![junior miss pageant 1999 topless junior miss pageant 1999 topless](https://th-thumbnailer.cdn-si-edu.com/3zWc5nhheYNyrO2B3r9G4BV5qS0=/fit-in/1600x0/https://tf-cmsv2-smithsonianmag-media.s3.amazonaws.com/filer/42/39/42390a07-f1fe-4193-ac63-db7b09e25d11/santamaria.jpg)
Such reconsideration doesn't come without serious rest stops regarding matters like, say, that swimsuit contest. Getting to know this organization - which provides more college scholarship money for American women than any other, and is dependent upon a corps of 40,000 volunteers - causes a complex overhaul of the feminist dogma one is fed from the 1970s. Many are as polished as your average member of Congress. Sure, some contestants were airheads, but more of the young women seemed born of the ambitious executive track rather than the weird JonBenet pageant-from-cradle pool.
![junior miss pageant 1999 topless junior miss pageant 1999 topless](https://bloximages.newyork1.vip.townnews.com/columbiamissourian.com/content/tncms/assets/v3/editorial/8/0a/80afe2f6-1634-11eb-911d-77c99d495994/5f948a498dd92.image.jpg)
While there were anticipated moments of high camp and high kitsch in my backstage peek at the festivities, the experience was much different than I thought it would be. In my four days at the Miss America pageant, I learn that Harold is hardly the only state representative who's this professional. "That's a compliment coming from a reporter!" "Twenty-two! Has anyone ever said to you that you're too polished?" I ask. Not the kind of young beauty I'm used to, at any rate. When I first saw the contestants at Wednesday's preliminary competitions, I was amazed at how young they look. "I think every contestant has some sort of wonderful attribute or they wouldn't be here," Harold says sincerely. "Is every contestant here a wonderful person?" (They're even officially called "state representatives.") "Do you like everybody?" I ask Harold. But these young women are politicians, or at least extremely politic. I mean, everybody I've spoken to hates Miss USA Today. "She's right next to me during the opening number. "She said she works 40 hours a week and is past her prime and doesn't have time to work out," Harold says. Harold laughs, but defends the journalist again. "She said she had a deadline," Harold explains sweetly. "Isn't that convenient?" I joke to Harold. Miss USA Today's group of contestants - for preliminaries, the 51 contestants are divided into three groups - did swimsuit tonight, but she wasn't there. "I guess because none of us ever met her at Starbucks on the Upper West Side." (The subsequent story makes Barker even less popular.) "She demonstrated a total lack of respect for the contestants, the judges and organization officials," one in-the-know pageant source gripes. A number of people associated with the pageant are annoyed with Olivia Barker, a USA Today reporter who's spending a few days as a contestant. I begin with what I think will naturally arouse some ire. It's the second time I've spoken with her, and since she's obviously bright and seems maybe interesting, I'm trying to get her to open up a bit about matters other than her compelling stories of being a victim of some clearly traumatic high school bullying. And never is heard a disparaging word from her mouth. Right now it's the Thursday before the Saturday when she's awarded the tiara, and as of this moment she's merely Miss Illinois, Erika Harold, a nice young woman whom I've glommed onto because her brief biographical sketch - she'll begin matriculation at Harvard Law School in a year - makes her seem like an antidote to the vacuous bims I've been told are surrounding me. She doesn't know she's Miss America 2003 yet, and neither do I.