It's 1967 and KHJ Channel 9 here in Los Angeles is airing this late afternoon show for teens called Groovy. It's done live (or nearly live) from the beach in Santa Monica. Michael Blodgett is the host. Teens in swimwear dance to records. Popular recording artists of the day appear to mime their current releases on the sand.
The sight of young people wearing very little clothing is obviously the main appeal of the program and nowhere is that better exemplified than in the daily Groovy Bikini Contest. Half a dozen young ladies are selected for their loveliness and near-nudity and they are interviewed by Mr. Blodgett about their hobbies, where they go to school, what they want to be if and when they grow up, etc. Each then walks a little runway so the judges and the cameras can get a good look at them. The judges are the members of the band that's performing that day and they select a winner who wins a cheap prize — usually free passes to some local dance club.
I am attending University High School (rah) in L.A. and like many of my fellow students, I make sure I'm home and in front of the set when Groovy comes on. Among its many delights is that I may well see a female classmate parading about on that runway. Many girls at Uni rush to Santa Monica to try and get on the show even though that involves cutting (i.e., not showing up for) one's sixth period class. The Uni girls are as attractive as any girls in the Los Angeles Municipal School District but none of them win.
This tale is about one girl in particular. She is lovely enough that she could very easily win the contest…but then so are all the others each day who vie for the cheap prize and the attendant bragging rights. I shall call her Abby because I do not recall a student in my class named Abby.
No, wait. I do recall an Abby so instead, let's call her Hortense. We didn't have one of those. Hortense decides that she wants to be the first Uni Hi girl to win the Groovy Bikini Contest so she tells everyone to watch that day and see her win. She has sufficient confidence — some might say over-confidence — in her own looks that she knows she will win. When not in school, she is known to frequent the dance clubs and hang out with musicians and they all think she is gorgeous…which she is.
So one Tuesday, she ditches her Algebra class, goes down to the beach and gets in the line to be considered as a contestant. She gets selected. She gets on the show. Michael Blodgett interviews her about her hobbies, which are riding horses and swimming. She walks the runway. That day's musical group then selects another, also-lovely lady.
The next day at school, Hortense is humiliated and angry. Everyone watched her lose because she'd told everyone to watch her win. It is not really an embarrassment. As I said, many girls from Uni have been in that stupid contest and lost and it's no big deal. But Hortense refuses to accept defeat. She waits a few days, during which she works on her tan. Then the following Tuesday, she again tells everyone to watch because she will get on again and she will win. Some remind her the show has a "no repeat" rule but Hortense is one of those people who believe rules are for others to follow.
So she cuts Algebra again, goes to the beach, gets in line and she somehow manages to convince the contestant-selector to give her another shot at it. On the air, Michael Blodgett even asks, "Hey, weren't you on last week?" Nevertheless, he again asks her about her hobbies — still riding horses and swimming — and she again walks the runway and she again loses. The next day at school, she is even angrier and more determined to triumph.
For the next three weeks, Hortense manages to get into the contest every few days. I'm going to guess that the contestant-selector decided she was a running gag or that maybe viewers would be amused at her "try, try again" attitude. Each time though, the judges select someone else.
Finally, she sees a can't-miss opportunity. TV Guide always tells who the musical guests (and therefore, the judges) will be and one Thursday, it's a very popular group with many hit records. My memory vaguely recalls it was the Lovin' Spoonful but I'm not sure so let's just say it was some group as popular as the Lovin' Spoonful was that week. Hortense knows that if she can get into the contest, she will win.
Why? Because in one of her many forays to the dance clubs of L.A., she hooked up with one of the musicians in the group which may or may not have been the Lovin' Spoonful and certain acts of passion were performed. Surely he will not only vote for her but will persuade his bandmates to follow suit.
So that day, Hortense tells everyone to watch Groovy. She tells her fellow students, especially those who have smirked at or mocked her frequent losses. She tells the teachers. She tells the school administrators. If they would have let her, she would have gotten on the P.A. system and done a commercial for the damned show.
She even tells me. We aren't particularly close friends but we do share several classes…and since her string of losses began, I have taken to giving her very silly, useless advice at every opportunity. I tell her, "Next time you're on the show, try juggling Indian Clubs." Or "Next time you're on the show, tell them that the doctors say you have eight minutes to live and your final wish is to win their contest before you die." Or "Next time you're on the show, hide a can of Bardahl Motor Oil in your bikini, pull it out on camera and deliver a brief commercial. You won't win but you might make a little money."
Despite her anger at her continuing losses, Hortense finds these remarks very funny. One of the few things I learned in high school is that if you can't get cute women to go out with you, the next best thing is to make them laugh. Since none of them will go out with me, I get lots of practice in amusing them. Hortense especially laughs when I suggest that she tell Michael Blodgett, "I think it's time you had some good music on this crummy program" and then sing the entire role of Violetta from La Traviata.
That day, Hortense is not only AWOL from her sixth period class but fifth period as well. That is so en route to the beach, she can stop at her beauty parlor and have her hair and nails done. All of Uni is watching that day as Mr. Blodgett announces the bikini contest.
The third contestant is Hortense and by now, he doesn't even bother asking her any questions. He just tells the camera, "Okay everyone, this is Hortense and she goes to University High and her hobbies are riding horses and swimming." Hortense does her turn on the runway, winking to the judge she knows intimately, then she joins the other competitors to await her christening.
And the winner is…not Hortense.
At home, I can hear her shriek and start yelling. Friends who were there describe for me the next day how she tried to barge back onto camera, grab the mike and tell all of Los Angeles that she was sixteen years old and had been molested by the band's lead guitar player. She was physically restrained and informed that she was banned for life from Groovy. That meant about eight weeks since the show, despite its obvious commercial appeal, was cancelled. Personally, I think Hortense somehow arranged it as an act of revenge.
The students who were present for her final loss and her outburst tell me (and everyone) about it the next day at school. Later, I find myself walking down a corridor and I realize I am about to pass Hortense. She does not look happy.
I think of something silly to say but before I can get it out, she comes up to me and says, "You were right. I should have sung La Traviata."
But that is not the end of this story. We both graduate in 1969. Twenty-seven years later, we have our 25-year reunion. That should tell you the kind of class we had. I attend, accompanied by a lady friend and at one point, I am mingling without her, running into classmates and exchanging updates on our lives. Suddenly, I run into Hortense and her husband of 20-some-odd years.
I am about to say hello to her when she breaks into song and there, in the middle of the hotel ballroom, she sings me eight bars of "E Strano" from La Traviata. And then she says to me, "You were right. If I'd done that, I would have won that fucking contest!"