The Des Moines Register
Monday September 11, 1972
by Maury White at the Olympics
Munich, West Germany

The Englischer Garten, a lovely wooded area in the heart of the city where swans and boaters meet, has been a veritable beehive of activity this week, what with arrows constantly hissing and plinking.

The map shows that it's only a few miles to Olympia Stadium, where Kip Keino was being upset before 80,000 roaring fans. That's a lie. This part of the Olympics is a million kilometers removed.

The competitors, three to a shooting station, camp beneath lime green beach umbrellas when not doing their thing. The atmosphere is genteel. Loud breathing is encouraged. Laughter? Forget it.

It is now slightly past 4 p.m., nearing the completion of four days of shooting "ends" of six (or three) arrows, walking down and retrieving same, then doing it over... and over... and over.

Earlier on this next-to-the-last day of the XXth Olympiad, Doreen Wilber, Hausfrau, Jefferson, Ia. U.S.A., led, trailed, tied, led, etc., at 50 meters. Then the archers moved on for 36 arrows from 30 meters. Well, put in all those bam, pow, crunch, the comic strips use to denote a blitz. Doreen started six points ahead at her weakest distance, shot with fantastic coolness and arrived at the last of 288 Olympic arrows to be shot.

She had gone to the line for the last "end" of three, leading by 18 and victory was her's, save for total collapse. Hah. Her first arrow was a bullseye (10) and the other hit the edge of the gold for a nine.

"When I realized that I could win no matter what, I thought about putting the last arrow back in the quiver and just walking away," quipped Mrs. Wilber - wife of Skeeter, part owner of a garage.

Instead, she pulled back the string on that ivory-colored magnesium bow and completed one of the guttiest performances of the Games by socking home another bullseye for a personal high FITA round of 1,222.

Oh, does that gold medal look neat around Doreen's neck. And I hope the folks at home aren't going to be prudish because there are back reliefs of two nude fellows on the back of her latest prize.

Doreen was born in Rutland and lived for short periods in Algona, Humboldt and Lake Mills, but claims only Jefferson. Paul, or Skeeter, brought home a bow and some arrows some years back.

They've got a lot of hobbies: collecting rocks, coins, shooting muzzleloaders, and taking care of an acreage outside of town. They don't have children, Doreen keeps the books at the garage - when she's home.

"I really gave a lot of thought about whether I should try out for the Olympics. I didn't want to be gone that long and Skeeter would have to keep the books," she said the other day.

"After thinking about it for two months, I decided if I didn't compete, I'd be sorry for the rest of my life." Don't sing any sad songs today. Doreen's dream has turned to gold, just as did those of the two Iowa State wrestlers Dan Gable and Ben Peterson, and swimmer Mike Burton (who was born in Des Moines).

The U.S. hasn't done as much as expected in some areas, but it seems Iowans have special reason to be proud. Nine natives or state collegians were in the Games and Cyclone wrestler Chris Taylor also picked up a bronze.

Shortly after the last bullseye, Doreen was still playing it cool. She is not an exciteable woman. If she had to pay a buck for each shrugging off a question with "I don't know," Skeeter would go bankrupt.

Shortly after the victory with 2424 points, 17 more than silver medalist Irena Szydlowska (a Polish construction technician who lists her hobby as "working"), the pretty brunette was kissed silly.

"It's really great to win after finishing second twice in the world meet," she sighed. "What does it feel like winning the Olympics? I really don't know yet. I need time to think about it."

Doreen crouched by her arrow box and gear kit, whipped out a compact and replaced lipstick. A tall young lady came over and said she was from television and would Mrs. Wilber want to be made up. "No," said Doreen, a do-it-yourself gal. Just ask the archery coaches. Her technique is not classic. But her thinking and aim is beyond compare.

A FITA round for women is 36 arrows each at 70, 60, 50 and 30 meters for a total of 144, and the Olympics consists of two such rounds. Doreen wobbled out of the blocks with a 1,198, then stormed to the title with 1,222.

"One of the Australian girls gave me a lucky coin when I was starting 30 meters today and I immediately started shooting better," says Doreen, who also has an Indian lucky piece attached to her quiver.

Awhile ago, I over-played the silence. One of the great surprises of watching the competition was hearing organized cheering. A bullseye is 10. And with 267 arrows shot, Doreen may have broken the foe.

"Ten...ten...ten...USA." chanted a small section of the crowd when she whammed three bullseyes home, starting a steady escalation of her lead.

A knowledgeable Yank nearby laughed. "The rest of the world hates us for enthusiasm like that," he said cheerfully.

There was enthusiasm, all right, as the U.S. swept the first archery competition in many years, with John Williams taking the men's title. I'll tell you, the archers had big plans for the hofbrahaus at night.

And now it was time. The stars had temporarily disappeared to change into classier duds. The women took the field first, marching up behind the victory stand. The bespectacled brunette couldn't have looked more serious.

Suddenly it was time to step up, then time to stand at attention, and then time to realize that you - little old hausfrau you - was responsible for the Star Spangled Banner being played at a world-wide event.

Hey, Little Miss Poker Face, did I see your chin quivering? "That's just about right," she admitted. "That moment was the greatest thrill of all. It's what made it all worthwhile."

Because of the cost, she and Skeeter had agreed to avoid the telephone and write daily. She wouldn't, she said, deviate from that plan. After all, she'd be home in two days - and then they were going on vacation.

"It's enough knowing that he knows. It will be in the paper, won't it?" she asked, suddenly worried. "Archers don't always make the news." I promised Skeeter would be able to find the story.