O as in Condominium

Two years ago, when she was only eleven, pretty, brown-eyed Melody Sachko (rhymes with Natch, Joe) had plodded through to the finals of the annual Scripps-Howard National Spelling Bee. But that time, the Pittsburgh policeman's daughter tripped over atelier (she spelled it "ate-lia") and wound up in sixth place. Then Melody's mother, Natalie, took over. She drilled Melody over the dishwashing, left her little time for her favorite diversion: shooting pool in the basement. Thumbing through dictionaries, Natalie Sachko typed out some 25,000 words--each with its correct pronunciation and meaning--on individual slips of paper. She was determined that Melody would win next time.

In last year's district finals, Melody, a straight A student at Pittsburgh's Carrick Junior High, muffed thyrsus, placed second. Natalie Sachko rolled up her sleeves and stepped up the training program, saw to it that Melody pored over the word slips for at least an hour each night, upped it to three hours as the Bee buzzed nearer. P:as in Deciduous. When the Big Test came in Washington's Commerce Department auditorium one day last week, Melody felt that she was as ready as she would ever be. But so did 62 other crack young (aged 12-14) spellers, the pick of some 5,000,000 school kids from all over the U.S. And for the first time in Bee history, the boys outnumbered the girls, 34 to 29.

Most of the first words were wieldy enough, at least to Melody: conductor, scientist, julep. Almost as fast as Pronouncer Benson S. Alleman rolled them off his 670-word list, they were shot back, letter-perfect, in Southern drawls, crisp New England accents or Midwestern twangs. Then one boy spelled ardent with an a, and a 14-year-old girl had the same trouble with lavender, ending with ar. Another victim spelled conscientious with a c instead of t. Clyde W. Dawson, 13, of New Mexico, tacked an se to the end of incandescence, and in a real gone voice groaned: "Oh-oh, I goofed!"

As the new horrors (suzerainty, baccivorous, ichthyology) flew at her, Melody said a few silent prayers. Once she thought she was a goner: Does deciduous begin with des or dec? Haltingly, she guessed right. But the Bee took its toll: foundering on defilade, 13-year-old Cynthia Kertos of Cleveland wept.

Unlucky Round No. 13 started off ominously (mnemonic, bifurcation) but was the first perfect round of the day. The next round whittled down the boys' ranks by a whopping six. Melody spelled each word to herself, working up her confidence as, one by one, the others fell by the way.

I as in Cretinous. By Round No. 23, Melody was holding her ground with only two other girls. Then cretinous was spelled with an e, and there was only one obstacle left between her and the $1,000 prize: plump, 13-year-old Sandra Owen of the Sugar Creek Township School at Justus, Ohio. Wilting under mounting pressure, Sandra took off her jacket for the final bout. "Afflatus," fired Pronouncer Alleman, and explained its meaning (an inspiration). "A-f--" Sandra hesitated, then tried writing it out on the stage with her right toe--"f-l-a-t-o-u-s." Ping went the punch bell. Melody got that one right, but she still had one more to go. She began impassively: "Condo" (pause), confidently rattled off the rest: "M-I-N-I-U-M." Delighted shrieks rent the auditorium as Pronouncer Alleman reached to congratulate the Bee's 29th champion.

Sitting in the second row, Natalie Sachko beamed with satisfaction at her daughter's victory. And what would Melody do with the $1,000 prize? Give 10% to her church, St. John the Baptist Ukrainian Catholic Church, put the balance away for a college education (her preference: University of Pittsburgh). Why did the outnumbered girls lick the boys? Said Melody: "Boys don't concentrate as much as girls."

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