Gold Mining in Munich

There was a touch of Teutonic pomp, but the circumstances were markedly different from those of 1936. The colors were cool, breezy pastels, not the strident Nazi red and black; it was Willy Brandt's gemuetlich Munich, not Hitler's dark Berlin. With a fanfare of Alpine horns and a gaudy parade of 12,000 athletes from 124 nations, the XX Olympiad opened last week in an 80,000-capacity, acrylic, glass-covered stadium that stands on the site where Neville Chamberlain landed in 1938 to establish "peace in our time."

On this go-round, the atmosphere was eminently more serene. A bright Bavarian sun shone down as the Greek team, in accordance with tradition, led the march around the red and green arena that will hold the track and field events. The West German crowd applauded handsomely (even for the East Germans) as each nation trooped its colors to dance-band music, which included When the Saints Go Marching In for the U.S. and Song for Natasha, in salute to the Soviet Union. The U.S. contingent was led by Discus Thrower Olga Connolly, 39, the mother of four, who defected from Czechoslovakia in 1956 to marry U.S. Olympian Hammer Thrower Harold Connolly. In a tradition set by the 1908 U.S. Olympic team, she did not dip the American flag before the grandstand* and matched strength with the men of a number of other countries by holding the flag staff at arm's length during much of the march. After the West Germans, as host team, closed the parade, 3,200 Munich schoolchildren sang Sumer Is Icumen In, a far cry from the 1936 Horst Wessel Lied. The traditional doves were released, the Olympic flame was lit by a torch relayed from Olympia in Greece by 5,976 runners, and West German President Gustav Heinemann officially initiated proceedings with the regulatory 14-word statement: "I declare open the Olympic Games celebrating the XX Olympiad of the modern era."

Desolated. For a while, it had seemed possible that Heinemann would declare open a somewhat diminished affair. In a painful contretemps similar to the South African situation in 1968, most black African nations--and several key U.S. black athletes--had threatened to boycott the Olympics rather than compete with Rhodesia, a nation of strict apartheid policies. After five days of agonizing deliberations, the International Olympic Committee voted narrowly (36 to 31, with three abstentions) to expel Rhodesia from the Munich games well after the 44-man team had arrived expecting to compete.

The Rhodesian athletes were desolated by the decision. Perhaps the bitterest was Bernard Dzoma, 31, a black long-distance runner from Salisbury who has twice trained for the Olympics. In 1968 he and his teammates were thwarted from participating in the Mexico City games because Mexico did not recognize Rhodesian passports. This year, a full week after he had arrived at the Olympic Village, Dzoma learned he would not run. "All I can say is that I'm at my end," he said. "I shall never enter any race again."

Others were troubled by the reverse racism implied in the demands made by the African nations. The Vatican radio asked: "Are all the nations taking part in the Olympic Games in Munich immune to the plague of racism which motivated the expulsion of Rhodesia?" Edward Lewis, coach of the Liberian team, said: "I feel a special regret for my black Rhodesian brothers in Munich. This was no victory for us. Please don't blame our athletes for this decision." U.S. Hurdler Rod Milburn, also black, commented: "I don't find it that good that politics stand so much in the foreground."

The ultimate apostle of that philosophy is the man who took the worst beating in the Rhodesian decision: I.O.C. President Avery Brundage, 84. The dour, dogmatic president, who has always insisted that the Olympics remain an apolitical contest, termed the withdrawal threat "political blackmail." While he may be right, Brundage's sclerotic emphasis on purity of amateurism and moral fiber (see box, page 36) has itself hurt the Olympic movement.

The U.S. team might have suffered even more than Brundage if any of its many excellent black athletes had left. In 1968 the U.S. won 15 track and field gold medals; even according to such partisans as Bill Toomey, winner of the decathlon in Mexico City, the U.S. may do only half that well in Munich. Said Toomey: "It's not a question of talent. We have as much or more than ever. But the average age of all that talent is only 25 years, and only 15 of our 65-man team have any previous experience. There just aren't enough veterans around to hold the kids together." The U.S. faces strong challenges in the sprints from speedsters like Valery Borzov of Russia and Pietro Mennea of Italy, and not a few experts have conceded that the powerful East German team poses something of a threat to the Olympic dominance of both U.S. and Russia. On the other hand, the U.S. boxing and wrestling teams are the strongest in years, and the basketball team should extend its Olympic skein of 55 victories without a defeat.

This week the Olympic spotlight is focused on Munich's 9,000-seat Schwimmhalle and the plashings of the U.S.'s Mark Spitz and Australia's Shane Gould. Shane, a 15-year-old swimming sensation, anchors Australia's two women's team events and is favored in five individual events. The psychological pressure is even greater on Spitz, who came on as brashly as Bobby Fischer before the 1968 Olympics. A moody teenager barely out of high school at the time, Spitz predicted he would win six gold medals, but came home from Mexico City with his fins between his legs: two gold, one silver and a bronze. Now a mature prospective dental student at Indiana University, Spitz exhibits a quieter confidence and the same ability to break his existing world records in freestyle and butterfly events; he has a chance to leave the Olympics with a glittering panoply no athlete has ever won: seven gold medals.

*Olympic teams from other nations usually lower their emblems to honor the host country.

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