Beauty And The Beaker

Now she keeps spare evening gowns and hot rollers in her car, along with a boxful of costume jewelry, a jumble of makeup, a laundry basket full of shoes, a few bananas and some Chex Mix, dance costumes and, of course, her crown. On the ferry she often takes from Cape May, N.J., back to Delaware, she has developed a certain reputation as the woman who drives on in her pajamas at 6 a.m., monopolizes the restroom, then emerges in a cocktail dress and full makeup.

The marketing of Jamie Ginn excited and worried state pageant advisers. Delaware stood a chance of producing the first Miss America from the corporate world, proof in Italian heels that beauty and the geek could be one and the same. Not so glamorous was her platform: bowel disorders. When she refused to switch, her interview coach urged her not to use the word "diarrhea." Jamie's family had already benefited from her status as a celebrity spokeswoman for the Crohn's and Colitis Foundation of America, her mother readily acknowledges. A top doctor who wasn't taking any new patients agreed to see Summer after a foundation board member intervened on her behalf, and the Ginns feel confident now that they're in the loop about new research and drug trials. In turn, Jamie figures she has helped raise about $20,000 for the cause.

A week before the Miss America pageant, her state board offered Jamie a free consultation with a California plastic surgeon who had developed a mathematical model for the ideal face.

Stephen Marquardt photographed Ginn without makeup, then placed his template over her image. Her nose was a bit short, her brows too arched, her lips too thin. Her hazel eyes were just right. They plucked her brows to lower them, and Marquardt showed her how to use makeup to correct the flaws and bring her image closer to the ideal.

Pretty was an equation after all.

Pageant Fever

The pageant proved more nightmare than dream-come-true for Ginn. With its network ratings plunging, the contest had abandoned Atlantic City for the glitz of Las Vegas and a spot on Country Music Television. Some 70 members of the Ginn clan booked trips to Sin City. Jamie came down with bronchitis and flew west with a raging fever.

Other girls steered a wide berth. "Sorry, I'm a vocalist," one said as she picked up her tray and moved to another dinner table. "Go away!" she heard Miss Arkansas pleading.

During her interview with the judges, Ginn was asked which posed the greater threat to the nation's future: global warming or terrorism? "They're interrelated," she remembers answering, launching into an explanation of the carbon cycle and wondering whether she could possibly come across any wonkier. Maybe if they made swimsuits with pocket protectors.

When the time came for her talent competition -- one-fourth of the score for Miss America -- Ginn was still sick. Her routine was fast-paced, full of the high leaps and tight turns she had spent her lifetime perfecting. She had danced on asphalt, in classrooms, on carpet, danced with no music, in business suits. Now, reeling in her black spangled costume, she danced to become Miss America, and the ground beneath her felt as if it were slipping crazily away. All she could do was smile and try to maintain her balance.

Reigning Days

The last chance was gone in five minutes. Miss Delaware didn't make it to the semifinals, and Jamie Ginn went home.

The new Miss America is a 20-year-old blond coed from Oklahoma who aspires to a career in musical theater.

Ginn splits her week now between her remaining beauty-queen duties and the job where success, she believes, could someday make a genuine contribution to world peace. Once she lost, Miss Delaware was allowed to return to the workforce. "I will go further in my career, whatever that may be," Ginn asserts, "because I have thrown myself into something 'outside the box.' "

On Capitol Hill, the lovely Miss Delaware is welcomed warmly when she appears in senators' offices to lobby on behalf of Crohn's. She talks about requiring private businesses to make their bathrooms available for people with medical emergencies, and about increasing funds for research. Her sister is enduring another flare-up now, and at 12 is still so small that chaperones mistook her for a younger child and tried to bar her from her seventh-grade dance.

One recent weekend, Ginn watched her littlest sister, 10-year-old Briar Rose, compete in the Future Little Miss Cape May County pageant, a title Jamie herself once held. Briar Rose is a brilliant student, Jamie boasts, but she's shy, so entering this pageant was a big step, even though she didn't win. Her voice was clear and sweet as she sang "I Enjoy Being a Girl," and her mother later told Jamie how she had discovered Briar Rose in Jamie's old room, trying on one of her big sister's crowns.

Just, she said, to see how it looked.