Pelican Parts Forums - olympic connection

Julia Wark was my grandmother, here is an article written about the Olympics when the '84 games went back to Los Angeles. And yes, Mom and my uncle still have those sets of medals.

Quote:

Deja vu - For one special 78-year old volunteer, working with the Summer Games of 1984 brings back poignant memories

Daily Breeze (Torrance, CA) - Sunday, April 8, 1984
Author: Rebecca Jo Tubb

A staffer at the Olympics headquarters in Culver City was waxing eloquent the other day about how working for the Games is a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

Apparently the fellow hadn't met 78-year-old Julia Wark .

She is a volunteer who spends three days a week at the headquarters answering phone inquiries for the public. But, for her, helping with the Olympics is not a once-in-a-lifetime event; it's more like deja vu.

Julia Wark probably would appreciate the French, because it was French that led to her involvement in the Olympics in the first place. Mind you, the first place wasn't the present huge headquarters in the Marina; it was seven small rooms in the William Garland Building downtown. And the year was 1928.

While the country was on the brink of the Great Depression, a very young Wark was in the midst of helping plan the 1932 Olympics, to be held in Los Angeles. For what was then a rich man's salary of $50 per week -- for a woman, no less -- she worked for five years as assistant to the Games' general secretary.

That experience more than a half-century ago has given her a unique perspective on the Summer Games of '84 -- if not on life itself.

"Things were much simpler in 1932," she sighs, "and there is a beauty in simplicity that we seem to have lost. But there is also the excitement of competition, and that we haven't lost. There is still citius, altius, fortius."

The first time she typed that motto -- "swifter, higher, stronger" -- as part of an Olympics staff, Wark was only 21 years old. It was pretty heady stuff for a college girl whose Victorian mother felt obliged to accompany her on her first interview.

"Both my parents were terribly Victorian, but they also were ahead of their time in a way, because they encouraged me to prepare for a future that might include working," Wark recalls. "When I entered UCLA, I chose to study languages, because, well, they were easy for me."

Her facility for languages was a result of Wark 's having been born in South America and reared in Europe; her father owned a jewelry manufacturing business with offices in London, Berlin and Paris. The Warks were living in Paris when he died in 1918.

Julia remained there with her mother and sisters until 1925, when they moved to the United States. By that time, she was well-versed in office skills -- as well as four languages.

The story picks up in Los Angeles.

"While I was at UCLA in 1928, I met Zack Farmer, who had just been appointed secretary for the '32 Games," says Wark . "He called me to his office and asked me to translate a letter into French. My mother, being a very Victorian lady, went along with me and sat in on the meeting.

"I didn't know it at the time, but the translation turned out to be my test for a job as Farmer's assistant. I became one of a staff of three people."

When Wark -- nee Julia Mayer -- agreed to take the job, she had to promise that she wouldn't marry before the Games were over.

"It would have been impossible anyway, because there was too much work to do," she laughs. "I can't even count the hours of a typical day; sometimes they were very, very long."

It was Wark , after all, who was responsible for translating the programs of the Xth Olympiad into French, German and Spanish. And for more than a year, it was Wark who was responsible for virtually all Olympics correspondence that emanated from the Garland building.

"What you have to remember," she says with a raised finger, "is that in those days there were no word processors, no electric typewriters and no copiers, none of the machines we take for granted today. Everything had to be typed on a manual typewriter, and it was a slow, tedious process.

"Anything that was printed was taken to a little print shop near the coliseum, and sometimes I'd go there and read proofs until late in the night. It was a different world."

The biggest concern of the 1932 Olympics here, Wark says, was not terrorism or traffic, but rather money. The state had passed a $1 million bond issue, and the Olympic committee was challenged to stretch those Depression dollars as far as possible.

"We didn't have sponsors the way we do now, and there was no hint of commercialism," Wark remembers. "Except for tickets (a season ticket cost $22), there weren't even any souvenirs to speak of."

While the opposite is true today -- Sam the Eagle seems to wink from every store shelf -- she dismisses the notion that there is too much commercialism of this year's Summer Games.

"When the LAOOC decided not to ask for any public money, it had to depend on sponsors, and I believe all the commercials have been very tasteful," she says. "I think they've done a marvelous job."

She's not so pleased with the press, which she feels has exaggerated concerns about possible terrorism and traffic snarls. And she's not at all delighted with plans for the opening ceremonies on July 28.

They are the bastion of Hollywood producer David L. Wolper, who is keeping the details to himself so as not to spoil the element of surprise. The scant information he has released so far includes arrangements for 100 grand pianos arranged in circular fashion inside the coliseum.

"My biggest heartache is what may happen with the opening ceremonies," says Wark . "It's going to be a Hollywood extravaganza, what with 100 grand pianos -- white ones, yet."

She sighs again and, grasping her walking stick, remembers back to '32.

"I went to Zack Farmer's house in Brentwood, and we choreographed the opening ceremonies in one day," she says. "Everything was precise, down to the minute, and members of the committee wore top hats and morning coats.

"It was the first year the doves were released, and the whole thing was a beautiful piece of machinery. I still get goose pimples when I think of it," she says, and, sure enough, she does. "When I picture the athletes walking in with their flags, I still get tears in my eyes."

In fact, adds Wark , she cried throughout the first day of the Olympics 52 years ago.

"We had no volunteers at all, and by opening day, the entire staff was only 73 people," she says. "I had been up for 48 hours taking care of the credentials for all the foreign dignitaries. I was completely exhausted and completely emotional."

There were other emotions, too. Somehow during her busy years as an Olympics staffer, Julia Mayer had found time to fall in love with Jack Wark , whom she'd met at a temple dance. They were engaged soon after the Games ended and were married in January 1933. Julia was still working for the Olympics then, tying up loose ends and compiling a voluminous report.

"Zack told me I could take a three-day honeymoon, and I laughed and said I was too tired," she recalls. "But we went away for a long weekend, and when we came back on Tuesday, I got back to work."

Her Olympics duties continued through July 1933. "When it was all over," she smiles, "I was given the privilege of locking the doors."

She also was given her choice of Olympic mementos. Among them are two sets of medals, which she has since given to her two children; an invitation to the Games signed by President Hoover, and a small tray made from the engraving plate of a welcome letter sent to the 40 countries that participated in the Xth Olympiad.

Less tangible, but perhaps more treasured, are the memories -- of a small staff "that seemed like a family;" of a print shop on the corner; of a maiden flight of doves.

She has been offered tickets to the opening ceremonies this summer, but, partly because of the memories, she has refused them.

"I know all the memories would come back, and, at my age, I don't know what would happen," she says. "That may be too much emotion.

"But I will tell you this," she adds quickly: "The Games are going to be great. On Aug. 13, everybody will be saying, `Wasn't that fantastic!' "

Citius, altius, fortius.