“And anyway, why would we boycott?” Annette asked. “We’ve worked so hard to compete. It seems like this boycott would be punishing us more than anyone.”
“Chancellor Hitler, the man who’s leading Germany, has instituted all kinds of policies that discriminate against Jews and other groups in the country. There was a lot of debate about this boycott last December and the issue came to a vote. Avery Brundage, the head of the AOC, argued that the U.S. should participate because amateur sports should be used to bond us all together globally.”
“That seems reasonable,” Annette said.
“But our participation in these games gives Hitler legitimacy. At least, that’s what the president of the AAU argued. His side lost the boycott vote by only a couple of votes. It was close.”
Annette grimaced. “It does sound like this Hitler fellow is trouble.”
“Yes, he most certainly is,” Helen said.
“But why should we get involved in what another country’s doing? It doesn’t feel like any of our business,” Olive said. “And we’ve got plenty of problems of our own to focus on. I practically had to call everyone in my town to raise the money for this. All my neighbors are broke.”
Helen placed the letter and the flyer on the bed beside her and looked at her teammates. “Well, what this letter is telling us is that we’re being given a choice about competing in Berlin and with that choice comes a little bit of power. We should all be thinking about what we’re going to do with it.”
An awkward silence descended over the group.
There was a knock at the door and Annette opened it. Caroline stood in the doorway, a worried look on her face. “Dee has just called for a team meeting in the hotel’s dining room.”
“Did she say what it’s about?” asked Betty.
“Be downstairs in ten minutes. The AOC has decided not to take all of us to Berlin. She’s going to announce the new, smaller team.”
42.
July 6, 1936
New York City
HELEN LEANED AGAINST THE WALL OF THE HOTEL’S dining room, trying to be inconspicuous. She felt confident that she would be traveling to Berlin, but who else would be joining her?
She watched the women filing in and thought of the boycott letter upstairs in their room, cringing. Why had she bothered to explain Hitler’s manifesto? Everyone had been so excited to make the team. Why did she have to be serious and bookish and make everyone nervous? Her teammates were already nervous enough about this budget shortfall business. Even Betty, who tried so hard to be kind to Helen, even she had looked mortified on Helen’s behalf.
Dee entered the room and sat. With barely a glance at the collection of women gathered around her, she started reading from a piece of paper. “Ladies, I have news from the AOC. It’s with great regret that I’m here to inform you that the committee has insufficient funds to pay for a full team to travel to Germany. The committee reviewed the results from Providence and has decided to focus on individual events. Full travel funding will be provided for the following athletes: Helen Stephens, Tidye Pickett, Kathlyn Kelley, Annette Rogers, and Anne O’Brien, all of whom had outstanding finishes at the Olympic trials and represent our country’s best shot at medals.” She stopped reading and cautiously raised her gaze to sweep over the athletes to gauge their reaction.
Astonishment rendered the group silent. Helen swallowed and kept her gaze trained on Dee. Only five of the women would be going to Berlin?
Dee cleared her throat and continued reading her speech. “But athletes who can raise five hundred dollars of their own funds to underwrite their travel will be permitted to come and compete.”
At this, indignation buzzed through the room.
“Who has five hundred dollars to spare?”
“Why did they get our hopes up?”
Dee’s hand that held her speech dropped to her side and anguish crumpled her face. “Ladies, I’m so sorry. I didn’t expect this either. I know the disappointment many of you must feel. Back in 1924, I qualified to go to the Olympics in Paris, but the U.S. decided not to field a women’s team and I was stuck at home. Because of that, I wanted to bring as many of you as possible. But I want to make it clear that the AOC is taking its budget shortfall seriously and it extends to all of us. It’s covering my travel expenses, but I won’t be paid any coaching salary.”
The outbursts quieted as the women considered this.
“Do other teams have to do this fund-raising too?” Olive asked.
“Not all of them, no. Some are able to pay for themselves because they raise enough money on their own. Since everyone’s eager to see Jesse Owens compete, the men’s team expects to cover their budget through charging admission at their trials this weekend, but as I’m sure many of you know, the women’s teams have trouble generating enough audience at our events to make much money. I understand your frustration, but we have almost a week until we leave. Make phone calls, send telegrams. Try to secure outside sponsorship. I urge you not to give up.”
Dee hurried from the room. Helen remained against the wall, alone.
What about Betty?
She was not one of the five women on Dee’s list.
Helen inhaled sharply. How could they not include Betty? She was the first woman to show them what could be accomplished! How many of them were standing in this room because of her? Because they had read about her in their newspapers and wanted to emulate her?
Helen searched the room, but there was no sign of Betty so she darted for the door. Outside, a few women lingered in the lobby, but still, no Betty. Seeing a line for the elevator, Helen hurried to the stairs, taking the steps two at a time, sometimes three. Initially the air was cooler in the stairwell, but soon Helen was sweating, her heart pounding as she leapt up the stairs. At the seventh floor, she hurried to their room. She burst through the door and found Annette sitting next to Betty, who lay on the bed, a look of utter dejection stamped across her face.
“Goodness, Helen, what’s wrong?” Betty asked, propping herself up on her elbow.
“I’m fine. Sorry I lost you back there,” she panted. “But what are we going to do about you?”
Annette clutched a notepad with the hotel’s letterhead at the top and held a pen over it, ready to write. “How are we going to get you to Berlin?”
“I have no idea,” Betty said.
Helen started pacing. “That’s not an answer. Think.”
Only the sound of street traffic from seven floors below filled the room. Betty leaned against the headboard and raised her hand to brush her hair away from her face. In the low light, her diamond ring, one of her beloved prizes from Amsterdam, glittered. Betty studied it for a moment, swung her feet off the bed, and rose. “Wait, I have an idea. Where’s the closest phone?”
43.
July 6, 1936
New York City
LOUISE PLACED THE PHONE BACK IN THE CRADLE AND leaned her forehead into her palm to stop the aching behind her eyes. How was she supposed to wait to find out if she had the money to go to Germany?
“I don’t know if I can make it,” she had protested to Mama, trying to keep her voice down. “I’m getting low on cash.”