Hickcox' friends are amused when asked if Hickcox is shy or quiet. "He can play the record player louder than anyone in the whole world," says Dave Bayles, who roomed with Hickcox for awhile. "His favorite used to be Light My Fire by The Doors, and every night he would play it over and over as loud as it would go." In fact, the only time Hickcox gets quiet and serious is right before a big meet. "In the water," says Bayles, "he's a different guy."
"You'd think that a guy who likes everybody would lack aggression," says Counsilman, "but Charlie has a lot of drive, too." To which he adds one of his favorite homilies: "Nothing great was ever achieved without emotion."
Counsilman, too, is troubled over the fact that Hickcox hasn't gotten the acclaim accorded to, say, Schollander or even Mark Spitz, now an Indiana freshman. "I don't know," he says. "Of course, Indiana swimming hasn't gotten the recognition. We're just out of the mainstream of things, I guess, and there is a definite trend in writing to look for the Joe Namaths. The old hero image has changed."
Of all the nonattention he has received, Charlie was most disappointed when the gold medal winners weren't invited to the White House to shake hands with the President, as Les was in 1964. "He said I had a pretty smile," says Lesley, smiling prettily, "so everything he did after that was all right with me."
The airport at Minneapolis is surrounded by great drifts of snow, and it is so cold that the IU swimmers almost claw each other to death piling into the four rental cars awaiting them. Hickcox gets into the back seat of the car driven by Counsilman, who has a penchant for wild driving and getting lost, so another of Hickcox' friends, Butterflyer Steve Borowski, says that his car will lead the team to a restaurant for lunch. Less than 100 yards out of the airport, Borowski has made a wrong turn and is turning around in the parking lot of a drive-in restaurant. This puts Counsilman's car in the lead, and in no time they are in beautiful downtown Minneapolis, making U turns, going up one-way streets, screaming, laughing, hanging out of windows and doors. Doc's driving is as bad as reported, maybe worse. Obviously, he is lost. "It's this way every trip," says one of the swimmers. "Doc always thinks he knows a shortcut and he's always getting lost."
The team finally settles on a place called Diamond Lil's, but it is closed, so they run and slide their way across the street to a restaurant called—fittingly enough—Charlie's. The name of the restaurant is stamped on all of the silverware and sugar bowls and ashtrays. Somebody says, "Hey, this is what Charlie needs." On the trip home, after Indiana beat Minnesota for its 32nd straight dual-meet victory (it now has won 38 in a row), Hickcox' gym bag kept making a funny clanking sound.
Lesley's wedding present to Charlie was a movie camera. This morning Charlie has got back two reels from the photo shop and a 1-A classification from his draft board in Phoenix, his home town. He has spent the morning on campus, finding out how to regain his student deferment, and now he is home, cranking up his projector.
One of the reels is devoted to Lesley's family. She has two brothers, Jeffrey, a promising swimmer, and David, who is quite possibly the best diving prospect in the country, according to IU's diving coach, Hobie Billingsley. There are speeded-up shots of the Bush brothers eating, but the star is undeniably Lesley's father, a perfumer who works for Faberge in Ridgefield, N.J., and who may have missed his calling. Not only does Mr. Bush resemble Groucho Marx, he reveals a real capacity for slapstick.
On this occasion there are no reels of Charlie's family. His father is 6'6" and a former star football player at the University of Arizona, where Charlie was going before he succumbed to Counsilman's salesmanship.
"I was so much more impressed with Doc than the others," Hickcox says. "He seemed so easygoing."