Priceless Memories - Bob Barker [70]
I could not resist commenting, “Charlie, we’re going to have to go out to eat because there goes the freezer.”
The group of protesters had set off two bombs. The first bomb exploded in the parking lot near our control truck, which was the technical and directorial center for the show. Like the booth in a studio, it was in the truck that our director and top technicians were making decisions essential to the production of the show.
Obviously, the anti-American group knew the importance of the truck, and they were attempting to knock the show off the air by blowing it up—and possibly the director and the technicians with it!
The second bomb was set off on the fifth floor of the Hotel Cerromar, and it destroyed three rooms. It blew furniture off a balcony hundreds of feet toward the beach. The explosion itself or the flying debris could easily have killed someone. It was a miracle that not one person was hurt by either explosion.
A few months later, we had to return to the Cerromar hotel in Dorado to broadcast the Miss Universe pageant. Despite the fact that we had contracted with the government of Puerto Rico, many friends—and all of our wives—were telling us to forget it. No show was worth it. But we decided to risk it under carefully controlled circumstances. This time, security was everywhere. I remember flying into the San Juan airport, and a small plane took me from San Juan out to the hotel. I felt as though I were in the middle of a World War II movie. There were spotlights from the ground on the airplane, lights all around the hotel, and armed guards everywhere. There were no tourists at all in the hotel—only hotel employees and people involved with the pageant. They had plainclothesmen on every floor, and uniformed sentries surrounded the hotel. The government of Puerto Rico wanted to make sure we weren’t blown up on their watch.
We were stuck in the hotel for six days. We went to dinner in the same dining room every night, and the contestants and folks working on the pageant were the only ones there. The hotel put on a floor show every night to entertain us—a flamenco dancer. We watched that same guy every night. If I never see another flamenco dancer again, it will be too soon. After dinner and the dancer, we were all bored. Everyone, including me, gambled every night—one of my few experiences with gambling (yes, I lost money). Anyway, thanks to the security, nothing happened. We did the show, and we all got out of there safely.
No matter where we were located, the pageant shows were always broadcast live. I was impressed by the ability of the young women who were pageant contestants to handle the pressure of live television. They were, for the most part, calm and collected, and it was a pleasure to work with such enthusiastic young ladies. There is a misconception that the young ladies in these pageants are not particularly intelligent. My experience over the course of twenty years is completely contrary to that notion. Obviously, in any group of young people, you’re going to have some who are brighter than others, but all in all, the contestants were extremely sharp and savvy, in addition to being talented and attractive. By the time they have reached the level of Miss USA or Miss Universe, they had to have won several other pageants, and they had learned quite a bit. Most people would be surprised at the level of poise and maturity these young women possessed.
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Despite all of the happy memories, I eventually left the pageants because of what came to be known as the “fur flap.” On the one hand, it was kind of sudden and unexpected, but in retrospect, it was also a natural conclusion to the series of events that led up to it.
My passion for animal rights was a process of growing awareness for me. I wasn’t always so aware or involved. I will be the