The Oasis


	Dhahran Diary®
Title: The Oasis DD18		The Dhahran Pool was our mecca, our oasis in this desert oil camp. It was a social center, a place to bask, to laugh, to relax, and to meet for a variety of social activities including swim competitions. (rcc)

In late March and April, the weather turned warm almost overnight. We exited the rainy season with Dhahran being washed and green from the average annual rainfall of three to ten inches, closer to three, of which most fell in March. Some year's it was more abundant; the desert floor would saturate and lakes stretched for miles over the lowest, flattest terrain. These ponds seldom lasted more than a few days, then the desert bloomed and died back for another year of vanilla tan. Occasionally it would rain in other winter months but March was usually the most spectacular month for beauty in Dhahran.

The Helms Athletic Award was sponsored by ARAMCO 's Recreation Department on the patio adjoining the pool. D. Coleman, S. Elberg, J. Johnson, T. Eggink, S. Furman, P. Short, M. Erlenmeyer, Mike Henry, unknown, C. Miller,author, K. Lebsock, M. Henry, B. Landis, and G. Russell received awards that night. (rcc)

The ARAMCO Recreation department always refurbished the pool during this period. The recess was scraped, repainted, and re-lined while the pumps and chlorination equipment was maintenanced. Students and toddlers alike watched the work in dismay. After completing the first three months of the school, April was our first OFF month. We longed for the center of our social regimen returned to its rightful owners.

On the day of reopening, the pool teemed with youngsters. There were hundreds of us watching the water level rise. It was the worst agony of the early summer for the water crept up with the slowest possible progress. Finally about three in the afternoon, the lifeguards gave the word and we gleefully screamed and jumped into the water. It was sheer bedlam; the big sign at the end of the 30 meter span- ABSOLUTELY NO RUNNING- was completely ignored, and the lifeguards were helpless to maintain all up the most basic control. The water roiled in pyranna-like jittering as we spent every spare calorie in splashing and screaming. Sabastian, the old, faithful lifeguard was a patient man. He was tall and so gentle, but on opening day his face contorted in fear bordered on rage as kids piled on top of one another. We played running tag around the edge, and jumped from the diving boards in two and threes- all of which was strictly forbidden!

In the early years we had two Italian lifeguards. Mario andEctorrio were handsome and athletic. They eventually gave way to Indian life guards. Sabastian was a favorite; he let you read the chlorine testing color scale, gently reminded us of the rules of conduct and always maintained reasonable order. But, opening day tested his self control. Two diving boards at the south end of the pool, a one and a three meter, were interest centers for the whole community; for kids, it was a center of excitement and for parents it was a dangerous attraction.

Several innovative youngsters and base airmen used the diving boards in conjunction. They would drop from the high board, as we called it, to the low board, and spring well toward the middle of the pool. One student bounced too close to the edge and struck the concrete gutters. Others incurred various injuries until the ARAMCO management had to act; the high board was retired permanently. Until this unpopular decision chased the high board, several ARAMCOCADES gave the crowds many thrills. This entertaining aquacade was partly held on a wooden stage constructed over the shallow end of the pool. Talent was local and outstanding. The loudspeaker system piped music and act after act created a wonderful show of talent from children to adults.

ARAMCO was bloated with ability. Every imaginable beach-garbed idea created three big nights of excitement. One year, a small hut was fashioned atop the sunshade which covered the shallow end of the pool. The evening show started in the dark; with a blood curdling scream over the PA and a spot light trained on the hut, 15 or so 'natives' jumped from the little hut into the water in various contorted positions. Next, the spot illuminated the high board where a man clad in red and white striped, bibbed trousers, dove into the pool. His pant legs, which were gathered around his ankles, were longer than the trajectory to the water. He bounced into the air and arched into the water, his pant legs streaming behind. Then the skits began around the pool's edge or on stage. The planning and direction was outstanding.

Later the show switched to the water as the Hoag and McCann sisters, and others, glided through water ballets. It was spectacular. Little Joe Howley was Captain Neptune one year and I think Camille McCann, a little fish in water, was the queen.

Other pool memories include Florence Chadwick. She always wore a black one piece; her white bathing cap was turned back at the flaps. I recall her in the shallow end with a few kids, teaching them to swim. She had powerful shoulders and these were accentuated when she placed hands on hips, her teacher pose. Florence was a stenographer who braved the gulf and its jellyfish to train for her English Channel challenge. Many ARAMCONS were surprised and at the same time honored with her successful world record performance in the fifties. Other great swimmers and divers at the Dhahran pool, although of less notoriety, were still local heroes: Wally Sawhill, Mike Singelyn, Phil Braun, and Mike Rogers.

Since I came to Dhahran in February 1949, I was acquainted with the pool but my big secret was I did not know how to swim. How tacky! This deficit became a school problem when we had physical education one afternoon at the beginning of second term. Mr. Collins put me on one of four teams for a relay race. I was sent to the deep end and awaited my turn nervously; I recall how easy it looked as the others splashed and churned their way from end to end. When my turn came I dived in and went no where. One of the Italian lifeguards, maybe it was Mario or Ectorrio, had me by the neck and to the side of the pool before I got into too much trouble. It took a few weeks but before long I was thrashing and splashing like all the rest.

If I recall this story correctly, Steve Furman saved a swimmer's life the year before I arrived. It was a big deal to be able to swim one length of the pool under water, about 30 meters. As it was related to me, Steve was sitting on the edge of the pool watching a swimmer attempt underwater lengths. The student started from the deep end, swam to the shallow end, turned, swam all the way back to the deep end, turned, and after a push off blacked out! Steve, who was watching all this, sounded the alarm and dived in to help bring the swimmer up. Stories were always circulating about how the Arab pearl divers could stay down four or five minutes; in those days Japan had yet to corner the world pearl market and Bahrain was one of the Persian Gulf's pearl centers. Students frequently tried to emulate Arab feats.

The pool was the place to hook up with friends, have a meal, or take a dip. There was plenty of outdoor furniture to lounge on, fabric mats to layout on, and a few recreational interest centers like a boxing speed bag, weights, a big, heavy punching bag, medicine balls, and ping pong tables. Music from the ARAMCO radio station was piped over the PA system or from the DJ studio that overlooked the patio. ARAMCO bent over backwards to bring the latest tunes and dance crazes from the states. The tri-district swimming meet was a big social gathering and athletic event. Adult and kido events gave everyone an opportunity to compete; in conjunction, there were frequently pie eating contests, sack races, and other challenges. Some years, the whole shebang was wrapped up into one big Fourth of July or summer program. These large affairs included donkey races, booths, and displays. The crowds milled back and forth between these events depending on the schedule. I remember one summer, my mom made swashbuckling, feather and rhinestone studded hats which we worn for several donkey races. I loved this hometown atmosphere. The closest thing to it in the States was the small town county fair. Of course, rural America may have had a pool but it was nothing like the Dhahran Oasis!

Dhahran Diary®