A Dinner Fit for Some True Olympians

On a stage crowded with Olympic Gold Medal decathletes--Rafer Johnson, Milt Campbell, Bob Mathias, Bruce Jenner and Bill Toomey--one athlete stood out. Her name was Pam Biery, and she was special.

No athlete was prouder, more touched by the dignity of participation than swimmer Biery, one of a group of Special Olympians from Pasadena who signed and sang the National Anthem, opening the California Special Olympics 20th anniversary dinner Saturday night. And no one--not a Nadia Comaneci, not a Florence Griffith-Joyner--ever charmed an audience more by her great spirit, her good fellowship and the strong feeling of victory that she shared with a hug, with her arms lifted in joy, with her coquettish curtsy at the end.

Decathlete Johnson told the dinner crowd at the Beverly Hilton that the Special Olympics had turned around the idea that mentally retarded persons “had no chance to be the best they could be . . . no home runs, no winning baskets, no gold medals.” Now all that was changed, with some 25,000 Special Olympians competing in California, aided by 25,000 volunteers.

Special was the word all night long with the presence of the Special Olympians, the tributes to Johnson, the extraordinary performance by Smokey Robinson, the audience rising up at the post-midnight finale to join dozens of Special Olympians, linking arms and singing “Reach Out and Touch (Somebody’s Hand).”

“This is what benefit dinners would be like if they were real,” one cynic said, wiping away the tears. But these were no tears of pity or sorrow--rather the great burst of emotion that people feel when a winner crosses the finish line, when their kid learns to ride a bike, when Rafer Johnson runs up the steps of the Coliseum to light the Olympic torch.

Johnson himself represents what the Special Olympics are all about--from the time 20 years ago, as Bobby Shriver told the crowd, that the Olympian showed up to talk to Shriver’s mother, Special Olympics founder Eunice Shriver, at her home in Maryland. Johnson tracked her down in a rope-pulling contest in a nearby playing field, somehow got involved in the contest himself and, Shriver said, “at the end of the contest, Rafer was the head coach for the Special Olympics.” Shriver added that, “This story says a lot more about my mother than about Rafer.”

Poem for Rafer

He then read a poem written about Johnson by a Special Olympian telling how it was when Johnson praised him for competing, with the moving line--”Don’t say I’m not an athlete, just because I’m slow. . . .”

Now president of the California Special Olympics Board and the international head coach, Johnson received the CSO’s Spirit of Friendship award, saying that the organization meant that “every family has the chance to be proud of their mentally retarded child,” and that the athlete had the chance “to be the best that he or she can be.” He thanked the hundreds of volunteers--like Jim Benson, dinner chair, and Steve Ackerman, his business associate, who “made this night one of the great nights.”

This was a dinner committee of people truly involved in the charity it benefited. Like Kathinka Tunney, the wife of former Sen. John Tunney, a championship skier. She explained that in the first week of December, she would be conducting clinics for skiers going to compete in the International Special Olympics. The usually reticent Tunney bubbled: “Being involved in the Special Olympics has brought so much joy to my life. Watching the parents--they are thrilled. They say, ‘Look at my child.’ There is real pride.”

At a nearby table, Gary Smith sat with his wife, decorator Maxine Smith, and Mike and Jan Seligman. Smith heads off Thursday to Cape Cod to both produce and direct “A Very Special Christmas Party” for ABC-TV, featuring stars--including Arnold Schwarzenegger, Barbara Mandrell and Susan St. James--along with Special Olympians.

“This is the first time ever that mentally retarded people will be performing in a television special,” Smith said, pointing out later in the evening that the audience response to the Special Olympians singing and signing showed the effect such participation could produce.

Toasts, Roasts

On stage, the four other American athletes who won Gold Medals in the rugged Decathalon toasted and roasted Johnson. He got his revenge when he kidded that Bruce Jenner might have made millions, “but he’s not in shape,” and that he was going to have to play Jenner in the “Bruce Jenner Story.” Then Smokey Robinson took the stage and, unlike most dinners when the star performer is the signal for the cynical to head for the valet parking, everyone stayed seated--singing along with the star.

The finale saw Vicki McClure repeat her 1984 Olympics performance of “Reach Out and Touch (Somebody’s Hand),” helped by Special Olympian Tammy Halsell, dozens of other Special Olympics athletes, some of them signing, with Smokey Robinson back on stage and the entire 1,000-plus black-tie audience linking arms, singing, hugging.

Johnson bounded on stage and hugged each of the Special Olympians. Pam Biery gave him a giant hug back, flashed her knock-your-socks-off smile at the audience--and then, like all great athletes, passed on the hug and joy to her friend. She turned and embraced Debbie Page, then raised her arms in that centuries-old salute of victory all great athletes can share.

What a winner!