‘Queens for a Day’ Stretch Out Reign to a Lifetime : Women: The radio/TV show has been off the air for almost 30 years. Yet many of its winners meet regularly--to socialize, raise funds and reflect on how royalty has changed their lives.

If you want to know the truth, Queen Helen confides, there was a time she used to giggle at the program: “I didn’t realize I had a pitiful tale until I went on the show.”

In the annals of radio and television entertainment, “Queen for a Day” was unique. Contestants didn’t play word games, weren’t tested for knowledge. They didn’t guess the price of merchandise or wear strange costumes. Instead, they revealed their humble dreams, and very often their hardships. The studio audience, by applause, picked the lucky gal.

Back then, Helen Carroll was a nurse at Hollywood Presbyterian Hospital and had recently become separated from her husband. One day, she went shopping with her sister and decided to drop in on the “Queen for a Day” radio broadcast. Many women filled out cards, hoping to become contestants.

Helen wrote: “Need washing machine. Have two children, pregnant with third. No husband.” She was stunned when her name was called.

Jack Bailey, the regular emcee, was in Europe, and the guest host milked Helen’s circumstances for all they were worth, avoiding the delicate matter of “no husband.” This was 1951, after all.

By the time he finished, even Helen’s rivals joined in the applause to help her win.

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Relatively few folks in Van Nuys and Long Beach know of this phenomenon. But every other month, these communities host a gathering of royalty--the Queen for a Day Club’s regular meeting.

This month, it was Van Nuys’ turn. The back room at George’s Buffet was reserved for a gathering that brought Queen Helen together with Queens Emily and Emma, Rose and Rosaleen, Elle and Alvina, Leanorah and Lucille, and Claribel. Just for the fun of it, they address each other in regal terms. Husbands in attendance included King Tom, King George, King Bill and King Hank.

The youngest members are in their 60s. The oldest, club historian Juanita Bowman, is 92. Their slogan is “Queenly Forever.”

Now queenhood, in and of itself, is not necessarily a virtue. Marie Antoinette, of course, said, “Let them eat cake” before losing her head. But these queens strive to be good and wise. They are, after all, all-American queens, who were chosen by democratic applause.

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Queen Lucille Helwig of Van Nuys, club president, gently taps her gavel. In this semi-secret society, it is time to get down to business.

A drawing is held and a name selected--Rose Kraus. Queen Lucille places a rhinestone crown on Kraus’ head, signifying her role as this meeting’s honorary queen. Soon Kraus removes it. The crown is too heavy for comfort.

Queen Lucille taps the gavel again to discourage chatting. Now she discusses fund-raising efforts, such as their annual yard sale and “Bake-less Bake Sale.” (Rather than actually bake cakes, they all contribute a few dollars from time to time.)

Last year, the queens donated $1,500 to Childrens Hospital Los Angeles. Over the years, the queens have donated $25,000, earning a lobby wall plaque as hospital patrons.

Not too shabby, Queen Lucille points out, for a group of barely two dozen members.

Up next is a group photo. Struggling to fit all 10 women in the frame, the photographer asks them to choose a queen, any queen, to be seated in the foreground.

“CLARIBEL!” they demand, practically in unison.

Claribel Anderson is, clearly, a queen’s queen. It is her, more than anyone, who has held this group together for 28 years after “Queen for a Day” ceased production in 1965. The show ran on radio from 1945 to 1955, then TV until 1965, crowning some 5,000 women along the way. In ’55 and ‘56, it was on both radio and TV.

Queen Claribel has served 17 one-year terms as president and she has come all the way from Las Vegas to attend this meeting, bringing along a scrapbook thick with old photos and yellowed newspaper clippings.

She well remembers the days when the club, founded in 1946, had more than 250 members. Now the vagaries of life and, inevitably, of death have winnowed active membership to 24. But nothing dulls her anticipation of club’s 50th anniversary, just three years hence.

Queen Claribel tells of her unsuccessful efforts to organize a Las Vegas chapter. There were four queens in the area and she thought it would be nifty if they met at the Four Queens Hotel and Casino. It never happened because two Vegas queens recently died. Her tone is matter of fact, her mood nothing but cheerful.

Queen Helen’s daughter, Monica, theorizes that perhaps such positive attitudes helped persuade studio audiences to make them queens. In that more innocent age of lower expectations, perhaps they conveyed a can-do spirit of generosity, not an attitude of woe-is-me.

Queen Alvina Brass, for example, asked for an artificial leg for her daughter. Queen Leanorah Martin sought a device to dry the air in her severely asthmatic son’s bedroom--a wish that enabled him to relocate from his grandparents’ home in Utah to rejoin his parents in West Los Angeles.

Lives changed in ways big and small.

Queen Emma Sundelius wanted those newfangled manual automobile controls to allow her 18-year-old daughter, Doreen, stricken with polio at age 5, to lead a more normal life. Queen Emma can’t overstate the importance: “It just brightened her life. She could do things just like the other kids could do.”

In May, Queen Emma proudly attended the wedding of Doreen’s own daughter, Tracy. “It was a gorgeous thing,” she says.

Some requests were more funny than sad. Queen Rosaleen Johnson wanted a fence to help corral her big family. Back then, she was a 28-year-old housewife with seven children. “The audience let out a gasp,” she recalls, laughing.

Yet another contestant--though not a club member--asked for her husband to be stretched a half-inch so he could apply to the LAPD.

Queen Lucille’s dream had a fairy-tale quality--to sing with a big band. She did so, performing with the Lawrence Welk Orchestra at Santa Monica Ballroom.

The queens’ wish today is that, somehow, their show would come back.

There’s been a lot of talk, but not much action. About 10 years ago, “Queen” producer Harry Mynatt tried to launch a revival with Monte Hall as host--to no avail. Monte Hall, one queen explains with a shrug, is no Jack Bailey. And Jack Bailey died in 1980.

At this meeting, Queen Lucille reports that Mynatt recently suffered a heart attack and she passes around a get-well card for the members to sign.

But for the queens, the show still comes back--as a memory.

The nervousness, the suspense, the triumph--Queen Emily Anderson talks about it like happened yesterday. She had wished for a new suit for her husband. Her tale was of a serious illness and medical bills that had ruined family finances.

“When you get that crown, and those roses, and that robe--oh, what a feeling!” Queen Emily recalls, her expression still brightened by a day now 45 years past. “It made so many people happy--and granted so many wishes for people that really needed it. It was the most wonderful thing that ever happened to me.”

Who would have thought that giveaway TV show that went dark 28 years ago would still be giving?