“So the producer asked my name and he said it would never do. ‘It’s too long. It’ll never fit on a marquee. We’ll have to change it.’ Then the director butted in: ‘Don’t you ever read the papers? This guy is the world’s greatest swimmer.’ The producer said OK, I could keep my name, and he told the writers, ‘Put a lot of swimming in the movie, because this guy can swim.'”
The guy – whose name was Johnny Weissmuller, and who had just been given the role of Tarzan – could definitely swim. In fact, “the world’s greatest swimmer” was true then, and it’s probably still true today. To get a measure of just how good he was, try this single fact for size: in 10 years of competition swimming, Johnny Weissmuller never lost a race. Not once.
No one has ever come close to a winning streak like Weissmuller’s, certainly not in swimming. Michael Phelps spent a decade undefeated at 200m butterfly, but lost in other disciplines during that time. Tamás Darnyi of Hungary probably came closest, with an eight-year undefeated streak in the brutal 200m and 400m medley events. But Weissmuller raced distances ranging from 50m to half a mile. He swam mostly front crawl, but also set world records for backstroke (“I got bored,” he said, “so I swam on my back, where I could spend more time looking around.”)
This incredible undefeated period made Weissmuller part of what US sportswriters dubbed “the golden age”. The 1920s was a time when America seemed to be producing a string of world-beaters, and Johnny Weissmuller was right up there alongside superstars such as Babe Ruth, Bill Tilden and Jack Dempsey.
Johnny broke world records for fun: at swim meets, in demonstrations, in Olympic finals, at national championships, even in the training pool in front of just his coach, a lifeguard and a cleaner. He got canny about it: his coach had promised to buy him lunch when he broke a record, so Johnny started shaving off a few hundredths here, a tenth there, always making sure there was more in the tank for next time he was hungry.
Officially, by the time he retired Johnny had broken 67 world records. Swimming buffs, though, still repeat rumours that Weissmuller actually set new world marks hundreds of times and just didn’t bother to submit the paperwork. He won five Olympic gold medals for swimming, and one bronze, for water polo:
“Water polo’s a rough game. We never could beat those Yugoslavians. [The referee] never blows the whistle over there. Anyhow, that’s where I learned to duck. It came in handy later, when Cheeta started throwing coconuts.”
When he retired from competition swimming, Weissmuller spent time as a beach bum in Florida, then worked as a swimsuit model, touring the country. At 6ft 2 and 86kg, he cut an imposing figure in a pair of budgie smugglers; in retrospect it’s not surprising that in 1931, when Hollywood was looking for a new Tarzan, Johnny got a call. He admitted later:
“It was like stealing. There was swimming in it, and I didn’t have much to say. How can a guy climb trees, say ‘Me Tarzan, you Jane’, and make a million?”
Whatever you think of his acting skills, Johnny took to Hollywood like a duck to water. He became such a big star that he didn’t have to be a good actor. He made six Tarzan movies with MGM, considered to by your correspondent to be the pinnacle of the genre. He made six more for RKO, which aren’t as good. He then swapped pretend Africa for pretend Asia, donned a safari suit and began playing Jungle Jim the hunter. Weissmuller made 13 Jungle Jim films between 1948 and 1954 – but there’s not much swimming in them, and today they’re largely unremembered.
By the 1950s, Johnny had made millions in Hollywood. He’d been married four times (with one more wife to come, in 1963), including a tempestuous espousal to the actress Lupe Vélez, “the Mexican Spitfire”. That marriage provided gossip columnists with five years of public and private brawling, shouting matches, splitting up and making up, until it ended In 1948. Weissmuller’s fame far transcended his swimming achievements, and continues to do so. How many other swimming stars are there on the cover of Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Heart Club Band, after all?
There are many stories about Johnny, but one of my favourites is set against the backdrop of the Cuban revolution. Weissmuller was a strong amateur golfer, and in 1958 he was in Cuba playing in a celebrity tournament. Suddenly, men with guns – part of the rebel army – appeared on the course. Things seemed about to get a bit hairy. But Johnny climbed out of his golf cart and gave his trademark yell: “Aaaaaah, ah-ya-ah-ah aaaaaaaah!” “Tarzan!” a voice replied. “Welcome to Cuba!” Hands were shaken, and the rebels escorted the Americans back to the clubhouse.
In 1974, Weissmuller fell and broke his hip and leg. In hospital, doctors discovered he had a lifelong heart condition, which in the coming years finally began to tell on him. In 1977 Johnny had a series of strokes, and in 1984 he died in Acapulco, Mexico. He’s buried there, at the Valley of the Light cemetery.
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