in her arms. Also, whereas five-year-old Maribel was full of irritating questions, I was blessedly still. At any rate, I have always been her little ‘lovey,’ a position which has often made life difficult for both Mara and me.
Grammy has always picked up after me, done my mending and washing, taken on responsibilities such as feeding the animals, and has been my general factotum. Although I never asked for such help, I soon began to expect it as a matter of course, and consequently grew rather slipshod. This infuriated my mother who wanted me to be neat, organized, and on time …. all the things I wasn’t. It has taken years to even partly fulfill her hopes, and I am still struggling to subdue the monster known as disorganization. In recent years, though, Grammy has done less for me, a good thing, as it compels me to be neater.
Another one of Grammy’s foibles was indulging all my likes and dislikes of food. By so doing, she brought out my stubborn streak. At the age of five or six, I developed a passionate hatred for eggs (they were slimy). Mother was determined that I would eat them, like it or not. I was just as determined that I wouldn’t eat them, and certainly never like them. May I add that she won this battle, but not without much defensive action on my part. I can often remember sitting at the breakfast table for one to two hours, a cold egg before me, mother behind me with an equally cold glint of determination in her eye. Once in desperation, I slid my fried egg under the rug. All was well until the maid found it three days later. Then I tried throwing them out the window until our Japanese gardener reported a strange new crop. I ate two eggs a day for the week following that escapade. Ugh!
Maribel was known as a woman who never minced words, even when it meant burning important bridges. She lived for the advancement of skating on all levels—but lived mostly for her daughters, for whom she worked tirelessly and whom she loved with her entire being. She wanted them to be successful—and in recognizing their tremendous talents, she sometimes could push both daughters to the brink. Laurence, effervescent and always happy on the outside, faced daunting pressure to fill her mother’s legendary shoes.
Ron Ludington remembers Laurence as a tremendously friendly girl who had no trouble meeting new people.
“Laurence was outgoing and liked to talk to people, but she was a strong-willed person. Maribel and Laurence fought fiercely at times.”
Laurence admitted in a high school essay that she had trouble controlling her temper.
During the last several years, I have had one main ambition: to stop losing my temper. No one would guess this ambition because I keep right on losing it. When I resolve to remain calm at times I am in an objective mood, and am able to detach myself from my surroundings. Then, when I am actually involved in the daily routine of life, I lose this objective view, grow irritated, and lose my temper at the slightest provocation.
Laurence’s smile always masked any hardship or self doubts, but the outwardly serene family home hid from the world the emotional tempests that exploded within. Outspokenness seemed to be in the Vinson Owen bloodline, Laurence conceded.
Certainly I have a difficult background to overcome. My grandfather was inclined to use language that would do justice to a salty old New England sea captain, while my mother informs me that she started to swear at the tender age of fourteen. Everyone in the family is very outspoken, I being no exception to the rule! Although this tendency definitely hinders me from maintaining an even temper, I am not sorry that it is a characteristic of mine. The one personality trait I despise above all others is hypocrisy. I believe that one should take a definite stand towards a situation or person either pro or con and then remain loyal to that stand. Often this belief has led me into trouble. Once, after violently criticizing a certain shoe polish, I was told that the father of the girl with whom I was talking had invented it. I think that I have learned it is best to say nothing … in certain situations at least. The odds are against me, but “You’ve got to have heart.” I’ll get that temper under control yet!
Despite the occasional mother-daughter tempests, Laurence and her mother were extremely close—and both found their greatest happiness on the ice.
Maribel, Jr., known as Mara to family and friends, was the calm voice of the house. She, too, was a champion, but she was growing wary of the sport. Mara had achieved success in the national pairs ranks beginning in 1956, when she won a bronze medal, but it was only when she teamed with debonair partner Dudley Richards that the delicate and wispy brunette showed her greatest potential. Together, they had won two bronze medals at Nationals, along with a silver medal in 1960. They had placed as high as sixth at the World Championships.
Mara’s skating, however, had most certainly taken a backseat to her little sister’s dramatic rise through the ranks. After all, only the singles skater could reach that mythic status of ice queen. Only the singles skater seemed to harness the public’s imagination and adoration. Mara never fully developed as a singles skater, struggling to land all the perilous, high-impact jumps required of an ice queen. Her destiny was to become a pairs skater—one whose victories would be shared by a partner, and eclipsed by a more gifted younger sibling. The great love shared between these two sisters belied the great pain and disappointment Mara often felt while seeing the younger excel beyond her own capabilities. Chuck Foster, Mara’s former pairs partner and a former president of the United States Figure Skating Association, said, “She often found herself outside of the publicity circle. It could be tough on her sometimes.” Mara had one wonderful comfort, though. As her pairs partnership with Dudley matured, they became inseparable off the ice, too. It appeared Mara and Dudley were showing the preliminary sparks of a beautiful relationship in the making.
Mara, though shy and soft-spoken, still could raise her voice at times, showing the famous Owen family moxie when a particular passion arose in her. In fact, Mara made a very large impact on American skating that most skaters don’t know about today. Up until 1959, World and Olympic teams were chosen based on the performance of the previous year. The U.S. National Champion-ships were not held until after the World Championships, which many skaters of the day felt was tantamount to having the semifinals after the finals.
Mara disagreed with this policy. She felt it only made sense to hold Nationals, then allow the new champions to be presented on the world stage. This would also ensure that skaters in the best physical shape would represent the U.S. at Worlds. At the 1958 meeting of the U.S. Skating Governing Council in Boston, Mara spoke to the delegates and urged them to vote in favor of a new schedule that would put Nationals before Worlds. Remarkably, the council agreed with the fifteen-year-old. This decision gave a much-needed boost of confidence for a teenager who was at times so unsure of herself.
Chuck Foster marveled at her work at the Governing Council.
“Here’s a kid getting up in front of the Governing Council, who single-handedly got the association to change the rules. It shows how a young person could sway people to change the system.”
The Owen family was full of trailblazers, and in 1961, they were prepared to set a new standard in becoming the “first family” of American figure skating. If Mara and Laurence could win in their events, it would mark the first time a parent and child had won the same title in the history of the sport.
Mara and Dudley were the clear front-runners for the gold medal. As she walked around the Ice Palace, Mara seemed calm and relaxed. In fact, their pairs event generated little buzz at all compared to the ladies singles competition. When she walked the Broadmoor’s hallways with her sister, it was Laurence who drew the looks and the whispers of recognition. Laurence’s victory at the 1961 Nationals, however, was not assured by any stretch of the imagination. Her closest rival had just as many reasons to believe this was her year, too.
Chapter Two
As
