time I got into the lake, I had to deal with my fears. I was petrified of fish, of weeds, of whatever might be in there. I did it anyway, but no matter how hard I worked, I still came in third or fourth.
By 1952 it was clear I was never going to the Olympics, so I turned professional. I looked forward each year to the competition hosted by the Canadian National Exhibition (CNE), and I just knew I was ready to win. Then, in the winter of 1954, the CNE announced they had challenged the American long-distance swimmer Florence Chadwick to swim the thirty-two miles across Lake Ontario from Youngstown, New York, to Toronto. They also announced that the annual professional swims for Canadians would be cancelled. I was sixteen that year and bitterly disappointed.
In July of 1954, I swam the Atlantic City Marathon. There, I met a young lifeguard named Joe Di Lascio. Having never been in the ocean before, I was petrified. I said to Joe, “Excuse me, are there fish in here?” Like everybody else, Joe never expected me to win. But when the twenty-six-mile race was over, I had won the women’s championship—and Joe had won my heart.
Back in Toronto, there was a lot of controversy around the CNE challenging an American. That’s when Gus suggested I challenge Florence in a race across the lake. The idea had never occurred to me, but it had to Gus, and after Atlantic City, he had made up his mind.
The Toronto Star agreed to back me, in return for an exclusive. I really had no confidence about completing that swim, and the idea of swimming at night terrified me. But I wasn’t sure Florence could make it either. I figured if I could swim one stroke further than her, it would be worth it. I would do it for Gus, and for me, but I would also do it for Canada.
We were to start Monday, September 6, from the Coast Guard station in Youngstown. The forecast was bad, so Florence postponed, and we all went into “waiting mode.” My team, along with the many Star reporters, waited at the Youngstown Yacht Club on the Mona 4, the yacht that would accompany me on my swim. The officials agreed to give us a two-hour notice of when Florence planned to start, allowing us plenty of time to get to the starting point. But, when word came at ten o’clock Wednesday night, there was a mad scramble. They had left us only one hour! There wasn’t enough time for me to go to the starting point with Gus in the escort boat. He had to leave immediately, knowing he wouldn’t get there in time to be beside me when I started. I would have to start alone. But when he left he said, “I will find you,” and I believed him.
Howie, one of the Star reporters, took me by car to the starting point. A few minutes after Florence started, he said, “Okay, Marilyn. Now it’s your turn.” Shortly after that, Winnie Roach, the other Canadian swimmer, began.
It was so dark; the only things I could see were the lights from the boats around Florence. So I did what Gus told me—swam straight out of the Niagara River and just kept going. After what seemed an eternity, I finally heard Gus’s voice—they had found me! With him were George, another Star reporter and Jack, the boatman. Gus had a big flashlight, and he shone it just ahead of my stroke, saying, “Marilyn, just swim to the light and I will get you across this lake.” For the rest of the night, each time I extended my arm for the next stroke, my hand was reaching into that beam of light.
Florence swam for about four or five hours before she quit. But it wasn’t until several hours later, when I was having difficulty, that Gus told me that Florence—and Winnie—were out. I was the only one left, and it was up to me to swim for Canada!
It was a long night. I had to deal with horrible lamprey eels, and my fear of the lake and of the dark. Gus kept me going any way he could. But when I realized the dawn was coming, and the night was almost over, everything changed. It was the most glorious sunrise I’ve ever
By 1952 it was clear I was never going to the Olympics, so I turned professional. I looked forward each year to the competition hosted by the Canadian National Exhibition (CNE), and I just knew I was ready to win. Then, in the winter of 1954, the CNE announced they had challenged the American long-distance swimmer Florence Chadwick to swim the thirty-two miles across Lake Ontario from Youngstown, New York, to Toronto. They also announced that the annual professional swims for Canadians would be cancelled. I was sixteen that year and bitterly disappointed.
In July of 1954, I swam the Atlantic City Marathon. There, I met a young lifeguard named Joe Di Lascio. Having never been in the ocean before, I was petrified. I said to Joe, “Excuse me, are there fish in here?” Like everybody else, Joe never expected me to win. But when the twenty-six-mile race was over, I had won the women’s championship—and Joe had won my heart.
Back in Toronto, there was a lot of controversy around the CNE challenging an American. That’s when Gus suggested I challenge Florence in a race across the lake. The idea had never occurred to me, but it had to Gus, and after Atlantic City, he had made up his mind.
The Toronto Star agreed to back me, in return for an exclusive. I really had no confidence about completing that swim, and the idea of swimming at night terrified me. But I wasn’t sure Florence could make it either. I figured if I could swim one stroke further than her, it would be worth it. I would do it for Gus, and for me, but I would also do it for Canada.
We were to start Monday, September 6, from the Coast Guard station in Youngstown. The forecast was bad, so Florence postponed, and we all went into “waiting mode.” My team, along with the many Star reporters, waited at the Youngstown Yacht Club on the Mona 4, the yacht that would accompany me on my swim. The officials agreed to give us a two-hour notice of when Florence planned to start, allowing us plenty of time to get to the starting point. But, when word came at ten o’clock Wednesday night, there was a mad scramble. They had left us only one hour! There wasn’t enough time for me to go to the starting point with Gus in the escort boat. He had to leave immediately, knowing he wouldn’t get there in time to be beside me when I started. I would have to start alone. But when he left he said, “I will find you,” and I believed him.
Howie, one of the Star reporters, took me by car to the starting point. A few minutes after Florence started, he said, “Okay, Marilyn. Now it’s your turn.” Shortly after that, Winnie Roach, the other Canadian swimmer, began.
It was so dark; the only things I could see were the lights from the boats around Florence. So I did what Gus told me—swam straight out of the Niagara River and just kept going. After what seemed an eternity, I finally heard Gus’s voice—they had found me! With him were George, another Star reporter and Jack, the boatman. Gus had a big flashlight, and he shone it just ahead of my stroke, saying, “Marilyn, just swim to the light and I will get you across this lake.” For the rest of the night, each time I extended my arm for the next stroke, my hand was reaching into that beam of light.
Florence swam for about four or five hours before she quit. But it wasn’t until several hours later, when I was having difficulty, that Gus told me that Florence—and Winnie—were out. I was the only one left, and it was up to me to swim for Canada!
It was a long night. I had to deal with horrible lamprey eels, and my fear of the lake and of the dark. Gus kept me going any way he could. But when I realized the dawn was coming, and the night was almost over, everything changed. It was the most glorious sunrise I’ve ever
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