The talent show had the home-baked flavor of banana bread.
During the opening number in the talent show, one of the candidates for the title of Miss Sunland-Tujunga zigged when she should have zagged, bopping obliviously to one side of the stage while the line of fellow contestants danced away from her.
She pulled a wry face, laughed and skipped back into line.
Well, she’s only 16, and the girls had all of a week to work on the number with the coach from the Jazzercize parlor. And precision dancing probably wasn’t a big factor in picking the fairest flower of the foothills.
About 50 people turned out for the contest, just about filling the small auditorium of American Legion Post No. 377 on a residential street of small houses. Up here, on a chilly winter night, the lights of the Valley and a far-off downtown glitter like distant galaxies. The ground is steeply angled. Anyone dropping a round object had better be ready to chase it clear to Glendale.
Many spectators, even little children, wore cowboy boots broken in to the texture of old velvet. They used phrases like “down to Los Angeles” and “in the city” as if they themselves were not within the city limits but in Lone Pine or Lake Wobegone. As well they might be. Garrison Keillor would have missed only the jello salad. (The home-baked cookies and the fruit punch in a vast silver bowl were provided by Jim’s One-Stop Party Shop.)
The room was hung with red and white ribbons and balloons. Grandmothers led family cheering sections. Fathers recorded it on videotapes, presumably to be kept in the family archives with great grandfather’s World War I medals and the rodeo trophies.
Little boys raced up and down the aisles, chased by shushing mothers. Little girls in jeans stared in saucer-eyed awe at big sisters in strapless gowns.
There was no alcohol in the bar at the back of the room, only signs for a few sponsoring businesses, “Sunland Monte Vista Mobile Home Park,” “Cano Bros. Cesspool Pumping Svc.” and “Winder Trucking Co., Semi End Dump Svc.”
One of the guys who wore blue Windbreakers with “Kiwanis” on the back to show they were the security force guarded the door to the functioning bar in the basement. “To make sure none of the young people get in here,” the tall sentinel said. His jacket said his name was Bob.
The band--three guys from a title insurance company--had cans of beer discreetly stashed behind the speakers for the electric guitars, but nobody took offense.
Bob Ronka, the area’s city councilman from 1977 to 1981, was master of ceremonies. The judges included an Encino real estate broker, a city Cultural Affairs Department executive, San Fernando Mayor James Hansen, a movie special-effects makeup artist (her credits include “Hiroshima Maidens,” Ronka noted) and Maria Del Mar, an actress who is also Mrs. Ronka.
They were “carefully chosen to be from outside the area,” said Connie Ragsdale, president of the Sunland-Tujunga Chamber of Commerce, who organized the event. “This is a very small community, and we don’t want any problems, like people saying a judge knew some girl.”
The six contestants ranged in age from 16 to 19 and had to display some talent and model an evening gown.
They were listed in the program with their sponsors, whose names were mentioned as often as possible. Carla Collins Fisher lined up two Baskin-Robbins outlets. Cindy Tillery was presented by Penny’s Hair Salon, and Shannon Wolfe had both Slater Realty and Tujunga Cleaners.
The talent show had the home-baked flavor of banana bread. One contestant performed an energetic dance wearing a red blouse, black shorts and black tights with a racy little garter. The blouse popped out of the shorts early in the routine and fluttered like a bullfighter’s cape through the remainder.
Another did a heel-stomping Latin dance. Holding the hem of her crimson dress high and hurling it from side to side in the best “West Side Story” style, she stormed offstage into the audience and pirouetted, displaying a backless dress neatly divided by a white bra strap.
A tall blonde did a sizzling Marilyn Monroe imitation, lip-syncing “Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend” in a poured-on white, strapless gown. She occasionally ducked behind a home-made screen covered with crinkled aluminum foil. That kind of move meant Marilyn was going to remove a garment or two, but each time she emerged fully clothed, or at least as clothed as she began. Her program bio noted that “she enjoys teaching Sunday school and being involved with other church activities.”
This did not mollify the grandmother of a rival. “My goodness,” she whispered to spectators around her. “That’s not talent. Even an old lady like me could make those movements and get those men judges all disturbed.”
The outgoing queen, Stacy Wood, (held over for two years because there was no contest last year), apologized for not doing better in the Miss USA contest. “I caught the flu from another contestant and passed out in my Marine escort’s arms,” she giggled.
Ronka asked each of the three finalists a surprise question, of the oddly personal kind that beauty queen contestants are traditionally asked, so she could display poise under pressure, confirming she would not say anything embarrassing if allowed to carry Sunland-Tujunga’s banner into the outside world.
Cindy Ann Watkins, a 16-year-old from Verdugo Hills High School sponsored by BFI Waste Systems, quickly and surely fielded: “Where do you feel sincere happiness comes from?”
“From the people you share your life with, and from self-confidence and from the love you feel inside.”
That nailed it for Cindy Ann. Stacy handed over the crown. Ronka fished a letter out of his pocket from Mayor Tom Bradley, congratulating the winner, whoever she was, for triumphing on her inner qualities as well as her good looks.
The title insurance guys slammed into “Twist and Shout,” Cindy Ann waved her towering trophy, and the crowd began collecting the balloons to take home.