The Jellybean Contest

There were two ways to walk to Ivanhoe Elementary School from my house—three if you count the shortcut routes. One was up Angus Street and around and down. The other was down Angus Street to Hyperion Boulevard and then to Rowena.  This route took us by the stores and shops and gave us respite from the snippy dachshund that sometimes bolted from a garage along the other way.

One of businesses we passed was a portrait studio and in the window was sign advertising a jellybean-guessing contest. Inside the store, on the counter, was a large jar of the candies.  You wrote your name and guesstimate and gave it to the nice lady. There were lots of “nice ladies” in those days. (And note that in the picture they are wearing the requisite pearls and high hells.) My guess contained a lot of the number three for my birthday month and day.

The lucky winner would get ten dollars, which was a lot of money to a kid back then. Second place was five dollars. And third prize was all the jellybeans.  All three winners would get a free family portrait to boot.

I guess my choice of many threes was an auspicious one, because I won third prize. I think this was the first time I had ever won anything, and third prize looked pretty good. It never occurred to me that someone must have pawed over all those jellybeans to count them.  For one brief shining moment I was a minor neighborhood celeb, in spite of the fact that my eyes were shut in the picture.  Looking back, you think a professional photographer could have done a bit better.

Later, my parents, sister and I went and had our stiff family portrait taken.  I still use that picture in my 20^th Century America class as an example of a baby boomer family. And I’ve never really been that fond of jellybeans since then…except for the black ones.