Tall Club Recruiting

  As the towering cluster of baby boomers walks down the street, members of the height-challenged public inevitably stare up at them. "Wow, how tall are you?" some bold stranger will ask. "Do you play basketball?" a wise guy will wonder. Eventually, some astute observer will ask the right question: "Are you a club or something?" At this, members of the Sacramento Tall Club smile knowingly. "Well, yeah," they say. "We are."

Humankind's perennial quest for identity leads seekers to find commonality in everything from chess clubs to church groups. But for 25 years now, Sacramento's Tall Club members have forged a different sort of bond. They march in Christmas parades carrying signs that say, "Altitude is everything." They raise funds for Marfan syndrome, a connective tissue disorder that primarily affects tall people. They sponsor a giraffe at the Sacramento Zoo – "Have you ever heard of a tall monkey?" quips club President Harry Leman. If they're at a Home Depot or a grocery store, and they happen to see a potential recruit, they pull out a giraffe-emblazoned business card, then approach. Prospective new members measure in their stocking feet, and must reach the height standards prescribed by Tall Clubs International – 5 feet 10 inches for women, 6-foot-2 for men. (One particularly exclusive club in Los Angeles has reportedly increased its minimum requirements by 2 inches). Because people are slightly taller in the morning than in the evening, the Sacramento club holds quarterly brunches to do morning measurements for those wobbling close to non-tallness. "We try to accommodate everyone," Leman says, though they inevitably have to turn away some disappointed non-talls.

Cindy Riddles, the Tall Club's social coordinator, was thrilled when she learned of its existence eight years ago. Riddles has been 5-foot-11 since the seventh grade. Back then, she says, you could have pulled her teeth out before she'd tell you her shoe size (12). By the time she reached the half-century mark, she'd pretty much accepted her height. Pretty much. But still, how appealing to find a group of people who could relate to stores carrying too-short pants and too-small shoes, to cramped airplane seats and the perpetual shortage of height-eligible men and that annoying, always-asked question about your basketball ability. (A standard Tall Club retort: Do you play miniature golf?) So Riddles drove up from Stockton with her former sister-in-law. Standing next to a 6-foot-2 woman or a 6-foot-7 man, she felt almost short. She's never looked back.

 According to the Tall Clubs International Web site, the first tall club came into being around 1938, when a young Disney artist named Kae Sumner wrote a story in the Los Angeles Times about the challenges of being tall. Today, there are 55 such clubs in the United States and Canada. They advocate on tall issues, hold tall conventions and choose a Miss Tall International. The Sacramento club, its members say, is one of the biggest. But in recent years, the organization has had trouble recruiting new members. To address this concern, Riddles, as social coordinator, has stepped up the number of events. These include a Liver Lovers' party, a Gold Rush-themed casino night, happy hours at El Torito and weekly ballroom dance lessons. This past Friday night, a dozen or so members gathered for a fox trot lesson at Cafe Capri in Carmichael. Their 5-foot-1-inch instructor, Mira Trousdale, was hard to spot as she wandered among the couples, helping with rhythm and footwork. During a break, the dancers sat on barstools trying to calculate how many marriages had come out of the club. At least nine, they decided, though several more of the 100 or so members are dating each other.

Because age eventually chips away at even the tallest, some members were a bit circumspect about their height. "Six foot 4 inches is on my driver's license," said Rich Marier, of Placerville, after his wife, Kimberly Berg, suggested a current measurement closer to 6-foot-2 or 6-foot-3. Leman, the 59-year-old president, said he used to be 6-foot-5 but is now down to 6-foot-4. He's hoping his impending knee surgery will boost him back up a fraction of an inch. The problem with recruiting new members, Leman and his friends determined, was that it's simply not so odd to be tall anymore. "It's not unique," Leman said. "It's not unique," Berg agreed. She has two sons and a daughter, all over 6 feet, all comfortable with it. "When I was growing up, to be 6 feet tall, it was like I was a freak," she said. Partly out of generosity, partly to increase tallness pride and tallness awareness, club members long ago started a fund to provide scholarships to tall students. Each entrant must write an essay answering the question: "What being tall means to me." "We can see above a large crowd," wrote one 6-foot-6 winner. "We get fresh air while the normals breathe the stifled, regurgitated oxygen. We can reach the top shelf!" "Being tall means riding the first scary roller coasters at Great America before the rest of my friends," wrote another winner, a 6-foot-tall girl. "Being tall is like being a superhero," concluded one 6-foot-2 boy. "You have to use your powers for good and not evil."