Fast Girls

by Elise Hooper

  “Good girl,” Dee said, but Helen brushed her away.

  If Dee wanted to ignore all the bad news coming out of Germany, she was on her own. Helen had her own things to worry about.

  THE CHICAGO EVENING STANDARD

  July 19, 1936

  “Jewish Athlete Dropped from German Olympic Team”

  London—Two weeks before the Olympics are set to open in Berlin, Germany has dropped high-jumping champion Gretel Bergmann from its national team. Miss Bergmann rose to preeminence in southern Germany and set several records until being expelled as a member from her athletic club for being Jewish. At that point, the Bergmanns moved to London and Gretel enrolled in London Polytechnic and competed in the high jump for her college. In 1934, she won the British Championships in the high jump.

  Under international pressure to show goodwill to its Jewish citizens, the German government invited her back to compete for her native country, so Miss Bergmann returned to Germany to ensure the safety of her remaining family members and to support other Jewish athletic clubs. Although she won the Württembergian Championships, tying the German record of 5 feet 3 inches, she has been notified by German authorities that her inclusion on the German Olympic team has been denied on the grounds of “underperformance.”

  In response to criticism that the National Socialist Party has received over its discriminatory policies, Germany has been citing Miss Bergmann’s participation on the German team as evidence that all athletes are welcomed to compete safely in the upcoming Olympics, but her dismissal from the team only raises more questions about the authenticity of this claim.

  Only half-Jewish German-born Helene Mayer, a fencer, will compete for the Reich, though she currently resides in California.

  This news of Bergmann’s rejection becomes public as the American Olympic team is more than halfway across the Atlantic en route to Berlin. When asked to comment on Miss Bergmann’s dismissal, American Olympic Committee President Avery Brundage had no comment. Jeremiah T. Mahoney, former president of the American Athletic Union, said, “Until the Nazi regime has ended, the American people will have no reason to believe that the true spirit of sportsmanship, to which the Olympic Games are devoted, can find expression in Germany.”

  In December 1935, when the AOC debated supporting an official boycott of the Olympics in Berlin, the resolution failed to pass by only three votes.

  46.

  July 19, 1936

  Aboard the S.S. Manhattan

  IT WAS LATE AT NIGHT WHEN LOUISE AWOKE TO A POUNDING upon her door. At first, the knocking sounded faint, but as she surfaced from the depths of sleep, it grew louder. From the lower bunk, Tidye groaned and the bedclothes rustled. The latch clicked open and light from the hallway silhouetted Tidye’s slight figure standing at the door.

  “Louise? Tidye?” a woman’s voice whispered. “Dee says to come to Eleanor’s cabin immediately.”

  “Eleanor the swimmer?” Tidye asked.

  “Yes, see the open door down there? That’s the one.”

  “Why?” Tidye croaked.

  Louise slid out of her bunk as whoever was at the door mumbled an indistinct reply. What was going on? Below her feet, after several days of rolling, the floor felt stable. No rain, no heavy winds. She tilted her head to listen to sounds above the steady low rumble of the ship’s engine. Everything sounded fine and she didn’t smell anything burning.

  When Tidye shut the door and switched the cabin light on, her face appeared yellow and waxy.

  “Who was that? What’s happening?” Louise asked, her head still thick with sleep.

  “Olive. She didn’t really say.”

  “What time is it?”

  Tidye held her wristwatch up to the light. “Five o’clock.”

  Both women grumbled and pulled on dressing gowns before leaving their cabin and making their way down the hall. When they reached Eleanor’s cabin, they found Dee leaning against the doorway smoking a cigarette and watching the smoke from her exhalation drift toward the ceiling.

  Mrs. Sackett, the women’s swim team chaperone, stepped from the doorway and beckoned. The athletes followed her. No one spoke.

  There, draped across the bunk, lay Eleanor, still in a plum-colored evening gown dotted with seed pearls. Her dark finger curls appeared frizzy and mascara streaks trickled down her cheeks. Her eyes flashed in indignation as the women filed into the tiny room.

  “Can’t a girl get a little peace around here first thing in the morning?” she said, her voice hoarse. She waved her hand in dismissal. “Everyone get out.”

  Mrs. Sackett and Mr. Brundage towered over Eleanor’s bed, while the team’s physician sat on its edge with a stethoscope poised between his index finger and thumb. He moved it toward her chest, but she pushed him away.

  “This is ridiculous. Everyone out!” she repeated, louder than before.

  “Now, Mrs. Jarrett,” Mr. Brundage said, looking down his nose at the swimmer. “What happened last night constitutes a serious offense.”

  “What? Drinking? When we received our uniforms, you said drinking and smoking were up to the discretion of each individual athlete.”

  “You were hardly partaking in an after-dinner drink. I would describe you as intoxicated. Mrs. Sackett confirms you were seen cavorting on the Promenade Deck with a champagne coupe in your hands well after curfew.”

  “So was everyone in the first-class cabins. All of your precious men were drinking whiskey and gin by the bucketload and playing poker. Isn’t gambling a violation of the Olympic oath?”

  “My dear, you’re in no condition to pass judgment.”

  “Listen, this is my third Olympic Games and I have a gold medal already.” Even in her bedraggled state, her beautiful wide-set dark eyes glittered sharp and dangerous. “If I want a little champagne, it’s my right. I’m of age and married. Don’t you dare criticize me.”

  Mr. Brundage straightened the lapels of his dark suit and gave her a pitying look before turning to the physician. “Well, Dr. Lawson?”

  The man crossed his legs, his face dour. “It appears that Mrs. Jarrett is an acute alcoholic.”

  “Are you kidding?” Eleanor raised herself to sitting. “If that’s the case, you better give the same news to the rowers, the boxers, the marksmen . . . hmm, probably every male athlete on this boat. And the reporters too. Why, those first-class cabins filled with all of your cronies are wetter than anything outside that porthole. And let’s not forget that the reason you know that I was drinking is because you were there too. Didn’t I see a martini in your hand, sir?” Her mouth, smeary with crimson lipstick, slashed into an angry thin line with the last word.

  Mr. Brundage’s face darkened. A vein at his temple pulsed. He straightened his tie and turned to the women filling the doorway. “Ladies, let this be an example of what can befall you should you choose to engage in immoral behavior. As of now, Mrs. Eleanor Holm Jarrett is officially off the Olympic team and must disembark immediately when we reach Hamburg.”

  There was a collective sharp inhalation of breath.

  Eleanor’s face whitened. “You can’t do that to me.”

  “I can and I have.” He wagged his finger. “It’s a shame you’ve failed to take things seriously.” He turned away from the swimmer and moved toward the door, but Eleanor lunged forward and pointed an index finger at him. The diamond bracelet around her wrist caught the light from the sconce on the wall and flashed like the eyes of an animal in the night.

  “Don’t walk away from me like that. The newspapers call me the greatest backstroke swimmer in the world. You must hate the fact that I’m a talented woman with money and a career. My independence represents everything you fear, doesn’t it? You’re a small man, Mr. Brundage, a small man indeed.”

  He turned back to her but said nothing, though the tightening of his jaw was evident to all. He glanced at Eleanor, his expression icy, before facing the rest of the women. “Show’s over, ladies. I recommend that you return to your rooms to prepa
re for the day. Follow the curfew for the remainder of this trip. I will not tolerate any unladylike behavior from any of you. Am I clear?”

  Only the rustling of silk dressing gowns could be heard as the athletes shifted uneasily before drifting back to their cabins as if sleepwalking. Louise laced her fingers through Tidye’s and found them cold. Not until the door was shut behind them in their cabin did they face each other.

  “Oh Lord, that Brundage man frightens me,” Louise whispered.

  Tidye switched off the light and sank onto her bunk, pulling her knees to her chest. “We need to try to catch another hour or so of sleep. This feels like a bad dream.”

  “Maybe someone can talk some sense into him,” Louise said, her voice small as she climbed onto her bunk and wriggled under the covers.

  “If he’s willing to do that to her, imagine what he would do with us if we cross him.”

  Louise shuddered, burying herself deeper under the covers. “Just focus on racing. Things will get better once we arrive in Berlin.” She hoped her voice sounded more confident than she felt.

  47.

  July 21, 1936

  Aboard the S.S. Manhattan

  ON THE MORNING THEY WERE EXPECTING TO SEE THE Irish coast, Betty rose before dawn. One glance toward Helen’s bunk revealed her to be fast asleep. Finally. The pain in Helen’s shins had been getting increasingly worse, and her nighttime tossing and turning had been preventing either of them from sleeping soundly. Helen’s wool blanket draped over the edge of the mattress precariously as if it might fall off and drop to the ground. Betty considered tucking it back around Helen, but held back, not wanting to risk waking her.

  Betty was still trying to figure out her new friend. Helen never spoke of the men on the team in a way that indicated any bit of attraction. Even when surrounded by their handsome teammates at Casino Night or while training on the track, she gave no indication of anything beyond friendly interest. There was no flirtation, only talk of news, training, the ship, and what to do once they arrived in Berlin. Her attitude provided a stark contrast to almost everyone else’s aboard the Manhattan. Bored with the amount of idle time at sea, almost all the athletes—Betty included—were consumed with finding romance at all times of the day and evening. Meals, training sessions, evening card games and cocktails—everything was an opportunity to assess interest in the opposite sex. It was great fun! Betty never found herself sitting beside an empty deck chair, and someone was always willing to offer her a cigarette or fill her wineglass. All of this made Helen’s disinterest in the opposite sex a curious thing. Of course, Betty enjoyed Helen’s company and she knew that the younger woman admired her, but—the way Helen watched her, followed her—sometimes the intensity of that admiration gave Betty pause. She didn’t know what to make of Helen’s behavior, and it felt safer not to encourage anything she didn’t fully understand.

  Gently, she folded the edge of the blanket over the foot of the bunk and crept from the room.

  When she reached the Promenade Deck, she faced east, toward the sunrise, where the sky glowed pale peach and a small ship approached the Manhattan to exchange passengers, mail, and supplies.

  Three more days and they would be arriving in Germany.

  Betty unfolded herself on a deck lounger and pulled her coat tightly around herself against the chill of the early hour. Two sailors scrubbed at the track with wire brushes, and at a spot farther down the deck, another woman perched on a deck chair watching the sunrise, a plaid blanket folded over her legs. Even with a scarf tied over her head, Betty knew it was Eleanor. According to all the whispers in the dining room, the swimmer had not left her cabin since the humiliating encounter with Brundage. Along with many of their teammates, Betty had signed a petition protesting Eleanor’s dismissal, but it appeared Mr. Brundage had no plans to reverse his harsh punishment.

  Gulls wheeled overhead. More and more of them had been appearing as the coast approached. Betty rose and slid into the open deck chair next to Eleanor, coughing so as not to startle her. Eleanor turned and saw Betty. “Can’t sleep?”

  Betty pulled her knees toward her chest. “I’m sorry the petition didn’t work.”

  “Oh, darling, you tried and I appreciate it. Two hundred signatures! Didn’t know I had so many friends.” Eleanor kept smiling, but she looked drained. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve got a plan. This isn’t the last you’ll see of me.”

  “Oh?”

  “Well, let’s just say I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve. I’m going to call in a few favors.”

  “Good. If only MacArthur was still the AOC president. Remember how much he liked us?”

  Eleanor batted her lashes. “Do I ever. Sorry to break it to you, but I think I was his favorite.”

  “Of course you were.”

  “It’s hard not to love a girl in a bathing suit.”

  “I’ll say.”

  Eleanor fixed her hazel eyes on Betty. She wore no makeup, and with her hair awry, she appeared less the glamorous showgirl, more the young swimmer Betty had met eight years earlier. “Everything seemed less complicated when we traveled to Amsterdam, didn’t it?”

  Betty’s stomach tightened as she gazed at the sea. Since finding the second boycott letter in her room, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. When she brought up the topic with other athletes, everyone seemed conflicted. Of course, no one approved of what Hitler was doing, but few of the athletes seemed knowledgeable about what was happening in Germany and they expressed reluctance to get involved in the doings of a foreign country. All except for Marty Glickman, one of the few Jewish athletes on the team. When he’d sat down next to her in a deck chair the previous day, she’d asked him what he thought about boycotting and he hadn’t missed a beat. “We need to defeat Herr Hitler’s appalling bigotry. We have the opportunity to show the world that his ideas about Aryan superiority are not only despicable, but wrong,” he had said, banging his fist against the armrest of his seat for emphasis. She felt grateful for someone with a strong opinion on the subject, and if she was honest, he’d said what she wanted to hear.

  Eleanor stretched her arms overhead. “I suppose I should be heading down to my cabin. I like to avoid crowds these days.”

  “I know. Good luck.”

  “You too, darling. We’re all going to need it.” And with that Eleanor stood, straightening her long coat. She waved goodbye and strolled away, her head ducked down so as not to draw attention to herself.

  WHEN THEY ARRIVED in Hamburg three days later, Betty settled into the back seat of a black sedan next to Helen and Annette for the short ride to city hall, where a brief welcome ceremony was planned. The three women stared at the long flags, bloodred with black spidery swastikas, covering all the major city buildings. Merry spectators lined the streets, saluting and waving smaller versions of the ugly flag. Brass bands appeared on every street corner and Sousa marches filled the air. Countless guards lined the travel route. It all felt excessive, staged, too insistent.

  After the pageantry of the brief stop at city hall, the athletes were shepherded to Lehrte Railway Station and boarded elegant passenger cars that, like everything else, were draped with swastika-covered flags. Betty dropped to her seat across from Helen as Olive and Annette slid into the red velvet seats next to them.

  “Look,” Olive said, pulling her team blazer away from her chest and giving Betty a glimpse of something shiny. “We each took our wineglasses from city hall. A bunch of the men did too. Great souvenirs, don’t you think?”

  “If only we had some of the red wine that went in them,” Annette said, giggling.

  “I swiped a teacup with the Manhattan’s insignia on it and wrapped it in my underclothes,” Betty said.

  “Once we get to Berlin, I’m going for something with that awful swastika on it,” Helen said, pulling out an old newspaper to read.

  Outside the window, fields, green and verdant, streaked past, but the sky was gloomy. Thick clouds hung low over the horizon. After a
bout thirty minutes, the train slowed as it traveled through a village station. The station’s platform appeared empty, yet the train lumbered to a stop.

  Helen looked up from her newspaper. “I thought we were going directly to Berlin.”

  Everyone arched their necks, trying to catch a glimpse of what was happening outside. A line of soldiers clad in brown Nazi uniforms, their black jackboots polished to a high shine, suddenly marched onto the platform to assume positions as if guarding each train car. After several minutes, a group of Nazi officials appeared on the platform, behind the soldiers. They boarded each train car in pairs. Wide-eyed, Betty and her teammates watched as two men appeared at one end of their compartment and appraised the athletes, their faces grim.

  One official lifted a gloved hand holding a riding crop and smacked it against his other palm. He spoke in a clipped, heavily accented English. “It has come to our attention that many glasses have gone missing from Hamburg’s city hall. While this may have been seen as a prank, it is property theft. Surrender the items in question immediately and no further action will be taken over this incident.”

  When he finished speaking, a soldier stepped forward holding a crate. Under the penetrating gazes of the officials, the Americans shifted in their seats uneasily. Annette’s face drained of color and Olive’s breath caught and her knuckles whitened on her seat’s armrest as the soldier with the crate began to walk down the aisle slowly, his gaze fastened on a spot straight ahead of him. The official who had spoken muttered something in rapid-fire German to the man with the crate before switching back to English, repeating, “Now is the time to return the items. If you do not comply, things will become more serious.”

  Even though Betty hadn’t nicked a goblet, fear bloomed inside her. Dry-mouthed, she stared straight ahead. Each thud of the heels of the soldier’s boots along the railcar aisle beat an ominous sound. Several athletes handed goblets to the man as he progressed along the aisle. Olive pulled hers out and handed it to the soldier, and Annette followed suit. When he reached the far end of the train car, the Nazi official marched after him, and they exited without saying anything more.