IT HAD BEEN NOTICED by many who watched the Miss World program on television and by many who wrote it about it for the next day’s newspapers that I was mixed race or, in their eyes, black. Some, like the New York Daily News, took this in stride: “Black is most beautiful, Miss World judges agree.” Others, led by The Sun newspaper, saw a conspiracy by the black members of the judging panel, led by the prime minister of Grenada. How else could a black girl with twenty-five-to-one odds have walked away with the title? How could Grenada win in its first year in the pageant? Did Mecca hope to open a casino in Grenada?
Mecca explained that Eric Gairy, like several other members of the panel, had been chosen as a judge because he happened to be in town for a Commonwealth meeting. As an explanation, this satisfied no one. The company might also have mentioned that no one complained about Brits on the judging panel in years when contestants from the United Kingdom had won the title. For his troubles, Eric Gairy was assailed by the political opposition back in Grenada, who said that he should never have been a judge and that there should be an inquiry into the pageant result. It was obvious to them that a Grenadian could not possibly be worthy of a world title.
A spokesman for the BBC meanwhile told the press that the network had been bombarded with calls about the Miss World program, many of which pertained either to Mr. Gairy’s presence as a judge or the dangerous lowering of the standard for beauty implicit in the triumph of a person of colour. Eric Morley said that he, too, had received many calls at home: “I think the protests we have had are mainly from racialists annoyed because a coloured girl won.”
A number of the judges had been interviewed by the press, and it came out that I had not received the most first place votes. Miss Sweden had. But because no contestant had a majority of votes, first and second place votes were combined in the awarding of the title, and I came out on top. The judging procedures had all been established well in advance of the contest. Not all the judges were happy with the outcome. Joan Collins said, “Miss Grenada just wasn’t the most beautiful there. She took the crown because most of the male judges fancied her. Her sex appeal bowled them over.” I decided to take that as a compliment coming from one of the great sex kittens in the history of British cinema.
Some contestants, too, were interviewed and were also displeased with the result. “It was ridiculous the way the judging was done,” said Miss Ireland. “Miss Grenada didn’t even have a nice figure. There is something wrong with the system.”
Added Miss Norway: “I started laughing the moment they declared the result.”
And Miss Switzerland: “It was all political. I have nothing against coloured girls, but how Miss Grenada could win I don’t know.”
Miss Australia agreed: “The judges didn’t know what they were judging. Miss Grenada should never have won.”
Even Eric Morley seemed aggrieved, while admitting what all the contestants knew: “I’m supposed to be an expert, and my choice was Miss Guyana.”
I remembered Pearl’s prediction and her wise advice and tried to take the high road: “Everybody is entitled to their opinion. I don’t think I’m too bad to look at.” I couldn’t help but add, “Some nasty people try to bring racism into everything. But I’m convinced I won fairly.” Mecca would eventually win a lawsuit against one of the best-read English papers for a suggestion that the 1970 Miss World contest had been fixed.
When the controversy blew over, a newspaper journalist confided to me that it had not been aimed at me personally, but at Mecca and its unsavoury reputation. Eric Morley was not held in high esteem by the media. He was viewed as sexist and almost a pimp, living off the avails of young pageant entrants. He seemed to take the hint and put Mrs. Morley forward the following year as head of the Miss World operation. She did not fare much better.
The five women at the heart of the women’s liberation protest would appear in court in London’s Bow Street Court in December, charged with assaulting police officers and engaging in threatening and insulting conduct. They would turn their trial into a platform to promote their views and eventually received small fines for their efforts. The feminists have always said, “It wasn’t about messing things up for the women in the competition” and “We had no quarrel with the competitors,” but that position was difficult to accept given that they had carried signs reading, “You Poor Cows.” They also singled out a comment I had made in response to a question about my romantic life—“I’m looking for the ideal man to marry”—as though it were the sum of my ambitions and evidence that I was backward and oppressed.
Over time, I came to the view that the feminist protests around Miss World 1970 had contributed to my victory. Not in large part but somewhat, because they were insisting that it was all about beauty and only beauty could win. The judges chose someone who had made a deliberate effort to present herself as a person and performed well in every aspect of the contest. It was “the package,” as Pommie and I called it.
On the brighter side, less than two days after my election, I began to receive love letters from around the world, and mainly from Scandinavia. A young gentleman from Denmark expressed his desire to meet me anywhere I chose. He complimented me on my “poise and grace” during the contest and said that my light bronze complexion was particularly desirable to him. I decided to be amused by letters of this nature.
I flew to Grenada from London on November 23. I had asked the Morleys for permission to return home for a week or so before returning to England, my base for the year of my reign. They granted the leave but neither of them telephoned to wish me well or say goodbye. Now that the contest was over, the organizers disappeared. I arrived at Heathrow in an off-white suit with a high round neckline, carrying on my right arm the calfskin coat presented to me as a gift by Swears and Wells. The head of the BOAC airline greeted me and offered his congratulations.
With no direct flight to Grenada, we stopped overnight in Barbados, where I was greeted at Seawell Airport as though I had represented that island personally. I think it was during that brief stop that I fully realized the closeness of the people of the Caribbean. I gave a short press conference while my papers were taken through immigrations. Then I was whisked away to the Hilton Hotel, where I was greeted first by a guard of honour composed of the hotel staff and residents of the Bridgetown area, and later by my own friends and relatives from the Land of the Flying Fish. We had no choice but to stay indoors that night. Our luggage had been misplaced by the airline. We were grateful and relieved for the break.
When we stepped on the Avro prop jet the next day, I was excited, thinking ahead to my parents waiting to receive me at the airport. I was looking forward to basking in the sunshine on some of the world’s best beaches, surrounded by family and the comforts of life that only the Caribbean could bring. My mother captured the scene at the airport in her diary:
Queen’s Park was thronged with people. The pavilion was packed to capacity and on the grounds, thousands of school children, Girl Guides and Boy Scouts, and members of other youth organizations were lined up. Representatives of international press, radio and television were much in evidence.
The ceremony opened with an address of welcome by Mr. Everett Woodroffe, chairman of the Miss Grenada Committee. Then followed an address by the premier of Grenada, the Honourable E. M. Gairy, who had been a member of the panel of judges at the Miss World contest.
Jennifer then spoke to the gathering. She said she was happy to be back in Grenada and thanked the government and people of the state for having given her the opportunity of taking part in the contest. She said that she had so often met people who did not know where Grenada was. They confused the name with the Spanish town, Granada. She assured her listeners that such a mistake was not likely to recur. She went on to say that she would do her best to advertise Grenada wherever her travels might take her.
The many letters I received from well-wishers around the world were among the most inspiring experiences of my life. I replied to as many as I could in my own hand, but when the job became far too big, I had to employ the services of a part-time secretary to keep up with the flow of mail. Some of the writers were quite observant about my circumstances, and I found their words extraordinarily touching:
Dear Miss Hosten,
Any criticism you might read in the press about the Miss World contest can only be the voice of the minority, and I trust that you will take it all with the natural dignity you showed on the particular night.
I, personally, chose you as the winner, for I thought you scored one hundred percent on the interview, replying with intelligence.
Many of us agree that you will make a marvellous ambassadress, and if you show yourself as non-reacting to any criticism, you will put shame upon those who may voice it.
I see you as a marvellous example-setter, and your lovely smile, intelligent face and natural diplomacy will serve the world well; we need people like you.
(Signed by an English duchess)
Dear Miss World,
Congratulations, a thousand times.
One can see and know that you are too intellectual to be even bothered about all the controversy in the British press over your success…
I wish you all the fortune of this beautiful world, from which I am locked out. Hope you return soon and further show your beauty and charm.
(Signed by a female prisoner at Wormwood Scrubs Jail)
My dear Jennifer,
You were very wonderful and really beautiful—you came first by a long way. I noticed as you came out, when your name was called as the winner, that you put your hand up to flick away a surprised tear, perhaps, but most of the winners collapse in the chair, in tears, and have to be comforted all round. You came out like a queen, with poise, good manners and sweetness to acknowledge your great world.
We have an old Victorian saying that “jealousy is the sincerest form of flattery.”
There is no such thing as the colour bar. We are all God’s people and meant to live in harmony and peace […]
Yours very sincerely,
(Signed by a British baroness]
Being new to the pageant world, I had no appreciation for how much attention the Miss World contest attracted. Thousands of newspapers around the world covered the results, often on the front page. I was very suddenly a celebrity, and I quickly learned some hard lessons about my new status and how others would try to exploit it. A freelance photographer who was a friend of mine obtained from my parents a photograph of me as a small baby. He asked to borrow it and promptly sold the photograph to the newspapers without my permission or knowledge. Other old photographs were obtained and sold in the same manner (as were stories from people who might have known me, slightly, as a child). There were no compromising shots of me at any time, thankfully, but some were of poor quality and unflattering, apart from being unauthorized. I understood that I would have to be careful about managing photo approvals.
I never did get much time at the beach. The next couple of days proved hectic as I complied with requests for more photographs and appearances. There was an official reception at Grenada’s Government House given by the governor general, Her Excellency Dame Hilda Bynoe, and Mister Peter Bynoe. Some seven hundred guests, representing a cross-section of Grenadian society, attended. One of the many press interviews I gave took place at WIBS, where I had worked after leaving school. The staff told me an extraordinary story. The continuity clock, mounted on the wall of the studio to time broadcasts, came to a dead halt right at the moment I was announced as Miss World. It was the first time the clock had stopped since the station opened ten years before.
Finally, after an exhausting and memorable five days at home, I bade farewell to my family and friends. It was time to make a move and return to London via Trinidad. I would not return until after the Bob Hope Christmas tour in Vietnam, just in time for the New Year, and promised to keep in touch by telephone when possible.
My first priority in Trinidad was to visit the head office of BWIA and formally request a twelve-month leave of absence without pay. My request had been anticipated and was granted immediately. In fact, BWIA organized and sponsored a reception for me at the Hilton Hotel in Port of Spain. It was a wonderful evening event at which I was offered the congratulations of both the prime minister and the governor general of Trinidad and Tobago and presented with a beautiful gold pin depicting a Caribbean steel pan (the BWIA insignia).
The only negative incident during my stay in Trinidad, as I recall, was an unfortunate problem with my makeup. A renowned local beautician had offered to do my makeup, applying some of her latest techniques. The subsequent photoshoot was a disaster due to the excessive application of white around my eyes, giving me the appearance of a panda. The developed images looked so strange that none could be used. I applied my own makeup thereafter.
Staying with Pommie and her husband, Fred, in Port of Spain made the short visit all the more memorable. Trinidad had been my base for some time, but I had given up my rental accommodation prior to leaving for the Miss World rehearsals. Fred had sorted out the contract. He had also started work on arranging a Caribbean tour for me when I returned from the Bob Hope Christmas tour. Mecca had its own agenda for me, but it did not include some parts of the world that were important to me, starting with the Caribbean.
I gave my sister a huge hug before leaving Trinidad. Pommie and I had been through so much together in the past few weeks.
“Good luck, girl,” she whispered, with tears in her eyes.