Eternal Love

by Max Howell

  “I believe it all right, Dr Henry, I have seen you in action.”

  “But why would they do that, Mark, I would never hurt them?”

  “They are a little frightened of you, Dr Henry.”

  “Frightened! Of me? Why would anyone be frightened of me?”

  Mark started to laugh. “They do not know you like I do, Dr Henry, for I have learned what a big softy you really are.”

  “You are right there, Mark.”

  And he was, a big softy. He had this tough inquisitorial approach, which made students quake. The top sportsmen of the University would come in to inquire about their grades or something they did not understand, and he would reduce them to blubbering, white-faced babies in a few minutes. Mark would always watch quietly with great amusement, and as they would leave with tears in their eyes Dr Henry would invariably say, “Now what got into him, Mark?”

  This exposure to Dr Franklin Henry and for that matter to Dr Frederick Cozens and Florence Stumpf were the impetus that had him choose physical education as his career objective at the end of his second year. He could see a future where he could combine his love for the physical and the intellectual.

  The annual visit of Max Howell with the University of British Columbia rugby team, and the continual discussions with him, further strengthened his resolve.

  Then there was the visit of the Australian international team, the Wallabies, in 1958. They had not had a successful tour, and they lost in British Columbia and narrowly eked out a victory at Berkeley. They were led by an amiable front-row forward, Bob Davidson, and Mark enjoyed meeting him and the other Wallabies, such as Terry Curley, Rod Phelps, Ken Donald, Arthur Summons, Des Connor, Tony Miller and Geoff Vaughan. One of the players was from Randwick, a humourous giant of a man, Nick Shehadie. “Call me ‘Black Nick’,” he said to Mark, smiling, “everybody else does.” He was, later on, to become Lord Mayor of the city of Sydney, and was knighted for his overall contribution to politics and sport.

  Bob, Nick and he would talk long into the night, the disappointment of their team’s play on tour dominating the discussion. Mark would go out and watch them practice, and in a few minutes concluded how far coaching methodology was behind in Australia, and training techniques and injury rehabilitation, compared to America. This was another experience that made his career objectives more clear. He could see that he could make a considerable contribution in this field.

  He was sorry to see the Wallabies leave, it was great to talk about the country he loved, and catch up with many changes in Australia. When he first met the Wallabies, he was astonished at the sound of the Australian accent. He had become so familiar with the American accent that he had forgotten the uniqueness of that in Australia, though occasionally he was reminded when someone would ask him to repeat something. Mark had found out that he had to speak slower to be understood, and took all the colloquialisms out of his speech, such as ‘sport’ (friend), ‘china plate’ (friend), ‘twist and twirl’ (girl), ‘pig’s ear’ (beer), ‘bread and jelly’ (belly), this ‘arvo’ (afternoon), ‘gidday’ (good day), ‘old man’ (father), ‘cow’s udder’ (mother), ‘shake hands with a friend of the missus’ (urinate), ‘point Percy at the pavement’ (urinate), ‘bloke’ (male), ‘beaut’ (good, great), ‘blue’ (fight), ‘bomb’ (old car), ‘cossie’ (swim suit), ‘chook’ (fowl), ‘dag’ (a droll person), ‘earbash’ (talk too much), ‘dunny’ (toilet), ‘extra grouse’ (very good), ‘hold your horses’ (not so fast), ‘hit the sack’ (go to bed), ‘she’s Jake’ (everything’s fine), ‘loaf’ (do nothing) and so on. Many of these and a lot more were utilised by members of the Wallabies, and Mark was delighted to hear them again.

  During the remainder of his undergraduate years at Berkeley Mark maintained his Straight A average, and was elected to Phi Beta Kappa, the highest national honour society, and graduated at the University with honours. He won the NCAA 110 yards title four times, and the AAU title four times, was elected to the Big C Society after his first year, which was the highest athletic award an athlete could receive.

  Mark had been working so hard that he had not given too much of a thought to his future. His intention had been to return to Australia. Getting a university degree was the limit of his expectations. He was the first in his family to get that far educationally.

  After he graduated proudly with academic garb at the football stadium, which was the only facility large enough to house the thousands, Dr Henry, wearing his academic robes, sought him out in the crowd.

  “Mark,” he said, “come to my office next Monday at noon and wear a tie. I am going to take you to lunch at the Faculty Club. There is something I want to talk to you about.”

  Mark actually was quite concerned about the meeting. He felt that maybe he had done something wrong, perhaps offended him in some way, and thought he might be getting a dressing down. More and more, Dr Henry had become like a second father to him.

  That Monday, dressed better than he had been since he had arrived at Berkeley, he presented himself to Harmon Gymnasium, to Dr Henry’s office. The old scholar looked up, glanced at his watch and said, “You are two minutes early, as usual.” He reached for his coat, which was stacked behind a pile of letters, and stepped over pieces of equipment as he walked with Mark out of the door of his office.

  They walked through the university, saying little. Mark was proud of the fact that he had graduated from Berkeley, and never tired of seeing the Administration Building, Sather Gate, the Library and so on.

  When they reached the Faculty Club, Dr Henry signed Mark in as a visitor, and then took him to the self-service area, where they selected their food and then sat down. Mark looked around nervously, for there were many professors he had taken lectures from, and Dr Henry pointed out some of the most illustrious professors that he had not met: Dr Lawrence and Dr Hiller among them, and the former President of the University, Dr Robert Gordon Sproul, who was entertaining a group of alumni in a separate room, along with the present President, Dr Clark Kerr. The Chancellor was also there, Dr Glen Seaborg, a nuclear physicist who had won the Nobel Prize in chemistry in 1951. He had discovered two new elements, two of which he named Berkelium and Californium.

  “Dr Henry,” said Mark after they had finished eating, “you have me pretty nervous about this meeting. Is there anything I have done wrong?”

  Dr. Henry drew on his pipe, and then smiled. He never did anything in a hurry, everything was always measured, even his smile, and his grin slowly unfolded. “No, Mark, you have not done anything wrong. As a matter of fact, quite the contrary. First, this lunch is in celebration of your graduation. I have kept my eye on you since you arrived from Australia.”

  “I cannot tell you, Dr. Henry, how proud I am to graduate from this University. I loved every minute of it. It has changed my life forever. I just never expected to graduate from a University, and I could not begin to tell you how much I have enjoyed it. I love studying, Dr Henry, I love reading, I love new ideas.”

  “Yes, I can tell that, Mark, and as for how you feel about the University, I also felt that when I got my first degree, and I still feel the same way now. I feel very honoured to be a member of this esteemed faculty. There is an aura of learning at Berkeley that exists at no other institution I have been to.”

  “Now, Mark, to the second thing I want to talk to you about. What do you intend to do with yourself now?”

  Mark shook his head. “I do not know, Dr Henry. I know it sounds a bit silly but I have been working so hard I have not had time to think of my future. In the back of my mind I wanted to defend my Olympic championship at the Rome Olympics this year, but when I contacted the Amateur Swimming Association in Australia they told me I would have to return to compete in the Australian Championships to be eligible, and then I was expected to go to the training camp for six weeks, and then participate in the trials. On top of that they told me I had to pay my own way back. I have to admit I am pretty annoyed about it. I have worked very hard for the little
money I have, and it would cost me my own money to return to Australia. The arrogance of amateur officialdom in Australia is unbelievable. They can go to hell as far as I am concerned!”

  “So, as I said, what are you going to do with yourself?”

  “Well, I wrote to the Education Department of NSW telling them I was graduating from Berkeley and asking them about job opportunities. The letter came the other day, and I am still burning about it. They said that I had not been to a NSW Teachers’ College, and American degrees were not looked on too kindly in Australia. They said I could apply for a special letter of permission, and with some luck they might give me an appointment at a primary school, like your elementary school. I am so mad I cannot see straight. If you could only see the low level of teaching there, how it saps one’s vitality and youthfulness, how most become bureaucratic morons, destitute of originality and ideas, living a life of boredom and spending most of their time figuring out their retirement. It is just so maddening, Dr Henry. What thought I have given about it made me determined to return to Australia, to pass on the knowledge that I have gained. But I really do not know what to do, Dr. Henry.”

  “Well, Mark,” said Dr Henry, drawing slowly on his pipe, “I read in the papers what had happened with the Australian Swimming Association, but I did not know about your teaching application.

  “Yes, it is very, very disappointing for me. So I guess I will have to go back to Australia and take my lumps there. You see, my scholarship for swimming has run out here, so it would be difficult to support myself.”

  “Well, then, that was what I wanted to talk to you about. Have you ever thought about graduate work?”

  “I have, Dr. Henry, but I just cannot afford it.”

  “Well, Mark, as I said I have been watching you carefully over the years. You have much to learn, mind you, but you have the potential. How much is your athletic scholarship?”

  “It is $1800 a year, plus my fees are waived. They are about $500 a semester as they are out-of-state student fees, and of course there are books. I live at George’s place, and I do not know whether he could put up with me any longer.”

  “Well, Mark, I have been doing a little background work. George and his family are happy to have you stay on with them. All he asks is that you mow the lawn and check on the garden now and then. So that is not a problem. As for the out-of-state student fee, I went to see the Dean of Graduate Studies the other day. He is an old friend of mine. He said that because of your straight A average, and only that, he has agreed to waive the out-of-state fee every semester that you keep your grades up. That leaves the last part, your scholarship money. I need a Research Assistant, Mark. I just received a University research grant, and there is money on a project I am working on with others dealing with high altitude experimentation for the US Air Force at the Donner Laboratory on the Hill. I will guarantee you $1800 to $2000 a year. So what do you say?”

  “I just cannot believe it, Dr Henry. But why me?”

  “As I have told you before you remind me a little of myself, Mark, though I have to tell you that I took swimming lessons from Jack Hewitt and Lance Flanagan and I am the only one they ever gave up on. So the similarity does not hold in motor skills. So what do you say?”

  “What do I say, Dr. Henry? What do I say? I say YES, before you change your mind, and I am very honoured, Dr Henry, and I will work as hard as I can. But do you think Dr Cozens will allow me in the Department as a graduate student?”

  “It was he who suggested the idea to me, actually he and Florence Stumpf, who are two of your admirers.”

  “They are the very first ones I met in Harmon Gymnasium when I arrived from Australia, and they have been a constant source of help to me.”

  “Anyhow, Mark, the summation is that you are admitted to graduate work. We just wish we had more students like you.”

  So Mark started his Master’s degree with Dr. Henry as his advisor. He knew it was now the end of his swimming career but, after all, he had two gold medals, was an Olympian and all-American, and figured that he had quit while at the top.

  He enjoyed working with Dr Henry. He was a hard task master who insisted he work for every hour he was paid, and would have painstaking conversations about whether travel time should be included, and whether Mark had worked one-half or three-quarters of an hour. The more he saw of Dr Henry the more he liked him. He never did tell him, though he always meant to, but he looked upon him as his father. The more he watched him in action the more he realised that, despite his gruffness and exacting standards of scholarship, he was a big softy, kind to the extreme, and would bend over backwards for the students, though few realised it. Instead, he continued striking terror into their hearts.

  Mark set up experiments for Dr Henry on balance and choice reaction time, did the trial runs himself and then arranged the subjects for the experiments. Mark had no trouble lining up subjects, whereas Dr Henry’s personal approach somehow never did pay dividends. They were a good team.

  Dr Henry’s work with other physiologists at the Donner Laboratory was particularly intriguing and challenging to Mark. They worked in the altitude chamber there, endeavouring to find the limits of man at high altitudes. Though Mark did not realise it at the time, the highly secret experiments, indeed Mark had to get a Security Clearance to work on the project, was a forerunner of space travel, and the pilot testing of space suits.

  Mark’s job was to be the preliminary guinea pig, and he would be taken up to simulated altitudes where he would be exercised at set intervals until the bends began. There would be four observers outside the chamber observing his reactions. As the bends began, he would use hand signals to indicate where he was feeling the pain and he would estimate the severity of the pain on a scale of 1 to 4. One meant he could feel the pain, 2 that it was hurting, 3 that it was very painful and 4 it was unbearable, and he had to be taken down slowly until the bends disappeared. Once a particular altitude was deemed safe, Mark would arrange for paid subjects, who would get ten dollars an hour, a lot of money in those days.

  The experiments proceeded well until near the end of Mark’s first graduate semester, when he was trialling an 8-hour exposure to 40,000 feet, exercising every fifteen minutes on a step test until the onset of the bends, after which he would be taken down until the bends disappeared, and then taken up again to prepare for the next exercise regime. Mark took a book of physiology up to study before and after the exercise program.

  Mark was in to his fourth hour of the 8-hour experiment, when he noticed that the words in the book had become straight lines. Damn it! He thought! A printer’s error. He turned over the next page, and the next, and there was nothing but straight lines. He placed the book down, and briefly shut his eyes. Then suddenly, he analysed what had happened, and turned back to the pages he had read. There was nothing there but straight lines. Just as he realised that something was wrong, the capsule seemed to swirl around, there was a buzzing in his head and he fell forward, unconscious.

  Those outside the chamber looked in horror at Mark’s prostrate body. They took him down altitude-wise slowly, and one of the doctors got in an alternate chamber and opened the door at 10,000 feet. He worked on Mark frantically, giving him mouth-to-mouth artificial respiration.

  They got him down to sea level, and by this time an ambulance had arrived. This took him to the hospital, and for the next few days he was perilously close to death. When he finally did become conscious, Dr Henry was by his side. Mark found out later that he never left him during the ordeal.

  “What happened, Dr Henry?” asked Mark wearily.

  “We do not know, Mark, but the statistics show that one person in a thousand inexplicably dies in the situation you were exposed to. There is no explanation. I can tell you, Mark, you had us all very worried. From now on you just worry about getting the subjects.”

  “Okay, Dr Henry, but first of all I think I need a good sleep. Thanks for looking after me.”

  Despite the experience which near
ly cost him his life, Mark became more committed to research, feeling that he was at the forefront of knowledge. His respect for Dr Henry increased with every passing month. He began to come to the conclusion that he could never be a carbon copy of the man, because he was the closest thing to a genius he had ever met. But he could see that he could be a lesser version of him, and with his own personality might have a greater effect on more students. Dr. Henry was outstanding in a one-on-one educational environment, but his own personal inadequacies were exposed in a classroom situation with a number of students. He lacked that ability to get the message across to the average student. For the elite, however, he was incomparable.

  When his Master’s degree finished, Dr. Henry suggested that Mark go on to his Ph.D., and Mark readily agreed. He loved the research he was engaged in, and gloried in the freedom he had as a graduate student. He found he had a flair for researching and presenting term papers, and always seemed to do two or three times more than any other graduate student. For him, his work was a labour of love.

  As his first year of doctoral studies came to an end, George Schroth drew him aside. “Mark, have you thought much about what you are going to do when your PhD is over?”

  “No, I have not, coach, I just assumed I would go back to Australia. That is what I have always wanted to do.”

  “Mark, I have not said too much, and you have been so busy that we hardly ever see you. But there is something I would like you to think about. How would you like to be a swim coach?”

  “I have actually thought about it a lot, but there are just no opportunities in Australia like there are here. At home you have to own or lease a pool, and your time is taken up teaching non-swimmers to earn a decent wage. I just cannot see myself operating that way with a PhD.”

  “I am not talking about Australia. I am talking about here.”

  “What do you mean, here?”

  “I mean here, Mark, at Berkeley.”

  “At Berkeley? Come off it, you are the coach at Berkeley and always will be. Nobody could replace you, coach, nobody.”