I have a guest post today from Norm Benedict, the local author of “Thumbs Up, V for Victory, I Love You.” His book is a fascinating memoir of growing up in Columbia, Missouri, in the 1940’s and 1950’s. If you enjoy the story of Miss Mizzou and want to know more about how Columbia was during her heyday, I would highly recommend this book.
Before the Miss Mizzou book had come out I asked him he would write about his memories of Miss Mizzou. Here’s Norm’s response:
Face-to-Face With an Icon: The Origin of the Word “Mizzou”
Written by Norm Benedict
I’m of the age of those who were blessed to have grown up during the so-called “golden age” of comic books and strips. And I would imagine if you hoarded a few of those delicately prepared publications and kept them safe, they’d be worth a pretty penny today.
With the end of World War II still vivid in everyone’s memory, and if my thinking is correct, around the time the Korean War was just getting underway, (somewhere between June 1950 and the end of 1951) Milton Caniff, writer/illustrator of a highly popular WWII comic strip called “Terry and the Pirates”, emerged with “Steve Canyon.” He had traded, as conventional wisdom goes, strips with fellow cartoonist George Wunder, who took over the continuing saga of “Terry,” and letting “Canyon” move on to Caniff’s nimble mind and fingers.
Caniff never attended the University of Missouri. He was a graduate of The Ohio State University, where he became a member of Sigma Chi fraternity. Having a journalistic background and maintaining a close connection to his Greek order years after saying goodbye to Columbus, I read where he was very much aware of MU and of its venerated School of Journalism. It was, I think, those three connections (Sigma Chi, MU and the journalism school) that in part coalesced into the Miss Mizzou character being formed. Some say he modeled his new trench coat-covered femme fatale, introduced in the “Steve Canyon” strip, after Marilyn Monroe. This might have been the case, but around the same time Miss Mizzou was introduced, Marilyn was just beginning her meteoric rise to fame, starting with her first bit part in film, around 1950. She was known, but not yet well-known. To me, Marilyn as source remains a long shot.
One thing is sure: Whoever this creature was created to resemble, because of the quirkiness of the name, and so many having no idea what it specifically defined, it caught on quickly. And adding to the mystery was the inference that the lady wore nothing under that coat; a highly titillating teaser in those days.
It was a beautiful fall afternoon in Columbia, a football weekend sometime in the early 1950’s. As the first half came to a close, in the usual manner at first, people began doing what they usually did in those days during a pause in the action. They mingled, with many standing, stretching, rubbing their backsides, and leaving their seats to stock up on goodies for the second period, (tailgating, outside of the east coast, had not yet become the nationwide ritual it is today.) The rest stood and watched the bands perform.
As the musical groups marched off the field, an unexpected second act began to unfold, coming as a total surprise: “Miss Mizzou” appeared for what I believe was the first and only time on the Missouri campus. Known only to the few who had planned the event, when this lady of mystery came calling, you could hear a pin drop.
Her physical presence, as opposed to the two-dimensional character we had become used to in the strip, came before us in the form of blond model Bek Stiner, on whom Caniff had modeled his creation. She emerged, wearing only her now iconic tan trench coat and a pair of plain black heels. As she walked forward on the 50 yard line toward the center of the field, each runway model-like step revealed, from ankle to thigh, a perfect leg. Then, as every male old enough to be under the spell of puberty or beyond stood transfixed, Ms. Steiner opened the belt of her trench coat and let the garment slowly begin to slide off her gorgeous, perfectly rounded shoulders.
Everyone gasped as Stiner extricated herself from the coat, as she stood on a small riser stage placed for her at mid-field. And then, in one final fluid movement, she allowed her cover to hit the ground, and took one final step forward, unveiling completely her flawless body to all assembled. But short of standing before us in the buff, she was clad in an amply-filled black and gold bikini. After a moment of shocked silence, the crowd, as they say, went wild.
As a native who attended the University Laboratory/High School system from pre-Kindergarten through the 12th grade, graduating and leaving town to attend a university in another state, before the character emerged from Caniff’s mind, and before that football afternoon, I don’t remember the word “Mizzou” being part of the language until Caniff introduced it in his representation of the beautiful, mysterious woman in “Steve Canyon,” before introducing the namesake herself in the flesh.
I’ve heard the stories about how “Missouri State University” sounded like “Mizzou” when those early 20th century students considered the acronym “MSU” and pronounced it out loud. But if that was true, it didn’t become part of the lexicon.
So as from where the word was derived, my vote goes with Caniff. Whatever its origin, I’m certainly glad to have been there to see our university’s namesake, ‘live and in person’, on that perfect Saturday afternoon many falls ago.
