A Man Among Men

A Man Among Men By Ira J. Markham TO lift a h u n d r e d-p o u n d weight with one arm ; to go spinning dizzily around in a one and a half somersault; to speed through the water to the end of the pool; to turn in a flash and be back again, were marvels to the small boy as he stood gazing longingly at the swimmers at Liberty Park. These men looked much the same as the ones in the books and magazines at home, champion wres- tlers, champion boxers and, above all, champion swimmers. They were his idols, they possessed some- thing he did not have, something he had always dreamed of but as yet that dream had never been realized. He looked down at himself, skinny, round-shouldered, sickly and weak. He could not play with boys his own age; even the ones younger than himself could push him around, and he had to take it. It was his dream to be big and strong — a real man among men. Eight years passed. Fifteen hundred pair of eyes were centered upon a slim, fair-haired youth as he stood upon the mark waiting. What chance did he have against the mighty Ault, of Michigan, in this grueling 440-yard race. Ault, a star performer, the pride of a state, the present National record holder, swimming at top form and declared unbeatable by all the Eastern coaches. This young fellow, Shields, from the wilds of Utah had made a remarkable showing the night before, however. He would bear watching. "Swimmers ready, judges and timers ready. Get ready — go!" They were off. "Shields is leading — now he is not, there he makes up on the turn. Eighteen lengths to go. They are starting too fast; they can't stand it, the Western boy will peter out before he is half way. "Look at that white-haired kid go! He is neck and neck with Bud Shields, rocky Mountain Swimming Champion

A MAN AMONG MEN 13 Ault. See how he makes those turns, beautiful, just a swish and he is gone. "Fourteen lengths and still going strong. Fifteen lengths, six- teen— still together. Two more lengths to the finish. See him now, look at him go. He is gaining, he is passing Ault — is running away from him! He has beaten him ten feet in two lengths!" "Results of the 440-yard dash!" The announcer's stentorian voice reverberated through the room and stilled the tumult of the crowd. "Shields, of Brigham Young University, Utah, first; Ault, of Michigan, second. Time 5:08.4 seconds, a new National record and clipping fifteen seconds off the former National Inter-collegiate rec- ord of 5:23 held by Samson of Michigan." It was a glorious meet. Competition was keener than ever be- fore. Freshmen had been allowed to enter the meet for the first time, due to the fact that this was an official Olympic tryout. The first four men in each event being eligible for the finals to decide the team to represent the United States at Amsterdam, Holland, in the summer. Twenty-two of the largest colleges in the country were repre- sented at the meet. More than a hundred of the best swimmers of the nation were there. New records had been set in nearly every event by this choice group of athletes who had assembled in Philadelphia for the annual National meet. "All out for the 220 yard dash!" The audience appraised the men as they stepped forward. "What, was Shields going to enter this race too? Surely that other long race, made in record-breaking time, was enough to kill any man. What was his coach thinking of? Why, there had only been the four dives and the 150-yard backstroke since he got out of the water; he hadn't even had time to get his breath." Anyone examining him closely could see a different expression on Bud's face. Before, he had stood on the mark with hands on hips, relaxed, seemingly oblivious to all about him. He was more serious now, with a look of determination on his face. He knew this was to be his supreme test. He knew that Schwartz, of Northwestern, was the favorite, that he had been kept fresh for this race so as to be sure to win; it was his specialty and he had never been beaten. Bud had been urged to stay out. They told him he didn't have a ghost of a show, but he was determined. Though a little sick from the last race, the thought that he was swimming for his Alma Mater, Brigham Young University, and the ones at home who had backed him, buoyed him up. He was going to win, no matter what the cost. The crowd cheered for him. The pluck and determination of this youth had won a place in their hearts; they wanted to see him victorious. "How could he stand it?" was a question on every lip. "Look

14 IMPROVEMENT ERA at him there, starting out on that 220 as if it were but the 40-yard dash." The first 100 yards in fifty-seven seconds, the same time as his Rocky Mountain record for that event and yet he had five gruel- ing lengths to go after that. The audience couldn't tell it, but he knew he was weakening — still in the lead but with margin so slight that it didn't count much in the 220. Schwartz was pushing him hard, everyone expected him to forge ahead any minute. Four more lengths to go. The strain was beginning to tell. The boy's arms were heavy, his legs numb. Schwartz was right be- hind. Must he give up? He thought of his mother and father in Provo, of Coach Leaf on the bank, swimming every stroke with him. He thought of his team- mates at home who were praying for his success; could hear the rah — rah — rah of the old school yell as it rang in his ears when he left. Each cheer seemed to add strength to his stroke. It was the "sixth man" of the basketball team, the "twelfth man" of the gridiron; the spirit of the "Y" was in his veins and he fought on. How glad he was that he had followed Coach Leaf's advice; that he had not lost sleep in carousing around; that he had been reared in the heart of the mountains where the pure mountain air had helped him build his body. He was glad that his heart and lungs were not impaired by nicotine and alcohol. Those six years of intensive train- ing were standing behind him now. He needed just that added store of energy which springs from a clean life. He rallied all the forces at his command for that last desperate sprint. Memory of his years of training swept over him as he started on that last long stretch. He wasted not a glance on the goal or on the crowds which were looking on. His long, slender arms whipped out methodically though with lightning-like rapidity as he gathered all the water he could against his strong hands. Like a long, white fish, he shot through the choppy waters until an out-stretched hand touched the goal. He had won! The "Mormon" from the mountains had won the National championship, for Schwartz was still behind. He was helped from the pool almost in a daze at the thought of his victory. The ovation of the crowd reached him but faintly. Three Na- tional records broken by one man the same night! The first time anything of the kind had ever been done in the whole history of Na- tional Inter-collegiate swimming. By gaining two first places, he had won individual honors of the meet. Single handed he had tied with seven men from Stanford for third place in the team standing of the nation. "Shields, I want to tell you that I have seen every National swimming meet for the last twenty-five years, but never before have

A MAN AMONG MEN 15 I seen so brilliant work, so gritty swimming as you have displayed here tonight," said a nationally known expert as he shook hands with the boy. He little thought eight years before that his dreams would be ful- filled to such an extent. While gazing longingly at the swimmers in Liberty Park, that day, he little dreamed that some day he would not only be better than any there, but that he would receive such a com- pliment from Frank Sullivan, one of the greatest authorities on swimming in the world. Truly he had reached his goal. He was a man among men. Why Smoke Anyway (1) It takes time. This is the most precious thing in the world. (2) It befouls the air. Pure air is God's first and best gift to man. (3) It burns up money. Money is the circulating life-blood of commerce and society. (4) It hinders work. By work we win in this world. (5) It weakens the heart. The time is coming when you will need every bit of its strength. (6) It endangers health. U. Si Grant and Mark Twain both died of tobacco poison. (7) It is a habit-forming drug. You become its slave. (8) It is not recommended by your mother. The boy's best friend is his mother. (9) It is unclean. Paul says, "Keep thyself clean." (10) All smoke is waste and impairs health. Tobacco smoke is doubly so. He who abates it is a benefactor. The Eagle Flight Your bridges spanned, your ensign up and leading. For you, O boy, no turning at the helm, For there are those who sail at your succeeding, Who weigh an anchor just within your realm. Your step, O boy, must tread for those who falter, Who choose the side lines rather than the race, Who, seeing you a laggard, step may alter, To walk with you and swing into the pace. Your light, O boy, must lead for those who follow, Whose font of life with you must be secure, For theirs the "eagle flight or theirs the wallow," As you befoul the stream or keep it pure. Mesa. Arizona BERTHA A. K.LEINMAN