Editor’s note: This is another column in Bill Boyd’s new series, “The Way It Was,” about growing up in Marysville. Bill continues to work with the Union County Historical Society to obtain information for his stories. With Marysville and Union County celebrating Bicentennial anniversaries in 2019 and 2020, respectively, these articles help depict what life was like in those early years.
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The Marysville swimming pool played a big part in my life when I was a kid. The pool opened at 10 a.m., and before that for an hour or so that the lifeguards gave swimming lessons. I never took any of those lessons. I just watched other kids who could swim, and then I tried it for myself.
In order to swim in the deep end of the pool where the diving boards were, kids had to pass a swimming test. They had to swim across the pool and back without stopping. Those who could do that were allowed to go into the deep water. I think I was eight or nine years old when I took that test. I made it across and back, but the last 10 yards or so were a bit of a struggle.
I suppose some of the lifeguards might have made me take the test again because of that struggle, but the guard who gave me the test was my sister’s boyfriend, and he gave me a passing grade. Sometimes it’s a real advantage to have a big sister.
My first real swimming challenge came a few years later when I was 12 years old. It was my first year to go to Camp Lazarus, the Boy Scout camp just south of Delaware. On the first day, every boy who wanted to swim in the pool had to take a swimming test.
It was a smaller pool, so each boy had to swim, not across the pool and back, but the length of the pool and back. Those who could do that were given a bracelet to wear … with a blue bead on it. The blue bead signified that he was allowed in the deep water.
Boys who couldn’t pass the test were given a bracelet with a red bead, and it was made clear that those with red beads weren’t allowed in the deep water. Oh, how I wanted a blue bead.
The day I took the test, I was the last one in my group to take it. When there were only two of us left, some kid with a Mohawk haircut and me, I watched the Mohawk kid and he barely made it the length of the pool. There was no way he could swim back, so he just climbed out and accepted his red bead.
Then it was my turn. I was confident when I started my test. I made it to the end of the pool and started back. I was starting to get a little tired, but I kept on swimming. I made it all the way back, and I wasn’t struggling.
When I climbed out of the pool, I noticed the lifeguards talking among themselves. They looked at me and then at the Mohawk kid. Then they started counting the kids, and eventually one of them came over to me and gave me my bead. Oh, no … It was RED.
Oh man, I was going to have to spend the next week walking around the camp wearing a red bead on my wrist. That has bugged me for years. And even today, more than 70 years later, I think I was robbed. I should have received a blue bead. Let me explain.
The camp used what they called a “buddy system” at the pool. Every boy who swam there was paired with another boy who wore the same color bead. The two must always swim together.
Then once every hour or so, the lifeguards would blow their whistles and each swimmer had about 20 seconds or so to locate his “buddy.” The two would hold hands and raise them high in the air. Any kids who couldn’t find their buddy had to leave the pool for the rest of the day.
So when I was ready to take the test, and the only two swimmers left were the kid with the Mohawk haircut and me, I didn’t have a chance. I would be swimming with him all day, and when he flunked the test, they needed one more red bead kid for his partner.
My fate was sealed. I don’t think Michael Phelps would have been given a blue bead.
So today I guess I will just have to suck it up and forget about that swimming test. It’s too late for me to retake it now. Besides, today I would probably flunk it anyway.
Those wishing to contact Bill Boyd can e-mail him at bill@davidwboyd.com