Alice got nominated for the beauty pagent: County Fair Pork Queen . . . her and 5 other girls. The winner to go after the State Fair title and maybe Miss America! She was 17.
Got her a swimsuit . . . a one piece wool knit . . . goldish yellow! And practiced walking in high heels with a book on her head. And come fair night the judges and M.C. and audience watched the girls come out, circle around, line up and wait for their names to be called. And my sister’s question was: “Miss St. John, what would you do if your date come over to pick you up and his car wouldn’t start?” And Alice unable to tell the truth—unable to cry out “My date? My date? My dad won’t let us date, we can’t go on dates . . . he won’t let us date . . . he’s afraid we’ll get pregnant . . . my dad would run him off with a shot gun.” Instead of screaming that to hundreds of ogling fair goers, she calmly lied . . . “I’d ask my father if we could borrow the family car.” I couldn’t believe it . . . I just couldn’t believe it . . . at that point WE DIDN’T EVEN HAVE A GOD DAMN CAR.