by Frank Deford
“But, come on, it wasn’t your fault.”
Oh, I know that. But still, it’s a little embarrassing.
“Well,” I said, “you got a running start here.”
And I’m fortified some, too.
So she put down her glass and picked up the thread.
The next morning, when it was our turn to practice, we all walked over to the pool. After all, it wasn’t even a half-mile away. The pool was part of the main complex—so near to the stadium itself, you could sense the excitement over there, it was so loud. As for us swimmers, though, we all just hoped that it got warmer by the time our races started in another four days. It was so unbelievably chilly for August. You can imagine what the water was like. Then, once you did get in, you didn’t want to get out because the air was so cold.
But it was a magnificent pool for racing, and there must’ve been twenty thousand seats around it. Teddy, I’d never seen any stadium so big in all my life. I don’t mean swimming stadium, you understand. I mean any kind of stadium.
Well, at practice I was just gonna swim with the other backstrokers, Edith and Alice, maybe race ’em a lap or two. But all of a sudden here comes these three men with a rubber raft and some cameras. They slipped the raft into the pool, and then one of ’em went over to speak to Coach Daughters.
I was way on the other side of the pool, but we could tell Coach wasn’t very happy. He was gesticulating furiously. But it was clear he wasn’t gettin’ anywhere, because he finally just threw up his hands in disgust. “All right,” he said, “just make sure you leave us some of the pool. We gotta practice.” Then, he blew his whistle and, of all things, called me over. “Look, Sydney,” he told me, “just do whatever they say so the other girls get a good practice in.”
Well, Teddy, the three men were fixing the camera on the raft, and when the cameraman got on it, the one who’d been talkin’ to Coach Daughters came back over. “All right, her,” Coach told him. “She’s the odd one out.” That meant me. Then he walked away. And there I was left alone with this guy, and Teddy, I was, well, I was just a silly goose. He was so handsome. I mean, he sparkled, and when he smiled, I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t even bear to look at him.
“This must be Horst.”
Yes, Teddy, you can relax because we have indeed gotten to Horst. We are down to where the rubber hits the road. Sure, I’d heard about love at first sight, but this was Exhibit A, and it was happenin’ to me. All the boys I’d met in the United States, nothing, and then the first boy I meet in Germany, I’m a wreck. An absolute wreck. “Hi,” he said, “I’m Horst Gerhardt.”
I looked up. I had to make myself do that, but as soon as I saw him looking back at me, it was the funniest thing, Teddy. Even though I was this foolish little ninny, I suddenly had the feeling that he liked me. I had my sweatshirt on, because it was so cold, you know, so it wasn’t like he could give me the old once-over, so he was just lookin’ into my face, and of course I didn’t have any lipstick on or anything, but dammit, Teddy, I looked back at him, and I smiled the best I could, and I just said, “Hi, I’m Sydney Stringfellow.”
“Good to meetcha,” he said. I remember that exactly. Good to meetcha.
“Yeah,” I replied. It was amazing. My heart was going pitter-patter-pitter, but all the while I knew I was behaving like one cool customer. It was like I was an actor playing Sydney Stringfellow.
“Whereya from, Sydney?”
“The Eastern Shore of Maryland.”
“Hmm. Don’t think I know that.”
“It’s between the Chesapeake Bay and the ocean.” I could see him kind of sortin’ that out on the map in his mind. So I asked him, “Where you from?”
“Oh, right here. I’m a Berliner.”
Now that threw me for a complete loop. He didn’t speak any different from anybody in Chestertown. I couldn’t help myself. “You’re German?”
He put his hands on his hips, screwed up his mouth and said, “Ya got somethin’ against that, sister?” You know, like he was a gangster in a movie—and perfectly.
And you know what I did, Teddy? I mean reflexively? I’d learned about five words of German in my guide book, but I pretended to cower like the mean gangster was holding a gun on me, and then I used three of those words: “Nein, herr. Dankeschoen.” Which means—
“No, sir. Thank you.”
You know German, Teddy?
“Ja, about the same five words.”
Well, Horst laughed at me and said “Willkomen, huebsch,” and I said, “All right, what’s that?” and he swept his hand down like he had taken a big hat off and was bowing before the queen, and said, “Welcome, good-lookin’,” which, of course made me blush, but then we just stopped and looked at each other, and all I wanted was either to find out all about him or kiss him. And I was pretty sure he felt exactly the same way. However—darn it—just then the cameraman called something over to Horst, which I took from his tone of voice to mean: All right, stop talking to the girl and get over here.
So Horst kind of steered me in that direction, explaining as we went along, “Look, here’s the deal, Sydney. We’re working with Leni Riefenstahl on her film.” To that point I’d never heard of her, but I gathered I was supposed to, so I kept my counsel. “Now, obviously, Leni’s shooting over in the stadium today, but she wants to do some really original stuff with the swimming. We’ve got this amazing camera. I mean, Sydney, it can shoot underwater and over, both. It’s unbelievable. You should see the film she’s made already.”
“I’d like to.”
“Maybe I can show you sometime.”
“Sure,” I said. It was incredible how at ease I was—we both were. I mean he was absolutely the cutest, dreamiest, sexiest boy I’d ever met in my life, but on the other hand, we talked like we were old friends who’d known each other all our lives.
But then, the cameraman barked at Horst again, “Schnell! Schnell!” Horst whispered to me, “Quickly, quickly!” before he turned and answered him. Then he turned back to me. “Sorry,” he said. “I told him you’ve got to understand what we’re up to.”
“Okay. Tell me.”
“All right. What Leni wants is for us to get a close-up of a swimmer racing. I mean we want to be right in your face. We want the person watchin’ the film to feel like they’re actually gettin’ wet. You got it?” I nodded. “So we’ll start down at that end of the pool. You swim. Pretend like we’re not there. There’s no camera. You’re just racin’. You see where Hans is?” I looked over. He was in the front of the raft, with his camera perched right over the side. “Hans, this is Sydney.”
Hans deigned to give me a little wave. “His name is Hans Ertl. Trust me, you’re being photographed by the best. You could be on a Hollywood set.” And then he folded his arms and smiled devilishly at me. “Well, you know, you could be on a Hollywood set.”
“Don’t lay it on too thick,” I said, blushing a little.
“So sue me,” he said, smiling. Then he went right back to business. “Okay, now I’ll be in the back of the boat, almost over Hans’ shoulder, and I’ll be holding that rope.” He pointed to the third guy, who held a length of that. “That’s Fritz.” He nodded to him, and Fritz waved back. “Now, Fritz’ll be at the far end of the pool holding onto the other end of the rope—taut—and I’ll pull us back toward him, hopefully just fast enough to stay ahead of you. You get the picture? You wanna do it slowly once to get the hang of it?”
“No, I get it.”
“Okay, then hop in, and I’ll paddle down to you.” And for just a moment more, he held his glance on me. So then, Teddy, I did something. Now, I told you it was chilly, so under normal circumstances I would’ve walked down to the end of the pool and taken off my sweatshirt there, but what I did was, I stood right there before Horst, and I reached down—
And Mom reached down and pantomimed taking a sweatshirt off, the way women do, their arms crossing at the waist.
—and very slowly, very deliberately, I raise
d that sweatshirt over my head. Now listen to me, Teddy. Inasmuch as I was married for decades and inasmuch as I bore two children, it has probably occurred to you that I have been naked in the presence of a man before.
“Yes, Mom, that has indeed crossed my mind.”
Well, just for the record, never in my long life as a woman did I ever do anything as downright sexy as I did standing before Horst Gerhardt when I took my sweatshirt over my head that morning of August 4, 1936, at the Olympic pool in Berlin, Germany.
And, for good measure, just in case I didn’t get it, Mom pantomimed doing the bit with the sweatshirt again.
I mean for all intents and purposes, it really didn’t make any difference that I had a bathing suit on underneath. It was the single most brazen thing I ever did in my life. I am not a brazen woman, Teddy.
“No.”
But that was just plain old-fashioned brazen.
“And what, may I ask, did Horst do?” She winked—which I hardly remember Mom ever doing.
Well, thank the Lord, he did just what I expected. He looked, and it was obvious he liked what he saw, and then I even gilded the lily, because I held that pose a bit longer, as I casually brushed my hair back—
And Mom pantomimed brushing her hair back, slowly, intently, teasing, her arms held high, so that her chest popped out. My mother, the strumpet!
—and then I went down to the other end of the pool and jumped in. Didn’t even feel cold. Felt like I was right back in the Chester River. Meanwhile, Horst got into the raft and paddled down. He held the rope tight from Fritz. Just naturally, I took my usual position for the backstroke, but Hans, who could speak a little English, immediately shook his head and cried out, “No, no, no. Ozer way.”
Horst spoke up. “You’re a backstroker?”
“Yeah. But I can do all the others.”
“It’d be so much better if we could really see your face.”
“You want freestyle?”
Hans held onto the camera with one hand and made a sweeping motion with the other. “Breaststroke?” Horst asked, making the breaststroke motion himself.
“Ja, ja.”
“Okay, Sydney, can you do the breaststroke? That way, your arms will go out to the side and we can really see your face up tight.”
“Sure,” I said. “It’s not my best, the breaststroke.”
“It’s okay,” Horst said. “It’s a great face.” Funny the way he said that, Teddy. It wasn’t flirtatious at all. It wasn’t like a man saying “you’re beautiful,” you know, playing up to you. Even if he means it. No, it was just like a statement. The way he said it, it was the best compliment I’d ever gotten. Honest to God, I was so glad when I could start swimming, so I could move. If I’d just stood there any longer in the pool, I think I would’ve melted.
She shook her head at the wonder of the memory, and reached down and took a nice big gulp of her Bloody Mary.
Well, I started swimming. The breaststroke. Hans worked the camera, and Horst pulled on the rope. The girls in the other half of the pool stopped practicing and watched. Even Coach Daughters had to watch. It was pretty interesting, actually. I had to swim with the camera just in front of me—hardly a foot, maybe. I splashed Hans pretty good. They do all sorts of camera tricks now, of course, but this was downright revolutionary for that time. And when we got to the other end of the pool, Horst asked me if I’d do it again. Tell you the truth, Teddy, I would’ve done it all day long just to be there with him, so besides the breaststroke, we did a couple lengths butterfly and a couple freestyle.
Hans seemed pleased, so Horst told me that’d be enough, and I hoisted myself out of the pool and took off my cap. I’d quickly brushed my hair back, trying to look as pretty as I could before Horst came over and handed me a towel.
“And correct me if I’m wrong, Mother, but you’re in that kinda see-through suit.”’
You are not wrong at all, Teddy. And you can also read into the record that I took my own good time putting that towel around me.
“You vixen, you.”
Yes, Teddy, your old mother was a regular she-devil on this occasion. But after I thought I’d given him enough of the peep show, I wrapped myself in the towel. And Horst said, “That was great.”
“You got what you wanted?”
“For now.” Well, he just meant it vis-à-vis the shooting, but it was funny, we were so in sync already, Teddy, we both sort of took it to mean something else, and we smiled, shyly, together. Now understand, Horst wasn’t the least bit fresh.
“Come on, Mom, give the devil his due.”
Well, all right, perhaps he’d been a bit cheeky. But I do think you could say I was leadin’ him on.
“Yes, I believe you could.”
Well, we won’t split hairs, Teddy, because right away, Horst said, “Wouldja like to come over to the place tonight?”
“What place?”
“I’m sorry, I guess that didn’t sound right. I mean the big place, the headquarters where we’re makin’ the film. It’s not far from here.”
“Sure. I’d like that.” And then I remembered. My heart sank. “No, look, I forgot. Some of the girls asked me to go out tonight, and I really gotta do that. See, I just got in yesterday.”
“Whatdya mean ‘yesterday’? I thought you’d all been here a week.”
“Well, not me. It’s a long story.”
“I’d like to hear it.”
“And I’d like to hear how come you’re a German but you speak English like an American.”
“It’s a long story.”
“Well?” I said.
“Okay, tomorrow night we’ll tell long stories.”
“Ja. Danke.”
“Not bad.”
“It’s the only German I know.”
“I’ll teach you some more.”
“Like what?”
“Oh, like”—and he gave me this mouthful.
So I said, “Okay, gimme that slow.”
And he said, “Wie . . . bist . . . du . . . nur . . . so . . . schoen . . . gewoden.”
And I repeated it till I got it right (which is why I still remember it, even though it’s been a coon’s age). So then I asked him: “Well, what’s it mean?”
And he said, “It means ‘How’d you get so pretty?’”
So I blushed a little and said, “Come on. I can’t say that.”
“Yeah, whaddya wanna say?”
“I wanna say, ‘Thanks for the swell compliment, but go easy on the sweet talk.’”
“Oh, all right. That’s . . .” and he rattled it off. And then he said, “Okay?”
And I laughed. “Okay. What time tomorrow?”
“How ’bout seven o’clock?” I nodded. “But Sydney, just hang on if I’m a little late. Leni works us pretty hard.” And he looked at me longer and kinda smiled. Neither one of us stuck out our hands, because I guess it’s sort of foolish shakin’ hands with someone you know you’re gonna be kissin’ soon enough.
“You knew that, huh?”
“Teddy, trust me. It didn’t take any ESP. I might’ve been a little outta my element, but, the Eastern Shore or Berlin, Germany, I knew a thing or two about physical attraction between members of the opposite sex.”
“You could feel the electricity, huh?”
Mom held out her hands, stiff, and wiggled her fingers like Frankenstein’s monster getting the juice.
Oh my, yes, Teddy, I was lit up like Times Square. So I just said, “Don’t worry, I’ll wait for you.”
It’s funny, isn’t it, Teddy, how well we used to operate before there were cell phones so we always know where someone is. We got along just fine then even though we didn’t have everybody’s co-ordinates every second of the day. Didn’t we?
“Yeah.”
Well, it didn’t matter. I knew I was onto somethin’ good. I’d’ve waited for that boy till the cows came home.
The waitress came and Mom told me to go ahead. I ordered a Cobb salad. “Fine,” she said. “I
’ll have a bacon cheddar cheeseburger, and don’t scrimp on the fries.” She smiled, shaking her head at me. “Under the circumstances, there’s no sense me holding back.”
“All right,” I told the waitress, “eighty-six the salad, and I’ll have what the lady’s having.”
“Live large, Teddy. Live large.” She took a generous sip of her Bloody Mary. “I’d have another one of these monkeys, too, but it’d make me sleepy, and I’m just gettin’ to the meat of the story.”
“Horst,” I said.
She grinned puckishly. “Oh, the girls just razzed me somethin’ awful as soon as he left. Coach had to scream at ’em to get back to practicing. But you could tell how envious they all were. I mean, he was the cutest thing you ever did see. These kids today do all this internet dating, where they get matched up so perfectly. I guess it works. They all hop into bed so fast now I’m not sure it matters anyhow. But I don’t know, Teddy, I think it’s better when he comes outta the blue.”
“So, I take it Horst did indeed take you out the next night.”
“Even better than that.” She paused for a second, pondering, then held up her drink glass. “Oh, miss,” she called out to the waitress, “let’s do this again. And one for my friend, too.” She turned back to me. “What the hell, Teddy, I can sleep all afternoon, and then I’ll be wide awake for the Olympics tonight. Natalie Coughlin’s in the medley relay.”
Mom drained what was left of her inaugural Bloody Mary, told me to start the tape recorder again and then resumed her story.
You must’ve seen that movie, Cabaret.
“Mom, I directed a production of that a few years ago.”
Of course, Teddy. Well, you remember that joint where the goofy girl sang where they had all the telephones on the tables—
“The Kit Kat Club.”
Exactly. Well, there actually were places like that in Berlin. The guy who wrote that—
“His name was Christopher Isherwood.”
Oh yeah. Well, he must’ve gone to one of them. So did we. It was called the Femina, and several of the gals on the team had already been there before I got to Berlin, and they wanted to take me. It was very European, very sophisticated, very—well—naughty. Most of us even had a beer. We nursed them, of course, but it seemed quite daring. I was sitting at a table with a few of the girls, Iris and Dorothy and Katherine, I think, and you’ll never guess what happened.
