Berlin Games (44 page)

But Poynton Hill's diving matched her glamour. In group two, she scored 8.36 to Dunn's 7.92 and Koehler's 8.40. Her third group was even better, earning her 9.36 points. As the women went into the final group, Poynton Hill stood on 25.53, Dunn on 24.39, Koehler on 23.91. Much to Dunn's secret delight, no doubt, Cornelia Gilissen was languishing on 22.07. Poynton's last round was a disappointing 8.40, which brought her final total to 33.93. Koehler scored 9.52–the highest in any group scored by a woman that day, putting her on 33.43. Velma Dunn now had to score 9.05 to beat the German, and 9.55 to beat the despised Dorothy. The last group called for backward
somersaults from the standing position on the 5-metre board. Dunn knew she was good at it, but she would have to surpass her best. She tried as hard as she could, and the judges rewarded her for it, giving her a score of 9.24–just .30 shy of Poynton Hill. The bombshell had won her gold, and the contract with Camel was now safely tucked down her front. She would retain her somewhat aggressive glamour until her dying day. ‘It's great having been the world's best in something,' she said, ‘instead of being Suzy Klutz trying to learn how to bake a cake.' She had clearly not listened to Coubertin's words concerning the taking part.

 

The United States' men's swimming team also appeared to suffer from some bitchy behaviour. Adolph Kiefer, the prodigious eighteen-year-old world record holder in the 100 metres backstroke, found himself on the receiving end of some psychological warfare from his teammate Taylor Drysdale. ‘The night before the final,' Kiefer recalled, ‘he told me he was going to beat me. He was trying to unnerve me. Well, he was just a pretty boy.' Drysdale must have had some nerve. His fastest time in the heats and semi-finals was 1:08.6. Kiefer's was 1:06.8 in the semi-final, beating the Olympic record of 1:06.9 that he himself had set the day before in the heats. There was no way that Drysdale could possibly beat Kiefer. Indeed, a bookie would have refused to take bets on the young man from Chicago.

Nevertheless, Kiefer was nervous before the race, which was held in the rain on the afternoon of Friday, 14 August. ‘I kept thinking about what I would do,' said Kiefer. ‘I went to the swimming stadium from the village in an open-top car on my own. The drive was about thirty minutes. After I arrived, I got a massage, and I was just thinking about my event and nothing else. I was interested in getting into my rhythm, getting my muscles coordinated. I would sing to myself as I swam–it gave me a rhythm. I would swim just with my arms, and then with my legs, and then I would be ready.' When the gun went off, Kiefer reached back as far as he could. Like the rest of the swimmers, he had very little idea of what was going on. All he had to do was to swim as fast he could, and he would soon be taking his place at the top of the podium. By the halfway mark, he already had a commanding lead, and it came as no surprise when he finished first, in a
time of 1:05.9–yet another Olympic record, although just over a second slower than his world record. He had barely pushed himself. Taylor Drysdale came fourth. He was 3½ seconds behind the man he said he would beat, finishing in his worst time at the Games.

Kiefer was not the United States' only gold medal winner in the pool. Jack Medica predictably won the 400 metres freestyle, and took silver in the 1,500. The team came second in the 800 metres relay to Japan, who broke the world record in that event. The springboard diving saw the United States take the first three places, with Dick Degener–presumably out of the clutches of Eleanor Holm–taking gold, with Marshall Wayne in second and Al Greene in third. Wayne won gold in the high diving, and Elbert Root took silver, but Germany, in the form of Hermann Stork, won the bronze.

 

If Britain had very little success in the water, then it did a lot better on it. In the yachting, Peter Scott–the son of Scott of the Antarctic and later to find fame as a naturalist–won bronze in the Olympic Monotype class. Britain's crew won gold in the International Six Metre class, an event normally dominated by the Scandinavians. In the 2,000 metres double sculls, Jack Beresford and Leslie Southwood rowed a thrilling race against the German pair, Willi Kaidel and Joachim Pirsch. The British led at the start, but the Germans caught them, and at the halfway point they took the lead. Beresford and Southwood rallied back, but with just 100 metres to go, it looked as if the Germans would take gold. There were just centimetres in it. They could not stand the pace, however, and the British crossed the line six seconds ahead of the Germans. ‘Beresford was much distressed at the end,' commented the
Manchester Guardian
. It was hardly surprising–Beresford was thirty-seven, and that victory represented his fifth Olympic medal. He had won silver in the single sculls in 1920, gold in the same event in 1924, a silver medal as part of the eight in 1928, and a gold in the coxless fours in 1932.

The final of the 2,000 metres coxless fours was no less thrilling. Like Sweden with the modern pentathlon, Britain felt she owned the event as she had won it at the previous three games. The British team–which included Martin Bristow–was determined to do its forerunners proud, and not just throw bread at portraits of Hitler in
the refectory. The British were keen to train as hard as possible, as they were missing their stroke, Howitt, who was stuck in his office at Cable & Wireless. The replacement stroke was an Oxford man who was used to rowing a boat with fixed rowlocks, whereas the rest of the crew were accustomed to swivelled rowlocks. ‘We had two outings a day,' Bristow recalled. ‘Our training was all very regimented.' The British soon found, however, that the bus timetable did not suit them. ‘We asked for it to be changed, but we were told that it was all decided in Berlin.'

The race started extremely quickly, with the British leading for a short time. By 600 metres, however, the Germans had nudged slightly ahead. The British put on a spurt to try to overtake, but the Germans were just too strong. ‘There was a lack of cohesion because we didn't have Howitt,' said Bristow. ‘We lacked that edge.' At the halfway point, the order was Germany, Great Britain, Italy and Switzerland. Once more, the British mounted an attack, but they were unable to get the better of the Germans. When they neared the tribune, the two boats were level, but the Germans had something in reserve, and they managed to pull away decisively, beating the British by a length. ‘We felt a bit aggrieved,' said Bristow. ‘Nevertheless, we were pleased to win anything. There is no question that we would have wiped the floor had we had Howitt.'

The most exciting rowing race was the final of the eights. This time it was the Americans who had the monopoly on an event, having won it six times since Paris in 1900. The British had marred their clean sweep by taking gold in 1908 and 1912, but there was no doubting that this was the United States' private property. The American eight was that of the University of Washington, an immensely powerful crew which was considered invincible. Although others could row at a faster rate, their pull was so long and strong that they could never be passed. Facing what Arthur Daley of the
New York Times
called ‘the lads from the tall timber of the great North-west' were the Italians, the Germans, the British, the Hungarians and the Swiss, none of whom publicly regarded the Americans as anything but beatable.

The race was held at six o'clock on Friday, 14 August. The sky was gloomy, and during the race it started to rain heavily. A crosswind lashed the outside lane, which was where the Americans were drawn,
giving them an immediate handicap. Nevertheless, the ‘Huskies' got off to a strong start, but it was not strong enough. By 400 metres, the order was Switzerland, Britain, Germany and the United States. The British crew had had to row an extra heat the day before, and at this early stage the exhaustion could be seen on their faces. After another 100 metres, the first three drew level, but at 800 metres Italy was out ahead and the Americans had dropped back to last. The Huskies' cox, Bob Moch, ordered an increase in the tempo, and soon the Americans were rowing at a rate of 35 strokes per minute, churning up the cold grey waters. This saw them draw up to third at the 1,200-metre mark. Italy was now a length ahead of them, with Germany in between. Moch was keen to capitalise on the surge forward, and ordered another increase, which his crew was just about able to provide, stepping up the rate to 36. The gap between them and the Italians soon closed.

At 1,800 metres, the Washington crew enjoyed a slight lead. The Italians started to go at a rate of 40, however, and drew up on the American boat. The Germans, no doubt aware of their Fuehrer's eyes on them, did the same, and soon all three boats were level. Moch now knew that his crew had to push themselves harder than ever. ‘Higher! Higher!' he yelled into the megaphone strapped to his face. ‘Give her all you've got!' The American stroke, Don Hume, did as he was ordered, and upped the rate from 40 to a punishing 44. The extra effort was worth it, because the prow of the American boat crossed the line first, beating the Italians by a mere six-tenths of a second. The Germans were just four-tenths of a second behind the Italians, and the British in fourth and the Hungarians in fifth were a good length behind. The American coach, Alvin Ulbrickson, was speechless, and when the Huskies came in to dock, all he could do was to make a weak quip. Spotting the victory wreath around the head of Herbert Morris, the bow, Ulbrickson asked, ‘Where did you pick up the hay?'

‘I picked it up downstream,' Morris replied with a casual wave of the hand.

 

Robie Leibbrandt would have hated the gentlemanly casualness of the rowers. For the South African boxer, the Olympics were important in the same way as they were for the Nazis–they were about nationalism,
not matey internationalism. Winning a gold in his light-heavyweight class would not just be a personal triumph, but also a triumph for his oppressed Afrikaners. It would also be an important leg in Leibbrandt's political journey, a journey that would see him going from Nazi sympathiser to an actual Nazi. But before he could concern himself with such weighty matters, he actually needed to do some boxing.

Leibbrandt's first bout was against Johansen of Norway on the evening of Monday, 10 August. Leibbrandt had been told by his trainer, Jim Fennessey, to stay calm and secure an easy win. There was no point in going for the knockout–he should save his energy for later rounds. The South African, though, was determined to show the crowd in the Deutschland Hall what he was capable of. Despite suffering from a bleeding nose, Leibbrandt harried Johansen around the ring with a series of left swings to his body and rights to the jaw. At the end of the bout, Johansen was barely able to stand, and the largely German crowd cheered Leibbrandt as one of their own when he was rightly awarded the victory by the judges.

The following evening saw Leibbrandt face Amin Mohammed of Egypt. Amin was a far tougher opponent that the Norwegian, and Leibbrandt had to be nimble to avoid the Egyptian's heavy right punches. Nevertheless, Leibbrandt scored well with his left, and in the second and third rounds he landed some vital punches. He won the bout, but towards the end of the match it was clear that he had started to tire. Fennessey questioned the wisdom of Leibbrandt's vegetarianism, but the boxer refused to discuss it. Leibbrandt was now through to the quarter-finals, where he encountered Havelka of Czechoslovakia on the evening of Thursday, 13 August–the same night as Goering's magnificent party. As was to be expected, the fight was tough, and Leibbrandt only just scraped through to the semi-finals. There were now four boxers left–Leibbrandt, Roger Michelot of France, Richard Vogt of Germany and Francisco Risiglione of Argentina.

Back in the dressing room, however, Fennessey noticed that Leibbrandt was in pain. ‘What's wrong?' he asked. ‘Aren't you glad? There's nothing to stop you now.' Leibbrandt motioned towards his right hand, which was still in its glove.

‘You remember that hard right in the second round?' Leibbrandt asked. ‘I put all my weight behind it but he brought up his left and
I caught him on shoulder. From that moment I could feel that there was something wrong with my right.'

Fennessey removed the glove, which came off with some difficulty. Leibbrandt's right hand had turned blue, and with the removal of the glove it soon started to swell up. There was no doubt about it–the hand was broken. Fennessey told the boxer that his bid for Olympic glory had finished. There was no way he could carry on. Leibbrandt, however, did not agree, telling Fennessey that he would fight on. The next day, the doctor in the Olympic village confirmed that the hand had been fractured, and told the South African that it was out of the question that he could fight that evening, even if he just wanted to use his left. A useless right hand would not only make it harder for him to launch an attack, but it would also make it harder to defend himself, and would therefore expose him to a greater risk of injury.

Leibbrandt was nothing if not bloody minded, and insisted that he would fight. Eventually, he managed to convince a reluctant Fennessey to support him in the ring, with the proviso that as soon as it looked as if Leibbrandt was going to suffer a permanent injury, then the towel would be thrown. Incredibly, the officials from the International Boxing Federation allowed Leibbrandt to fight, and even sanctioned the use of a painkilling cocaine injection into the right hand. Just a few minutes before the bout, however, the permission was withdrawn, and Leibbrandt entered the ring against Michelot with a glove that had been slit open in order to fit over his swollen hand.

Despite his handicap, Leibbrandt acquitted himself well, using his left with power and precision to stun the Frenchman. Leibbrandt risked the occasional right punch, and when he connected, the pain on his face was obvious to everyone–especially Michelot. By the end of the second round, Leibbrandt was defying his detractors, and it looked as if he was actually winning the bout. In the final round, with the crowd cheering him on, Leibbrandt landed more and more punches with his left. He tried his right one more time, but it lacked any power. Michelot was no walkover, and he got in some hefty body blows, and also managed to get Leibbrandt's nose bleeding. When the bell sounded, the South Africans were sure their man had won. And then the Tannoy sounded. ‘The winner on points–Michelot of France!' Boos erupted from the crowd. Leibbrandt shook his head in
disgust. In his eyes, he had been robbed of his victory by a bad decision, his opinion supported not only by the newspapers back home–which was unsurprising–but also by the British judges who happened to be watching. The next day, Leibbrandt should have fought for third place, but the doctors forbade it. Michelot beat Vogt of Germany to win gold, and Risiglione was given a walkover to take bronze.