They weren't born with the beauty queen strut or the flirty head toss. And neither was Scott Grossman.
But he learned to work it.
He keeps this detail at the very front of his mind as he casts a long look at latest batch of women assembled in the Universal City Hilton's Grand Ballroom looking to hit their stride.
This is only the third rehearsal. There are just a handful more before showtime Monday, when the contestants will parade across the stage at the Kodak Theatre -- the first time the show's been in the city of L.A. -- each hoping she has the right mix of charm, moxie and innocence to become the next Miss USA.
He might have a lot of work ahead of him.
The atmosphere this dreary day feels a bit like a late-afternoon gym class. He can see as the contestants file into the room, plopping listlessly onto the banquet chairs, that the energy is flagging. But Grossman, who's been choreographing beauty pageants for 10 years, won't let it stagnate. Taking a few quick strides to the front of the room, he chases the mood, as if he's flinging open the windows to chase out a bad smell.
"OK ladies, we're going to shake off lunch now," he says, projecting from his spot before a bank of mirrors propped against one of the ballroom's walls, clapping his hands.
The young women, most in their early 20s, straggle into formation. Some in sweatsuits and sneakers, others in short skirts and heels, all of them, however, in full makeup, styled hair -- falls, glossy Breck-girl curls, bouncy ponytails, princess buns. All of it wrapped in those famous satin sashes advertising their states of origin.
It's Grossman's job to make walking around in 6-inch heels and a swimsuit look like the most natural activity in the world. If anyone is going to tease that illusion out of them it's Grossman, 44, who has become the pageant world's go-to guy. As choreographer -- a task he approaches as equal parts coach and cheerleader -- it's also his duty to help these young women convey confidence, uniqueness, self-possession and a layer of sensuality that may be beyond their years. It can be the tilt of a head, the deliberateness of one's gait, but it is what's left unsaid, he stresses, that is often more important.
"You only have one minute," he tells them, pointing to where a chair stands in as a television camera.
"When you look into that camera, your eyes will convey your spirit, that innocence, the essence of you: beauty, peace, love. That is your moment, the spot turn, that second pose into that camera. But you only have that moment. That's your moment. Once you come back, the judging begins."
From the field to stage
It's delicate alchemy, Grossman knows. But having confidence in your movements and your body can open hidden doors. So how did he come to be the pageant movement maestro? It's a long story and it starts with -- of all things -- football.
Playing offensive tackle in the late '70s for Minnesota's Concordia College, Grossman recalls that he was always watching the cheerleaders -- but not in the way one might initially expect. "I learned the plays, but I also learned the school song."
But really, once he thought about it, it was all the same. With time of the essence, the most effective approach in teaching a football playbook or choreography, Grossman says, is repetition and emulation. "I spoon-feed them movement out of my own body," he says. "I let them plug into me for a moment and pull it all out of me, to give them an idea of how it might feel."
Tall, tan and muscular, Grossman, dressed casually today in cargo pants, a plaid shirt over a gray T-shirt, sneakers, looks more like he's headed out for a day hike -- or a J.Crew catalog shoot -- rather than heading a jazz-dance class. The room is empty of furniture except for a couple dozen banquet chairs in the back and two long, covered tables strewn with CD cases, legal pads, pens and thick rolls of Day-Glo tape for blocking. He takes a quick stride over to a tiny boombox hooked to a large floor speaker, then presses play. Out blasts a steady techno beat. It's no longer a stuffy ballroom in the Valley; he wants the girls to imagine a nightspot, a packed-to-the-rafters Hollywood boite.
Bellowing over the beat and the synthesizers, Grossman asks that they step back, imagine themselves "in an eclectic club. Hollywood. Not a Vegas show. Not old Hollywood -- though we respect it -- but this is a hot night in modern-day Hollywood. And you need to walk around and show everyone that you've got it goin' on!"
