It was a dark and stormy night. Oops, wrong story. It was the early 1980s and my girlfriend and I at the time hung out a lot with our good friends Rick and Shawna, the original owners of Madame Jumels restaurant in Saratoga Springs, New York. I’m not sure what’s there now, but Madame Jumels was at the end of Caroline Street and quite a popular place in its day. I was a big fan of the morning radio show on WPYX hosted at the time by Bob Mason and Bill Sheehan, a pair of twisted jocks known for their over-the-top jokes. (Now known as Wakin’ Up With the Wolf, hosted by Bob Wolffeld.) They came up with the idea of having a Marylou Whitney look-alike contest. For the uninformed, Marylou Whitney is the widow of millionaire Cornelius Vanderbilt Whitney and a local celebrity, socialite, philanthropist, and good girl. The thought of cheating on her in a stunt contest was more than she could bear. I made it a point to talk to my friends about joining the contest.
Rick and Shawna were more familiar with Mrs. Whitney than I was, as they also ran a horse-drawn carriage business that Marylou had used the services of. The event was to be held at Siros, a popular upscale restaurant and watering hole near the Saratoga racetrack. They all agreed that this would be great. As seasoned veterans of the infamous Bolton Landing Bed Races in Lake George for several years, we had a good idea of how to make headlines while having fun. It’s kind of a Ratpack thing. Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra, Sammy Davis Jr., Peter Lawford and Angie Dickinson; we had learned from the best. Back when men were men… and alcohol was your friend. Growing up in the sixties surely had its benefits. We set about making our strategy.
It was decided that the horse and carriage would help make our entrance memorable. Since Rick and Shawna would be driving the carriage and I was ugly enough as a man, not to mention the well-preserved Whitney, that left my girlfriend as Marylou. The girls came up with an eye-catching dress as one might imagine Marylou wearing for one of her annual soirees at the Canfield Casino. Rick and I decided on leotards (kind of a court jester look) and long trumpets as part of our attire and accessories for our parts like her “Her Majesty’s” entourage. It was also decided that “our” Marylou would wear a blonde wig and gold tiara, as well as an “inch” garbage bag to mimic a news clipping of the real Marylou wearing the same one during a thunderstorm at the Saratoga racetrack. We listed some family and friends as “press agents” with fedoras and press passes. We also outfitted my nephew Ken with a VHS camcorder, a bulky contraption at the time, as he practically had to carry an entire VCR on a shoulder strap of his own. With our costumes complete, it was time for the big day.
Our concert officially started at 6am, coinciding with WPYX’s 6-10am morning drive show. We decided to be gracefully late (or maybe it was a hangover). Regardless, our timing turned out to be impeccable as we were, as I recall, the last contestants to arrive. Our horse and carriage pulled up in front of Siro’s with as much fanfare as we could muster. The grounds were packed with spectators, as well as various boys and girls dressed as Marylou. Rick and I jumped up and rolled out a red carpet for our celebrity. We did our best trumpet rendition of the racetrack riff and held “our” Marylou’s hands as she walked down the steps of her carriage. The crowd went crazy. All the local TV news cameras rushed to record the show. We escorted “our” Marylou through the crowd as she pressed meat and tossed fake money into the air. Rick, Shawna and I dutifully stayed in character as we tended to “our” Marylou and made our way through a sea of people and into Siros. Reporters scrambled for interviews, and “our” Marylou made them eat out of her hand as she recited, “Trash, flash, cash; no one rides for free.”
We were ushered to the DJ table as an exchange of views ensued between the kind-hearted Mrs. Whitney and our impostor. Judging began, and despite the many outrageous and wonderful costumes, we won hands down. Don’t brag; just made Mrs. Whitney kindly invited us to stop by her boxes on the runway later that day, where we were promptly ejected for inappropriate dress, but not before we were introduced to some of Marylou’s friends. Our reward? Two all-expense paid air/hotel tickets to Universal Studios in Los Angeles and the LA Coliseum for Bruce Springsteen’s Born in the USA tour under a warm moonlit night.
Marylou Whitney; one hell of a sport.