They're not the tallest people in the room. How Tall Club offers a haven for Arizonans of height

Mary Elemen was in the bathroom at work one day about 23 years ago when a stranger handed her a an intriguing card.

The little piece of cardboard advertised a social group. To join, women had to measure at least 5 feet, 10 inches, and men 6 feet 2. (Yes, they measure.)

It was a club for tall people.

Elemen, who is 6 feet 1, qualified easily. She was drawn to the idea, but felt shy about joining a new group, so she filed the card away.

But she found herself mentioning it to a woman she worked with. And again. And a few more times more. Eventually, the colleague, who was of average height, drew a line.

"Enough!" she told Elemen. "You need to make the call."

They struck an agreement that Elemen would call by Jan. 1. Her colleague recorded the pledge in the top left corner of her office whiteboard. Every time Elemen walked past, she would see it.

"So I finally made the call," Elemen said.

And that's how she found herself cleaning up a California highway with the Tall Club of Silicon Valley. The year was 2000, and Elemen was 39.

That first day, picking up trash by the roadside, it didn't immediately click. There was no "whoa" moment, she said, no sign from above that she had found her people.

But there was one remark she will never forget: "We went to breakfast afterward and they said, 'Mary, you get in the back seat. You're the short one.'"

It wasn't long before Elemen was hooked.

For once in her life, she wasn't the tallest person in the room. She didn't stand out in photos, or have to angle her eyes down to meet the gaze of whoever she was talking to.

At Tall Club events, which ranged from the not-so-glamorous highway clean-up to formal balls, Elemen felt comfortable. It was exhilarating.

"I'd never danced with a man that I could look in the eye before," she said.

High school was the hardest

For Elemen, who was adopted at birth, the sense of belonging was powerful.

Her biological mother would have been eligible for the Tall Club at 5 feet, 11 inches, but her adoptive parents were shorter, her mother 5 feet 8 and her father 5 feet 7. Elemen said she felt huge in her own family, like her mother was too tiny to hug.

"I would never hug her. She would be like hugging bones," she said. "There was never that, just that huge warm hug that you get when we" — meaning her fellow tall people — "hug one another."

Growing up was a hot topic at a recent meeting of the Central Arizona Tall Society (CATS), held at Manuel's Mexican Restaurant, a colorful cantina on Indian School Road in Phoenix.

There were 13 people in attendance, most in their 60s, and all, of course, tall, though none as much as the Arizona chapter's tallest member, Bob Conlin, who stands at 7 feet.

Many remembered high school as a particularly difficult time.

Elemen recalled bursting into tears when she was paired with the shortest boy in her freshman social dance class.

"And it breaks my heart to this day that I did that to him," she said.

Billie Jean Morison, who is 6 feet, 2.5 inches, said her fellow students used to sing the jingle from the Jolly Green Giant vegetable commercial at her as she walked down the hallway.

Along with the taunting came practical difficulties. Back in the pre-internet era, finding clothes and shoes that actually fit was a nightmare.

Elemen's mom took her shopping at men's stores. Another member, Nancy Collier, learned to sew her own clothes. Several members have fond — or not so fond — memories of the now-defunct specialty chain Shelly's Tall Girl.

"My mom bought me a tweed suit. Seventh grade," Morison said. "I wore it once and it was like, 'I think I grew out of it, Mom, I can't wear it again'."

They were often seen as older than they actually were, which most recalled as an advantage, especially when it came to sneaking into bars or buying alcohol before they should have been.

But in general, after years of standing out, finding Tall Club was a relief.

Chance encounters, new members

In July last year, Elemen was crowned Miss Tall International.

The annual tradition of anointing a Tall Queen dates back to 1947, when a 6-foot woman named Grace Tattu was chosen by the California Tip Toppers, the first known society for tall people in the U.S. Elemen is the first married woman to hold the title.

Her job is to essentially act as the public face of Tall Club. Over the past year, she has visited clubs across North America, attending events and speaking to media to raise awareness of tall issues and the clubs themselves. Recruitment is a big part of the job.

But as she comes to the end of her reign, Elemen is grappling with a problem: finding new members.

The Central Arizona Tall Society is part of Tall Clubs International (TCI), the umbrella organization for tall clubs across the United States and Canada. "Raising social standards since 1938," reads a wry website tagline.

At its heyday in the 1990s, TCI boasted upward of 4,000 members, but that number has since dwindled to about 1,500.

CATS is the only TCI-affiliated club left in Arizona, and many of its members — including Elemen, who moved to Wickenburg three years ago — were previously part of tall clubs elsewhere.

As she sat on Manuel's patio, surrounded by tall people snacking on chips and salsa, Elemen wore a tiara in place of her crown — the real thing, she said, is surprisingly difficult to affix to her head — and a festive sash.

"It's not a beauty pageant, to be Queen," she said, though there is — or was, before COVID hit — an annual pageant to select the winner.

"It's just somebody who will go out and speak from the heart for TCI."

The crown and sash attract attention, Elemen said, and, occasionally, new members. Ideally, someone tall will approach to ask what all the fuss is about, opening the door for an enterprising club member to say: "Ooh, you look tall."

This kind of chance recruitment has worked well in the past.

Morison, herself a former Queen, also joined Tall Club through a random bathroom encounter. It was in the late '70s, when she was living in San Diego.

"I worked for Pacific Bell in the Union Bank building on the 19th floor, and there was a woman I'd run into in the bathroom every once in a while," she said. "And she said, 'Have you heard about this Tall Club?'"

They both went to check it out. Morison stuck with it. The other woman, who she estimates was 5 feet 11, maybe 6 feet, dropped out.

Another member, Tim Meko, said people often find Tall Club when they're looking for new friends after a divorce.

"Somebody comes up to you and goes, 'Hey, have you heard about the Tall Club?' And you're like, 'Is this a joke? Are you pulling some prank on me?'" he said.

The current Central Arizona Tall Society president, Nanci Ditchman, was born into Tall Club. Her parents met at a monthly dance hosted by the California Tip Toppers in 1938, the same year it was founded. Nancy Collier got a call from her now ex-husband's friend's wife, asking if she had heard about it. Nejla Franco's tall sister suggested they go along to a Tall Club meet-up, playing volleyball in the park.

"And for some reason, she never got into it," Franco said. "But I did."

Talls, as they sometimes refer to each other, are always ready to recruit.

"Back in the 70s when we joined, we just went to bars," said CATS publicity manager Peggy Cook. "There we were, just slip a card in their pocket."

Now?

"It's really hard. There's just not an interest in going out in public to meet," Cook said. "The generation today just doesn't do that."

Morison thinks a lot of social clubs are having a tough time finding new, committed members. She's skeptical of online bonds that don't translate into real friendship, telling a story about a young woman she met who declared she was in five online Meetup groups, but never actually met up with any of them.

"That's not support, really," Morison said. "That's the perception of support that's not really there."

New blood is hard to find

It's also a question of what kind of support young tall people need.

Earlier this year, Elemen, Morison and Cook attended a scholarship expo at the Phoenix Public Library, calling over anyone who looked tall enough.

Each year, the Central Arizona Tall Society offers a $250 scholarship to a graduating high school senior, and TCI offers a number of scholarships up to $1,000 for students entering college. Recipients must meet the same height requirements as Tall Club members. (Yes, they measure.)

Most people were surprised to find out they existed. But they found three interested takers, and got some parents interested in the club too.

Still, it's been hard to find fresh blood.

Back in the day, the club was a lifeline, a place to find community and dates and get tips on where to find pants and shoes that actually fit.

Now, members swap tips on Facebook and buy clothes on Amazon. The taunting in high school corridors is trickier to stop, but in many ways the internet has revolutionized tall life.

It's not just online shopping. Height can be listed on dating profiles, community is found far outside the confines of a school or neighborhood or city. Women's basketball and volleyball have rocketed in popularity, creating a space where, at least for those blessed with athleticism, height is a definite plus.

"I mean, there's a whole 'nother world of issues going on with young people that I didn't have to deal with," Elemen said. "But for the height thing, I'm not sure. I'm not sure what their issues will be."

'Once you're in, you're in'

There's no cheating the Central Arizona Tall Society yellow measuring stick, which goes up to 6 feet, 8 inches and is carved at the tip into a giraffe.

No shoes or thick socks are allowed at measuring time, bare feet or stockings only. But there is one trick available to those on the cusp of the height requirements, known to Tall Club members as "squeakers."

"If you're a squeaker getting through at 5 feet 10 you measure in the morning, because you're taller in the morning," Elemen said.

"Gravity hasn't sucked you down yet," Collier added.

The membership rules are strict. Spouses who don't meet the height requirements are welcome at social events, but they cannot become members.

But if you lose height as you age, even if it takes you down under the threshold, you won't be kicked out.

"Once you're in, you're in," Collier said.

It's the law according to Tall Club, but for many members, it's also literally true.

As Tim Meko talked about Tall Club, he used one word over and over: family. Meko, who is is 6 feet 7, said he felt extraordinarily welcomed when he joined some 41 years ago.

"It was like, 'Where have you been all our lives? You've been missing from our family,'" he said. He quickly realized he didn't just want to be a member, but an organizer too.

The group's myriad social events range from house parties to dinners to camping trips to afternoons playing volleyball to the annual convention, which is this year taking place on an Alaskan cruise. (The flier prominently notes the ship's ceiling height of 9 feet, 6 inches.)

"The more you get involved, the more you start to share the love," Meko said, as he thought over his time in the club.

"He's like a brother to me," Collier said, leaning over to join the conversation.

"Me too," Franco added. "Known him since 1991."

"It's just tall family," Meko said. "That's the way I feel about it. It's not age-related. It's not, you know, gender. It's not anything. It's not my job. It's not music interest. It's just about being tall and sharing love and friendship. That's what it's all about."

For many members, there's just something intangible about being around other tall people.

"I like looking up at people," Franco said. "You know, it's kind of like an unspoken camaraderie. You know, we just ... I don't know. It's hard to describe."

It's instant friends, an immediate connection, a place to land. In the same way a queer person might gravitate to the neighborhood gay bar, or an ethnic minority to a restaurant run by people from the same country, Tall Club just feels like home.

And when you're there, your height is not the most interesting thing about you.

Morison said one of the best ways of putting it she had ever heard came from a Golden Gate Tip Toppers member named Karen Eft.

"She said, the only thing we have in common is our height and so therefore, you're not the tallest person in the room when you walk in, and you have to develop a personality."

That sudden realization, of not being the odd one out, has struck most Tall Club members at one time or another.

Collier recalled an annual convention where she had lost her date, and was trying to find him in the room.

"If you're in the store or something, they stand out, you know?" she said. "But when you're with 300 other tall people … I had to stand up on a chair to find him in the room. And I'm going, 'Oh, this is what normal people have to do!'"

"We're not abnormal!" Ditchman said.

"We're above normal," Franco suggested.

"We're trying to change our terminology in how we refer to ourselves," Elemen said, as an aside.

"Those others are just vertically challenged," Ditchman said.

'You just feel comfortable'

Elemen had run for Queen once before.

In 2002, exactly 20 years before she received the crown, she entered the Miss Tall International pageant at the annual convention in Sacramento, along with 12 other tall women, wearing a gown and being interviewed and taking part in the talent segment.

She finished as fourth runner-up. In hindsight, Elemen said, she wasn't qualified to be Queen at that time. She didn't know all the things she needed to know to properly advocate for tall people.

And the universe had already given her a gift that week, the moment her mind goes to when she thinks about what Tall Club means to her.

Elemen, Morison and three other women had stayed behind in Sacramento for a media interview, while the rest of the conventioneers went off to an event in Napa. It's not the interview she remembers, or the events either side of it.

It's the walk to the studio.

"We were in old Sacramento walking down, the five of us, all tall," Elemen said. They were wearing heels, strutting down a wooden sidewalk, feeling on top of the world.

The power of that moment has lingered long in Elemen's mind.

"That feeling of, how we all just felt together," she said, grasping for the memory. "There was nothing odd. There was nothing standing out. It was just a glorious feeling to me."

"I've never felt more beautiful," she added. "It was probably the best week of my life."

Lane Sainty is a storytelling reporter for The Republic. Send story ideas to her at lane.sainty@arizonarepublic.com

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This article originally appeared on Arizona Republic: Tall Club offers a comfortable haven for people of height in Arizona