Goldengirl

by Peter Lovesey

  “Cleavage shots,” said Valenti.

  “Christ, they went out with Lyndon B. Johnson,” said Sternberg. “Where you been all these years?”

  Cobb looked slightly perturbed. “I don’t know that I’d favor full exposure.”

  “Shall we leave it till we discuss the image?” suggested Dryden. “The main objective of this week’s publicity, as I see it, is to provide the lift-off for the talks with big business. As I told you in Cambria, the selling of the project starts now, to have everything set up for the peak of public interest immediately after the Games. If I mention Goldine Serafin to an executive at Coca-Cola next week, I want him to know she was the blonde who went over big at the Olympic Trials without me telling him. Ideally, I’d go flat out on publicity from now on, right through the buildup period to the Games, but it’s obvious that would play havoc with her preparation. The girl can do without being harassed nonstop by the media for the next four weeks. So I propose we give the press and TV boys all the interviews and pictures they can use this week, and then whisk her out of it to the Sierras where she can train without distractions. Two weeks later we pass the word along that she’s visiting L.A. for a day, and lay on what will pass for a hastily arranged press conference at the airport. If she can spare one day from her training, that should give the campaign the boost it needs. More photos, some exclusives, maybe a tour of the TV studios. Then we put up the shutters till Moscow.”

  “It makes sense to me,” said Armitage.

  Valenti wasn’t convinced yet. “What kind of deal do you hope to fix with Coca-Cola or anyone else before she’s got the golds?”

  “Quite possibly a better one than if I started talking after Moscow,” said Dryden. “I’ll tell you why. This kind of deal is conditional. They agree to pay a fee for Goldine to endorse their product provided she achieves an Olympic triple. I make it clear we can’t finalize anything until after Moscow, because it would contravene the Olympic rule on amateurism. But they see the advantage of having it all set up now, ready to sign on August sixteenth, the day she wins her third gold medal. On the morning she makes the headlines, they could run her picture in their ads, like the Grand Prix drivers touting gasoline the day after a big win. So we draw up terms in advance, and for them it’s a speculative venture. Winning the Trials is still half a world away from the triple in Moscow. I can use that uncertainty as a negotiating point. They’re more easily persuaded to agree to a figure of three hundred grand now, when it’s speculative, than later, when it’s fact.”

  “It’s a gamble, in other words,” said Sternberg.

  “It is for us,” said Cobb. “They risk nothing in this kind of deal except the possibility of Dryden pushing them to an inflated fee. The risk is mainly on our side. If Goldengirl succeeds, we collect. Otherwise, no deal. Correct, Mr. Dryden?”

  “It’s been my understanding from the start that this is all or nothing,” answered Dryden.

  “I confirm it,” said Serafin at once. “The strength of our position is that we know those three gold medals are within her capability. We are not interested in silver or bronze. If you can use the fact to obtain more favorable terms, Mr. Dryden, you have our support. I must say that your suggestions so far sound eminently sensible. The more publicity Goldengirl can get this week, the better are your chances of being taken seriously by the companies you approach. There is one thing I was coming to, gentlemen, that I may as well tell you now, because it bears on something Mr. Dryden has suggested. After the Trials, Goldengirl is going to train in seclusion, but not in the Sierra Nevada retreat. I have made arrangements for her to complete her training elsewhere in America. She will continue to have the services of everyone who has helped her up to now, and the exclusive use of a track and gym vacated for the summer by a women’s physical education college. In the interests of security, I would prefer not to divulge its location. It’s not that I don’t have confidence in your discretion, gentlemen; simply that I don’t believe in burdening colleagues with confidential information they don’t need to know.”

  Some glances were exchanged across the table at this, but nobody made an issue of it.

  “What happens to the Sierra training camp?” asked Valenti.

  “A good question.” Serafin looked at his watch. “Two hours ago, work began on dismantling it. By the end of the week there will be nothing left there. The chance of that mythical wise-guy reporter from the Los Angeles Times pinpointing the site is almost nil, Mr. Valenti, and if he did, all he would find would be ashes. We are covering our traces, in other words. But the comment I wanted to make on Mr. Dryden’s suggestions was that I can certainly arrange for Goldengirl — I tend to use that name, if nobody objects — to spend a day in Los Angeles on a public-relations exercise. I like the idea, and so, I think, will she.”

  Dryden thanked him. So far, the proposals had met with better support than he could have hoped for, but the difficult part remained. “If you all agree on the timing of the campaign, let’s talk about its character, the character we want Goldine herself to present to the world, because that’s going to govern the way I pitch my campaign. There are some fixed points already: she’s tall, blond, pretty, a natural athlete who comes from nowhere to make the U.S. Olympic team in three events. That’s all good copy for the press, but she can’t go on being a mystery blonde. We have to fill in the story. I wouldn’t suggest we fabricate things; they’d soon be wise to that.”

  “We tell ’em what we want ’em to know,” said Valenti.

  “Right.”

  “How’s this for starters, then? Her mother dies trying to save her from drowning off Huntington Beach. No father, so she’s orphaned at three. Doc Serafin adopts her, spots her potential, and from there it’s a straight rags-to-riches theme. Great copy!”

  “Riches are out,” said Sternberg, who seemed to relish pouring scorn on Valenti’s suggestions. “The Olympics are for amateurs — remember?”

  “Okay. For ‘riches’ read ‘fame,’” said Valenti with a shrug.

  “If you’re suggesting the story is strong enough already, I think you’re right,” said Dryden. “It’s more a question of what we leave out than what we add. Dr. Serafin has just told us the training camp is being demolished. That’s obviously one thing we don’t want anyone knowing about. Another is the backup.”

  “No one’s going to argue with that,” said Sternberg. “We all know the press would do a hatchet job on Goldengirl if they got on to the camp or the consortium.”

  “I think I see where this is leading,” Cobb said to Dryden. “After the San Diego meet, she was billed as the mystery blonde nobody had heard of who showed world-class form and then disappeared again. That was fine for San Diego. It’s a good start for Eugene. Have you seen the papers, gentlemen? She isn’t headline news, but more than one gives her a mention.” He took a paper from his case. “This is the San Francisco Examiner Chronicle. I quote: ‘Spice is added to the women’s sprints by the entry of Goldine Serafin, who posted outstanding times in all three events in a single afternoon in San Diego last month. Track nuts, unable to trace previous performances in first-class track by this Bakersfield blonde, are keen to get a look at Miss Serafin.’ She’s still the mystery runner, you see. But the point about mysteries is that people want them solved. Once Goldengirl runs here and proves how good she is, everyone will want to know how she kept her form secret so long, and why. I agree we must cut the training camp from the story, but we need to put something in its place.”

  “What’s wrong with saying she’s just one hell of a runner who never took up the sport till now?” demanded Valenti. “Maybe you or I could win the Olympics, but we never tried. America is full of undiscovered runners. Track’s a minority sport.”

  Cobb shook his head. “It’s going to be obvious to anyone that Goldengirl is coached. She didn’t learn the rocket start in Dr. Serafin’s backyard. And she has to be superfit to get through — how many races is it she’s running here?”

  “Twelve,�
�� said Dryden. Cobb was emerging as an unexpected ally. It would be interesting to see how Serafin received this line of argument. He extended it a little himself. “I think what we’re coming around to is admitting that Goldine has had expert coaching, and trained extremely hard for the trials. Is there any reason why we shouldn’t tell the press about Klugman?”

  There was a pause. Serafin took off his glasses and wiped them. He looked ten years older without them. “It’s not a point I had fully considered,” he said. “I thought it advisable in the interests of security to keep Klugman’s name out of it.”

  “But why?” asked Cobb. “We’re not trying to prove she’s Superwoman, are we? There’s nothing to be ashamed of in having a coach.”

  “I must say I have reservations about this,” said Serafin. “My idea has always been that we would attribute her success to natural ability.”

  “So we hired Klugman to bring out the ability,” said Sternberg. “Every jock needs a coach. I don’t see where the conflict is.”

  “You think Klugman is a risk?” asked Valenti, adding suspiciously, “What is it with Klugman? Does he have a police record?”

  “No, no,” said Serafin, obviously sensing the current of opinion against him. “I’ve nothing against Klugman. Perhaps you are right, Mr. Cobb. I was being unrealistic. We may as well admit that he has helped her.”

  “That seems to be agreed, then,” said Dryden. “I think the spotlight will be centered steadily on Goldine. Once she has said Klugman is her coach, there won’t be a lot of interest in him. He’ll need to be briefed, of course, but that can be taken care of. The other question Mr. Cobb raised was possibly more important. How do we explain her meteoric rise to world class?”

  Serafin quickly answered, “I’m sorry if I seem to be repeating myself, but the only explanation is that she is an outstanding natural athlete who first took to the sport seriously this year. It couldn’t happen in any other event but the sprints, and you must take my word for that as a physiologist. Sprinting is an inborn ability. Some of America’s most brilliant sprinters over the years spent more time on football than track technique. If the press want to know why Goldengirl avoided competition, it was because she didn’t consider herself ready for it before June. Believe me, she will give satisfactory answers to questions of this kind.”

  “Those of us who saw her in the press-simulation session need no convincing of that,” said Dryden. “To sum up so far, then, we’re presenting Goldine as a girl whose childhood was scarred by tragedy, but who now emerges as a naturally gifted athlete who took to sprinting this year. Dr. Serafin recognized her potential and hired Klugman to coach her. She’s totally surprised and elated by the success she’s had, but determined to win for America in Moscow if she can. Is there anything anyone would wish to add?” He looked generally around the table, but the question was directed at Serafin. Nothing had been said about Nazi eugenics, nor trends in human growth. If he was right, and Serafin planned to use Goldine to justify his theories, this was a chance to build them into the sell. So long as the rest of the consortium collected their two million apiece, they wouldn’t be bothered whether Goldengirl proved Aryan superiority, or anything else.

  But the only contribution came from Sternberg. “Yeah. How do we get the sex thing in?”

  “What precisely does that mean?” asked Cobb.

  “We want to give Dryden something to generate commercial interest, right? She’s a girl, so there has to be a sex angle. Maybe we can use some tit shots. Or she could start an affair with a French pole-vaulter. Nothing beats sex as a commercial sell. Why do you think I have dames wrestling in my promotions?”

  “We could give it an artistic dimension with the nude sequence from the film,” added Valenti, showing his ideas didn’t stop at cleavage.

  Cobb heaved a long sigh. “You’re both missing the purpose of what we’re doing. At this stage, Mr. Dryden is peddling an idea. It’s quite simply that an unknown American girl can become the star of the Olympics. He’s selling success, and just now there’s a big demand for it. Americans have had enough of scandals and exposures, statesmen with feet of clay, corruption in public life. They’re looking for a simple, supremely successful hero figure, and that’s what Goldengirl can be. She’s pretty, and that’s a bonus, but turning her into a sex symbol would just confuse things. The people Dryden has to deal with aren’t fools. They know how to market a girl, but that’s up to them, not us. All they want to know from us is that she really can do what we claim. The way she runs in Eugene this week should help them decide. They’ll be more impressed by a set of track results than close-ups of her bust.”

  There was nothing Sternberg could say. Dryden’s respect for Cobb was growing by the minute. To salve damaged egos a little, he added, “I think we’ll find Goldine makes a physical impact this week without any help from us. Let’s not underrate the spectacle of a tall blonde in a tracksuit.”

  “You said it!” Valenti perked up. “The start of a women’s dash is one of the finest sights in sport — if you get it from the right angle.”

  “We appear to have reached agreement that you present Goldengirl as a simple success story,” said Serafin.

  “So who do we approach?” said Sternberg. “Coca-Cola, you mentioned.”

  “Why not?” said Dryden. “But let’s look at it systematically. There are different spheres of potential commercial interest. Most obviously, the sports industry. The war between Adidas and Puma is waged more strenuously in track than any other sport. It’s an old game to play one off against the other, but I’m for trying it again. It usually succeeds. Equally, I hope to get something going among the manufacturers of track surfaces — 3M, Reslite, Grasstex and the rest. The electronics industry now has a sizable market in stopwatches. ‘Goldine’s World Record was timed with a Cronus.’ For ‘Cronus,’ read ‘Accusplit,’ ‘Tempo’ or ‘Olympia’ if they care to top the Cronus bid.

  “The next group who will have a lot of interest in Goldine are the food manufacturers, particularly those whose selling point is health. An endorsement from a sports star can move a lot of wheat germ, liquid food, breakfast cereal, milk, oranges. I have a very extensive list, which you can examine at leisure after this.

  “Next, bearing in mind that she’ll be America’s best-known woman, there are the luxury markets: cosmetics — how about a Goldengirl line? Fashion — I’m hoping to get something going with Galsgear, or at least one of your groups, Mr. Cobb.”

  “Why not?” said Cobb.

  “Pharmaceuticals, too,” put in Valenti. “You can come to an arrangement with me.”

  Sternberg shook with laughter. “How the hell do you expect a track star to sell Valenti cough cure?”

  “No trouble,” said Valenti, turning petulantly away from the vibrating fat man. “It’s nothing new. You might not think a basketball star could push nasal spray, but Wilt Chamberlain did. They found the right slogan, you see. Afrin Nasal Spray Has Long Duration of Action with Virtually No Rebound Problems. Count me in, Dryden. Valenti Products will do business with Goldengirl.”

  “That’s good to know,” said Dryden. “I was about to say, anyway, that the multimillion-dollar concerns aren’t too bothered about having any obvious tie-in with sports. If the celebrity is big enough, they’ll buy. I’m thinking of the automobile industry, domestic goods, detergents and so on.”

  “Cigarettes?” said Armitage. “The tobacco industry has strong links with my sport.”

  “I’m not sure that is such a good idea,” said Serafin, frowning. “I think we should be selective about this.”

  “That’s why it’s important to have a clear idea of the image we’re presenting,” said Dryden. “I think Dr. Serafin is right here. Product identification counts. It may mean turning down some big offers, but you have to weigh that against contracts you might lose. For the present, Dick, I think we’ll hold back on that suggestion.”

  “Just as you say,” said Armitage.

  “Before we l
eave the endorsement possibilities,” Dryden went on, “there’s one other angle that might get us some business. I’ve been looking at the range of products that utilize the concept of gold as a selling point. You have the jewelry industry itself, naturally — I should be able to work out some merchandising there — but then, there are all those products packaged in gold. You know them; let’s not take up time by listing them. Dick, I know cigarettes are still on your mind, but this takes in confectionery too. Food products. Manufactured goods. Every sales campaign that uses the old gimmick of a gold seal or a gold star to confer distinction on the product.”

  “If I sense the feeling of the meeting accurately, you’ve satisfied us that the opportunities are there, Mr. Dryden,” said Serafin, finding it impossible not to take the chairman’s role. “I’m confident, too, that you will preserve Goldengirl’s image. I think people now have come to accept that athletes are entitled to cash in on their success, and need expert help like yours. Things have moved on a lot since the Los Angeles Times suggested that the merchandising of Mark Spitz presented him like a ‘chunk of plastic livestock.’ You don’t expect any unfavorable comment on your activities?”

  “It’s a free country,” said Dryden ambivalently. “Actually, I’m working on something that could dignify Goldine a lot in the eyes of the public. Quite by chance, the Olympics are held in the same four-year cycle as U.S. presidential elections. By August, the campaigns should really be heating up. I’m no authority on politics, but I have the feeling that an approach to the President himself after Goldine’s victories might secure something mutually advantageous. I’m thinking along the lines of a TV linkup by satellite with Moscow, or the President to congratulate her and invite her to a White House reception on her return to America.”