was training a crop of Miss America

hopefuls. "I took one look at these amazing girls and got so

scared,

that I turned right around and flew home," she says.

These initial trepidations proved groundless. Makris soon screwed

her courage to the sticking place, returned, and accepted her cousin’s

coaching. In 1994 she entered the Essex County regional competition

(one of the contests that used to be open to non-residents), and won

handily with the judges commenting, "You’re the next Miss

America."

The following May, she captured the Miss New Jersey crown. Then in

September, in the Atlantic City Convention Hall, 21-year-old Jennifer

Makris swept aside two decades of the Garden State’s hard luck

tradition

and entered the winners’ circle as second runner up in the Miss

America

Pageant.

Three years later Makris entered the Miss USA Pageant, placing sixth

overall. "I was really shocked on that one," laughs Makris.

"Donald Trump’s thing is a real beauty pageant, much different

from Miss America. All the girls are tall, leggy, with the average

height 5-feet-11 — and I’m barely 5-feet-6."

Today Jennifer Makris-Hill of East Windsor needs no further crowns

to boost her beauty pageant coaching business

(www.makrisconsulting.com). Her roster of winning students runs almost

as long

as her waiting list. Under her tutelage, Kim Yee paraded from Miss

Edmonton, to Miss Canada, to the top five circle in Miss Universe.

Her student Sylvia Gon captured Miss Connecticut and made the top

10 at Miss America. Makris-Hill is currently on maternity leave and

has no clients competing next week, but she could very well have five

of her clients get through the semifinals to vie against each other

in the national Miss USA contest.

The daughter of a south Jersey physician and a school nurse, Makris

had started at Rider College on an acting scholarship but, after the

pageant, switched her major to business and speech and moved to an

apartment in Plainsboro. There she met her future husband, Ken Hill;

he works at Bristol Investments at 100 Canal Pointe. She is expecting

her second son in December. Now she not only works with pageant

candidates,

but also with business women needing to improve their speech and

presentation

skills.

Coaching was thrust upon Miss New Jersey almost immediately after

hitting the top-five circle in Atlantic City. Girls began phoning.

How did she give those sharp responses to the onstage interviews —

sculpted, but not rehearsed? How could they get top points like that?

Within a year, Makris had signed a full client list, guiding serious

contenders through every aspect of the pageant competition.

"All of these girls make an incredible commitment," notes

Hill. "They labor totally, right up to the end. When that crown

is awarded and you see all the girls break down and cry, it is mostly

relief that the ordeal is over."

Few of the starry-eyed maids sitting before Hill in their initial

interview foresee that they will be training as intensely as a

decathlon

athlete. The competition will be elite and Olympian. They must accept

a total disruption and refocusing of their lives, even while they

are in the midst of their college careers. Hill insists each girl

must commit for herself alone and yet get enormous familial support.

Pageants, after all, may demand as much sacrifice as a decathlon,

but they take a lot more cash. First comes the coaching fees. Hill’s

billing rates would startle most lawyers, but the best costs. A week

of her training costs $5,000, a day goes for $1,000.

Then comes the specialized trainers who are scattered all over the

country. Hill remembers her own preparation as endless weekend road

trips: up to Rhode Island to Scott Gray’s Cinderella’s Bridal Salon

for wardrobe; out to Kansas City for vocal coaching, making musical

tracks and choreography; nutritionists, hair and makeup experts, all

expensive and distant. And oh mercy, the price of those evening gowns.

"That’s why," says Hill, "I always insist on the parents

accompanying the girl on the initial interview. It’s a lot of money,

and each Miss America contender is already a college student."

After the parents prove their wherewithal, the girl must prove her

determination. Hill has never dismissed a client because of

appearance.

Instead, she casually asks, as will pageant judges later, "Why

do you want to be Miss America?"

Responding with "I’ve always loved adulation," "Mom has

groomed me for this," or "just kind of a lark, really,"

will win you a smile and swift dismissal. The right answer leads you

under Jennifer’s wing and into a battery of undreamt of disciplines.

Hill refers to herself as a performance enhancement expert, rather

than coach. "A pageant is unlike sport," she insists.

"There’s

no tangible performance. You are judged on a perception of your person

— you already are as good as you can be. I can only give you the

confidence and tips to present that self better."

Perhaps. But your beautiful essence is going to undergo a lot of

pumping

before it flexes in front of the judges. First comes the Mind and

the Mouth. Ulrica Udani, who was contending for Miss Teen USA, was

initially shocked. "Ms. Hill gave me written homework!"

Each girl begins a daily journal, entailing written assignments.

"Describe

yourself in three words." ("Perky" is a very bad bet.)

"How could you enhance New Jersey if you wore her crown?"

Then comes the issue analysis. Gore or Bush — who has the better

health care plans, education package? What’s your stance on the Clean

Air Act? Mideast negotiations, Soft money? "Most girls don’t

comprehend

the breadth of current issues the judges will ask in the private

interview

sessions," says Hill. "You not only have to know the issues,

but have a whole raft of cogent, conversational answers at the

ready."

Even though Miss USA lacks Miss America’s talent competition, both

boast exhausting private and public interviews.

Speaking is Coach Hill’s forte. So I take the plunge,

and ask her to test me on one of the judges’ typical questions.

Somehow

sensing a lighted fuse, she asks with lovely, smiling innocence,

"Are

you a liberal or conservative, and why?" Hill has hit it. I

explode in diatribe — a clever, witty, incisive rant. She listens,

unmoving, then responds.

First the praise. She loved the content. "However . . ." a

host of gentle suggestions dissect my vocal expressiveness, my still

body, my thrusting hands, eyes, face, carriage. "And you are of

course, ah, longwinded. I might have done it this way. . ." No

one, she implies sweetly, will be lowering any crowns on this unruly

pate. I want to try again. On the way home, I keep inventing new

answers

to her question. She gets you to do that.

In addition, every contestant entering Miss America competition must

come with a "Platform Issue." Makris Hill, wisely in 1994,

passionately

chose child abuse. After gaining her New Jersey crown, she worked

with the Kanka family to push through the controversial Megan’s law.

Many of today’s contestants are already politically lobbying for their

cause. For most, it becomes a lifelong campaign.

Hill stands foursquare against the old "Suzanne Sugarbaker"

school (Sugarbaker was Delta Burke’s character in the "Designing

Women" television series), which advises giving the judges

whatever

they want. "You can’t fool these people," she insists. "It

must come from your heart." On the pragmatic side, nevertheless,

certain battles are foolish platform choices: gun control or abortion

is guaranteed to split the panel. Wanting to "Be the perfect

homemaker"

is abhorrently "1950s" and "saving all furry animals"

is too Playboy. Platform issues must be meaty.

Top Of Page
Talent Competition

In l949 Carol Frazer, Miss Montana, rode her palomino

on stage. The animal slipped, reared precariously over the judges,

and nearly fell. One lass brought out her 12 trained pigeons, which

instantly flew the coop and decorated the Convention Hall audience.

One of the several fire baton twirling experts set fire to the stage

curtain. For safety’s sake, the judges finally put their foot down.

Yes, they declared, you can show your archery skill and shoot balloons

out of your father’s hand; and yes, you can drag out the trampoline

and bounce your stuff; but no, Miss Nevada, you cannot bring your

thoroughbred, home-raised cow onstage to perform. More recently for

the talent showings, a weapons ban has gone into effect.

Hill encourages her pupils to select from the normal show biz range.

After all, since 1970, all but two Miss America talent competition

winners have employed vocal, musical instrument, or dance renditions.

Many use the Miss America spotlight to launch their performing

careers.

After the vocal or dance coach has sharpened the talent, Hill helps

mold it into an enticing performance package. This usually entails

a few trips to Kansas City, where Jennifer’s old mentor, Bill Wolffe,

polishes the act and makes sound tracks.

By now the bills are really rolling in. Some parents will take three

jobs to launch their daughter through the Hill regime. From more

than one beleaguered father comes the query, "Who needs this

pageant

stuff and what good is it for my girl?"

Hill responds from experience. "I cannot imagine any better

or swifter formula for personal growth than the pageant. It teaches

you poise, calm, and gives you the guts to represent the entire state.

You are forced to develop and devote yourself to a social ideal (the

platform issue) and work at it ever after. You learn how to speak

easily with presidents and celebrities. You gain stress management

skills, and through it all you make oceans of really fast friends.

I can think of nothing better."

If pageants hold such growth potential, what about prancing little

Jon Benet Ramsey? "When I hear her name," replies Makris-Hill,

"my immediate reaction is `child abuse.’ I refuse to coach any

pageant contestant under age 16. The pre-teen stuff can be very

damaging,

the baby contests, total ripoffs."

Top Of Page
Bodies Beautiful

In 1921 flat-chested flapper Margret Gorman, standing

5-feet-1, claimed the first Miss America crown with the lithe

measurements

of 30-25-32. By 1953, Miss America Neva Langely stood so abundantly

blessed that she was forced to defend against accusations of

"bosom

padding." (Later, inspections squashed these complaints.) But

the ideals change. Somewhere in the l970s women decided that they

could earn their good figures and the aerobics rush began.

Today’s pageant hopefuls must be and look fit with bodies somewhere

between the scrawny models of the fashion industry and the

voluptuaries

of Playboy centerfolds. And they all train like athletes.

Jennifer’s own competition training consisted of a very specific,

daily weight training. Now for her girls, windsprints and a

nutritionist-controlled

diet are as important as hair and make-up tips.

As Hill talks bodies, all around me I hear the rumble of snarling

feminists. And the cry of "Degradation!" indeed has come from

every unsuspected crevice. In l988 as the Miss California crown was

descending, contestant Michelle Anderson reached into her ample bosom

and unfurled a home made banner announcing "Pageants Hurt All

Women." Since 1974 women have been protesting on the boardwalk

that Miss America is not a world series of womanhood, but yet another

degrading plot by men, those drooling dastards.

Hill roundly rebuts these feminist claims. "Physical beauty

is not degrading," the former Miss New Jersey insists. "Miss

America is no longer just a contest about who looks good in a

swimsuit.

The contestants you meet hold serious professional aims. There are

more women seeking to be astronauts than models." She then adds

reflectively, "I think a lot of ladies just don’t want to see

talent and poise combined in a very beautiful woman."

In fact, the driving force behind Miss America, since

its inception, has been dollars, not thighs. Back in 1921, a group

of merchants along the Atlantic City Boardwalk met to find some method

of extending the holiday beach crowds past Labor Day.

They hit upon "The Atlantic Pageant," an autumn gala

featuring,

among other events, a bathing beauty contest. Each of the eight

finalists

had been culled from as many as 1,500 contestants in their home

cities.

So when the airplanes roared overhead dropping confetti and Neptune

rose from the shoreside waves carried aloft by sea monsters to crown

16-year-old Gorman, she had already proved herself a national

competitor.

She was, as labor leader Samuel Gompers stated, a "true

representative

of the type of womanhood America needs."

Today the contest remains an ideal vehicle for burnishing corporate

images, and hundreds of firms like Keebler, Chevrolet, and Du Pont

award scholarships. Clairol supplies the hairdressers. Local outfits

such as grocery stores pony up $1,000 grants. The Quality of Life

Program lavishes more than $65,000 in annual aid to young outstanding

women volunteers. Its sponsor? Fruit of the Loom.

All the while our Miss America hopeful is pumping up her arms, honing

down her speeches, and practicing her talent to distraction, Hill

sends her on outings to the special hair dresser, make-up artist,

and perhaps a choreographer to learn those skills. Then it’s up to

Rhode Island where the evening gown gets designed and custom fitted.

At last contest time approaches. Hill helps the competitor fill

out the exhaustive forms. "Are you now or have you ever been

pregnant?

Married? In jail?" The final tips are impressed: smear Vaseline

on your teeth so your dry lips won’t stick; slather glue on your

bottom

so your bathing suit will stick and not ride up. Never be demure or

"ladylike" when you speak, be impassioned — physically

and vocally. On and on it goes.

Winning the first level in a northeastern state like New Jersey nets

a few photos, a lot of smiles, and not much else. In a

pageant-delirious

state like Texas, however, local scholarship monies and perks flood

in your lap. Boosters of all sorts get behind the "most beautiful

girl in our county."

If you are still in the running, it’s back to work, aiming for the

state contest in May — 10 days of new friends, excitement and

competition. Many now expand their sessions with Coach Hill to three

times a week.

For those few who claim the state crown or even stand in the top-five

winners’ circle, stardom begins instantly. A gaggle of "important

press people" seek their time. Swiftly following come the letters:

marriage proposals and scores of less flattering propositions. Playboy

comes to call. After the final Miss America contest they try again.

"I have nothing against someone’s posing nude, it just wasn’t

my style," remarks Hill simply.

Miss New Jersey’s stardom comes complete with all the trappings —

stalkers, bodyguards, and FBI troubleshooters. And of course the

Agencies.

After averaging five calls a week, Jennifer Makris Hill decided to

turn

down William Morris Agency, nix Stephen King after reading for his

latest movie, try her hand at a screen test and a few soaps, and

definitely

go on with Regis & Kathy Lee and accept Hillary’s invitation to lunch

at the White House. But by now, for Makris Hill, the whole world of

acting

seemed to pale.

"As Miss New Jersey, you already have all that glamour," she

notes. "People are putting you on a pedestal, singing your

praises,

but it all comes with an incredible price tag. Frankly, I can’t

imagine

paying that price lifelong unless you are really insecure."

"Oh, and naturally there’s the money," Hill waves

dismissively.

"Lots and lots of money." She received $40,000 in

scholarships

alone. Furs, oceans of makeup, dresses, cell phones all flow in.

Endorsements

and other deals also swamp the young state queen. The Miss America

Organization assigns each state winner a financial agent, some sharp

expert like "Uncle" Nat Zauber to advise and sort the berries

from the thorns.

Zauber, a veteran of the Miss America organization, also helps arrange

the profitable speaking engagements. "And right there lies the

difference," says Hill. "When Miss America speaks, every

dollar of the fee goes to her." Miss USA gets a flat $40,000 for

her reigning year and every speaking fee goes back to The Donald.

Miss New Jersey’s reign begins in May and runs a hectic year. But

come September, all the state winners make the pilgrimage to Atlantic

City for the Big One — the Miss America Pageant. For this

two-and-a-half-week

ordeal the 50 young champions make more friends, meet more important

folks, dance and rehearse harder, and pause less than they ever will

again. Like combat, the whirlwind competition is so intense that the

uninitiated just cannot understand. Friendships become lifelong. At

this point, Coach Hill stands back and "lets it all go to

God."

No coaches are allowed backstage.

For the fortunate Miss America and her Winners’ Circle, there comes

more money, fame, press interviews, and adulation. The other lovely

and talented ladies return to fill out their Miss State reigns.

I’m quite happy for these advantaged women. And as mere luscious

Aphrodites

yield the Winners Circle to more sharp-witted Athenas, goddesses of

Wisdom who are still knockouts, even this male (and thus chauvinist

pig) is gratified. Yet I am moved to wonder, do we really need a

$100,000

pageant industry to boost the confidence of these already gifted few?

What do we get out of all this corporate image polishing and the

dollies

on parade?

As a 16-year-old, a bunch of my buddies and I did indeed drool and

loudly lust over the Miss Universe beauties on the TV screen. Miss

Israel got my vote, and won. I’ve forgotten her face, but to this

day I recall the spellbinding speech she made on the meaning of

"Shalom."

Maybe I’m just a pig with long ears, or maybe the Miss America Pageant

can feed us all a little youthful idealism that we certainly sorely

need to hear. If so, the girls are giving more than they ever get.


Next Story


Corrections or additions?


This page is published by PrincetonInfo.com

— the web site for U.S. 1 Newspaper in Princeton, New Jersey.

Facebook Comments