Health Hucksters Ogle Aquacaders

A dozen busloads of people representatives of the American Association for Health, Physical Education, and Recreation spent a hot afternoon watching five busloads of swimmers upend themselves for three straight hours at the Indoor Athletic Building yesterday.

Early in the afternoon, the convention's glossy program was practically discarded. Acts were switched, Adolph Kiefer didn't show up for his "Around the World" novelty number, and all sorts of unannounced performers bounded around in the pool. A predominantly female audience cheered an all-female series of "synchronized swimming" exhibitions.

Teams from Smith, Wheaton, and Wollesley flounced around the water to the strains of "Alexander's Ragtime Band," "Manhattan Serenade," and "Basin Street," this last with the assistance of feet-square boards, blue on one side and red on the other. The girls did not form any flower shapes or spell out a tribute to any organization. They just swam in rhythm. "Good for the nerves," a slight fellow next to me muttered lighting a cigarette.

Look, No Feet!

Then Cal Bryant, Master of Ceremonies and representative of the National Red Cross, introduced a Miss Margaret Hutton. Miss Hutton, a member of the '49 Aquaparade, smiled broadly from the edge of the pool, adjusted her blue bathing suit in a few strategic spots, and slipped under the water. Her specialty is swimming without the feet. Holding her legs rigidly together, she made, respectively, like a porpoise, a shark, and a submarine. She got a good hand on the way to the dressing rooms. The fellow on my right explained that it was "good for the Aquacade."

Robert Kiphuth, Yale's varsity coach, made a grand appearance after that. Talking about the various strokes, Kiphuth called Joe Verdeur, Allan Stack, and Ray Reid from the bench. Like trained seals they stood beside the pool. When Kiphuth mentioned the breastroke. Verdeur slithered into the water and chopped it into foam while empathetic little girls on the sidelines ogled. Then Stack plunged in at the mention of the backstroke. Then Reid swam 100-yards freestyle. After a practice 150-yard medley relay, Kiphuth lined them up for a 300-yard relay. He turned from the microphone and called for the timers. The crowd gasped. The AAU had given official sanction. A record might be set.

Stack got off to a poor start. Kiphuth turned away from the pool as Verdeur began his laps. Reid finished up the race and Kiphuth looked at the stopwatch, laughed, and said to those next to him, "we better leave after that." The announcer informed the assembled multitude that, although the time was excellent, "it didn't quite break the world record."

Then Ann Neville, a seven-year old girl, skimmed across the pool three times in a fine medley exhibition. Soon thereafter, her brother, five-year old Georgia, stole the diving show from a Miss Dean, a brown-skinned plunger of NYU and Bermuda Aquacade fame.

Hardly anyone waited for two "clowns" from Springfield College to topple from the high board