“Tell us about your preparation, Goldine.”
“Which was the most difficult medal to win?” came a second voice over the first.
“I’ll take the second question first. The four hundred was the tough one. They’re all sprints, and that’s the longest. As for preparation, I trained seven days a week, with plenty of practice starting, some work on technique — stride, knee lift, pickup and so on — but generally aiming at speed without strain. You’re going to ask me next how many hours a day, and the answer is that it varied. Some days it might be just an hour on the track, some as much as four. I feel my extensors tighten up, and I think, hmm, it’s time to shower.”
“Doesn’t all this training mean sacrifices?”
She raised her eyebrows. “Sacrifices? Like not going out with guys? There are still some hours left in the day for that. You can’t do trackwork after dark, but other things aren’t impossible.” She paused, waiting for the laughter to die in the loudspeakers. “Like reading books and listening to music.”
“Do you have a current boyfriend, Goldine?”
“Is that a proposition?” More laughter. “I have all the dates I can cope with. There’s a point I’d like to emphasize. Track isn’t all sacrifice and sweat. It can be a social opportunity as well. I don’t know how things are coming along here, but in the States the men in track outnumber us by five to one, and that’s one area where I’m not pressing for equality.”
“Jim Poindexter. Sports Illustrated. I believe you’re six foot two, Goldine. Would you say your height gives you an unfair advantage over other girls?”
“If that’s a reference to the previous question, I admit I can spot a good-looking guy at fifty yards, yes. Seriously, it’s definitely an advantage in running to have a certain type of physique. Whether mine’s more efficient for the job, I couldn’t say. Remember I weigh a little more than other girls, so there’s more of me to move, so to speak. How am I doing? Am I talking too much? There seem to be plenty of you with questions.”
“You’re doing fine,” said Lee. “If I can structure the questioning a little, there are still a number of people with things to ask about your achievements in the stadium.”
“Jerry Fisher, Track and Field News. I’d be interested to know who you regarded as your greatest rivals.”
“The answer to that is that every girl was a potential rival. You see, I hadn’t raced against anyone except the U.S. girls before.”
“Did you study the form of other girls, Miss Serafin?”
“I don’t mind Goldine, if you like to be informal. Well, I knew the times other girls had clocked, but I didn’t consciously put names to them. In sprints, you don’t have to study other girls’ tactics. We all go like crazy for the tape.”
“Is it correct to say that you remained aloof from the other girls on the training track?” Dr. Lee’s finger had apparently moved to the right-hand end of the console.
“I can understand how it could seem that way,” answered Goldine evenly. “They know each other, you see, from frequent track meets in capitals across the world. I’m really very new to track. I hadn’t done anything till June this year, so the girls just didn’t know me. I didn’t freeze anyone off, but it’s not in my nature either to force a friendship on people.”
“What goes through your mind as you run?”
“How it feels, I guess. Whether I’m going smoothly. I sometimes offer up a prayer that I can still burn the last fifty yards.”
“How did you feel as you stood on the victory rostrum?”
“Proud. Pleased for the American people. It really gets you here when you see your country’s flag being raised.”
“Why didn’t you run for America in the relay teams?” That was a nasty follow-up.
She didn’t falter. “I know my limitations. There’s a technique to be learned in baton-changing that I simply haven’t acquired. In the short time I’ve had in competitive running it seemed best to concentrate on individual events. I made that clear to the U.S. Olympic Committee just as soon as I qualified for the team.”
“Why didn’t you compete before this year? Did you know you were so superior, you had no need?”
“I didn’t know that at all. I’m nineteen years old, and this is my first season in track. The coaches tell me it couldn’t happen in any other event to get to the Olympics so soon, but sprinting is natural. Sure, I’ve run before, and I knew I could inject a little speed when I wanted, but I never tried it on a track. I was more interested in swimming. My mother died in a drowning accident when I was a small girl, and I guess I wanted to make sure I could hold myself up in the water.”
“Didn’t you do any running in high school?”
“If I may put in a word here,” said Dr. Serafin. “My wife and I adopted Goldine when she was four, in the tragic circumstances she has mentioned. At that time, our major consideration was that she should begin to identify with her new home and family. We judged it right to have her educated in the environment we wanted her to accept. I still believe this was the right thing to do, but it may be that later, if she had gone into the state school system, her potential as an athlete would have come to light before this year. Once she had started studying at home, it seemed inappropriate to switch.”
“How do you feel about her achievements, sir?” Lee’s voice.
“As proud as any parent can.”
“Justifiably, if I may say so. Another question for Goldine,” said Lee.
“Are you superstitious? Do you have a mascot, or some lucky charm?”
What a merchandising opportunity! Dryden thought: Only my custom-made Adidas track shoes.
“I don’t think I am.” She touched the medals so that they chinked against each other. “From now on, these are my charms.”
She had already fed the empty seats enough quotes to fill a full-page spread. They came without apparent effort, as if they were scripted, but she delivered them with a verve that projected spontaneity. It seemed she was one of those rare individuals who could appear before the press and scintillate. Or was it the result of months of drilling in sessions like this? The only way to find out was to take Lee at his word and slip in a question she couldn’t have had before from the machine.
Already it was feeding the next one to her. “Now that you’ve had this success, do you plan to stay in track, or will you take advantage of the commercial opportunities open to you?”
“Are those things mutually exclusive?” said Goldine innocently. “I’d like to keep running, for sure. I can’t say I know much about commerce. If it means reading the Wall Street Journal, I don’t think it’s my scene.” She put her hand to her mouth. “Oh my God, which journal do you represent?”
Before the laughter died, Dryden pitched in. “There’s a story that you trained in the Sierra Nevada. Did altitude training contribute to your success?”
There was a momentary hesitation which might have been a reaction to the different acoustic quality of Dryden’s voice, but no doubt about the crispness of the response. “At six foot two, you could say all my running is at altitude. Yes, I did some running in the mountains. The air’s a little sweeter there than it is in oily old Bakersfield, where I live.”
“What do you think of Moscow?” Valenti asked, getting in on the act.
“At this moment, there’s no place I’d rather be.”
“How about the Russian people?”
“Everyone I’ve met has treated me kindly, and I’d like to tell them how much I appreciate that,” she answered. “Unfortunately, I know just three words in Russian: Na Mesta and Gotovo.”
“‘On your marks’ and ‘Set,’” Melody translated for Dryden. “She’s holding up pretty good, wouldn’t you say?”
“She rates a gold medal for PR,” Dryden answered.
“Have you ever raced against men, Goldine?” the machine resumed.
“Every day this week against you guys holding the cameras. I don’t mean that unkindly, but when you’re engaged
in two semis and a final in one afternoon, you simply don’t have time to stand and be photographed. No, sir, the answer to your question is that I haven’t, to my knowledge.”
“What do you feel about the sex tests for women athletes?”
She appeared to give it a moment’s thought. “I recognize that a test is necessary. It’s not embarrassing. They take a smear from inside your mouth and check your chromosomes. How do I feel? Just sad for the people who get rejected. A gene count might establish that the person concerned is not a one hundred per cent normal woman, but it doesn’t make them a man either.”
“Do you consider yourself completely feminine?”
That one. The machine wasn’t sparing her. It was programed so that anything with controversial possibilities was taken up.
“From the amount I’ve talked since I got here, I wouldn’t have thought anyone in this room could doubt it.”
“Do you feel strongly about women’s rights, Goldine?”
“Not so strongly as I feel about men’s wrongs. You’re asking me if I’m a feminist. Some years back, a famous woman sprinter was asked something like that. They wanted to know why she wore a bra under her trackshirt if she believed in women’s lib. You know what she answered? Because I don’t want two black eyes. I like that story. Do you have another question?”
“Yes.” Dryden did. For some minutes he had speculated on the way Goldengirl dealt with questions. This was a long shot, but worth trying. “Do you think commercialism is destroying the spirit of the Olympic Games?”
“The spirit of the Olympic Games?” repeated Goldine. “You mean the ideas of that little French guy who set them up? Isn’t that something like the important thing is taking part, not winning?”
Dryden pressed his question. “Is commerce a threat to those ideals?”
“I can’t say I know much about commerce,” answered Goldine. “If it means reading the Wall Street —” She stopped. The elation in her expression was supplanted first by a frown, then unmistakable fear. For a moment it looked as if she might flee the platform, but Serafin put his hand firmly over her wrist.
“She has given her answer. She knows nothing about these things, Mr. Dryden, but we thank you for your question. Do we have another now?”
“Do you have a special diet?” the machine faithfully chanted.
Serafin turned to Goldine with a paternal smile. She let her breath out slowly as if a crisis was past. The confidence seeped back. “Nothing most Americans would call special, though I guess what we eat is different from caviar and things. I like to have a balanced intake of food, and I take vitamins occasionally like everyone else, but I don’t have fads, like living only on wheat germ.”
“Another,” ordered Serafin. This conference was going on till she had delivered enough good responses to erase the breakdown on Dryden’s question.
“Do you have any message for the people back home in America?” Dr. Lee’s finger was keeping strictly to the easy end of the controls.
“Gee, I’m not used to speaking to America at large. Just say I’m happy if my running pleased them. Does anyone else have a question?”
“Yeah. What are your plans for this evening, Goldengirl?”
“This evening?” For a second the repetition suggested she had been thrown again, but it wasn’t so. She was fully in command, as she demonstrated by raising an eyebrow, smiling, getting to her feet and putting a hand up to shield her eyes as she peered into the limbo beyond the lights. “I’ve nothing arranged. Get yourself stilts, mister, and you might have a date.”
It was a smart payoff, relished by all but one of the audience. Goldine could not have known the question came from the shortest man in the room: Gino Valenti.
Chapter 6
In the highly charged last minutes of the simulation session Dryden had been so absorbed watching Goldengirl that Melody had to tap him twice on the arm to get a response. The conference had been rounded off with the meticulous observance of detail that had characterized it from the start: Lee had formally thanked Serafin and Goldine for appearing, they had posed briefly in the flashlights, and their exit had cued in the press in full chorus.
“Show’s over,” Melody pointed out. “No second show.”
Dryden offered her a cigarette. “Is this a regular thing?”
“She’s done a few before. Wasn’t that obvious? It’s the first I’ve watched in weeks. Her technique’s right on, I’d say, but she flubbed that second question of yours. They won’t like that one bit.”
“You mean I fouled it up?” Dryden innocently said.
“It’s not important,” Melody assured him. “They’ll work on it with Goldengirl. Seems you located a fault. They should be grateful. She won’t, but she doesn’t know it came from you, so it shouldn’t downgrade you. I see you liked her.”
And Dryden saw that Melody wasn’t pleased. He drew thoughtfully on his cigarette. “I admired her style, but I got the impression it was slightly out of character, almost as if she was high on something. Would that be an accurate reading?”
“Couldn’t say, lover boy. They said Marilyn Monroe was a dumb broad till she got in front of a camera. It could be that flashbulbs are Goldengirl’s turn-on.”
“They wouldn’t do anything for me,” commented Dryden. “I go for soft lights and music every time. What’s next on the program?”
“Nothing for an hour,” said Melody. “I was thinking maybe you and I —” She stopped.
Serafin had approached from behind and placed his hands on their shoulders. “I hate to break this up, but I thought you might welcome an opportunity to take a stroll in the fresh air, Mr. Dryden. I should be interested to have your impressions of what you have just observed — if you will forgive us, Melody.”
She gave a forced smile. “Why not?”
Serafin walked him slowly into the open area away from the buildings. Purple mountain peaks surfaced above the tall fence to their right. Dryden stopped and stared about him.
“Is something wrong?” Serafin asked.
“In a way, yes. The wood fencing over there. I’m positive I saw it in your film yesterday. The shots of Goldengirl running.”
“So you did.”
Dryden laughed uncertainly. “Well, what have you done with the running track?”
“I see,” said Serafin, with a rare smile. “We rolled it up, like a carpet. It’s an all-weather strip, made to Tartan’s specifications. They supply them to schools and colleges that use the same ground for a number of different sports. It’s at the end, there.” He pointed to a cylindrical object the size of a large roll of newsprint. It was mounted on a winch at one end of the enclosure. “We roll it up when it isn’t in use, in case of aerial surveillance. But it’s a genuine all-weather surface, I assure you. If that’s all that puzzled you —”
“There is something else,” said Dryden. “I don’t see any gate in the fence. How do you” — he flapped his hand — “come and er …?”
“As you did, Mr. Dryden. By helicopter. Does it make you feel immured? We are all in the same situation up here. You see, there isn’t a road within six miles, so we have no use for a gate. If somebody should pass by, the absence of a formal entrance discourages them from calling. We can let a ladder down if anyone from here develops an urge to go mountaineering, but I haven’t included anything like that in this weekend’s itinerary.”
“I didn’t pack my climbing boots,” said Dryden with a deadpan expression.
“That’s all right, then. Tell me, how did the press-conference simulation strike you?” Serafin had come to the point at the first opportunity. He was almost childishly eager to learn how his party tricks had been received.
“Ingenious,” answered Dryden. “Top marks to the effects department. That’s a clever young man you’ve hired, that Mr. —”
Serafin brushed that aside. “What did you think of Goldengirl?”
“She’s a most attractive —” Dryden began.
“Her handling
of the questions,” Serafin insisted. “Were you satisfied with the way she dealt with them?”
Dryden opened his hands in a gesture that conveyed nothing. His experience as a negotiator told him he had the edge on Serafin at this moment. Handled properly, the situation might yield something of interest.
“I have to give you credit,” Serafin went on without waiting for a response. “You caught her off balance with one of your questions, and I believe it wasn’t pure chance. It was perspicacious on your part to notice how she has been taught to respond. That was quite evident from the way you rephrased your second question.” He waited, his eyes boring into Dryden’s, seeking confirmation before committing himself further.
It was necessary to give a little. “I thought it was possible she was producing her best responses when certain trigger words came up. The way she reacted to being called the greatest woman athlete: a predictable question, but the answer was smooth, really smooth. On ‘sacrifices’ she was ready with her remark about things you can do after dark, and when Russia was mentioned, out she came with her three Russian words. I ask a question on altitude and she earns a laugh with her six foot two. I think, Let’s try her with a trigger word she’s already had, so I come in with ‘commerce,’ which has already produced a slick remark about the Wall Street Journal. She sidesteps me the first time, but I come again and …” He shrugged.
“You had the undoubted advantage of knowing it was a simulation exercise,” Serafin reflected aloud. “If you had been in Moscow in the actual situation of an Olympic press conference, you would almost certainly not have detected the method. However, it’s obviously something Lee must put right. I’m glad it came up.”
“I wouldn’t have guessed she had her answers ready from the way she put them over,” Dryden said to soften the blow. “If she doesn’t get her gold medals, you could always nominate her for an Oscar.”
Serafin’s expression froze. “If that is intended as a joke, it doesn’t amuse me. You must understand that we think in positive terms here, Mr. Dryden. We should achieve nothing if we did not. The very fact that we hold a session like that is proof of our confidence. Believe me, we should not have gone to the trouble and risk of bringing you into our confidence if we were not counting on success. You are privileged this weekend to see the last coat of polish applied to an artifact master craftsmen have taken years to shape. Years. Your function — if you have one in regard to Goldengirl — will simply be to market her. I do not expect you to comprehend the work we have put into this, but I would have thought you might have sufficient respect to refrain from cheap humor of that sort.”
Goldengirl Page 9
