I’m not sure why Esther Williams’ death hit me so hard, but it did. I don’t own many of her films, but if I come upon her on TCM and there she is, wearing a smile and a tiara, perched precariously on a Tahitian cliff or a trapeze over flaming water, I stayed tuned. I like her fresh-faced looks, her pretty voice, her sheer delight in being able to make underwater ballet look like a camera trick.
That smile never faded and her champion spirit remained unsinkable, despite life trials that would knock most folks flat. Many wonderful tributes have been penned about Esther’s film career and athletic prowess, and, until she died last week, I figured she was one iconic Hollywood beauty who needed no further examination or praise. What was left to say? But when word came of her death, I experienced such an unexpected internal sea-change, I knew I needed to go beneath the surface.
Like many of us, I talk about how important it is for me to exercise. I know that at my age (never you mind), it’s especially important, as I have some early onset osteoporosis. Does the vision of myself as a hunchy old lady with cornflake bones motivate me to jump on a treadmill or even take a walk at lunch? Apparently not. But what my doctor’s wagging finger and the perpetual, hysterical media barrage could not accomplish, somehow, Esther Williams’ passing has.
I don’t know whether it’s her example of continued fitness (she swam all her life, even after the cameras stopped rolling for her) or whether it’s just the idea of being like her in all her fit, fabulous beauty.
But after I heard about her death, something clicked (probably my brittle bones or arthritic neck). I could almost hear her mellifluous voice saying: “Get moving, Lazybones!”
To help me figure out why Esther’s passing might be jumpstarting my fitness program, I re-read her incredibly frank autobiography, Million Dollar Mermaid. Her up-and-at-‘em attitude sprang off every page. Her juicily documented life was apparently a protracted, well-absorbed training session, from athletics to attitude. Now, her life lessons have become my playbook. I feel like she’s giving me the skinny, girl to girl!
Lesson one: Set the goal, do the work
Esther’s early life was hardly a bed of roses. After suffering the loss of her adored elder brother, Esther vowed to be strong enough to support her parents in their grief. At the age of 8, she swore “If my shoulders weren’t strong enough as yet, then I would make them strong. I would become my family’s hope…” When her mother insisted that a neighborhood playground incorporate a pool for her daughter’s exercise (after all, everyone knows girls can’t play baseball!), she also volunteered her little girl to inaugurate the pool by swimming the length and back. Esther couldn’t swim at that point, but took lessons and made her first public splash and found her element. Esther progressed to competitive swimming at the LA Athletic Club coached by a former Olympian who recognized Esther’s native talent. In Esther’s own words, “I loved the competition. I loved the winning. I loved the feeling, day by day—and confirmed by the stopwatch—of increasing speed and strength.”
Kay’s takeaway: It takes daily, measured training to become strong. Daily. As in every 24 hours.
Lesson two: Strengthen your core
When Esther was about 13, her son-starved parents took in a neighborhood lad as a sort of surrogate son of the household. The 15-year-old boy repaid the family’s trust by sexually assaulting Esther. Cowed by his threats and crushed by shame, Esther suffered this horrible crime for 2 years, until she finally came to an epiphany: “The Esther who at eight had vowed to become strong and to be in control of her life now felt helpless and nearly destroyed.” She told her mother, who didn’t want to believe her, then realizing she’d have to fight her own battles, confronted her attacker. She informed him in vivid terms that she’d fight back from now on. He took stock of Esther’s training-honed body—“…years of hard swimming had packed muscle on my frame and made me very strong”—and left to join the military. She claims this “stand up to bullies” lesson also came in handy when staring down shifty agents, devious coaches, wayward husbands, and even the almighty Louis B. Mayer.
Kay’s takeaway: Get the power you need to achieve your goals.
Lesson three: Reach within
Esther won her first national championship even though exhausted by summoning her “spirit of the champion.” She prayed she would be “a conduit for all of life’s energy, all the strength that is in me…” She won, thanks in part to having been taught the powerful butterfly stroke at age 8, a much more difficult stroke heretofore restricted to men. Esther beat the national record by 9 seconds and became a media darling, snagging a few magazine covers.
Worried about losing her perspective as a champion, she asked her mom for advice. Esther recounted her mother’s words: “When you get to the top of that mountain, stand back, where you know your feet are fully planted on solid ground; take a deep breath and look at your surroundings. If you win, remember who you are, and why you won. You won’t win by accident; you will win because you have worked hard and you have trained.”
Kay’s takeaway: There’s really no substitute for hard work and training, darn it all.
Lesson four: Stay flexible
The Pan-American Games of 1939 were in Esther’s sights and she trained hard, sure of an invitation. None came, so she swallowed her disappointment and instead of Buenos Aires, went to Miami to defend her freestyle title. When she learned her coach had hidden the invite, sure that Esther would go wild and break training, Esther dumped that coach and started training towards the 1940 Olympics.
To her heartbreak, they were cancelled on account of Hitler. Esther, convinced her swimming career was over, took a department store modeling job and braced herself for a slide into a landlocked life. A month later she was invited to join a traveling swimming show “The Aquacades,” and Esther was back in the swim. Her newfound and hard-won skill for this gig was swimming “pretty”—with her head up and shoulders out of the water. Grueling work, but Esther’s pretty face, willingness, and athleticism made her a star.
Kay’s takeaway: Your strength can make things you never dreamed of possible.
Lesson five: Cross-train
Esther fell in love with MGM after seeing Ziegfeld Girls, so she was overjoyed when she was offered a contract for a swimming musical. Years before, she’d had a disastrous film test for Fox, so she insisted on 9 months of training before she went on screen. She knew MGM’s studios were a virtual finishing school, where she could learn to “look and sound like a lady—an MGM lady.”
MGM girls had to learn to perfect posture; to walk downstairs, in heels, never looking at one’s feet; to tuck in one’s bottom when walking; and, as terrifying tutor Miss Bates dictated…”to have a look of authority when entering a room.” By watching her teacher’s graceful moves, Esther learned to carry her 5’8” height with pride. The redoubtable Miss Bates also instructed Esther on basic ballet moves (later useful in Esther’s many water ballets) and the importance of body language which Esther dubs “the language of athletics.”
Throughout her MGM training, Esther swam laps at the Beverly Hills Hotel pool, then went to her “…studio appointments.” When swimming, Esther wouldn’t allow interruptions to this workout, because “…not only did it break the rhythm of my exercise, it also broke my mental concentration.” Esther’s rigorous program paid off; she became quickly became an audience favorite and bona fide star.
Kay’s takeaway: Training is a serious business–and it works!
In the baby pool with Esther
Esther imposed a 9-month gestation period at what she called “MGM University” to go from being Esther Williams, Swimmer to Esther Williams, Movie Star. Asked what she wanted to learn by one of her tutors, Esther detailed: “I’d like to see what I can learn from other actresses. I’d like to learn why Myrna Loy has such a delicious sense of humor; and how Ingrid Bergman projects such power and vulnerability—at the same time. How is it that Irene Dunne always seems to have a grasp on reality, and why does Claudette Colbert give off this sense of elegance that transcends any scene?” Her teacher acknowledged that those were great role models and encouraged Esther to study them well.
And now, for some cosmic reason, Esther has suddenly become my new personal fitness coach, Our Lady of Graceful Strength. I’d like to learn from her what it feels like to have a powerful, more flexible body.
To that end, I’ve brushed literal cobwebs from the ol’ Nordic Track and routed out the rusty dumbbells. Will it be tough to get going at my age? You bet—inertia is deep water. But I’m counting on Esther’s championship coaching to keep me motivated. She’s basically telling me, “Come on in, the water’s fine!”
At the conclusion of her autobiography, Esther avers: “Somehow I kept my head above water. I relied on the discipline, character and strength that I had started to develop as that little girl in her first swimming pool….Never despair, even after temporary discouragement or defeat…with sufficient endurance and courage, we can all achieve some kind of victory in our lives.”
Tell you what: Nine months from now—in February—I’ll be back with a report on some kind of victory. That’s my promise to you, dear reader, to myself, and to Esther.
Note: All quotes and information gleaned from Esther’s wonderful autobiography, The Million Dollar Mermaid, by Esther Williams with Digby Diehl, Simon & Schuster, 1999.
