Fannie Flagg

by Baby Girl! Welcome to the World

  April 3, 1973

  For dinner, Norma had tested several recipes out of The Neighbor Dorothy Cookbook. She had told Macky that she just felt like trying something new for a change, no big deal, but he knew she was trying out dishes to fix when Baby Girl came home. She knew he knew but they both played along. He had been served: Minnie Dell Crower’s “Meatloaf Delight,” Leota Kling’s “Lima Bean and Cheese Casserole,” Virginia Mae’s “Scalloped Turnips,” John and Susan Tate’s “Light as a Feather Potato Puffs,” Lucille’s “Fly off the Plate Rolls,” Gertrude’s “Bing Cherry Salad,” topped off with “Chocolate Peanut Butter Bunt Cake” from Vernelia Pew.

  Everything passed muster with the exception of the turnips. Whoever Virginia Mae was, she was destined not to go to good-recipe heaven. After that, Macky could hardly move and was stretched out in the living room watching television. Norma was in the kitchen listening to the last of the turnips being ripped to shreds in her new garbage disposal when the phone rang and she picked it up.

  Five minutes later she came in the living room with a dejected look on her face, sat down, and looked at Macky. “She’s not coming.”

  “Why?”

  “She was so disappointed.… You should have heard her.”

  “What happened?”

  “Well, she said she had planned on coming in tomorrow but decided to come tonight instead. She had made all the arrangements to come on the late flight to Kansas City and was going to call us from the New York airport, so we would be sure and know exactly what time she would be in. She was packed, had her ticket, had already called a taxi, and was headed out the door, was actually in the hall, when the phone rang. And she said she could just kill herself for even going back in and picking it up. Because wouldn’t you know it, it was her boss and he was frantic because there was this very important interview already set up out of the country and the reporter that was supposed to go had a sudden attack of malaria, right at the last minute, and couldn’t go.”

  “Malaria?”

  “Yes, he got it when he was doing a story in some jungle—and you know that’s recurring—so anyway, she didn’t have a choice because the plane was waiting at the airport at that very moment. Bless her heart, it’s a wonder she had time to call us at all with them jerking her all the way to Siberia. It’s a good thing she did call, though; I reminded her to take a coat. You never know, she could have gotten over there and frozen to death in a snowstorm.”

  “Siberia? Who is she going to interview in Siberia, I wonder.”

  “She doesn’t know; she said that it was so important and evidently so secret that they didn’t even tell her. Really, though, as bad as it is, it was a blessing she was already packed and ready to go, but she probably just packed her light clothes thinking she was coming here. Well, at least I made her take a heavy coat.”

  Macky went over and started pulling down the big green Colliers World Map and Atlas book off the shelf. “Norma, are you sure she didn’t say Sicily or Sardinia or something?”

  “No, I’m sure she said Siberia. Why do you think I told her to take a coat? I wouldn’t tell her to take a heavy winter coat to Sicily or Sardinia; I can tell the difference between Sardinia and Siberia.” Norma suddenly looked alarmed. “I just thought of something. Aren’t you supposed to get a vaccination when you travel out of the country?”

  Macky’s finger found Siberia on the map. “Yes, but I wouldn’t worry. I don’t think a germ stands a chance up that far.”

  “What about her passport, do you think she forgot it, being in such a hurry?”

  Macky shook his head. “No, honey, with the way they have to go at a moment’s notice, they probably have four or five of those things. She probably keeps one in her purse.”

  He was studying the map. “Whoever she’s interviewing, you can bet your bottom dollar he’s a Russian. Come here and look at this, it’s perched right on the border.”

  Norma saw where Siberia was. “Oh my Lord! Isn’t that behind the iron curtain? Do you think she’ll be safe? You don’t think they would kidnap her or shoot her or anything?”

  Macky shook his head. “No, listen, if anything were to happen to her, everybody in America would know it. They don’t want to fool with a famous television star, believe me. She’s probably safer than anyone in the world. Did she say she might be able to come after she gets back from this trip?”

  “No, she can’t, she said this was the only time that she could have taken off.”

  “Well, it’s a damn shame the way they work her like they do. She hasn’t had a vacation since she started working there. That girl works too hard.”

  A half hour later, when Macky was in the kitchen fixing the percolator for their morning coffee, Norma said, sighing, “Well, I guess I better call Aunt Elner and let her know she’s not coming.”

  “She never knew she was coming in the first place, Norma.”

  But she was not listening and had already dialed. “Aunt Elner, are you still up? It’s Norma.” She said, louder, “It’s Norma, go get your hearing aid, dear.”

  She waited. “Well, now the tale can be told because it’s not going to happen. You will never guess who was coming home for a visit. And was going to come over to your house and surprise you. Guess … Well, I know you don’t know … but guess. No, even better than Wayne Newton.”

  Macky laughed.

  “Baby Girl, that’s who. No, she’s not coming now. I know it would have been wonderful, but just at the last minute when she was headed out the door, her boss called her and she had to go and interview somebody and fly all the way to Siberia to do it. Siberia.” She spelled it out. “S-I-B-E-R-I-A; yes, that’s the one. Macky thinks she’s going to interview some big Russian mucky-muck. I feel so sorry for her I could just cry. They just send her hither and yon but the news waits for no man, as they say. Oh, yes, she was; disappointed is not the word. Heartbroken is more like it. She was trying to be brave but I could tell by her voice that she was on the verge of tears. I mean, we are all terribly disappointed but just imagine how horrible she must have felt. Here she had her bags all packed and ready to walk out the door headed for Missouri and winding up in Siberia instead.”

  Souvenir

  Elmwood Springs, Missouri

  November 1968

  When Norma and Macky returned home after visiting Dena in New York, the first thing they did was to go over to Aunt Elner’s house and give her the souvenirs they had brought for her knickknack shelf. One was a little bronze Statue of Liberty and another an Empire State Building paperweight with fake snow inside. Two hours later she called Norma with the paperweight in her hand.

  “Norma?”

  “Yes, honey?”

  “You might have to come over here and take this paperweight away from me.”

  “Why?”

  “I can’t stop myself from shaking it up; it’s just like a little winter in there, isn’t it?”

  “Well, I’m glad you like it. We didn’t know what to get you.”

  “Oh, I’m just getting the biggest kick out of it, you have no idea.”

  “Good.”

  “And Baby Girl really seemed like she was getting along all right?”

  “Oh, yes, but we didn’t get to spend nearly enough time with her. They have her working morning, noon, and night.”

  “Is she still too skinny?”

  “No, she’s filled out and has quite a nice shape.”

  “Did she like her fig preserves?”

  “Oh, yes, she was tickled pink to get them. She probably never gets anything homemade; they all eat in restaurants up there day and night.”

  “Well, bless her heart. Do you reckon she might like some hickory nuts? I’ve got a barrel full out on the porch. My tree just went crazy on me this year. Maybe I’ll make her one of my hickory nut cakes with the caramel icing; do you reckon she’d like that?”

  “I’m sure she would.”

  “It’s still hard to believe Baby Girl is a grown-up woman! Last ti
me I saw her she wasn’t no bigger than a minute; what was she, four?”

  “Four or five.”

  Then Aunt Elner asked the same question she did every time they discussed Dena.

  “Did she mention anything about her mother?”

  “Not a word.”

  “Well, what would you say if she did?”

  “I’ll just answer whatever questions she has as truthfully as I can, that’s all I can do. As it is, she doesn’t say anything and neither do I. I will have to follow her lead on it.”

  There was a pause. “That’s got to be a hard thing for her to come to terms with, don’t you think?” said Aunt Elner. “You know it must prey on her mind.”

  “I don’t know, Aunt Elner, but I imagine it’s hurtful for her to even think about so I just don’t bring it up.”

  “Yes, that’s probably best. Well, honey, thank you again for my present. I sure am enjoying it … and tell Macky to run over here for a minute, will you? My back door’s stuck again.”

  “OK, I’ll tell him.”

  Aunt Elner hung up and turned the glass paperweight upside down one more time and watched the tiny pieces of fake snow swirl and settle around the miniature Empire State Building and said out loud to herself, “Look at that … it’s like it says, a winter wonderland.”

  A day later Norma sat down and wrote a letter.

  Mr. Wayne Newton

  c/o the Tonight Show, NBC

  New York City

  Dear Mr. Newton,

  Just a note to say hello again. As you know my husband and I and our Aunt Elner have always been your biggest fans. We always watch you when you are on television and have all your albums, and four years ago were lucky enough to see you when you performed at the Missouri State Fair.

  So you can imagine how grateful we are to our cousin Dena Nordstrom for giving us an opportunity to actually meet you in person and get an autographed picture. It was the highlight of our trip.

  You were so sweet to us and we were happy to find out that you are such a nice, down-to-earth person. I know that you travel a lot and probably don’t get a chance to get to church so I’m sending you a subscription to the Daily Word and some fig preserves from our Aunt Elner. Mr. Newton, if you ever get anywhere near Elmwood Springs, Missouri, please know you have a place to stay and I can promise you some good home cooking. I am sure you must get tired of hotel food and we would love to have you as our guest.

  Best wishes,

  Mrs. Norma Warren

  P.S. You are now on our “Wall of Fame” in a prominent place next to our cousin.

  How She Got There

  Sacred Heart Academy

  Silver Spring, Maryland

  1959

  Fame is a funny thing. It knows who it wants and starts stalking people at an early age. Dena was only fifteen when it went after her. A photographer from Seventeen magazine came to her school and she was one of ten girls chosen to be photographed that day. She had never considered herself to be pretty, and she was getting to be too tall, but they had requested several blondes and she was one of the few in her class that year. Albert Boutwell, the makeup man, had been putting makeup on giggling teenage girls all over the country and when the slim, lanky kid walked in she was just another one in an assembly line of faces he was to make up that day. She sat down and he put a smock on her. He noted that she was particularly pale so he used a slightly darker base and a little more eyeliner to bring out her eyes. When he had finished, he glanced up in the mirror for a last-minute check. What he saw was astonishing. Looking back at him was what had become, at a touch, one of the most beautiful faces he had ever seen. Dena, who had never had on makeup before, was as shocked as he was. He asked her what her name was. “Well, Miss Dena Nordstrom,” he said, “look at yourself. You are a knockout!” The next girl came in and took Dena’s place.

  A month later, back in New York looking at proofs, the photographer came to the Nordstrom girl’s picture, viewing it through a magnifier, and he recalled the moment. “You’re right. Look at this kid. Hell, you can’t get a bad shot of her! This kid has a goddamn golden, million-dollar face.” He turned to his assistant. “Find out who she is and how we can get in touch with her.”

  “I told you,” Albert said. “When she walked in she was nothing. I slapped a little makeup on, did a little shading, and whammo.”

  The photographer was still studying the picture. “Damn, I just put her in a plain black turtleneck sweater and started shooting and look—look at that bone structure. What is she, Swedish or something?”

  “I don’t know.”

  His assistant came back in with a list. “Name is Dena Nordstrom.”

  “I knew it,” the photographer said, “we got us a baby Garbo here or another Ingrid Bergman. How old is this girl?”

  “Fifteen.”

  The photographer was disappointed. “Oh, well, I can dream, can’t I.”

  Albert, who knew him well, reminded him, “Yeah, that’s all you can do if you don’t want another irate mother—or the law—after you.”

  The photographer sighed elaborately. He said to his assistant, “Call Hattie over at the agency and tell her we are sending over some pictures … but tell her we get to use her first.”

  Two days later, after a phone call was made to Dena’s school and Dena’s mother was finally located at work, Hattie Smith explained that she handled only the top teenage models and that she wanted to sign Dena to a five-year contract and start her to work right away. “You have quite an exceptional daughter. We think with the right representation she has a tremendous future ahead of her.”

  Hattie sat back and waited to hear what she always heard from mothers, how excited they were that their little girls were going to be models. This one said only two words: “Absolutely not.”

  Dena’s mother was alarmed. She had not known that Dena had been photographed.

  Hattie sat up. “Excuse me?”

  “Mrs. Smith, I appreciate your interest but we will have to decline your offer.”

  “But we think she can be a big star. As a matter of fact, we were considering perhaps using both of you in a mother and daughter spread they are doing next month for Family Circle, so if you could send us a recent photograph of yourself—”

  “Oh, I don’t think you understand. I do not want my daughter’s picture or mine in any magazine. I’m afraid I don’t approve. I’m sorry.”

  Hattie was frustrated. “But I don’t think you understand. Your daughter is capable of making money—a lot of money—posing for magazines or doing commercials. You don’t disapprove of money, do you?”

  There was a silence. “I work very hard for my money, Mrs. Smith, and I intend to have my daughter receive an education before we consider anything else for her future.”

  Hattie was not giving up. “We have no intention of interfering with her education, all of our girls continue their education; we can schedule her shoots around school hours. We already have a shoot lined up for her at Seventeen magazine, possibly a cover.”

  “Mrs. Smith, as I said before, I do not want my daughter photographed. I am trying to be as tactful as I possibly can, but thank you, no.” And she hung up.

  Hattie said, “Damn!”

  In three years, when Dena was on her own, they called back and her first professional photo shoot put her on the cover of Seventeen magazine. After which she was offered a college scholarship to study drama at Southern Methodist University in Dallas. Dena was pleased, but she did not stay. After her sophomore year she quit to take a job as a weather girl at a television station in Ft. Worth. She had to support herself and as much as she loved the idea of studying theater, she quickly found out television was where the money was and she was good at it from the start.

  After eleven months, she began to move from station to station, almost every time to a little larger market, and, in her mind at least, working closer and closer to New York. Dena didn’t mind going from place to place; she was used to it. Her mother h
ad moved all over the country from the time she was four. She was willing to get as much experience as possible, no matter how many places she had to go. When she hit the network, she wanted to be ready.

  She worked in Arkansas; Billings, Montana; then Oklahoma; Kentucky; back to Billings; and on to Richmond, Virginia, where she started off as a weather girl again but eventually worked up to cohost of the local morning program, doing features about art shows, horse shows, dog shows, and occasionally interviewing celebrities coming through town. When the actress Arlene Francis came to Richmond, she liked the way Dena handled the interview and mentioned it to her agents. Sandy Cooper was a young talent agent who specialized in television and was on the lookout for bright new female talent. The women’s movement was gaining momentum; he knew the networks had quietly started searching for more women to groom, because they knew it was only a matter of time before they would be obligated to hire one or two in the news departments. And Sandy wanted to get in on it from the start.

  One weekend he and his wife drove to Richmond and stayed over to watch this Dena Nordstrom on the show Monday morning. He liked what he saw. Nordstrom’s beauty was certainly distinctive, but she had characteristics he knew the networks were looking for. She was smart, she was quick, she had that nice-girl-next-door quality coupled with a smile that lit up the screen. She had all this going for her but most important, she passed the ultimate test for Sandy. His wife, Bea, who was short and stout and usually hated pretty women, liked Dena. All he had to find out now was if this girl was ambitious or not. That question was answered in less than five minutes after they met, and an hour later she was signed as a client of the William Morris Agency, one of the largest and most powerful agencies in the country. Three months later Sandy found out that a local New York station was looking for a girl to replace Nancy Lamb, and whoever got the position would be a candidate for an eventual move to network. He set up an interview for Dena with Ira Wallace, head of the station’s news department.