by Max Howell
“I intend to.”
They both radiated in each other’s presence, and Frank watched it all shaking his head. “Gawd,” he said, “Shakespeare and the ancient world? Have you heard Duke Ellington, listened to ‘Fats’ Domino and Lena Horne, or Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby?”
“I certainly know them all. They were in The Merchant of Venice, were they not?” Faith said mockingly.
Frank started to laugh “Yeah, I guess they were. Heh, watch out, your stop is coming up. See you on the return prison run.”
“Yes, Faith,” interjected Mark, “hope to see you this afternoon.”
As she stepped off she looked at Mark, blushed and smiled. “I enjoyed the conversation,” she said sincerely.
She stood there watching the tram disappear. What had happened was well beyond her wildest expectations. She took a deep breath, turned, and walked to school. Her life had, indeed, taken a new and significant twist. Everything she had dreamed about was becoming a reality.
Back in the tram heading on a few stops towards Sydney Technical High School, Frank looked at his best mate and said, “What was that all about, Mark?”
“I do not know, Frank, but I would not appreciate any more joking about her. As you can see, she is quite different and I feel we have to look after her. The two Musketeers and the Musketress. I sort of like that! Frank, you are my best mate, you know that. I want to keep this to just the three of us. Is that all right?”
“It is okay by me, Mark, you know that. Two Musketeers and the Musketress. Sounds pretty bloody good, I agree.”
“Yes, Frank, it does.” He put his arm around his best friend for a few seconds as they walked past the Captain Cook Hotel on the way to his school, situated on the fringe of some of Sydney’s slums.
Since his training had intensified his swim times had been tumbling. After watching him day in and day out, Terry asked for him to come into his office.
“Well, Mark, you are doing everything I ask of you. Your stroke and kick have improved immeasurably, and we are right on schedule for 1956.” Mark felt his emotions surge as he received the advice he wanted to hear more than anything.
“I want you to know and understand what the overall plan is so you can peak accordingly. We are going to concentrate on the 100 metres. You have blinding speed and quick reactions and so I figure that is where we will make our move. You could make it in the distance events as well, but I want to focus on just one event. Speed work is what we want. We have to develop what the physiologists call fast twitch muscles. You must learn to react faster than you thought was humanly possible. Remember, you are aiming to be the fastest in the world. There are a lot of others trying to do the same thing. The Yanks and the Japs are always fast. You have to get faster.” He paused, noticing that the youngster was hanging on every word. You never had to tell him something twice. You told him, and then he applied himself to the task.
“Your schedule is to win your School Championships and then the Combined High School Championships. The latter will not be easy, there are a couple of Australia’s top swimmers in the school-boy ranks. You have an advantage over them, in that you are at the present an unknown. I know what times they can do, and I will be pointing for you to go faster than them.
“I will enter you in enough club meets to get you used to competition, but I am only going to enrol you in the 55 yards and the 220 yards. It will make you eligible for the State Championships, and then a week later the Australian Championships which, lucky for us, will be in Sydney, so you have no worry about travel money. We will switch to the 110 yards then. Just one event. Our aim is the 100 metres in 1956. So that is it, the School, Inter-School, N.S.W. and Australian Championships. We aim to win them all. This year we will take them by surprise. They will not know what hit them. Are you with me?”
“Do you really think I can do it, Mr Somerville?” said Mark earnestly.
“You can and you will; and there is another thing. There are to be no self-doubts. Do not go around telling anyone else unless they are pretty close to you, but never admit to losing. All the time, keep saying to yourself, ‘I am going to win, I am going to win.’ I know what I am doing, and I will bring your times down enough to do it. And after we meet these challenges, we will then be in the Olympic year. The other swimmers will then be gunning for you. But this year you are the underdog. Can you do what I ask?”
“I can and I will,” Mark said, his heart pounding as he thought of it.
“Your twice daily training has paid off, and as far as I am concerned you can keep running to and from the Baths. There is a lot of rubbish about swimming and running not mixing. But remember, you are a speedster, so as you run to and from the pool I want 50-100 yard sprints, then ease off for 200, then sprint flat out, and repeat.” Terry went on. “There is another thing. I know your family have not got any money, so from now on you come into the Baths and the lessons free. I spoke quietly to the City Council, and told then what we are about, they own the pool, you know, and they have agreed to let you do all this for nothing.”
“Thanks, Terry, it will make a big difference. I hate asking my Mum for the money when there is so little, it is simply not fair to the family.”
“Anyhow do not thank me,” said Terry, “thank the Council. But there is something I have personally bought you. It is a set of pulleys and some light weights. I was up at your flat yesterday talking to your Mum, and there is room to put them in the wash-room. The wall is solid and will hold the pulleys, and there is a bench to sit and lie on. A Yank by the name of Bob Kiphuth at Yale University has his swimmers on them, and it is making them stronger and faster. There are a series of flexibility exercises as well. So every afternoon, when you get home from training, you have to work out an hour before dinner. Your mother says she will keep your dinner warm if she has to. The exercises I will teach you, and they will be all low-weight and fast-repetition exercises. Remember what we are aiming for, the fastest in the world. After the exercises, your meal and your homework. Right?”
“I can handle it, Mr Somerville,” Mark said, realising himself the possible advantages of such a spartan programme.
“There is one last thing I do not like to bring up, son,” said Terry, closely observing Mark’s expression. “But I heard you have been travelling to and from school with a girl. You know what I said about girls.”
His heart seemed to miss a beat. “It is all right, Mr Somerville, do not worry about it. She is just a kid from down the road. Just like a sister.”
“Keep it that way, Mark. You will have enough time for girls later on. You do not have the time now. You cannot be distracted. You can become an Australian sporting immortal if you listen to what I have to say and just do it.”
“There are no worries, Mr Somerville, everything is under control. Everything you say I will do to the best of my ability.”
Mark felt a bit guilty about Faith, but somehow he knew she would understand. They both understood that a bond existed between them, it was evident in how their eyes met and the way they spoke to each other. When he got to know her a little better, and if it was obvious they both felt the same way, then he would tell her about his pact with Mr Somerville. As things stood, he felt Faith offered him a welcome relief from the regimen and total commitment of his day, and in no way distracted him from the ambitious goals he had set.
Then Mark thought long and hard about the plan developed by his coach. Mark had been a fairly good club swimmer, but had never even won a school championship before, and had never participated in a state or national championship. The very thought made him draw in his breath, and yet at the same time he felt the excitement rising within him. I am, going to win, I am going to win, he thought to himself. Every night from that point on he would keep repeating that phrase until he fell asleep.
At the School Championships, acting under Terry’s advice, he entered the 55 yards and the 220 yards. No one paid him much attention, though everyone noticed how his now 6-foot frame rippled wit
h muscles, and how his manner was now one of purpose and resolve.
His first public appearance since his new training programme was in the 55 yards, and entered in the race was the previous year’s school champion, who gave the appearance of supreme confidence. The whole school was watching. The races were held at the ancient Domain Baths, the scene of the appearance in the twenties of Andrew ‘Boy’ Charlton, one of the greatest swimmers Australia had ever produced. His successes as a shy school-boy against the world record holder, Swedish star Arne Borg, were witnessed by a jam-packed 8000 spectators there who yelled themselves hoarse as the youngster pushed the experienced Swede to defeat. The newspapers reported that the cheering could be heard about half a mile away in crowded Elizabeth Street. ‘Boy’ Charlton became a legend in the twenties, and won an Olympic gold medal in the 1500 metres at Paris in 1924.
The Domain Baths had changed little from those days. Its wooden enclosure had not seen paint for many a year, and matting covered the decks of the sea-water pool to prevent slipping. There were no starting blocks, you simply curled your toes around the edge of the pool and dived off. It was not a fast pool. You could not see the bottom and you were kept in a lane by floating cork lane markers.
The swimmers lined up in front of their lanes and the starter, the school’s long-serving physical education instructor, Roy (‘Black Mac’) McCurley, called out in his parade-ground voice: “Swimmers take your marks.” Mark stepped forward, took a deep breath, and looked straight ahead to the end of the pool. The starter held the pistol up, and then pulled the trigger.
Oblivious to the crowd and the other swimmers, Mark pushed off from the end of the pool, and from the moment his fully extended body hit the water in a shallow dive he was racing, his legs and arms working beautifully in unison. All he could think of was ‘feel the water, use the water’, as he surged to the finish and touched the end of the pool. He looked up to see the others some yards back.
The timers came together and stared with disbelief at their watches. It was a new school record, and not only that but a time well within Australian championship times, and Mark had accomplished it in a slow pool. Those who understood the sport looked at the youngster with increased respect as he stepped out of the pool. Terry came vaulting out of the stands, with his own stop-watch in his hands. “You beaut, Mark, you beaut,” he exulted as he embraced the boy. “We are right on schedule.”
When the time was announced, and that it was a new school record, the hundreds that were there burst into applause. The record had been established over twenty years previously by Olympian Noel Ryan. It was obvious to all that a new star had been born.
As Mark looked up in the stands, he saw Faith sitting in the rear of the crowd. Their eyes met, and she nodded, and smiled.
His next event was the 220 yards, and this time Mark won by 20 yards in a new school and State Senior record. There was little doubt that another Australian swimming phenomenon had appeared on the scene, maintaining the tradition of Freddie Lane, ‘Boy’ Charlton and Noel Ryan.
In the finals, Mark improved on his times, and broke the State Senior record in both events. For the first time in his career, he received publicity for his efforts.
The Sydney Morning Herald
February 25, 1955
YOUNG SWIM PHENOM
DOMINATES SCHOOL CHAMPIONSHIPS
Mark Jamieson, a 17 year-old swimmer from Sydney Technical High School, burst unexpectedly on the State swimming scene yesterday with two devastating victories in the 55 yards and the 220 yards. Unheralded to this point in his career, the Sydney Tech youngster broke two State Senior records in the process. Veteran experts are comparing his performances to those of swimming legends ‘Boy’ Charlton and Noel Ryan. Coached by Terry Somerville, the school-boy phenom has all the ear-marks of a future Olympian. The youngster already shows the poise of a champion.
That afternoon, as he got on the tram to go home, Frank was not with him, and Faith sat next to him. After talking about school and the usual things, he said quickly, “Faith, could I see you to-night at eight o’clock, at the corner of Church Street and Alison Road? There is something I would like to talk to you about.”
Her heart seemed to skip a beat. Please, she thought, please do not put a halt to all of this. It is all so beautiful. “Certainly, Mark, but you understand I must ask my Mum if I can go out at that time, as I could not lie to her. I’ll have to say I am meeting you. Is that all right?”
“Sure, Faith, it is all right.”
When she sat down at home, her anxiety increased. She just could not comprehend why Mark would want to talk to her alone. She prayed that nothing would interfere with her happiness.
She had never asked her parents whether she could go out alone at night before, and she felt a little trepidation about asking her mother. She waited until her father went into the back-yard to smoke a cigarette.
“Mum,” she said, as she helped her mother with the dishes, “I have a special favour to ask.”
“Certainly, Faith, what is it?”
“I would like to go out alone to-night at eight o’clock. I do not know how long I will be, maybe ten minutes, but I think no more than an hour.”
“Do you want to tell me why?”
“Mum, it is to meet a boy who lives up the road, Mark Jamieson. We sort of met going to school, and he said he wants to talk to me.”
“Faith, I know all about young Mark, and he seems to be a pretty fine young man and listen, Faith, I am no fool, and I know you have been watching him every day. There is nothing wrong with that, but you must make sure it does not get out of hand.”
“Oh, Mum, you know me well enough for that. He just wants to talk to me for some reason.”
“Then it is all right with your father and me. Where are you meeting him?”
“Just outside there Mum, at the corner of Church Street and Alison Road.”
“Then I would appreciate it if you did not go too far. It is not that I do not trust you, Faith, but it is your first time out alone and I would prefer that. I have never really talked to you very much about it, but you are very young for your age and I do not want to see you hurt in any way.”
“I will not get hurt, Mum, and I will not go very far. But Mark is very special to me, Mum.”
“I know that, Faith, but just look after yourself. You are our very special girl, you know.”
“I know, Mum, and thanks.”
She put on a floral dress she had, and carefully combed her hair. She then put on a pair of white shoes she wore to church, and surveyed herself in the mirror. It was always a pleasure putting on clothes different to the rather drab Sydney Girls’ High School uniform. Her mother walked in and said: “You look lovely, Faith.”
“Oh, Mum, you know I am not.”
“Yes you are, Faith, you are very natural and you are beautiful. I told your father, by the way, and he agrees with my decision. So you have a nice time. If you want to talk to me about it afterwards I will come to your room.”
“Thanks, Mum. Sorry, but I cannot be late. Must be off!”
She hurried down the stairs, and stood at the old horse-trough where they had agreed to meet. In a few minutes Mark came hurrying out of his house, and moved towards her. When he was a few yards away, he stopped and looked at her.
“Faith, you look absolutely beautiful. I have only ever seen you in a school uniform.”
She blushed as he spoke. “Oh, Mark, you know I am not beautiful.”
“I think you are beautiful, Faith, so there you are.” He smiled as he said it. “I did not know whether you could come.”
“Mum said it was all right, as long as we did not go too far.”
“We won’t, Faith, we will just go a few streets away. Is that all right?”
“Yes, Mark, that would be nice.”
She walked with him along Church Street. He shifted his position so that he would be next to the street, and she was pleased at this gentlemanly gesture. He did not touch her,
and they walked next to one another in silence. It was not overly dark, as there was a half-moon, and the stars looked more brilliant than she had ever seen them before. The air was still, and the silence intensified the increasing emotion they both felt.
He stopped and turned towards her. “Faith, you do look beautiful!”
Her knees felt like rubber and her heart was pounding. “Thanks, Mark,” she said simply.
“I really look forward to seeing you each day, Faith, it makes my day.”
“I feel the same way, Mark.”
“I wanted to speak to you, because I do not think I am being very fair to you,” he said quickly.
“What do you mean, Mark, what can you ever mean? You are always fair with me.”
“I just do not feel that I am. I am not certain how to say what I am trying to say, but … I look upon you as pretty special.”
“Do you, Mark, do you really?” She listened incredulously, and she could see that Mark was more serious and nervous than she had ever seen him. “I feel the same way about you, Mark. I … I … I love you, Mark, I love you.” The tears tumbled out as she lost control of her emotions. She had never told anyone she had loved them before, and she knew at that moment she would never tell another.
“Please do not cry, Faith, please do not cry, it upsets me so very much. I … I love you too, Faith.” He had not intended the evening to go like this, but as he said it he knew that for him that love would be eternal.
“You do, Mark, you really do? I cannot tell you what it means to me. I have loved you since I first saw you.” She tried to check her tears, but they just tumbled out. Her knees gave away under her, and he helped her to sit down on a low stone fence in front of a house.
“Are you all right?” he said anxiously.
“Yes, Mark, I am, it is just that I can hardly stand up. What you said I have dreamed about every night.”
“You are a silly young lady, you know.”
“Not silly, Mark, and not young. There is only one year difference between us in age.”
“I know, I was just joking.”