I left Pennsylvania for Los Angeles on a sunny early October day in 1981. It took us four days to cross the country with my clothes, toiletries, and Schwinn bike hanging off the back of the trunk. My dad’s light green 1971 Chevy Impala with snow tires and 100,000 miles on it made it effortlessly. Eight months later, my mom and dad flew out for their first visit to Los Angeles.
Their trip was partly to visit me, my Italian parents’ youngest daughter, who dared to leave Western Pennsylvania for a chance at a different life. Weeks before I was to leave, I witnessed Mom mopping the kitchen floor, crying and saying, “Why you gadda move a so damn a far away? Why can’t you be like a your brothers anna stay here and get a married? Your father was gonna build you a nice a lilla house right beside ours, so you could a be close. You’re my lilla gal a — you can’t a leave!”
I knew there was no way I was going to win this fight, so I said the words she’d wanted to hear for a decade: “But Ma, if I move to Los Angeles, you can visit and finally be on ‘The Price Is Right’!”
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It was as if the tears immediately reversed course. She stopped mopping, looked up at me, beaming, and said, “Really Franzy, you ting I have a chance?”
I reassured her, “Of course, you have as good a chance as anybody!”
So, their trip was also to see if a dream could come true. For years, my mother talked about wanting to be a contestant on “The Price Is Right.” It may have started as a last grasp at the fame she dreamed of as a young woman when everyone told her she resembled silent film star Pola Negri. Or maybe she just thought Bob Barker, the game show’s host, was cute. But after a lifetime of not being valued by her parents — and underestimated by everyone else — I think my mother was out to prove something.
People in our little town thought she was a dreamer. One woman in her 500-card club even said, “And what makes you think you have a chance?” My mother was furious. “How dare she say datta!” Mom was adamant she was getting on that show to prove everyone wrong for ever doubting her.
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As we waited in line at CBS Studios, Mom was like a little kid. Grabbing my arm every few minutes she said, “Frenzy, you think a dey call onna me?” Then, looking heaven-ward she said, “Jesus, please if a dey call onna me, tella me what a to say. Frenzy, what if I get a tongue a tied? Jesus please, you put a da words in a my mouth … OK?”
Jesus and I had our hands full that morning with questions and requests. My non-showbiz-loving dad trailed behind us muttering, “What are you so excited for? It’s only a stupid TV show.”
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We patiently waited with our name tags on to be interviewed by the show’s producer. My mother was interviewed first. If she’d been any more excited, she would have experienced liftoff. She knew this was her time to shine.
Producer: “Hello Mary, why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself?”
Mom: “Well a everyday at a 11 a clock, I gatta go to da TV and a put on a Bob a Barker anna da ‘Price Is a Right’ a. My husband calls itta da holy hour. I just a love a his show and a I think he’s a very nize a man.”
She smiled her biggest smile and was happier and peppier than I’d ever seen her. This was as close as she would ever come to her dream of stardom, right up there with the time she won the Miss Beaver County title. I was terrified they wouldn’t pick her.
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The producer then interviewed my dad and me, both dull as nasal spray compared with Mom. We were then seated in the air-conditioned studio in one of the last rows. Mom was convinced this was a bad sign.
The corners of her smile drooped and in a lifeless voice she leaned toward me and murmured, “I don’t a think a they gonna pick us if a they put us all a da way inna da back, Frenzy.”
I didn’t want to get her hopes up, but I also didn’t want to imagine her disappointment if she wasn’t picked, so I borrowed one of my parents’ favorite phrases, “Well, we’ll see.”
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Loud, upbeat music was playing to excite the crowd. My mother was clapping her hands, offbeat as usual. This further embarrassed my father, who had the same look on his face that he sported while waiting for a doctor’s appointment.
“Keep quiet” he kept saying. “You always gotta make a show, don’t you?”
“I don’t a care, I’m a here to have a gooda time and I’m a gonna have a gooda time!” Mom said defiantly with a firm nod of her head.
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I sat between the two of them wondering how I was going to get through the next hour, let alone deal with my mom if she wasn’t picked. It was too much to consider, so I started clapping my hands and looking excited too. If they didn’t pick her, they might pick me. That, she could handle.
The show’s announcer, Johnny Olson, came into the audience to flirt with all the women and gave me a Scope-laced kiss on the mouth. Mom was convinced this was a sign I would be a contestant.
“You’re a young a gal … what do dey wand wit an old a baddle axe a like a me? Dey gonna peek a you honey,” she said, smiling weakly and trying hard to hide her disappointment.
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The audience lights went down and out came Barker. Olson announced the first four audience members to “come on down” to Contestants’ Row for the first game of the show.
My mother wasn’t one of them. My insides began to tighten. Oh no, I thought, I brought them all the way here and now she only has a few chances left to be chosen. What if she doesn’t make it? Please let her make it, I prayed and began wondering what I’d have to promise God to swing a deal. I’d forgotten the heavy hitter was right beside me.
If you’re not familiar with the mysteries of Catholicism, there’s a prayer Catholics save for things like the World Series and childbirth. It’s called a novena. A novena is a prayer you say for nine straight days — then you miraculously get what you prayed for. My mother never went a day without at least seven holy medals pinned to her bra and had recited about 9 billion novenas in her lifetime. Finally, someone was listening because the second round of contestants was called and Olson’s voice boomed, “Mary Tunno, come on down!”
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“Meeeeee! Dey peeked a me!” she squealed as she rose from her seat. She trotted down the aisle in her bright blue dress, waving her fists triumphantly, radiantly flashing her Miss Beaver County smile, ready to meet her idol, Bob Barker.
My father was gobsmacked. He couldn’t believe that she said she’d get picked and then got picked. I imagined everyone in our small town, including the woman from mom’s card club, thinking the same thing.
Mom tearfully told Barker, “I been wanting to see you for a long a time,” which drew a big “Awwwww” from the audience. After that, she forgot her hometown and was pretty nervous, but after several attempts, correctly guessed the price of a set of luggage and got to leave Contestants’ Row. As Mom walked onstage and placed a loving kiss on Barker’s cheek, I envisioned the card club lady’s plate of steaming hot crow.
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Mom then had to determine prices in the Hi Lo game. Barker kept telling the audience to yell louder because she couldn’t hear them, but she didn’t guess enough prices correctly and was crushed when she lost.
I thought she was finished after that loss, but she ended up being one of several contestants who got to roll the big wheel to win a spot in the Showcase Showdown, the grand finale where the biggest prizes are given. Mom rolled the wheel and scored a 45, then rolled a 50, totaling a 95, almost the highest number possible. That made her one of only two remaining contestants.
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My dad and I sat there incredulous that my mom was one of two finalists! The other contestant was a sweetheart from Fort Dodge, Iowa, named Darlene. Once the Showcase Showdown began, Mom made a bid on a package including a dining room set and other items. The finalist who bid closest to the actual price of all of the prizes without going over would win, but I didn’t think Mom’s bid was close enough. She looked up at me hopefully, but I had a doubtful look on my face.
Then it was Darlene’s turn. Here’s the part that further bolsters my novena theory: Darlene made her first bid, looked at the screaming crowd, got scared and nervously changed her bid. The only thing that disqualifies you in this part of the show is overbidding, which is what Darlene did by changing her bid.
So, my mom, with her second-grade education and Italian accent, not only got on the show and got to meet and kiss Barker, but ended up the winner of the showcase. Her dream came true unmistakably. It was as though the universe planted this idea in her head and she wouldn’t rest until she saw it through. Then everything worked as it was supposed to and things just fell into place.
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My dad and I looked at each other in shock as we walked to the stage to greet mom and Barker, who, as she predicted, was very sweet.
Mom ended up bringing home:
An elegant dining room set by Broyhill.
A handsome set of luggage on wheels by Skyway.
A set of Queen Anne Dinnerware by Wilton Armetale.
A complete service for 12 of gold-plated flatware with chest.
A tasteful and elegant walnut bar with three barstools.
Thirty square yards of carpeting from West Point-Pepperell.
And a delicious serving of crow for the woman in her card club.
Adding to her delight, when Mom got back to New Brighton, she was a local celebrity and her “Price Is Right” story was featured in the Beaver County Times. My best friend Carolyn made a congratulatory banner and photos were taken of mom, family and friends holding it in front of the garage. Mom said being on that show and winning was the best moment of her life and I was thrilled to have played a tiny part in it.
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My mom died 10 years later, but her refusal to let go of her dream, and her positive attitude, changed how I thought about her and life.
My mother’s big win left me humbled. I sat in that crowd and was sure she was out of the running after the Hi Lo contest. Then she spun almost the highest number you can on the wheel, and ended up one of two finalists in the Showcase Showdown.
This college graduate also thought the woman with the second-grade education had bid incorrectly. She did not. I used to shake my head at her absolute conviction that she was a winner. And then she won.
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During my teen years, I was always so afraid people would assume I was just like my mom, associating her lack of education and thick accent with being less than. I’ve come full circle to say the highest compliment anyone could pay me now would be to say, “Wow, she’s just like her mom.”
Her win gave me new respect for people with a vision. I think there’s a reason you’re given a dream. The universe, God, whatever you want to call it, wants you to pursue it. And, if you do, things will come together to make it happen. She showed me that if you want something badly enough, you have to go for it. You can’t listen to people who say you don’t have a chance. They’re probably just afraid to dream big themselves.
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Not being valued by her parents made my mom stronger and even more determined to show them and everyone that she was someone. It would have been so easy to slide into resentment and anger, yet she chose to stay positive and never treat her children as she was treated. I’m tremendously thankful for the strength that must have taken.
It’s been more than four decades since my mother’s 15 minutes of fame, but each year in September, the month her episode aired, I view a grainy videotape of her appearance on “The Price Is Right” and smile. I do it to honor her and every big dreamer out there. Keep the faith, and keep trying because you want your dream, and just as importantly, your dream wants you.
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Fran Tunno is a blogger and the author of the forthcoming book, “Come On Down! A Little Story About My Italian Mom’s Big Dream.” Fran’s essays have appeared in the Los Angeles Times and The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. She’s been featured on NPR’s “Snap Judgment” and WritersRead.org. True to her Italian roots, Fran loves writing, cooking, sharing stories and feeding people. Connect with her on her blog, AtFransTable.com.
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