encourage "girls and women to swim for self-protection, then to practice swimming for health, physical improvement and recreation," all ideals that made it clear that, even though Annette Kellerman was, in many ways, an authentic pioneer of the sport, America's first female swimmers had nothing to do with the swimmer herself or anything she represented. The club's slogan was similarly passive, declaring, "Good sportsmanship is greater than victory." Their goal—to be seen and appreciated as athletes rather than sex symbols—would prove to be a challenge for the sport.
Epstein deftly convinced the AAU that, for all intents and purposes, the WSA was not only subservient to the AAU but had been its idea in the first place. In this way she turned the AAU from a potential obstacle into an ally vested in the success of the group, outflanking the AAU and creating the WSA to her own liking. The best part was that the AAU was completely oblivious to what had happened.
It was a masterstroke that gave the group some instant credibility, but Epstein was savvy enough to know that unless the group quickly established itself as a legitimate athletic organization, the moral crusaders who equated all women swimmers with Annette Kellerman were certain to attack the group and bring it down. To survive, the organization needed to grow and prove that it was providing a service and not just an excuse for young women to splash around in the water half undressed.
Epstein proceeded with a zeal that was almost evangelical. To grow the group, she needed swimmers, and to get swimmers, the WSA needed to go to where the swimmers were—the beaches and resort towns around New York City. Public demonstrations such as the one it planned for that summer day in 1918 at the Highlands both gave the group publicity and served as a recruiting tool. After all, without sufficient membership, the WSA was nothing more than a grand idea.
On the day Trudy and her mother and sisters reached the pier along the estuary where the demonstration was being held, a small crowd of mostly curiosity seekers, mothers, and young children had already gathered. No one quite knew what to expect, for while the WSA was becoming a familiar name in the newspaper, few in the crowd had ever viewed a swimming competition or demonstration of any kind. Trudy like to swim, but watching swimming? Well, that was something different.
The demonstration began with diving. That was nothing new to Trudy. She and Meg often watched young men jumping from the piers and did so themselves. But as the first WSA swimmer mounted a small platform at the edge of the pier, stood on its edge with her toes curled over the side, raised her arms perfectly symmetrically over her head, then bent slightly at the knee and jumped, back arched, first up, then out and down, entering the water with hardly a splash, the crowd let out an audible gasp like they were watching the fireworks on the Fourth of July. This wasn't some show-offy young man preening for the attention of some giddy young girl. This was beautiful, athletic artistry.
One after another the young women launched themselves into the air, backward and forward and twisting through space, each dive more miraculous and more elegant than the one before. Trudy and her sisters could not help but notice, as the swimmers surfaced and returned to the pier, that they swam not the breaststroke or the dog paddle, but the overarm stroke like the men and boys used, only the women didn't thrash through the water so much as they churned through it, far more efficiently and more beautifully than Trudy had ever seen before.
Then it was time for the swimmers. During a brief demonstration of lifesaving techniques, the Ederle girls again noticed that the WSA swimmers almost always used that same overarm stroke. When the lifesaving demonstration ended and a very young girl stepped to the edge of the pier, most of the crowd thought the demonstration was coming to an end. In