That Old Black Magic

The great day had come at last. At 5:25 one gloomy morning last week, a tall, husky girl in an old green bathing suit strode down to the beach at Cap Gris Nez, France. Well displayed across her ample bosom were the words "Black Magic." She dunked a toe in the icy waters, announced that she was not really scared, and struck out in the general direction of Dover, England. For fame, for fortune, and for Scripps-Howard and United Artists, grease-coated, 17-year-old Shirley May France of Somerset, Mass. was trying to swim the English Channel.

It was a pressagent's dream, and it had been largely dreamed up by pressagents. For her busty boost to the movie Black Magic, United Artists was paying Shirley May -L-1,000 ($4,000), which she could not take out of Britain. Scripps-Howard's Newspaper Enterprise Association had anted up some $2,500 in dollars for the exclusive rights to Shirley May's byline and to feature picture coverage. Other wire services, newspapers and magazines had assigned 80 reporters and photographers to cover Shirley May's big dip.

On both sides of the Channel, newsmen mobilized enough equipment to report a medium-sized war: rocket signals, marine radios, walkie-talkies, telescopes, carrier pigeons, eight boats and three planes. But Shirley May's target date (Aug. 14) came & went. Reporter Bob Musel, ghosting her diary for N.E.A. and covering the story for United Press, blamed repeated postponements on training hitches and bad weather. Delicately, he skirted the main reason, which Editor & Publisher reported as "a delay due to a monthly occurrence peculiar to women."

Head Up, Chin Up. Last week, when Shirley May finally took the plunge, she had missed the good weather. She also missed most of the newsmen. On their way over from England, they were far out in mid-Channel at take-off time aboard a picturesque but snail-slow two-masted schooner, christened the Black Magic by Shirley May's pressagent Ted Worner (and later rechristened the Black Maria by disgusted newsmen). The Associated Press had wisely hired its own steamer, the Red Commodore (complete with a restaurant and bar), as well as a speedboat and plane, so it had six staffers on the spot.

When the Black Magic caught up with Shirley May, Reporter Musel climbed up in the rigging, relayed his tardy report to U.P. by walkie-talkie. An eager-beaver Mutual newscaster tried to creep down beside Shirley May for a waterside interview, but she was too busy. From the Black Magic's deck, Frank Sinatra records beamed encouragement to the struggling swimmer: "Down & down I go, round & round I go, like a leaf that's caught in the tide . . . under That Old Black Magic . . ." The Red Commodore also relayed a message from young (18) Briton Philip Mickman, who had unobtrusively swum the Channel two weeks before: "Head up, chin up, spit it out, beat Old Man Channel." Between wireless messages, the A.P. released carrier pigeons to fly bulletins to England. Unfortunately, the pigeons flew to France.

Head Down. In a rowboat at Shirley May's side, Coach Harry Boudakian leaned over to shout advice, now & then offered her chocolate and soup. (She threw up the soup.) Caught by the tides, the Black Magic fell far behind. At 3:57 p.m., after 10 1/2 hours in the icy water, Shirley May muttered through blue lips: "Cold." Asked Harry: "Enough?" Eight minutes later, he answered his own question: "All right, Shirley, that's all now." Blubbering and protesting, Shirley May was pulled into a boat. She had covered 30 zigzag miles, still had seven to go.

At the end, the Black Magic was still miles away. The A.P. had the field to itself. By raising an oar in a launch alongside Shirley May, an A.P. man signaled the Red Commodore to flash the news to shore that she had given up. When they finally crept up, newsmen aboard the Black Magic had to get the story secondhand. But an N.E.A. photographer tried to save the pieces of Scripps-Howard exclusive rights on feature pictures; as Shirley May went ashore in a pilot boat, he resolutely blocked rivals from getting shots of her, head lowered in defeat. Back home in Somerset, Shirley May's friends got ready to give her a real nice clambake just the same.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.