Dignity in Atlantic City

Atlantic City is not what she used to be. The annual Miss America contest last week was conducted so genteelly, with such oppressive decorum, dignity and delicatesse that many a customer, innocently seeking foofaraw and the stimulating sight of rows of good-looking legs, finally wandered off to drown his disappointment.

The hopeful girls, 33 in all, were held practically incommunicado. (City fathers were sure that the 10,000 soldiers, sailors, Coast Guardsmen in the area were all on the prowl.) The girls were forbidden dates, drinking, smoking, gum-chewing. They could not talk to a man "without permission." They were surrounded at all times by a massed armada of gimlet-eyed chaperons, including 20 of their mamas, and a special platoon of Atlantic City matrons, hand-picked for their motherliness. Six well-armed Atlantic City cops, on "antiwolf patrol" under Acting Sergeant Robert Silvagni, flanked the girls wherever they went.

The tedious solemnity so weighed upon ebullient State Senator Julian James of Jonesboro, Ark., who accompanied Miss Arkansas to the finals, that he sought escape by pacing up & down the Boardwalk. Wherever he saw a crowd gathered around a weight-guesser or a salt-water-taffy artist, Politician James would step up and give the crowd a lesson in pronouncing the name of his home state: AR-can-saw, not ar-KANZUSS.

By Saturday night the field had narrowed to five honey blondes, one chestnut blonde, one corn-tassel blonde, two brunettes, one redhead. They stalked back & forth across the stage in formal gowns, danced, sang and displayed in somber black bathing suits what used to win Miss America contests. Judging took so long that the master of ceremonies ran out of gags, took to reading comic strips aloud. Said Sergeant Silvagni's wife, a bathing-beauty expert: "I thought they'd be a bunch of dogs this time. But they're prettier than I expected. They're not made up too much, for a change. It's the Ingrid Bergman influence."

Although some of the other girls drew more gallery whistles, the decorum-conscious judges chose decorous Miss California, 19-year-old Jean Bartel of Los Angeles, as Miss America 1943. (Cash value of the title: $10,000 in lipstick endorsements, war-bond prizes, theatrical engagements, etc.) Of the ten finalists, she shared with Miss Minnesota the distinction of being tallest (5 ft. 8 in.), heaviest (130 lb.), and possessor of the biggest feet (8B). She tied for the biggest bust (36 in.). But she had the dignity the judges were after, proved it by posing an hour and a half for newsreels, coolly ignoring two flies which buzzed about her.

Meanwhile, Atlantic City prepared for its next contest--to choose the nation's swiftest clam and oyster openers. That sounded like more fun.

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