Tryouts! Wanted: A female singer for a radio commercial. This is a paid job. The announcment boomed out over the loudspeaker of my high school daily bulletin.Those interested in applying, may contact Mister Smith, Principal.
Two students applied. Cassandra Martinez & I.
Cassandra Martinez arrived to the Principal’s Office a minute after I did. She was fifteen, bosomy, Latina. Allowed to wear lipstick, foundation, & mascara, & notable, to me, her style preferences tended toward brand new sweaters, blouses, and skirts bought from Holman’s Department Store.
I was fourteen, wore second-hand sweaters & skirts, wasn’t allowed to wear any make-up except for pimple medication, wore my straight blonde hair in a feather duster style fanning out from the top of my head, & had never taken singing lessons with the exception of church choir,
The Principal quietly explained that we needed our parents’ written permission, that an audition was just that, a tryout, with no guarantee that either of us would win the job. Cassandra said, I think I have a chance because I take singing lessons. I said, I think I have a chance because I like to sing.
Excused from school the morning of the audition, I walked several blocks to the offices of KNBR Monterey, near Casa Munras. KNBR Monterey at that time broadcast an after-school pop hits show, with a D-jay spinning–Hound Dog, Tutti Fruitti, Blueberry Hill, Whole Lotta Shakin’ Goin’ On, stuff like that. My parents disapproved of most of the songs, but they didn’t forbid me to listen –as long as my grade average stayed at 3.5 or above. As I opened the door of the station’s headquarters, a car pulled up to the curb & I saw Cassandra emerge.
Inside the spotless, air-conditioned building, a million dollar sound system broadcast Elvis’ persuasive voice, pleading Don’t Be Cruel. I felt welcomed with no time to feel nervous. A receptionist came from behind the counter & ushered us into the inner sanctum where Mister Connolly waited expectantly. Mister Connolly, balding, portly, wore a brownish suit, beige shirt, & red bow tie. He shook hands with Cassandra, then with me.
“I have your applications right here, girls. Here’s the jingle! It’s sung to the tune of Row, Row, Row Your Boat.You have ten minutes to study it.
“Cassandra, your name falls in the c’s, alphabetically, so you sing first. Roberta, you’ll go next. The mic’s cued up, treble & bass–it’s state of the art– picks up every whisper. Remember to keep your lips about three inches from the mic.
Any questions? No? O.K. Good luck!”
Ten minutes later, the audition began. With confidence, Cassandra stepped into the glassed-in, sound-proof room. A mic hung from the ceiling & she opened her mouth to sing.
I continued to look down at my paper, to memorize the words. When it was my turn, I handed the paper back to Mister Connolly. He adjusted the height of the mic.
I hit the opening note– & nailed it!
Ivory, Ivory, Ivory Soap,
So sudsy, so white, so pure!
Like bathing in a mountain stream!
Like floating in a sweet, sweet dream!
Mmmm, Ivory, Ivory, Ivory, Ivory,
So pure, so white, so clean!
I’d done it! My first audition!
” Girls,thank you for coming down to the station. You both did wonderful! The sponsors will give your recordings a listen & I’ll notify your school about the final decision. Thank you again!'”
Nine days later, I sat very small & quiet at my classroom desk as the entire school listened in. Over the school loudspeaker system, Cassandra’s contralto tones rang out, jubilant & pure.
…Like floating in a sweet, sweet dream!
Ivory, Ivory, Ivory, Ivory!
Floating in a dream!
A few months later, one afternoon at school, there was one only one topic of conversation. Cassandra. Cassandra is Pregnant! Really?! Who’s the father? It’s the station manager who set up her audition! He’s going to divorce his wife & marry her!
“What a tyrant!” my mother said, when I told my parents what Cassandra had done. “What a manipulator! You’re lucky you weren’t chosen!” “Yes,” said my father. “That man took advantage of that poor girl, filled her head with wild promises of a singing career, she opened up her legs wide as heaven & he plunged his Dickie bird into her nest! The only winner in this story is the baby. That baby is their lucky prize!
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