The Call of the Pageant

Suzie Harrison

It was on a summer-like day in January that I walked down the

street to the Festival of Arts grounds. With each foot hitting the

pavement, myriad questions were in my mind: What would it be like?

Would I be cast? ...

Only a few days before, at Art Walk, I met a man and his wife who

lived in Newport Beach, but were true Laguna wannabes -- they said so

themselves -- including annually attending the January ritual of

participating in the Pageant of the Masters casting call.

He said he has yet to make the cut. So I wondered, would my fate

be similar?

Still, I had to remember when the butterflies started to flap

their wings in my stomach that it’s all about measurements and height

-- not a 36-24-36 model-esque type of requirement; rather, being able

to fill the shoes of a woman in Norman Rockwell’s “First Day of

School” or Francoise Girardon’s “Apollo Tended by the Nymphs.”

The Pageant is about standing in a pose for two minutes, making

the world’s greatest pieces of art come alive. Hmm, no pressure

there. And how many sold-out audiences coming from around the world

to see this original art form would be staring at me?

All right. It was time to turn off the what ifs, suppositions and

over-contemplating that raced through my mind. After all, upward of

400 persons do it every year -- men, women and children. Many like it

so much that they volunteer every summer.

Cari Patterson, 40, from Mission Viejo was there with her family.

Brianna, 14, had been cast for three years, and Heather, 12, had been

in the show, too.

“I was really excited because I wanted to be in it really bad,”

Brianna said. “When they called, I jumped up and down.”

At sign up, master carpenter Jay Proskovec greeted cast hopefuls,

handed them information cards and explained a little bit about the

process. He explained that I would be measured, and my picture would

be taken. There were plenty of people around me vying to be a part of

the action.

“Yesterday and today will be well over 500 people,” said Frank

Wales, volunteer for 33 years. He pointed me in the direction to get

my first measurements.

I stopped at the headdress station first, where they took

measurements. Next, I made my way to an area where I was measured

across my shoulder, from my shoulder to my waist, from my sleeve to

my elbow and my inseam, and all other sorts of inches by inches were

recorded.

Along the way, I chatted with other people who were doing the

casting call shuffle. Ilse Cook, 75, and her friend Dorethea Purdy,

73, from Laguna Niguel were there socializing with nearly every

person they saw. They were veterans.

“My husband and I used to do this together before he passed away,

so I asked my friend if she wanted to do it, and she said sure,” Cook

said. “We’ve been friends for 35 years, and the people here have

become like friends. They’re like a family.”

Lead sculptor Judy Parker, who has been with the Pageant for 20

years, measured my height. Two steps away, I was greeted by sculptor

Lyle Brooks, who is in his eighth season, Pageant-wise.

“We’re just getting started,” Brooks said. “It’s kind of like the

first days of school, gearing up, getting everything ready.”

I stood on a block with three-dimensional mirrors behind me

getting all the angles. Brooks said that there was a grid in the

mirror that cross-referenced height and got both profiles, front and

back.

That was it. I was done. It wasn’t so bad. To tell the truth, it

was actually a lot of fun.

Mission accomplished. I made my way toward the generous spread of

food and drinks that were being enjoyed by other cast hopefuls.

On the wall in front of where I was standing, people were looking

closely at the miniaturized gallery of pictures, art that would

comprise this year’s Pageant, “Seasons.”

While I was standing there, I was wondering if everyone was

thinking the same thing: “Where might I be cast? I wonder if I would

work in Gustave Caillebotte’s ‘Paris Street: Rainy Day.’”

Scanning the possibilities, I looked at each piece asking myself,

“Could that be me?”

* SUZIE HARRISON is a reporter for the Laguna Beach Coastline

Pilot. She may be reached at 494-4321 or suzie.harrison@latimes.com.