CLOSE
Original image
iStock

13 Gold Medal-Worthy Olympic Stories

Original image
iStock

In our book, it takes more than athleticism to become a true Olympic hero. Whether they were saving lives on the way to the podium or somersaulting with one leg, these athletes deserve infinite points for style. Some of them lost big-time, but all of them won our hearts.

1. THE WEIGHTLIFTER WHO BEEFED UP AT A JAPANESE INTERNMENT CAMP

Central Press/Getty Images

A scrawny, asthmatic child, Tamio "Tommy" Kono developed his weightlifting physique in the most unlikely of places—a Japanese internment camp. During World War II, he and his family were forced from their home in San Francisco and moved to a detention center in the California desert. For three and a half years, they endured brutal conditions along with other Japanese immigrants. Although the situation was terrible, the climate wasn't. The desert air agreed with Kono's lungs, and he started lifting weights to pass the time.

After the war, Kono kept training, and within a decade, he was the linchpin of the U.S. national weightlifting team. Despite his family's detention, he proudly lifted for the Americans. Using his freakish ability to raise and lower his weight quickly, Kono helped the team fill gaps in its roster. During his career, Kono lifted competitively at weights ranging from 149 to 198 pounds. To bulk up, he'd devour six or seven meals a day; to slim down, he'd "starve" himself with three meals a day. He won his first gold medal as a lightweight during his Olympic debut in 1952, his second as a light heavyweight in 1956, and then a silver as a middleweight in 1960. All in all, he set seven Olympic records and 26 world records. Plus, he went on to become Mister Universe three times. Not bad for a boy who'd once been a 105-pound weakling.

2. RIDING TO GLORY WITHOUT THE USE OF HER LEGS

Terry Fincher/Keystone/Getty Images

In 1944, Danish horseback rider Lis Hartel contracted polio while pregnant. Although the illness left her almost totally paralyzed, she gave birth to a healthy baby girl. She also kept training for her event—equestrian dressage. By 1947, she was riding again, even though she couldn't use the muscles below her knees. Despite needing help mounting and dismounting her horse, she competed for Denmark at the 1952 Games, winning a silver medal in a sport that was almost entirely dominated by men. In an indelible image of Olympic sportsmanship, Swedish gold medalist Henri Saint Cyr helped Hartel onto the platform at the awards ceremony. In the following years, Hartel kept on riding and won another silver at the 1956 Games.

Honorable Mentions:
The One-Handed Gunner: Hungarian rapid-fire pistol champ Károly Takács was known for his steady right hand. But while he was serving in the Army in 1938, a grenade accident destroyed it. Undeterred, he taught himself to shoot with his left hand and won gold medals at the 1948 and 1952 Olympics.

The One-Legged Gymnast: At the 1904 Olympics in St. Louis, American gymnast George Eyser grabbed one bronze, two silvers, and three gold medals—all while competing with a wooden leg.

3. THE BOXER WHO TURNED DOWN MILLIONS FOR COMMUNISM

STAFF/AFP/Getty Images

Cuban boxer Teofilo Stevenson burst onto the heavyweight scene at the 1972 Munich Games by knocking down his first opponent in just 30 seconds. He was a force in the ring, and commentators often joked that the "honor" of facing him should go to the loser—not the winner—of previous matches.

After Stevenson cakewalked his way to the gold in 1972, boxing promoters clamored for the Cuban to go pro, but he resisted. He believed passionately in the Cuban Revolution and preferred to fight on behalf of his country. After he nabbed another gold at the 1976 Montreal Games, promoters became even pushier. Stevenson passed up millions of dollars and was hailed as a national hero for his convictions. Then he picked up his third straight gold in 1980, at age 28. After retiring, Stevenson worked as a boxing consultant in Cuba, earning about $400 a month. When asked about all the money he turned down, he often replied, "What is $1 million against eight million Cubans who love me?"

4. THE HUMAN TORPEDO GETS TO KEEP HIS DAY JOB

Public Domain, Wikimedia Commons

Although professional athletes can compete in certain Olympic events today, the modern Games were founded on the purity of amateurs competing solely for the glory. However, this often forced star athletes out of the competition just for taking money to make ends meet. Legendary track-and-field champion Jim Thorpe, for example, lost his amateur status for earning $35 a week in minor-league baseball games.

Italian gymnast Alberto Braglia's "professional" adventures were even more pitiable. After winning the all-around gymnastics gold at the 1908 Games, Braglia hit upon hard financial times. So, he turned to the place best-suited for small, athletic fellows—the circus. Performing as the Human Torpedo, Braglia delighted audiences across Europe with his daredevil stunts. In the process, he broke his shoulder and several ribs.

Irked by his stint in the circus, Italy's governing body for gymnastics declared that Braglia had forfeited his amateur status. Just like that, his Olympic days were over. Fortunately, cooler heads realized that being a human torpedo wasn't quite the same as being a professional gymnast, and Braglia regained his amateur status in time for the 1912 Games in Stockholm. There, the Italian wonder picked up two more gold medals. After the Games, he returned to the circus, where he enjoyed a long and successful career.

5. LOSING A RACE TO SAVE A LIFE

At the 1988 Games in Seoul, Canadian sailor Lawrence Lemieux was moving along at a quick clip, even though the seas were exceptionally rough. About halfway through the race, he seemed to have a firm grip on the silver medal when disaster struck.

Lemieux heard the cries of two Singaporean sailors competing in a different event nearby. One of them was clinging desperately to his boat, which had capsized under the six-foot waves. The other had drifted 50 feet away, swept off by the currents. Instead of staying in his race, Lemieux set course for the sailors and pulled them out of the water. His hope for a medal all but dashed, Lemieux waited for rescue boats to arrive. By the time they did, he'd fallen to 23rd place. But Lemieux's bravery did not go unrewarded. The Olympic committee gave him the Pierre de Coubertin medal, a special award for sportsmanship.

6. BEARING THE WEIGHT OF A NATION ON A BROKEN KNEECAP

The Japanese men's gymnastics team won gold at every Olympic Games from 1960 to 1972. So when the 1976 Games began, capturing a fifth straight gold was a matter of national pride.

Things started to come apart, however, when gymnast Shun Fujimoto felt something pop in his leg during the floor exercise. He knew he'd broken his kneecap, but hesitated to tell his coaches for fear of being pulled from competition. Knowing that his team needed every tenth of a point to win, Fujimoto decided to downplay the injury. He dusted himself off and hopped on the pommel horse, scoring a 9.5 despite the searing pain in his knee. Fujimoto later credited his injury with helping him to focus, because he knew the slightest error could have caused permanent damage. "I was completely occupied by the thought that I could not afford to make any mistakes," he said.

Following the pommel horse was Fujimoto's strongest event—the rings. For his dismount, he flew through the air in a triple-somersault and made a near-perfect landing with clenched teeth and tears in his eyes. The judges awarded him a 9.7, a personal best. After sticking the landing, Fujimoto collapsed in pain. Even then, he only withdrew from the competition after doctors told him he would risk permanent disability by continuing. Fujimoto's teammates rallied around their friend's gutsy performance and edged out the Soviets for the gold.

7. CASSIUS CLAY TOSSES HIS MEDAL INTO THE OHIO RIVER

Central Press/Getty Images

Before Cassius Clay became Muhammad Ali, he was a cocky 18-year-old boxer at the 1960 Games in Rome. His masterful performance in the ring won him the gold, but his friendliness and chatty demeanor won him the hearts of journalists. Hoping to capitalize on Clay's loose tongue, the Soviet press tried to bait him into talking trash about America. One Soviet reporter asked him how he felt about being barred from certain restaurants back home, and Clay quickly responded, "Russian, we got qualified men working on that problem. We got the biggest and the prettiest cars. We get all the food we can eat. America is the greatest country in the world."

After Clay returned home to Kentucky, he proudly wore his gold medal around his neck. But his American pride didn't last long. In Louisville, a whites-only restaurant refused to serve him, and a white gang made the mistake of trying to attack him. After the incidents, the medal lost its luster for Clay. According to popular legend, he reacted by abruptly chucking it into the Ohio River. Four decades and one Civil Rights movement later, the Olympic committee gave Ali a replacement medal during the 1996 Games in Atlanta.

8. SLOW AND STEADY, WITH A BREAK FOR WINE

While planning the first modern Games in Athens in 1896, French historian Michel Bréal wanted to come up with an event that linked the competition to its ancient roots. He suggested a footrace that was the distance from Athens to Marathon, because a messenger had once supposedly sprinted between the two cities to spread news of a Greek military victory. The Greek people were captivated by the notion of a race with such strong ties to their country's history, and they become obsessed with dominating the event.

While the other nations barely prepared for the competition, the marathon-crazed Greeks held two qualifying trials to choose their entrants. Except for the Greek runners, only one other contestant had run a full marathon before the Olympic Games. On the day of the race, the lack of proper training quickly took its toll. By the halfway point, runners started dropping like flies.

After nearly three hours, fans at the finish line learned that a Greek runner named Spyridon Louis had taken the lead, despite stopping along the way for a glass of wine. Greece's Prince George and Crown Prince Constantine got so excited that they joined Louis for his last surge to the finish line. Louis, a peasant farmer, quickly became a national hero, and his name even entered the Greek vernacular. The term egine Louis, which translates as "become Louis," is still used to mean "run quickly."

9. THE HURDLER WHO MADE HISTORY FOR MUSLIMS, AFRICANS, AND WOMEN

Tony Duffy/Getty Images

Talk about Cinderella stories. After spending her childhood running through the streets of Casablanca, Morocco's Nawal El Moutawakel used her speed to earn a track scholarship to Iowa State University, where she won four individual Big Eight titles. In 1984, she became the only woman on the Moroccan team at the Los Angeles Olympics.

Moutawakel blew away her competition in the 400-meter hurdles, handing Morocco its first gold medal. At the same time, she also became the first Muslim woman to win a gold medal. As she ran her victory lap with a large Moroccan flag in hand, her elated countrymen back home poured into the streets of Casablanca in the middle of the night.

As a national hero, Moutawakel has used her celebrity to help other women in sports. Although Morocco largely supported her career, she knew women in other Islamic countries weren't so lucky. One of her greatest triumphs has been organizing a women's 10K race in Casablanca, which now draws more than 27,000 participants. As Morocco's Minister for Youth and Sports and a major player in the International Olympic Committee, Moutawakel led the task force that chose London as the site for the 2012 Games. She has summed up her triumphs by saying, "My athletic race was the 400-meter hurdles, but it has been a metaphor for my life ... You have to get over the hurdles and keep running."

10. BRAZIL'S LONG AND WINDING PATH TO AN OLYMPIC EMBARRASSMENT

For the Brazilian team, getting to the 1932 Los Angeles Games was an Olympic trial all its own. The Brazilian government was bankrupt, and it couldn't afford to pay for the team's expenses. So the athletes traveled via coffee barge, stopping at ports between Brazil and Los Angeles to peddle roasted beans. All they needed was to sell the 50,000 bags on board.

Unfortunately, the team made only $24. At the time, the tax to enter the United States was $1 per person, meaning only 24 members of the squad were able to leave the ship. The other 45 teammates had to set sail for the Pacific Northwest to try to unload the rest of the coffee.

Sadly, the athletes who did make it to the Games didn't fare particularly well. After losing to Germany 7-3 in water polo, the Brazilian team jumped out of the pool and started pounding on the referee. The police pulled the Brazilians off the battered official, and the team was disqualified from the rest of the Olympics.

11. THE BABE WHO RAN CIRCLES AROUND THE COMPETITION WHILE PLAYING THE HARMONICA

Getty Images

When the Los Angeles Olympics rolled around in 1932, a 19-year-old typist named Mildred "Babe" Didrikson faced an unusual problem. The rules dictated that an athlete could only enter three track-and-field events, and Didrikson had qualified for five. So, she simply picked the ones in which she already held world records—javelin, 80-meter hurdles, and the high jump.

Her first event didn't get off to an auspicious start. The javelin slipped from her hand and tore the cartilage in her right shoulder. For most athletes, that would have meant instant defeat, but Babe's compromised throw sailed more than 143 feet and set a new world record. Two days later, Babe set another world record in the 80-meter hurdles. She looked poised to sweep her events, but was disqualified in the high jump competition for diving headfirst over the bar, which was illegal at the time. She had to settle for silver.

Didrikson had an outsized personality to match her athletic prowess. Reportedly, she'd greet her opponents with the taunt "Yep, I'm gonna beat you." And during training sessions for the Los Angeles Games, she would irritate her teammates by literally running circles around them while playing her harmonica.

Babe's sports dominance didn't stop with track and field. In 1935, she picked up golf, and by 1950 she had won every available women's title in the game. She's still considered one of the greatest golfers of all time, male or female. Never humble, Didrikson wrote in her autobiography, "My goal was to be the greatest athlete who ever lived."

12. SOVIET SISTERS OR COMMUNIST BROTHERS?

Keystone/Getty

No one ever questioned the athletic prowess of Tamara and Irina Press, two Russian sisters who were unstoppable in track and field. People did question their gender, though.

At the 1960 Games in Rome, the Presses became the first sisters to win gold at the same Olympics. Tamara set an Olympic record in shot put, and Irina won the 80-meter hurdles. At Tokyo's 1964 Games, they were even more dominant. Tamara won the gold in both discus and shot put (beating her own record), while Irina won the first women's Olympic pentathlon.

Given their hulking stature and masculine features, rumors started to spread about their gender. Rivals derisively labeled them "the Press Brothers," but the whispers turned into shouts after the International Amateur Athletic Federation announced that it would begin gender testing at the 1966 European championships. Both sisters promptly withdrew from the event and disappeared from competitive track and field.

The Western media gleefully interpreted their retirement as a tacit confession. A Soviet spokesman dismissed the accusations as jealousy and claimed the sisters had stayed home to care for their ailing mother. The truth remains an Olympic mystery.

13. A HEARTWARMING MOMENT IN JAPANESE SPORTSMANSHIP 

By Unknown (Asahi Shinbun) - Public Domain, Wikimedia Commons

At the 1936 Berlin Games, Japanese pole vaulters Shuhei Nishida and Sueo Ōe tied for second place. The teammates were offered the opportunity to have a jump-off for the silver medal, but the two friends declined out of mutual respect for one another. For the purposes of Olympic records, Ōe agreed to the bronze while Nishida took the silver.

Upon their return to Japan, the teammates came up with a different solution. The pair had a jeweler cut their medals in half and fuse them back together, creating half-silver, half-bronze pendants. The "Medals of Friendship," as they're now known in Japan, are enduring symbols of friendship and teamwork.

Original image
Wikimedia Commons // Public Domain
arrow
History
9 Facts About Frances Perkins, the First Female Cabinet Member
Original image
Wikimedia Commons // Public Domain

A social worker who became the first woman to serve on a president’s cabinet, Frances Perkins was an uncompromising woman in a man’s world. She fought for safety regulations in New York factories, helped formulate the New Deal, and attempted to save German Jews fleeing the Nazi regime. A threat to the status quo, she was accused of being a Communist as well as a Russian Jew who fabricated her identity, and she faced both disparaging pamphlet campaigns and potential impeachment. Despite these challenges, Frances Perkins doggedly pursued the course she thought was right, helping transform American institutions in the process.

1. SHE SOUGHT EDUCATION—IN THE CLASSROOM AND IN THE WORLD.

Born in 1880, Frances Perkins grew up in Worcester, Massachusetts. Her father, who ran a stationery store, had not attended college, but he was a voracious reader who studied the law and read classical poetry in his spare time. When Fannie (as she was then known) was eight, he began teaching her Greek. She later attended Worcester Classical High School, a private college-preparatory academy that sent many of its male students to the Ivy League. With her father’s encouragement, Perkins enrolled in the all-women’s college Mt. Holyoke, where her classmates called her “Perk.”

Though she majored in chemistry with minors in physics and biology, Perkins discovered her calling during a course on the history of modern industrial economics. The professor required her students to visit factories, and Perkins was horrified by the dangerous environment faced by the workers, many of whom were women and children. Perkins’s parents—conservative middle-class New Englanders and devout members of the Congregational Church—had always told her that poverty resulted from alcohol and laziness, but visiting a factory caused Perkins to recognize “that there were some people much poorer than other people […] and that the lack of comfort and security in some people was not solely due to the fact that they drank.”

Perkins graduated from Mt. Holyoke in 1902—quite a feat considering that only 2.8 percent of American women attended college as of 1900 (the percentage of men was not much higher). She returned to Worcester to live with her family and became involved in a local girls’ club for teenage factory and store workers. When one of the girls had her hand amputated in an accident with a candy dipper, Perkins fought to secure $100 in compensation from her employer, only succeeding after a local clergyman intervened.

She moved to the north shore of Chicago to work as a science teacher at a women’s college, where she spent three years. But her mind was elsewhere—she had read Jacob Riis’s 1890 exposé on poverty in New York City, How the Other Half Lives, and was horrified and captivated. Perkins soon began volunteering at a settlement house in Chicago, where she encountered trade union advocates for the first time, and began to see them as necessary for workers’ rights rather than the “work of the devil,” as her parents had always said. She discovered that employers sometimes didn’t pay workers “just because [they] didn’t want to,” so she would go to collect wages on the workers’ behalf, wheedling and cajoling and even threatening. “A favorite device of mine was to threaten to tell [the employer’s] landlord that he didn’t pay wages,” she recalled in 1951.

Perkins soon quit teaching and entered social work full-time. In 1907, she moved to Philadelphia, where she worked for an organization that advocated for female workers (especially those who were immigrants), and attended the University of Pennsylvania’s Wharton School. Two years later, she moved to New York, where a mentor helped her secure a fellowship with the New York School of Philanthropy. Perkins spent her days conducting a survey on malnutrition among tenement children in Hell’s Kitchen for the School of Philanthropy and her nights attending classes at Columbia, graduating with her master’s in political science in 1910. That same year, she was introduced to Franklin Delano Roosevelt at a tea dance. Perkins later recalled, “There was nothing particularly interesting about the tall, thin young man with the high collar and pince-nez.” But that unimpressive young man would later change her life.

2. SHE WITNESSED THE TRIANGLE SHIRTWAIST FACTORY FIRE—AND IT SPURRED HER TO DEMAND CHANGE.

Labor Secretary Frances Perkins onboard an ocean liner in 1938
London Express/Getty Images

After completing her master’s degree, Perkins became executive secretary of the New York City Consumers’ League, which conducted investigations into working conditions at factories and other facilities, like the bakeries located in the cellars of tenement buildings. She worked under Florence Kelly, a famous female reformer, who taught her the ropes of lobbying politicians and businesses for social reform. Perkins fought for legislation limiting women to a 54-hour work week, and a related bill passed in 1912 after two years of forceful advocacy from Perkins and other reformers. But one event in particular shaped the person—and the public figure—Perkins would become: the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire.

On March 25, 1911, Perkins was attending a Saturday afternoon tea in Greenwich Village, when she and her friends heard a commotion outside. Fire trucks were clanging through the streets, and the women followed the racket to Washington Square, where the 10-story Asch Building was ablaze. The Triangle Shirtwaist Company occupied the building’s top three stories, and the company’s management regularly locked the factory’s doors to keep workers inside during their shifts, supposedly to deter theft. The elevators soon malfunctioned and the building had only one fire escape, which led to a walled-in courtyard. New York’s firefighters lacked ladders tall enough to reach the factory’s upper floors. Hundreds of workers—almost all women—were trapped. While many died from smoke inhalation or burned to death, others threw themselves from the factory’s windows. “Never shall I forget,” Perkins later said. “I watched those girls clinging to life on the window ledges until, their clothing in flames, they leaped to their death.” One hundred forty-six people died as a result of the blaze, nearly all young women between the ages of 16 and 23.

The horror of the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire galvanized public support for industrial oversight and reform. The fire also prompted the creation of the New York State Factory Investigating Commission, and Perkins worked as one of the Commission’s chief investigators from 1912 to 1915. She was tenacious and passionate. To ensure that the commission’s leaders understood the perilous (and sometimes illegal) working conditions at New York factories, she forced them into the field. One morning, she roused them at dawn for a surprise visit to a cannery that was employing very young children. On another occasion, she urged the Commission’s chairman, State Senator Robert Wagner, to crawl through a small hole onto an ice-covered ladder to test one factory’s “fire escape.” Perkins made an impression on Wagner, and on the Commission’s vice chair, Al Smith, then a New York Assemblyman.

The Factory Investigating Commission instigated real change. By the end of 1914, 36 of the Commission’s recommendations had been codified into law. “The extent to which this legislation in New York marked a change in American political attitudes and policies toward social responsibility can scarcely be overrated,” Perkins later wrote. “It was, I am convinced, a turning point.” It marked a turning point in her career as well. When Al Smith became New York’s governor, he appointed her to the state Industrial Commission—the first woman to serve.

3. SHE CHANGED HER NAME—AND THEN REFUSED TO CHANGE IT AGAIN WHEN SHE GOT MARRIED.

Born Fannie Coralie Perkins, she changed her name to Frances around 1904 while living in Chicago. Biographers have suggested that, in doing so, she was signaling her independence from her parents—she converted from Congregationalist to Episcopalian around the same time—or desiring a name that was more gender-neutral.

In another signal of independence, Perkins kept her maiden name when, in 1913 at age 33, she married Paul Caldwell Wilson, a Progressive Republican and the budget secretary to the mayor of New York City. “I wasn’t very anxious to get married, to tell the truth,” she recalled during the 1950s, but acquaintances were constantly badgering her about when she’d get hitched and trying to set her up. “I thought, ‘I just better marry. I know Paul Wilson well. I like him. I’ve known him for a considerable time. I enjoy his society and company and I might as well marry and get it off my mind.’” But Perkins made it clear to Wilson that she wasn’t going to be a traditional wife: She would continue working, and she would continue to go by Miss Frances Perkins. “I felt, and I still feel, that at that time it was a great advantage in social work, in professional life to be Miss,” she said. “Mrs. is understood to be awfully occupied in the house and children.”

Perkins had also acquired a reputation by this point amongst reformers and politicians, and she didn’t want to lose that name recognition—or her sense of identity. “I was very puffed up, I suppose, about the fact that I could sign a letter and my name meant something to the Labor Commissioner of California. If I were Mrs. Paul C. Wilson, I was just somebody’s wife.”

Perkins’s husband—whom she called “quite a feminist”—thought it was “a good idea” for her to keep her maiden name, but institutions felt otherwise. The couple had to hire a lawyer to fight their life insurance company, who refused to make out their policies under her maiden name, and when Governor Al Smith appointed her to the state Industrial Commission, the New York attorney general insisted that all official papers refer to her as Frances Perkins Wilson. After consulting with Perkins, Smith finally ruled that she could use just her maiden name.

Perkins did occasionally use the name Mrs. Paul C. Wilson when it was more practical in her personal life—like when registering for hotels and securing a passport. Her mother also introduced her as "Mrs. Wilson."

4. AL SMITH AND FRANKLIN DELANO ROOSEVELT HELPED HER MOVE UP IN THE WORLD.

Perkins spent two years on the state Industrial Commission, earning an annual salary of $8000—quite the step up from the $40 per month she earned at her first social work job in Philadelphia (which her father had still considered far too much for a woman). After Smith was defeated for reelection, Perkins resigned from the Commission and worked for an organization supporting education for immigrant populations. When Smith took back the governorship in 1923, he appointed Perkins to the new Industrial Board, where she gained attention for her vocal support for workers’ compensation. She became the board’s chair in 1926. After years of resistance to her reform agenda, New York industry was beginning to come around to (some) workplace regulations, like temperature controls in factories and safety devices on machinery. Companies recognized that, by protecting the health of employees, these regulations actually made their operations more efficient, and more profitable. Frances Perkins and the New York Industrial Board were setting precedents that were soon followed by states like California, Wisconsin, Pennsylvania, Massachusetts, and Illinois.

During 1928, Al Smith secured the Democratic nomination for the presidency, and Perkins traveled around the country campaigning for him. She also developed a relationship with New York gubernatorial candidate Franklin Delano Roosevelt, a Smith supporter who introduced him at the 1924 Democratic National Convention. Smith lost the presidency to Herbert Hoover, but Roosevelt found himself in the governor’s mansion. The new governor appointed Perkins New York’s industrial commissioner—the top administrator for the state’s Department of Labor and the beneficiary of a $12,000 annual salary. She was confirmed in January 1929. Four years later, Roosevelt would be president—and he would name Perkins his Secretary of Labor.

5. SHE BECAME THE FIRST FEMALE MEMBER OF A PRESIDENT’S CABINET.

Perkins was uncertain about whether she wanted to follow Roosevelt to Washington. During his years as governor of New York, the two had developed a close working relationship, and Perkins was overflowing with ideas about how to use government to protect workers and help the public. But Perkins hated media attention—she once said that having her picture in the paper “nearly kills me”—and was particularly worried that her personal life would become newspaper fodder. (Her husband struggled with what today might be diagnosed as bipolar disorder, and had been admitted to a sanitarium in White Plains, New York, in 1932; Perkins feared his condition would become public and also loathed being far away from him.) Perkins even wrote Roosevelt a letter in early February 1933 urging him to appoint a union official instead of her.

A few weeks later, at a meeting at his home, Roosevelt officially asked Perkins to become his secretary of labor. She responded by listing the policies she would pursue if appointed—including an end to child labor, a minimum wage, a 40-hour work week, unemployment insurance, old-age insurance, and universal health insurance—and told him that if he didn’t support these goals, she would not serve on his cabinet. According to Perkins, Roosevelt was surprised, asking her, “Well, do you think it can be done?” She responded that she didn’t know, but would do everything possible to make it happen. Roosevelt gave his consent to her agenda, and on March 4, 1933, Perkins was sworn in as the first female cabinet secretary.

6. SHE CULTIVATED A MATERNAL IMAGE.

Since entering the political arena, Perkins had kept a red folder of observations titled “Notes on the Male Mind.” She paid careful attention to male colleagues’ preferences and expectations so that, whenever possible, she could manipulate gender stereotypes to her advantage. In 1913, at the beginning of her career in New York politics, she encountered a Democratic state senator who burst out crying when he saw her, confessing that he felt guilty for helping impeach the governor, who was also a Democrat. Though Perkins was not involved in the impeachment, seeing her triggered the senator’s guilt at betraying a colleague. “Every man’s got a mother, you know,” he said to Perkins.

This senator made a profound impression, inspiring Perkins to cultivate a maternal—even matronly—image. By dressing and behaving in a way that reminded powerful men of their mothers, she could shame them into supporting her causes, and by retaining a stereotypical womanly manner, she threatened them less than if she’d imitated their bullish ways. On the day FDR’s cabinet first met, Perkins later recalled, “I wanted to give the impression of being a quiet, orderly woman who didn’t buzz-buzz all the time. […] I knew that a lady interposing an idea into men’s conversation is very unwelcome. I just proceeded on the theory that this was a gentleman’s conversation on the porch of a golf club perhaps. You didn’t butt in with bright ideas.”

With her subtle ways and matronly outfits—complete with tricorne hat—Perkins was able to convince her male colleagues to champion many of her “bright ideas.” However, even this tactic did not always work. Charles E. Wyzanski, Jr., a solicitor general at the Labor Department and ally of Perkins, once noted that congressmen did not like to receive lectures from a woman who seemed like “a combination of their mothers, teachers, and blue-stocking constituents.”

7. SHE HELPED FORMULATE THE NEW DEAL AND PASSED SOCIAL SECURITY.

President Roosevelt signing the Social Security Act
President Roosevelt signing the Social Security Act, with Perkins and other members of the government standing nearby.
Wikimedia // Public Domain

Perkins supported and helped shepherd New Deal programs like the Civilian Conservation Corps, the Federal Emergency Relief Administration, and the National Industrial Recovery Act. Labor historian C. E. Daniel stated, “It is hard to think of any [New Deal] accomplishments related to labor that don’t reflect the contributions of Frances Perkins.”

But perhaps Perkins’s biggest accomplishment was the passage of the Social Security Act. In 1934, Roosevelt named Perkins the chair of the Committee on Economic Security, which he had created by executive order. In that role, she helped craft a social security plan that included not just the old-age pensions we now associate with the name Social Security, but also workers’ compensation, unemployment insurance, maternal and child health-services, and direct aid to the poor and the disabled. The Social Security Act passed Congress by a wide margin and was signed into law by FDR on August 14, 1935. “The real roots of the Social Security Act were in the great depression of 1929,” Perkins remarked in 1962. “Nothing else would have bumped the American people into a social security system except something so shocking, so terrifying, as that depression.”

Perkins also helped draft the Fair Labor Standards Act, which outlawed most child labor and established a federal minimum wage, a system of overtime pay, an eight-hour work day, and, for most workers, a 40-hour work week. The FLSA became law in 1938.

8. SHE WAS ATTACKED AS A COMMUNIST AND A SECRET JEW.

Like President Barack Obama, Perkins faced her own “birther” controversy: She was accused of secretly being a Russian Jew. Anti-Semitic pamphleteer Robert Edward Edmondson—who believed the New Deal was directed by Jews who wished to turn America into a Communist country—identified Perkins as one of the six main “sinister forces” in the Roosevelt administration in a 1935 pamphlet, which speculated that she “may be of Russian-Jewess origin.”

The rumor that Perkins was secretly a Russian Jew spread like wildfire. A genealogist appeared at her sister’s New England home, asking questions about their ancestry. Reporters began demanding proof of her personal history and family lineage. Then, in 1936, the American Vigilante (sometimes spelled Vigilant) Intelligence Federation—an anti-union, anti-Jewish group that amassed records on people who might be “reds”—published a pamphlet trumpeting “the truth about the Secretary of Labor”: that she was secretly a Jew named Matilda Watski. The Pennsylvania Daughters of the American Revolution launched an investigation into her heritage. In response, Perkins published a detailed account of her family background and even got the doctor who delivered her to make a statement that she was who she said she was, but the rumors continued to spread. Perkins received a flood of inquisitive and angry letters. She found the situation stressful, saying later, “You could deny it […] but you couldn’t make a public denunciation of the charge because that would appear that there was something very wrong about being a Jew.” Instead, Perkins made a public statement in 1936 saying, “If I were a Jew, […] I would be proud to acknowledge it.”

In the 1930s, many people feared a conspiracy between communists and Jews to undermine the United States, so rumors that Perkins was Jewish compounded reports that she was a red sympathizer, or a Communist herself. The controversy over her identity and loyalties eventually reached Congress. Republican Congressman Clare Hoffman attacked Perkins as “the wife of someone, though God alone knows what her true name may be, and no man yet has published the place of her birth.” In 1938, the new House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) targeted several members of Roosevelt’s administration, including Perkins, accusing them of communism.

The attack on Perkins came to a head in January 1939, when a Republican congressman from New Jersey and member of HUAC, J. Parnell Thomas, introduced impeachment proceedings against Perkins to the House of Representatives. Her alleged offense was failing to enforce deportation laws against an Australian immigrant named Harry Bridges who had led a longshoremen’s strike in San Francisco in 1934 and was rumored to be a communist. (At the time, the Immigration and Naturalization Service was part of the Department of Labor, so deportation decisions fell under Perkins’s purview.) She found no concrete evidence that Bridges was a member of the Communist Party and so did not deport him, but her opponents used the incident as an excuse to drag her name through the mud.

In private Roosevelt told Perkins not to worry, and in public he made light of the impeachment proceedings. In reality, he could not stop them, though Congress was dominated by Democrats. Perkins later wrote, with some understatement, “I didn’t like the idea of being impeached and was considerably disturbed by the episode.” She suffered through hearings and newspaper coverage, but the Judiciary Committee eventually vindicated her, ruling unanimously not to recommend impeachment.

9. SHE TRIED TO SAVE JEWISH REFUGEES FLEEING THE NAZIS.

After coming to power in January 1933, Adolf Hitler quickly began stripping German Jews of their civil rights. Denied passports by the German government and visas by the U.S. State Department, Jews who wished to escape the Nazi regime had almost no chance of reaching the United States. Perkins considered the situation a humanitarian crisis, and began urging Roosevelt to liberalize immigration policies to accept vast numbers of Jewish refugees.

While the State Department controlled visas, Perkins’s Department of Labor had jurisdiction over immigration and naturalization. One major difficulty lay in existing immigration policy, which held that the United States should bar any would-be immigrant “likely to become a public charge.” The Nazi regime systematically stripped German Jews of their possessions, meaning they would arrive in the United States destitute and so were inadmissible under current policy. Perkins found a way around this problem: Existing immigration law allowed the Secretary of Labor to accept a bond—a sum of money—in order to guarantee that a specific immigrant would not become a public charge. Perkins and Labor Department Solicitor Charles Wyzanski, Jr., argued that such bonds, guaranteed by the friends and relatives of refugees, could be used to admit large numbers of German Jews. In December 1933, Attorney General Homer Cummings affirmed Perkins’s legal right to accept bonds from American citizens to sponsor the admission of German refugees.

However, the State Department was strongly opposed to admitting Jewish refugees, as was public opinion, and Perkins’s own deputies worried about accepting vast numbers of displaced Jews. Ultimately, Perkins’s bond proposal never came to fruition, but over the next few years she instituted a plan to receive Jewish refugee children, resettling about 400 with American foster families, thanks to the financial backing of an American relief organization called the German Jewish Children’s Aid, Inc.

She also worked to extend the visas of German Jews already in the U.S. on temporary visas. As early as 1933, Perkins had suggested granting visitors’ visas to refugees as a means of getting them into the country quickly, before considering permanent asylum, but Roosevelt and the State Department had rejected that proposal. After Kristallnacht (the violent anti-Jewish riots of November 1938 in Germany, Austria, and the Sudetenland), President Roosevelt agreed to another proposal from Perkins. On November 18, 1938, he announced that he was extending the visitors’ visas of 12,000 to 15,000 German Jews already in the country, as “it would be a cruel and inhuman thing to compel them to leave here.” While the State Department continued to limit the granting of visas to people still in Europe, Perkins’s Labor Department also continued to grant extensions to refugees who managed to enter the U.S. on visitors’ visas. Historian Bat-Ami Zucker estimates that from 1933 to 1940, between 20,000 and 30,000 Jewish refugees entered the country on visitors’ visas and then sought permanent residence.

Perkins had wished to accept many more. “From 1933 to early 1938, Frances had stood almost alone in highlighting the plight of German refugees and in urging U.S. government action,” Perkins biographer Kirstin Downey writes. Though she was unsuccessful in promoting a number of schemes for changing or getting around existing immigration laws, she continued to advocate for Jewish refugees through her position as secretary of labor. Her term lasted until 1945, when she resigned soon after Roosevelt’s death.

Additional Sources:

Frances Perkins and the German-Jewish Refugees, 1933-1940,” American Jewish History, Vol. 89, No. 1; “The Ghost in the Machine: Frances Perkins’ Refusal to Accept Marginalization,” Master’s Thesis, University of Missouri, Kansas City, 2014 [PDF]; “The Libel Trial of Robert Edward Edmondson: 1936–1938,” American Jewish History, Vol. 71, No. 1; “The Pre-New Deal Career of Frances Perkins, 1880–1932,” Master’s Thesis, Florida Atlantic University, 1975; “Yankee Reformer in a Man’s World: Frances Perkins as Secretary of Labor,” Dissertation, Michigan State University, 1978.

Original image
iStock
arrow
History
Lost Gustav Holst Music Found in a New Zealand Symphony Archive
Original image
iStock

English composer Gustav Holst became famous for his epic seven-piece suite "The Planets," but not all of his works were larger-than-life. Take "Folk Songs from Somerset," a collection of folk tunes composed by Holst in 1906 and largely forgotten in the decades since. Now, more than a century later, the music is finally attracting attention. As Atlas Obscura reports, manuscripts of the songs were rediscovered among a lost collection of sheet music handwritten by the musician.

The Holst originals were uncovered from the archives of a New Zealand symphony during a routine cleaning a few years ago. While throwing away old photocopies and other junk, the music director and the librarian of the Bay of Plenty (BOP) Symphonia came across two pieces of music by Holst. The scores were penned in the composer’s handwriting and labeled with his former address. Realizing the potential importance of their discovery, they stored the documents in a safe place, but it wasn't until recently that they were able to verify that the manuscripts were authentic.

For more than a century, the Holst works were thought to be lost for good. "These manuscripts are a remarkable find, particularly the ‘Folk Songs from Somerset’ which don’t exist elsewhere in this form," Colin Matthews of London's Holst Foundation said in a statement from the symphony.

How, exactly, the documents ended up in New Zealand remains a mystery. The BOP Symphonia suspects that the sheets were brought there by Stanley Farnsworth, a flutist who performed with an early version of the symphony in the 1960s. “We have clues that suggest the scores were used by Farnsworth,” orchestra member Bronya Dean said, “but we have no idea how Farnsworth came to have them, or what his connection was with Holst.”

The symphony plans to mark the discovery with a live show, including what will likely be the first performance of "Folk Songs from Somerset" in 100 years. Beyond that, BOP is considering finding a place for the artifacts in Holst’s home in England.

[h/t Atlas Obscura]

SECTIONS

More from mental floss studios