Authors: Vanessa Williams,Helen Williams
You Have No Idea: A Famous Daughter, Her No-Nonsense Mother, and How They Survived Pageants, Hollywood, Love, Loss
YOU HAVE NO IDEA
YOU HAVE
NO IDEA
A Famous Daughter, Her No-Nonsense Mother,
and How They Survived Pageants, Hollywood,
Love, Loss (and Each Other)
VANESSA WILLIAMS
AND
HELEN WILLIAMS
With Irene Zutell
GOTHAM BOOKS
GOTHAM BOOKS
Published by Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, U.S.A.
Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario M4P 2Y3, Canada
(a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.); Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL,
England; Penguin Ireland, 25 St Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books
Ltd); Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia
(a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd); Penguin Books India Pvt Ltd, 11 Community
Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi–110 017, India; Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive,
Rosedale, Auckland 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd); Penguin Books
(South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa
Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England
Published by Gotham Books, a member of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
First printing, April 2012
1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2
Copyright © 2012 by Devsha, LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any
printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy
of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Unless otherwise noted, all photos are courtesy of Mellian Group Archives, Vanessa Williams
Personal Archives, and Helen Tinch Williams Family Archives.
Photo/Archive Research: Brian Edwards
Photo/Memorabilia Restoration: Scott Hoover, PG Productions, and Michael Chanslor
Front jacket wardrobe styling:
Vanessa Williams—suit dress by Carmen Marc Valvo, gold-tone
necklace worn as bracelet by Jennifer Miller, hoop earrings by BenAnein. Helen Williams—
suit dress by Carmen Marc Valvo, bracelet by BenAnein.
Back jacket wardrobe styling:
Vanessa Williams—gown by Carmen Marc Valvo, earrings by
Jennifer Miller. Helen Williams—gown by Marie Saint Pierre.
Gotham Books and the skyscraper logo are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA
has been applied for.
ISBN: 978-1-101-56916-0
Printed in the United States of America
Set in Dante MT Std. and Avenir Roman
Designed by Susan Hood Design
While the author has made every effort to provide accurate telephone numbers and Internet
addresses at the time of publication, neither the publisher nor the author assumes any
responsibility for errors, or for changes that occur after publication. Further, the
publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for
author or third-party websites or their content.
Penguin is committed to publishing works of quality and integrity.
In that spirit, we are proud to offer this book to our readers;
however, the story, the experiences, and the words
are the author’s alone.
ALWAYS LEARNING
PEARSON
T
O MY PARENTS
, Helen and Milton Williams, whom I thank for making me grounded. Everything always returns to the incredibly strong foundation you built for me and Chris. I pray that my efforts reach half of what you both were able to give me throughout my life.
—Vanessa Williams
T
O MILTON
, for a depth of love for me and an acceptance of who I am that had no bounds.
T
O VANESSA AND CHRIS
, for becoming adults who make positive contributions to society—that gives me parental pride.
T
O MY “GRANDS,”
who make me smile with wonderment while I try to grasp and understand their zeal for the cyberspace world.
T
O MY SISTER GRETTA:
You have no idea how much I miss you.
—Helen Williams
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Part Five: Save the Best for Last
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Acknowledgments
Special Thanks
Index
INTRODUCTION
THRILL RIDES
Do not ride your bike with another kid on the back. You could kill yourself.
—HELEN WILLIAMS
M
y school report cards say I was the kid who obeyed rules and followed directions. But my mother tells a much different tale. When Mom told me
not
to do something, I did it anyway. The thrill of the adventure, the adrenaline rush, and the escape trumped all consequences. And there were always consequences—because no matter how quiet, sneaky, and brilliant I thought I was, I couldn’t outsmart Mom.
It was the summer of 1972 and I was heading into fourth grade with Mr. Hart (that’s how I remember the early years—grade and teacher). My three cousins from Baltimore were staying at our Millwood, New York, home during their annual visit. Gabby, the youngest, was always my partner in crime. We decided to explore the neighborhood by bike.
I had just traded up from my little-girl bike with the banana seat
(they had been the rage—all the
Brady Bunch
sisters had them) to a big-girl green six-speed that my dad had found in a trash heap on the side of the road and repaired. I pulled it out of the garage and jumped on. Since Gabby didn’t have a bike with her, she walked next to me. I figured when we were a few houses down the street on Glenwood Road, Gabby would jump on the newspaper rack over the back tire.
Mom knew exactly what I was thinking.
“Don’t ride that bike with Gabby on the back,” she said. “It’s too dangerous. You could kill yourself. Take turns.”
I nodded, but was thinking,
I can handle this.
A few minutes later, I hooked a left onto the quiet, crescent-shaped road. “Jump on the back,” I told Gabby.
She sat sidesaddle and wrapped her arms around me. I pumped my legs and pulled at the handlebar, balancing the bike perfectly. We headed toward a hill—always the best part of my daily bike ride. I loved to coast down it, let go of the handlebar, balance, and fly.
I coasted as we gained speed downhill, laughing as the wind whipped through our hair. I tightened my grip, freewheeling so fast that everything became a dizzying blur. It was exhilarating, until…
The handlebar started vibrating and the bike wobbled. In a sickening flash, I realized that because there was too much weight on the back, the bike was out of control. With every muscle in my nine-year-old arms, I pulled at the handlebar to stop the wheels from weaving. But the bike couldn’t handle it. The handlebar ripped off the frame.
The front tire slammed into a drainage ditch, and I sailed over the bike, still holding the handlebar.
For a second, I was flying. Then my face, hands, and knees smashed into the pavement on Glenwood Road.
You know that moment when it doesn’t hurt but you know the big pain is on its way? I knew this was a big one. The gravel was embedded in my palms and knees. I slowly pushed myself up and staggered to my feet. Everything started to throb.
The handlebar had gouged out a chunk of my thigh. The pain in my mouth was unbearable, and I tasted blood. I felt around with my tongue and discovered a bloody gap in the front of my mouth.
My tooth!
I turned toward Gabby, who was on the ground, holding her knee and moaning. Once we looked at each other, we started to wail.
