Priceless Memories

by Bob Barker; Digby Diehl

  Dorothy Jo passed away on October 19, 1981. Interesting thing—Dorothy Jo was born on February 25, 1924. My mother died on February 26. My mother’s birthday was October 18, and Dorothy Jo died on October 19. We had been together since 1939, when we were fifteen years old. She really was the light of my life, and I have never thought about marrying again. She was responsible in so many ways for any success I may have had, and we were inseparable from the time we met. I have had many blessings in my life, but she was the greatest of them all.

  11

  The Beauty Pageants and the “Fur Flap”

  There was a tremendous amount of overheated publicity surrounding my departure from the Miss USA and Miss Universe beauty pageants, but I consider my twenty-one-year association with the pageants to have been an extremely positive relationship, and hosting those events was definitely something I enjoyed immensely. In the end, because of the clash between the fur coats and my passion for animal rights, it was impossible for me to continue with the shows. However, I would not want that to cast a shadow over the many years of fun and success we all had working on those pageants.

  • • •

  Both pageants were broadcast from Miami Beach for the first ten years, but later on we had invitations from cities all over the United States for Miss USA and from all over the world for Miss Universe. We went to El Salvador, Singapore, Australia, Puerto Rico, Hong Kong, Mexico, and other countries with Miss Universe, and we did Miss USA in New York, Buffalo, Miami, Biloxi, and other cities in the continental United States, as well as Puerto Rico.

  Unfortunately, Dorothy Jo and I did not always have an opportunity to explore all of these fascinating places. John Christ and I (I’ll tell you more about John later) were frequently tied up with details of the pageants, and I was still doing The Price Is Right—and for a while, Truth or Consequences as well. Sometimes we just had to fly in and fly out after the show, but other times we were able to explore some memorable locations.

  I’ll never forget the 1973 Miss Universe show we did in Greece at the majestic Odeon of Herodes Atticus, which stands at the foot of the Acropolis of Athens. It was a thrill to be there in the midst of all that history—the theater goes back to the days of Socrates. The show was live, like all of them, and in the evening under the stars. Many people thought it was the most beautiful show we ever did. They may be right. I’ll never forget it.

  The Miss Universe pageants were, as you can imagine, truly international events. We had interpreters giving stage directions in several languages. We had to search high and low for people who could translate questions and answers for the contestants from all over the world. The language barriers were always challenges in producing the shows from these exotic locations.

  There were other challenges as well. In 1972, we were doing the Miss USA pageant down in Puerto Rico. About thirty miles from San Juan, at the Hotel Cerromar near the town of Dorado, we were headquartered in this big vacation hotel with lovely facilities, a couple of pools, and a gorgeous golf course. There were many tourists vacationing at the hotel. However, there was also a group of anti-Americans protesting daily outside the hotel. They shouted, “Gringo, go home,” and other unprintable angry comments.

  The night of the pageant, I was hosting the show live again, and we’re rolling along. I have forgotten exactly what part of the show I was in, but there was a huge explosion. The stage rocked and the audience was obviously disturbed, but I just ignored it and kept moving through the show. I didn’t know what the explosion was and naturally I was curious, but I finished the segment. When we went into the commercial break, Charlie Andrews, the producer of the show, didn’t want me to be upset, so he said, “Don’t worry about the explosion. It was just a refrigerator that blew up in the kitchen.” Just then, another explosion rocked the stage.

  I could not resist commenting, “Charlie, we’re going to have to go out to eat because there goes the freezer.”

  The group of protesters had set off two bombs. The first bomb exploded in the parking lot near our control truck, which was the technical and directorial center for the show. Like the booth in a studio, it was in the truck that our director and top technicians were making decisions essential to the production of the show.

  Obviously, the anti-American group knew the importance of the truck, and they were attempting to knock the show off the air by blowing it up—and possibly the director and the technicians with it!

  The second bomb was set off on the fifth floor of the Hotel Cerromar, and it destroyed three rooms. It blew furniture off a balcony hundreds of feet toward the beach. The explosion itself or the flying debris could easily have killed someone. It was a miracle that not one person was hurt by either explosion.

  A few months later, we had to return to the Cerromar hotel in Dorado to broadcast the Miss Universe pageant. Despite the fact that we had contracted with the government of Puerto Rico, many friends—and all of our wives—were telling us to forget it. No show was worth it. But we decided to risk it under carefully controlled circumstances. This time, security was everywhere. I remember flying into the San Juan airport, and a small plane took me from San Juan out to the hotel. I felt as though I were in the middle of a World War II movie. There were spotlights from the ground on the airplane, lights all around the hotel, and armed guards everywhere. There were no tourists at all in the hotel—only hotel employees and people involved with the pageant. They had plainclothesmen on every floor, and uniformed sentries surrounded the hotel. The government of Puerto Rico wanted to make sure we weren’t blown up on their watch.

  We were stuck in the hotel for six days. We went to dinner in the same dining room every night, and the contestants and folks working on the pageant were the only ones there. The hotel put on a floor show every night to entertain us—a flamenco dancer. We watched that same guy every night. If I never see another flamenco dancer again, it will be too soon. After dinner and the dancer, we were all bored. Everyone, including me, gambled every night—one of my few experiences with gambling (yes, I lost money). Anyway, thanks to the security, nothing happened. We did the show, and we all got out of there safely.

  No matter where we were located, the pageant shows were always broadcast live. I was impressed by the ability of the young women who were pageant contestants to handle the pressure of live television. They were, for the most part, calm and collected, and it was a pleasure to work with such enthusiastic young ladies. There is a misconception that the young ladies in these pageants are not particularly intelligent. My experience over the course of twenty years is completely contrary to that notion. Obviously, in any group of young people, you’re going to have some who are brighter than others, but all in all, the contestants were extremely sharp and savvy, in addition to being talented and attractive. By the time they have reached the level of Miss USA or Miss Universe, they had to have won several other pageants, and they had learned quite a bit. Most people would be surprised at the level of poise and maturity these young women possessed.

  • • •

  Despite all of the happy memories, I eventually left the pageants because of what came to be known as the “fur flap.” On the one hand, it was kind of sudden and unexpected, but in retrospect, it was also a natural conclusion to the series of events that led up to it.

  My passion for animal rights was a process of growing awareness for me. I wasn’t always so aware or involved. I will be the first to admit it: In the 1960s, I gave Dorothy Jo a couple of furs as presents. She stopped wearing them and she stopped wearing leather jackets. Without criticizing me or anyone else, she quietly influenced me by example.

  After doing some promotional work for the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, Los Angeles (SPCALA), in 1979 I was asked to be honorary chairman of Be Kind to Animals Week in Los Angeles. I accepted, and as a result, I did interviews on radio and television and with newspapers. This led to invitations from animal-oriented groups to participate in their activities. I had contributed financially to
animal organizations prior to that, but I had never become involved in their work. I decided to give it a try, and as I did, I began for the first time to really become aware of the terrible exploitation, cruelty, and mistreatment animals suffer in our country—or in the world, for that matter.

  As my awareness grew, I began making changes in my life. Dorothy Jo suggested I become a vegetarian in 1980. I learned about the terrible things that happen in slaughterhouses, and I decided to cut out red meat. Then later I learned more about fishing and the treatment of poultry, and I stopped eating chicken and fish. Originally, I did it out of concern for animals, but I can also see why people become vegetarians for health reasons. My energy level rose sharply, and my weight has never been an issue. I felt better immediately. I do not think I ever would have been able to work as long as I did had I not become a vegetarian.

  So for about seven years prior to the fur flap, which came during the Miss USA pageant of 1987, I had been increasingly active and outspoken on animal rights issues. As I learned more about the horrendous exploitation of animals, I felt compelled to do what I could to change the situation.

  Looking back, I can see a progression of events leading up to the pageant controversy. I was fired from two radio shows for speaking out against laboratory research on animals. In the early 1980s, I convinced the producers of The Price Is Right to stop giving furs away as prizes. I had also resigned as host of the American Humane Association’s Patsy Awards show, which honors animal actors and their trainers, when I learned that some trainers beat animals unmercifully to make them perform.

  Animal exploitation comes in many forms, and the more I learned, the more appalled I was by the practices of the fur industry and the idea of slaughtering millions of animals for leisure coats, which are worn strictly to show off wealth. Wearing furs is a reprehensible method of displaying affluence. I’ve always said there are better ways. Diamonds, wristwatches, and automobiles are a few examples. There is no way to make a fur coat without causing pain to God’s creatures. If you really want to impress people with how much money you have, buy a cloth coat and hang bills on it. The more money you have, the bigger bills you should use.

  It was not just the killing of the animals to make a leisure garment, but it was the cruelty and methodology involved. First, there are the steel leg traps. The animals have their legs shattered in these traps; their bones are broken, their tendons and ligaments are crushed, and then they die a slow agonizing death. A trapped animal often suffers for days before death.

  I remember hearing about many barbaric practices and atrocities, but I specifically remember one horrible instance where an Alaskan lynx was stuck in a leg-hold trap for six weeks until the trapper checked his traps. The lynx was able to stay alive so long only because another lynx in his family brought the poor creature food.

  On farms and ranches all over the world—including the United States—animals are kept in cramped cages and subjected to drowning, neck wringing, poison gas, injection, and electrocution. I try to focus attention on these barbaric practices whenever I can. I have said that the fur industry is one of the worst exploiters of animals, whether they are trapping animals in the wild or raising them on farms.

  • • •

  Despite my growing enlightenment, I had really never encountered a conflict with my personal beliefs during my hosting duties. By 1987, I had been doing the beauty pageants for twenty years, and I always looked forward to doing them. They had become a very pleasant part of my life—and of my income. I didn’t know it then, but my passion for animal protection was on a collision course with one of my favorite events, and something was going to have to give.

  The dramatic confrontation occurred in 1987, in Albuquerque, New Mexico, site of the Miss USA beauty pageant. The pageant producers had awarded fur coats as prizes for years. Fur coats were standard fare at all of the pageants. After working on them for a couple of years, however, I was able to persuade the producers of the Miss Universe and Miss USA pageants to cease and desist. In 1987, I went to Albuquerque, New Mexico, to host the Miss USA pageant, knowing that a fur coat would be presented to the winner, but I also knew that fur coats would be a thing of the past, as of 1988. I arrived in Albuquerque on Friday the thirteenth. The show was going to be broadcast on Tuesday the seventeenth.

  On the first day, I was appalled to learn that in the swimsuit competition, the semifinalist contestants would be coming onto the stage wearing fur coats over their swimsuits. The swimsuit competition was to be on a winter wonderland type of set that resembled a northern New Mexico ski lodge. The women were going to stroll on the stage, wearing the fur coats, and then drop them and model in their swimsuits for the judges.

  I didn’t want to engage in a conversation right there on the spot on the rehearsal stage with a crowd of people watching, but I was immediately troubled. That night in my hotel room, I spoke on the phone with my close friend and animal activist associate Nancy Burnet. We both agreed I couldn’t do the show if real furs were going to be worn and displayed by the contestants.

  The pageant had put me in a position that would be untenable after speaking at various locations around the country urging people not to wear furs. It would have been hypocritical of me to appear if the furs were used, and it would have destroyed my credibility within the animal rights movement. I couldn’t let down all of the people who had written me to lend their support for the cause.

  For me, the decision was simple. For the producers of the show, it was more complicated. George Honchar, the producer of the pageant, was a friend of mine, and we had thoroughly enjoyed working together on the show. He was in a difficult position because, as he told me and the news media, the furs were part of a contract the pageant had with a New York furrier. He said the coats were a necessary part of the show because of the advertising commitments and that he depended on my professionalism not to break my contract.

  I wasn’t combative, but I was firm. I told them, “If the contestants wear fur coats, I can’t participate.”

  The stage for a battle of wills was set. We met for an hour and a half on Monday night. George listened to me. I listened to him. Nothing was solved. I pleaded with him to arrange for fake furs to be used. He fell back on his obligations to his sponsors. George had a backup emcee ready in the wings to fill in for me. His name was Michael Young. He had been the emcee of the Miss Teen USA pageant.

  Fortunately, our conversations leaked to the media. The story of our standoff became national news. It was labeled the “fur flap” by reporters and editors around the country. The fur flap was on the front pages of newspapers, on the radio, and on national television. People were reading and hearing about this guy who was willing to give up his job out of concern for the animals that suffered horribly in the production of fur coats. All of this national publicity was the best thing that ever happened to the antifur campaign.

  The media was having a field day with this standoff, and I remember thinking that there had never been more media attention focused on the animal rights movement than during those few days. I learned later that CBS had received 568 telephone calls supporting me and my position, while eight calls (all from furriers) were received opposed to my position.

  To his credit, George Honchar was scrambling to come up with a solution. One of the things I remember him saying during the dispute was “I’m not looking at throwing Bob’s number of years with this event out the window.”

  I also remember that many of the contestants sympathized and respected my position on the fur coats. They were careful not to offend the pageant, but many of them were animal lovers and said that they supported my stand.

  Finally, at the last hour, George Honchar arranged to use fantastic fake furs, though it took quite a bit of last-minute hustling to get them from an Albuquerque department store. We agreed that the women would wear fake mink and ermine furs in the ski lodge number, and I would fulfill my hosting duties. I would also announce as the women strolled by, “All of the ladies a
re wearing simulated furs.”

  I was tremendously happy. I told George that animal rights groups across the country would hail him as a hero. He said that he had made the switch because he had no doubt that I was going to stick to my position, and he was right.

  When asked by the press how he would handle the furriers, George said, “I’ll deal with them later.” He also said to me, “This would have been a hell of a way to end our association.”

  I agreed that it would have been a terrible way to end our relationship. Sadly, my long, happy, and financially rewarding relationship with the pageants did indeed end the next year. As I noted, the pageant producers had agreed to no more furs in 1988, but they changed their minds.

  I was surprised when I learned that they were going to continue to give away a fur coat. I pleaded with George Honchar once again: “Please don’t put me in that position.”

  “It’s just a twelve-second plug at the end of the show, and you don’t even have to do it, a cohost will,” he said.

  But there was no budging in either of us that year. I promptly resigned as host. By quitting, I was fulfilling a pledge I had made in the previous year’s controversy. In truth, it was all sort of anticlimactic compared to the year before. There was no last-minute standoff. There was none of the drama of the year before, though my resignation did gain quite a bit of media attention. “Fur Flap II,” it was called, and again it was a boon to the antifur campaign.

  It was simply the culmination of my increased awareness and sensitivity to animal rights issues. I wasn’t bitter. I had done the pageant for twenty-one years. Certainly there was some sadness, but it was a matter of principle for me and a matter of business for the pageant. The Miss USA officials said that they respected my moral commitment, but theirs was a business decision. They had a long relationship with certain sponsors and advertisers, and they didn’t want to change that.