by Max Howell
Equally enjoyable was a formal dinner on August 9 given by Mr. and Mrs Douglas Fairbanks at their famous mansion ‘Pickfair’, named after these two leading lights of the time in motion pictures, Mary Pickford and Douglas Fairbanks.
The Opening Ceremony, on July 30, was held on a perfect California day. Joanne, Henry and Bill Red Feathers and a nurse went together, and Helene was carried there and cared for by the nurse. It was unusual for anyone to bring a baby to the Games, but Joanne and Henry wanted their child to be a part of an important moment in Californian history. Some 40 nations filed into the Stadium at that Opening Ceremony, where they were hailed by 105,000 joyous spectators, a chorus of 1200 and a 300-piece Olympic Band.
On the gigantic scoreboard came a slightly different message than at the Village.
“The important thing in the Olympic Games is not winning, but taking part. The essential thing is not conquering, but fighting well.”
After the various nations paraded into the stadium, the Vice-President of the United States, Charles Curtis, a part-Indian as they later found out, announced:
“In the name of the President of the United States, I proclaim open the Olympic Games of Los Angeles, celebrating the Xth Olympiad of the Modern Era.”
After the chorus sang “Hymne Olympique”, hundreds of doves took to the air, followed by a dedicatory address and benediction by Dr. Robert Gordon Sproul, the then President of the University of California at Berkeley.
Next a representative of the USA Olympic team, George Calnan, mounted the rostrum, then he and all athletes present raised their right hands as he stated: “We swear that we will take part in the Olympic Games in loyal competition, respecting the regulations which govern them and desirous of participating in them in the true spirit of sportsmanship for the honor of our country and for the glory of sport.”
The athletes then departed the Stadium. The preliminaries were over, and the events began the very next day.
Joanne and Henry were mainly interested in the track and field and swimming, and it was basically these two sports that held their attention. Billy Red Feathers agreed with their choices, so the three of them and the nurse went together. On one of the first days, Billy said excitedly: “You know who I think is sitting over there on the other side of the official box? I think it’s the legendary Indian athlete, Jim Thorpe, one of the greatest athletes the world has ever seen. I’m pretty certain it is him.”
So Billy went over, and was engrossed in conversation for over an hour. Then he returned and said: “It was Jim Thorpe, he has always been my hero. He is here as the Official Guest of the Organising Committee. He said he would be delighted to meet you.”
So they got up and were introduced to Thorpe. Henry guessed that he would be about 40-45 years of age. His face was lined and worn, a few scars showing. When he shook hands with them their hands were engulfed, and they could feel his raw strength.
He was generally no conversationalist, preferring being spoken to rather than speaking. However it was he who started the conversation. “Billy tells me you are going to provide financial assistance to Indians to go to University. That is a fine thing. We Indians have still not realised the value of education. I went to school, you know.”
“Really”, said Henry, “and where was that?”
“It was the first school ever set up by the federal government for Indians, the Carlisle Indian School, at Carlisle, Pennsylvania.”
“Would you mind telling us about yourself?”
“Well”, he replied hesitatingly, “I frankly do not like talking about myself.”
“Please”, intervened Billy Red Feather, “these people are doing much to help our fellow Indians.”
“All right”, he said, “though I admit again I do not like to speak about myself. But here goes. I was born on May 28, 1888, in the very small town of Prague, in the Oklahoma Territory. My father, who passed away when I was 15, was part Irish, part Sac and Fox Indian. My mother, who died when I was 12, was part Potowatomie and Kickapoo Indian and part French. She gave me the name Wa-Tho-Huck, or ‘Bright Path’ in English. What is not generally known is that I was a twin, and my brother would tragically die at 8 years of age.
“The Carlisle Indian School hired the famous coach ‘Pop’ Warner to be in charge of sport at that institution, so he put out word to all the Indian schools and communities throughout the United States that those Indians who showed outstanding athletic talent should be sent to the Carlisle School. I had not really participated in competitive sports, but someone had seen me running and jumping, and next thing I found myself at Carlisle, with some wonderfully gifted Indian athletes. Louis Tewanima and I were virtually a two-man track team at Carlisle, and he was to get a silver medal in the 10,000 metres in the 1912 Games, being beaten there by one of the greatest of all time, Johannes Kolehmeinen. Am I boring you? I can stop at any time.”
“Please go on, Jim”, pleaded Billy.
“Well, as I said, I knew nothing of sport, but ‘Pop’ got me into football, and soon Carlisle, and myself as well, became national news. After all, here was this poor Indian school beating the nation’s finest in the national winter game. In 1911 we beat Harvard, for example, 18 to 15. I scored all of Carlisle’s points, with four field goals and a touchdown.
“Maybe my biggest day was against Army in 1912. I scored a touchdown with a run of 92 yards, but it was called back because of an infringement. So on the very next play I scored after a 97-yard run. I was lucky, I guess, to make the All-American teams in 1911 and 1912. They said I was pretty good at baseball and basketball while at school, and of course I competed in track and field for Carlisle. One time Louis and I, a team of two, went to compete against the University of Pennsylvania, one of the real track and field powers at the time, and we won the team points score. I was in about six or seven events, and Louis four. That really shook them.
“Anyhow, I was proud to be selected on the USA team for the 1912 Olympics. I won the pentathlon and then the decathlon. It was the first time I ever competed in the decathlon, believe it or not. I did not know all the events, and had never thrown a javelin in competition. While at Stockholm I also got fourth in the individual competitions in the high jump and seventh in the long jump. I entered these just for fun.
“When I won the decathlon, I got a jewel-encrusted chalice, I think they call it, from Czar Nicholas of Russia, and for the pentathlon I was given this enormous bronze bust of King Gustav of Sweden. One thing is true for sure. When the King gave me the bronze he said: ‘Sir, you are the greatest athlete in the world.’ I was not used to meeting kings, and I was very shy, so I said: ‘Thanks, King’. So that’s about it.”
“But what happened afterwards?” enquired Billy.
“Well, I don’t like to talk too much about that, particularly after New York, where they gave us a ticker-tape parade after the Olympics. But my world crashed for me in 1913, when it came out in the newspapers that I had played semi-pro summer baseball in North Carolina in 1909 and 1910 while still at Carlisle. I played all right, no doubt about that, I needed the money, and there were many other athletes there, all playing under assumed names. I was honest or stupid enough to use my own name. I was ruled a professional, and had to return my two prizes and my medals. It was the end for me in amateur sport.
“Well, after that I played professional baseball for the New York Giants, but McGraw, the coach, and I, clashed. I hit over 300 in my time there, but he and I had opposite ideas about training. I also had a stint with the Cincinnati Reds, but it didn’t work out either. I played professional football until three years ago, into my forties. I actually began professional football. At the end I was getting about $25 a game. It was a long way from my hey-day, when I was considered the best professional footballer in the land. With all the hard tackles, and I admit to a drink or two, I had slowed up from my Olympic and Carlisle days.
“One thing I sincerely regret is that they closed the Carlisle School about 1913. With all the publicit
y my case got, they held a Congressional investigation on the school, and as a result they closed it. They realised that it was an athletic factory, and the football team rarely if ever attended classes. That’s why I admire what you are doing, Mr. Luce. I am the perfect example of the Indian with no education. I have wandered from job to job, even worked with a pick and shovel. I got a few bit parts in some Hollywood movies. Just sat there with my head-dress on and said nothing. They simply used my name. Don’t know where I will finish up.”
It was a sad story, perhaps the greatest athlete in the world eking out his life a virtual unknown, and a bankrupt one at that. They thanked Jim for his openness, and Henry later suggested to Billy Red Feathers that he be put on the Advisory Board of the Indian Trust, in that way they could provide him with a few thousand dollars a year. Listening to his story, they were all the more convinced of the worthiness of the Trust they were setting up.
They loved the track and field at the Games, in particular enjoying the feats of the then fastest man in the world, the squat Eddie Tolin, who always ran with one knee bandaged. The win in the marathon by Juan Carlos Zabala of Argentina was also a highlight, and they often talked about how fatigued he looked at the finish. They felt fortunate to meet Lord Burghley, the 1928 hurdles champion at Amsterdam, who got to the finals in the 110 and 440 metre hurdles, but he was unfortunately out of the medals in Los Angeles. An aristocratic Englishman, he was so wealthy he could train as often as he wanted, and indeed had hurdles set out in front of his mansion by his servants and would practice on them. It epitomized the dilemma of the amateur, particularly the working man, who could not receive such financial assistance and had to sacrifice to compete.
The women’s events also intrigued them and they were to witness perhaps the greatest woman athlete of all time, Mildred ‘Babe’ Zaharias, who won the 80 metre hurdles and the javelin, and was adjudged second in the high jump, though she cleared the bar with a winning jump. The clearance was ruled as an illegal jump. Then there was the winner of the 100 metres, Stanislawa Walasiewicz from Poland, who looked in every respect to be a male, square jawed and muscled, with little or no breasts. She was later to immigrate to the USA, and competed well into her forties as Stella Walsh. When she died, an autopsy revealed she had male sex organs. So Hilda Strike, from Canada, who got second, could be deemed as very unfortunate not to have received the gold medal on that day.
Because of their early pool training with Helene they were very interested in the swimming, and more so when they found out that Miss Madison, the USA’s crack woman sprinter, had the given name of Helene, spelled with an e, though the press invariably called her Helen. Joanne looked at her young one, blissfully asleep, and said: “So there are two swimmers here today with the name of Helene.”
Henry nodded, and said: “And who knows, the way this one is going she could very well swim for her country.” They both smiled at the very thought.
Their heroine, Helene Madison, won the 100 and 400 metres, and was one of the winning 4 x 100 metre team, to make her the most successful swimmer for the USA at the Games. They were also impressed with the beauteous Eleanor Holm, who won the 100m backstroke with an amazingly smooth stroke. It was the Japanese however who completely dominated the men’s side of the competition, proving themselves at this time to be the number one swimming nation in the world. One who broke the drought for America was the handsome and muscular Clarence (‘Buster’) Crabbe, who was immediately picked up by Hollywood after the Games to star as ‘Flash Gordon’, and made hundreds of movies as that comic book hero.
Before they knew it the sixteen days of competition were over, and a low-key Closing Ceremony was held in front of about 100,000 spectators. The Prix des Nations equestrian event was held in the stadium that very day, and medal ceremonies were conducted as well for some of the winners of recent events. Then the President of the International Olympic Committee, Count de Baillet-Latour, presented the Amsterdam Olympic flag to the Mayor of Los Angeles, who was entrusted to hold it until the 1936 Games, which were to be held in Berlin. The flags of the nations entered the Stadium next, but not the athletes, many of whom from other countries had already departed Los Angeles by ship. There were tears a-plenty among the spectators when the Olympic Band played ‘Aloha’ as the flag-bearers wended their way out of the stadium, and ‘Taps’ was played as the following message appeared on the scoreboard: “May the Olympic torch pursue its way through the ages.”
Neither Joanne nor Henry had previously been particularly interested in sport, but these Olympic Games kindled a flame that never left them, and they resolved that they would attend all future Olympic Games if at all possible.
During the time of the Games they had got to know Billy Red Feathers very well and realised that their basic instincts were right, that the Indian Scholarship Trust was a most worthy one, and Billy was a most sensible and intelligent young man, ideal to run the Trust. The finances were set up so that his office, to be based in Phoenix, would be the recipients annually of the interest gained from $10 million dollars. As he left, tears came to Billy’s eyes. The three of them had become, even in that short space of time, very close friends, and Billy realised that through a fortunate meeting with the Luces he would be making a greater contribution to his culture than he could ever possibly have imagined.
As they had already been away from their home at the Berkeley Hills for some time, they decided to visit Mexico, Venezuela, Ecuador and Peru in South America, as well as India, to evaluate each country’s needs. While there they did the normal tourist things, such as visiting the Meso-American and Mayan ruins in Mexico, the recently excavated Machu Pichu ruins in Peru, the Galapagos Islands in Ecuador where Charles Darwin had formulated for the first time his views on natural selection, and they also visited some of the inland primitive tribes of Venezuela. But their main purpose was to examine the poverty levels in each country, and decide which country or countries would benefit most from their projected programs. They determined that they would consider two more grant possibilities at this stage of the development of the Trust.
Their conclusion was that though all countries had poverty levels worse than anything they had personally ever seen, the poverty in the hillside hovels in Caracas, Venezuela, exceeded all the others. They toured the areas with English-speaking aid workers, and were completely appalled by what they saw. They did not dare expose Helene to those places, so they hired nurses to look after her in their half-day absences. Their hearts went out to the children living there, underfed and ill-clothed, with disease rampant through the close contacts where they lived. Make-shift houses of cardboard, canvas and scrap metal made up their ramshackle living quarters. When it rained it was unbelievable horror, as homes inexorably slipped away in the mud.
A basic concern for the Luces was that anything they provided would obviously be of great help, but they could do little to assist the overall problem. It was an obviously hopeless situation for this poverty-stricken group in Venezuelan society. So what should they do? Should they assist with schools, or should they help with food? It did not take much for them to decide – it had to be food, the basic ingredient for survival. They interviewed about thirty or forty people before deciding on the right person to head their plan. It was the woman who first showed them over these hovels, a person deeply committed to the people of her country. She had an advanced education in social work, and had devoted her life to the welfare of the slum people. Her name was Maria Antoinette Gonzalez. She was called “The Angel of the Poor”.
They had many days of discussion with her once they had decided that she was the best person for the task ahead. It became even more obvious to them that whatever they did would not be enough. Maria, however, felt that she could identify a number of those families most deserving of assistance, difficult though it would be to make such judgements.
She explained it simply: “In life, there are those to whom help is a bottomless pit. The ones for us to reach out to are those with aspirat
ion levels despite their dire circumstances. Some of the great people of this world have emerged despite such poverty. Such individuals seem to possess a certain inner drive, a motivation, to rise above the conditions in which they find themselves. I do believe I could identify such people, and such families. It may only be a scratch on the surface, but by your largesse you can bring new life and new hope to maybe fifty or one hundred people. In life, if you can help one person, you are blessed. You have to look at it this way. What you want to do is a wonder, a glorious thing. You will change some people’s lives, but not everyone. I would suggest that I work to try to identify such motivated people and their families, and however few we would nevertheless provide them with some hope, with enough food to survive and the possibility of education to drag themselves out of their plight.”
And so it was to be. They set up their second Trust, but with the bureaucracy of South America it took much longer than they envisioned to firmly establish it. Joanne and Henry were in absolute agreement as to their final decision. They would provide Maria with the interest of $20 million dollars, rather than the $10 million they originally planned. They felt very humble that they could change the lives of a greater number of Venezuelan children. They never did go to India as planned at this time. Instead they returned to their home in the Berkeley Hills, somewhat relieved to be away from the poverty that obviously enveloped so many people in the world. They realised that despite their own vast resources what they gave was but a pin-prick when it came to the world’s needs. It was a sobering education, but at least they felt they were doing more than their bit.
In the ensuing years they supervised their Trust programme centred in Phoenix and Caracas, and felt quite humble as they clearly saw that their efforts were clearly changing the lives of so many people for the better. As for Helene, she would swim at the Berkeley Women’s City Club three times a week coached by ‘Cap’ Pease and Jack Hewitt from the University, and it was the general opinion that she was a star in the making. Age group swimming was in its infancy at the time, and such competition started with 10-year olds and under. Helene, though only five years old, was already winning competitions in that bracket, with most of the competitors almost twice her age.