Eternal Love

by Max Howell

  “Yes,” said Mark, “I’ve certainly heard about him, and I met his brother in Tahiti, of all places. I hope I am not expected to keep up to his standard.

  “Don’t you worry, Mark, you will do all right, I am sure. It seems to me that the high school standards in Australia are far ahead of ours. Some of our students get out and they can hardly write, and their spelling is atrocious.”

  “I don’t know,” said Mark, “all I know is that merely getting through high school in Australia is pretty tough. I am just glad I made it.”

  “Well, we will see,” said Florence. She turned to George. “Would you like to see Dr Cozens?”

  “I would appreciate it, Florence, just for a minute, to introduce him to Mark.”

  “He would like that. He is going over a manuscript we have written together, called at the moment ‘Sport in Other Societies.’ Normally I would not dare to interrupt him, but he has a soft spot for Australians. I will just check.”

  She knocked gently on the door, and then opened it. In a few seconds she returned and said, “Dr Cozens is very happy to speak to you.” She accompanied them into his office, and introduced Mark. A scholarly, spare man of obviously poor eyesight through the thick glasses he wore, surrounded by books, arose slowly and greeted them.

  “I can be interrupted any time to meet a young Australian. We had a very good experience with a compatriot of yours, a rugby player.”

  “Yes, Dr Cozens, I keep hearing about him.”

  “Well, Florence here is my right hand. As I age I have become interested in anthropology. When I was young I was only interested in the sciences, but now Florence and I are working on sports in various societies. We are starting to publish on games of the Maori and we then will look at your aborigine. It has given me a new perspective on life, a new academic thrust, and an exciting one, in my academic life. Here is a paper that Florence and I recently published. You may be interested in reading it. And I am very pleased to meet you. I used to go up to the rugby games to watch that other young Aussie, now I will have to come to the swim meets to watch you.”

  “I hope you will not be disappointed, Dr Cozens.”

  “I am sure I will not be.” With that they shook hands, and Dr Cozens returned to his books.

  As they walked out of the office, Mark said to George, “I was really impressed with both of them. Dr Cozens must be over 60, and there he was immersed in the books on a Sunday just like a young student, and Mrs Stumpf seemed so interested in other people. All the Americans I have met so far seem to be doing something interesting, and they have all been so kind and considerate.”

  “I would like to think they are all like that, Mark, but I will not delude you. We have our share of bad ones too. But Dr Cozens is exceptional. He was a pioneer in measurement in physical education, and his book on the subject is still the main text-book in America. As he said, however, he is in a completely new field of study, and he is like a baby that is starting to walk. Last year he and Florence brought out a pioneer work, Sports in American Life, a sort of socio-historical analysis of sport in this country. As for Florence, she is without doubt unbelievable. She was married young and I am not sure what happened, whether her husband left her or he died. Anyhow, she came with her son from Las Vegas, I think, with no money and no education. But she is as sharp as a tack, then learned shorthand and typing while doing any odd job to survive. She became the Secretary of the Department, and is now the Administrator, which is as high as one can get without a degree. She has turned in to an outstanding scholar, producing a book and a number of articles with Dr Cozens. They are an amazing team.”

  They then walked to the lower floor of the gymnasium and George introduced Mark to the gymnasium attendants. They issued Mark with a lock, a swim-suit, white sox, two towels, a pair of shorts and two T-shirts, the clothes all in grey, and marked PROPERTY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA.

  “We have our own small locker room,” said George, “and we have already assigned you a full-size locker. You can use it any time, and whenever you use any of the clothing just turn it in to the boys outside and they will give you replacements. As often as you want.”

  “I am not used to such treatment,” said Mark.

  “Well any student who pays his athletic fee has the same privileges. The only difference with the swim team is we have our own reserved room.”

  “Maybe, coach, but let me tell you we have to fend for ourselves in Australia. I have always had to supply my own equipment,” said Mark.

  In the room marked SWIM TEAM ONLY, there was a locker with Mark’s name on it, and underneath someone had scotch-taped a printed piece of paper: ‘THE AUSSIE FLASH.’ Mark changed into his swim suit, and George into a sweat suit, which on the chest had UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORMIA and on the back had COACH. “Aren’t you going to swim, coach?” laughed Mark.

  “Would not want to show you youngsters up,” retorted George. “Truth is, if you saw me swim you would want to take over the coaching.”

  “Not quite yet, coach, not quite yet.”

  Mark showered, stepped into a solution to prevent athlete’s foot, and then walked out to the pool. The rest of the team were sunning, and when they saw George and Mark there was the joshing that athletes are very familiar with: “About time you two turned up”, “The coach has a new boy”, “Guess which one’s the gold medallist?”

  The pool was sparkling in the sun, and as clear as crystal, and Mark called out, “Come on, you blokes, let us see if you can swim.” He dived in the water. The team followed in quick pursuit, and they were soon all cutting through the water. Mark looked to either side of him, and felt at home as he led the way stroking, with everybody keeping up with him. He swam a leisurely 440 yards, and stopped. The rest stopped with him. “What’s this,” called out Mark, “follow the leader?”

  They all laughed. Then Mark said, “Okay, boys, now let us see your speed. How about 20 repeat 25’s? Ready! go!” They all spurted to the end of the pool, Mark clearly touching ahead of the rest. “Fifteen seconds rest, boys, and we go again.” They kept repeating the exercise, the pool churning as a result of everyone’s effort. When they did the last one, one yelled “You beaut!” and they all burst out laughing. Swimming is often thought of as a wholly individualistic sport, but there is a team aspect that is often underrated. George, who viewed all this from the side-lines, had a wide grin on his sun-lined face.

  “You cannot seem as if you can handle this new boy,” he laughed. Then he tossed a ball into the pool and distributed caps to the two sides. For the next hour they played water polo, the rules being deliberately relaxed as there was some humourous dunking and holding.

  When they all left the pool, there was an obvious closeness, and the swimmers had their arms on the other’s shoulders as they recounted hilarious incidents in the game.

  After they changed, George took Mark down Telegraph Ave and turned down Durant Avenue to the Berkeley Cue Center. As soon as they walked in the door, an athletic, round-faced and dimpled man stepped forward. He wore a white open-necked shirt, jeans, hush puppies, and a white apron. “Hi, Coach, is this the new Aussie recruit you are turning over to my slave pit?”

  “Hi, Bob, yes, this is Mark Jamieson. Mark, this is Bob Losey, your boss for the next little while,” said George.

  “Call me Bob,” he said, and shook Mark’s hand enthusiastically. “Had another Aussie working for me on and off for four years, Max Howell. He never did learn how to play pool but he could wash dishes with the best. I only paid him $1 an hour, but the basic wage has gone up so I am paying you $1.50. It is the going rate on campus. Mind you, you also get your meals here when you are working, and that is a big plus.”

  “I have not got much of a clue as to what I have to do,” Mark stated honestly.

  “That is all right, Mark I understand you are starting work to-morrow at 8.30 am, and I will teach you the ropes then. You do not have to be a genius to use a dish-washer, you will get the hang of it in a few minutes. As for the p
ool-hall, that is also a breeze!”

  He went on. “Yes, Mark, I played rugby for four years at Cal as a fullback. I also played football for the Golden Bears. I was a punter, and with due modesty I could kick the ball a country mile. Football however is too regimented and organised. I loved rugby, loved the spirit of the game, lots of hard knocks, but no one takes it too seriously and after the game everyone would have a few beers and toss down the spaghetti. It is a great game. Wrecked my thumb, though, got it jammed one day.” He pointed to a protective guard he had on his thumb and wrist. “The scars of the trade,” he laughed. “Loved every minute of it. Played against the Wallabies, the All Blacks and Queen’s University. Almost beat the first two, and squeaked by Queen’s. They are my greatest sporting memories. Playing with Maxie Howell was quite an experience. He was so good I almost gave him a raise. But my better sense prevailed in the end. It will be a bit of a switch having a swimmer for a change.”

  “I will do my best,” said Mark. He took an instant liking to his new boss. He was open and direct, the epitome, to him, of the nice American. He obviously did not mind getting stuck into the work, as the apron he discarded while he talked to them demonstrated.

  “As soon as you get settled in I will have you home for a hamburger to meet my wife Sant and the kids. They all love their sport. You will enjoy them!”

  “That would be nice,” said Mark.

  “Well, got to get back to the slave mart, myself. See you, coach. See you to-morrow at 8.30, Mark, and in this business we do not mean 8.31.”

  “I will remember that,” said Mark, “especially when it comes to quitting time.”

  “Oh, I forgot about those Aussie unions. They tell me you should never stand in front of an Aussie store one minute before closing or you will be trampled to death by the employees.”

  “Something like that,” grinned Mark. “See you to-morrow, at 8.30 am exactly.”

  George and Mark walked out of the Cue Center, and George said, “You will enjoy Bob. As I told you, he has a Master’s degree in Chinese and he finds himself making hamburgers and milk shakes. You will also like working so close to campus, it is only two blocks away. Talking about hamburgers, I am a little hungry after watching you young fellas work out. Let us walk across the road to Larry Blake’s. It is a favourite campus hangout, and you have to know the scene there. You have not had a real American hamburger yet, and his are about the best at Berkeley. This lunch is on me, Mark, but from then on we go ‘Dutch’.”

  “Dutch?” enquired Mark.

  “You have not heard that before? Pretty backward in Australia, aren’t you? I do not know how it got to be called Dutch, but we had a lot of Dutch settlers in the early years. New York used to be called New Amsterdam. Anyhow, it means you split the bill, everyone pays his own way.”

  “I prefer that,” said Mark, “I always get embarrassed when someone takes me out. So after this ‘shout’, as we call it in Australia, we’ll go ‘Dutch’, as you say.”

  When they walked in, George was greeted by the owner, Larry Blake himself. “Great to see you, coach,” he said. “Your usual place?” He led them down-stairs as George introduced Mark.

  “I have read about you, son, and welcome you to Berkeley. It is an honour to have you here.” As he sat them down, he called the waiter over. “John,” he said to the waiter, “this lunch is on the house. Whatever they want.”

  “Yes, sir,” said the waiter.

  As the owner left, Mark laughed. “I cannot believe all this,” he said, “and we are not going Dutch after all.”

  “You are right about that,” said George. “If this is an indication, I think I will take you to lunch every day. There are a lot of restaurants around Berkeley.”

  The waiter took their order. Mark ordered Larry Blake’s special hamburger and a chocolate milk shake, and George the special hamburger and a beer, and George ordered a salad for each of them. “You must try their salad,” George said, “the dressing is unbelievable.”

  The waiter then said to Mark, “How do you want it done?”

  Mark looked at him quizzically. “Done? What do you mean?”

  “Well, medium or rare,” the waiter said incredulously.

  “Oh,” stammered Mark,” “well!” He turned to George. “That is a new one on me. In Australia no one ever asks you. There is only one way, well done!”

  “Mark, you may as well start getting educated. Change your order to medium. It is much more succulent and tasty.”

  “Okay,” grinned Mark. “I will try anything once, particularly when someone else is shouting.”

  While they were waiting, many people came to the table to talk to George, and he in turn introduced them to Mark. “I did not know you were such a popular man, coach.”

  “Well, I told you this trip would be a learning experience. Seriously, though, as I told you in Australia, the great thing about the American university is the idea of a campus, and on the perimeter are the stores and the restaurants. These people depend for their livelihood on the university students and faculty. Many are also Cal graduates. Sport is a vital part of the University, and many maintain their association by following sport. Football and basketball are the kings, but we get our share of devotees, like baseball, crew, wrestling and the others. Most people would know the coaches of the various sports, as they read the Berkeley Gazette or Oakland Tribune, but for certain the student-produced paper, the Daily Californian. Most may never see us swim, but they will all know about the team and how they are doing. We are what is called a minor sport, and though we hate to admit it our funding is dependent on the success or failure of our football team.”

  “The Universities in Australia just do not have that same relationship to the community to my knowledge,” said Mark. “University sport just does not seem to have the same significance, and shops do not surround a campus like here. I must say I like the set-up here. The University seems to have a more vital role in American society.”

  A salad arrived before the hamburger and Mark looked at it quizzically. It was completely a lettuce salad, and there was a covering over the lettuce.

  “Just try it, Mark,” intoned George, “it is Larry Blake’s special salad mix. You will be pleasantly surprised.”

  Mark tentatively tried a piece, and instantly liked it. “We are not big on salad dressings at home,” said Mark. “We usually have mayonnaise or vinegar on a salad. Even the lettuce here tastes and looks different.”

  “It is a Romaine lettuce, in Australia from what I saw you mainly have iceberg lettuce. By the way, California produces more lettuce then anywhere in the world, and the one who revolutionised the industry was Luther Burbank. The city of Burbank is named after him.”

  “This is almost a meal in itself,” said Mark. “In Australia we tend to have a salad with the meal, rather than before it. You know, coach, I am beginning to sound like a country boy.”

  “Country bumpkin we call it here,” corrected George. “Australia’s eating habits are pretty basic. You have your steak and eggs and fish and prawns, but you do not embellish your food too much. Maybe you are better off. Americans seem to be getting fatter and fatter. There is nothing wrong with plain food. Mind you, one thing I am sure of is that your eating habits will change drastically in Australia over the next number of years. Your immigration was previously from the British Isles, and try to name me a dish from England that you would go out of your way to have. The Brits have developed some geniuses over the years, but have shown no ingenuity with respect to food. Look at the French! They are a nation of gourmets. Also the Italians, and even the Greeks. As these racial groups come into Australia, and they are pouring in at the moment, you will soon be eating different foods and enjoying them. The foundation of our society has been much more multi-cultural than yours to this point. European immigration has had a remarkable effect on our culinary habits. You are just starting to become Europeanised, we always were.”

  The hamburger arrived cut in two, and chips too
k up the rest of the plate. Mark watched George liberally apply ketchup and mustard, then followed suit. Whereas in Australia one picked up the hamburger to eat it, it was impossible in America because of its size, and one had to use a knife and fork. “It is great,” said Mark.

  “The hamburger, like the hot dog, are more than foods. They are American institutions. I have travelled a fair bit over the years, Mark, and no one seems to make them quite the same.”

  “I agree,” said Mark, and reached for his chocolate milk shake. As he turned the large conical glass up to drink, the level scarcely changed. “I wanted a milk-shake, where is the milk?”

  “What you got was a thick shake, and it is mainly ice cream. You need a spoon, which they gave you, for these beauties.”

  “You almost need a knife and fork,” laughed Mark.

  “By the way,” said George, “this beer I am drinking would not get a fly drunk. It is only one percent alcohol. No full-strength beer can be served a mile from the campus by local city ordinance. So the students who drink a lot go to watering places further away.”

  “That is a fine idea as far as I am concerned. The one thing that is close to the University at Sydney is a pub, and many spend most of their time in it.”

  “That happens here too, Mark, there is many a student who drank his way out of a college degree. Our most famous case was the son of a millionaire who was given $25,000 a year until he graduated from college. So he became a student for life, staying in the finest apartment here, and indulging himself in alcohol, nothing but the best. He would take the absolute minimum of courses, just enough to be a full-time student, and he knew the calendar, the book which has all the courses listed, better than any university administrator. As he used to say, it took a lot of intelligence to figure out how not to graduate. Finally, after close on fifteen years, he actually ran out of courses. So he jumped out of his apartment and killed himself, with the University calendar in his hand. I guess that was his bible and as he lived by it, he may as well die by it. I am not sure the story is true, but it is often repeated, and I kind of like it. Back in the 1890s and 1900s we used to have this happen because of football. You could play as long as you were an undergraduate, and some players, athletic bums we call them, would play seven or eight years. They would even change institutions, selling their athletic prowess to the highest bidder. It is not a pretty story, but we now have a body called the NCAA, the National Collegiate Athletic Association, and that passes the regulations and oversees any transgressions. An institution can be banned from competition for ‘x’ number of years if it breaks the rules. There are unscrupulous coaches, and mind you there are unscrupulous players as well. By and large, however, it is a pretty good system.”