Andrea Mead Lawrence, center, awaits race results during the 1952 Olympics in Oslo, Norway. Photo courtesy of U.S. Ski and Snowboard Hall of Fame It would have been natural for Andrea Mead Lawrence to be nervous as her skis nudged the starting line and she awaited the race official’s tap on he r back and the command to go. The moment she had been training so hard for — the 1952 Winter Olympics in Oslo, Norway — had arrived.  Lawrence wasn’t the only one waiting her shot at these Olympics to start. The American public was watching eagerly, having been told that the Vermonter was the country’s best chance at winning gold. Time magazine was confident enough that it put her face on the cover of its Jan. 21 edition.  If Lawrence felt the pressure, she didn’t show it. Perhaps it was the fearlessness of youth. Lawrence was only 19-years old. “Andy always is calm like this before a race and it’s a good sign,” said U.S. Men’s Olympic Ski Team member David Lawrence, who was also Andrea’s husband. The couple had married the previous winter. Just as she started married life at an early age, so too did she begin her time as an Olympian young. The Oslo Olympics weren’t her first. She had competed in the 1948 Olympics in St. Moritz, Switzerland.  Her precociousness at skiing was a direct result of her childhood. Her parents, Bradford and Janet Mead, bought Pico Mountain Ski Area in 1937, when Andrea was five. Their timing was perfect. Alpine skiing was just becoming a popular sport. The first tow rope in America had been installed just down the road in Woodstock in 1935 and alpine skiing was added as an Olympic competition the following year.  The Meads were devoted to the sport, often prioritizing skiing over schooling for Andrea and her brother, Peter. She recalled that their attitude was: “If the weather’s good, you ski; if it’s bad, you go to school.” She never graduated from high school.  Andrea didn’t receive any formal ski lessons. She learned largely by emulating the technique of her parents and Karl Acker, the Swiss slalom racer who ran Pico’s ski school. And she was a natural “It seemed so simple,” she said. “We just skied. If we wanted to go faster, we went faster. If we wanted to stop—well, we just stopped.” Andrea Mead Lawrence jokingly poses for a photo for German skier Annemarie Buchner-Fischer during the 1952 Olympics. Lawrence was good friends with many of the skiers with whom she competed. Photo courtesy of U.S. Ski and Snowboard Hall of Fame If the sport was in its infancy, so too was the equipment. Racers wore leather boots that rose just above the ankle, offering almost no lateral support. Skiers had to rely on their strength and skill to carve turns. The skis they rode through those turns were wooden and handmade. What connected the boots to the skis were “bear trap” bindings that didn’t release when a skier fell, all too frequently resulting in broken legs and torn ligaments. By the time Andrea was 10, she was entering regional ski races and competing against adults. At the 1948 Olympics, she skied against the best in the world and finished eighth in the slalom, an impressive result for a 15-year old. She followed that up with an impressive 1949 ski season, but her results tailed off in 1950. Some in the media speculated the reason was that she was distracted by her budding relationship with David Lawrence.  But she told Time magazine that her coach figured out the issue. “I’d been training for skiing night and day since 1947. I was losing the fun of it.” In 1950, he suggested she take a year off skiing. Andrea was devastated. Refusing to hang up her skis, she decided to focus on having fun. This shift in attitude unlocked something in her.  The 1951 ski season found Andrea reenergized. Over one two-month period, she entered 16 international races, winning 10 of them and placing second in four others. Observers began mentioning her as a leading contender for gold at Oslo. Despite being the youngest member of the women’s alpine team, she was selected to serve as captain. Andrea Mead Lawrence speeds down the slalom course on the way to winning her second gold medal at the 1952 Winter Olympics. Photo courtesy of U.S. Ski and Snowboard Hall of Fame When word leaked that Time magazine would feature an article about Lawrence and put her photo on the cover, Rutland Mayor Dan P. Healy declared that Jan. 17 would be “Andrea Mead Lawrence Day.” The Rutland Chamber of Commerce organized celebrations, the centerpiece of which was a large sculpture carved from more than three tons of ice, featuring a bas relief of Lawrence skiing, surmounted by a carving of her head. At the base was the name Andy Mead, as she was known locally. Rutland store windows displayed photos of Lawrence, while local buses and trains bore posters of the skier. Not to be outdone, restaurants added special Andy Mead dishes and soda fountains sold Andy Mead sundaes. Vermonters telegraphed best wishes to Lawrence in Austria, where she was training. Among the messages was one from the Rutland Council of Girls Scouts and Brownies. Lawrence had spoken to the troop about world fellowship the previous autumn.   While Vermonters were well aware of who Lawrence was, that Time magazine cover brought her to the attention of Americans who didn’t following skiing. Under the headline, “She Skis for Fun,” the article described Lawrence’s relaxed demeanor as she waited to start a slalom run: she “showed only one touch of tension: her classically lean features were set firmly as she clenched her jaw.” Then, when the starter tapped her on the back, “she was off, pushing furiously with her ski poles to gain the speed she would have to check, moments later, with a swivel-hip turn. She swept down the dizzying descent with the verve and hell-for-leather dash of a man,” Time reported. “Crouching, straightening, swinging her slim hips in an almost antic mimicry of a rumba step, she darted and danced through the multicolored flags that outlined the course.” She skied, the magazine wrote, “with the rush and sparkle of a Vermont freshet.” For all her ferocity on the slope, Lawrence seemed less focused on winning than were her rivals. While they put themselves through grueling practice sessions, Time wrote, “Andy doesn’t take training grimly; she drinks a beer with her meals, and is usually ready to join a friend in a cup of Glühwein (mulled red wine with cinnamon, cloves and sugar). She smokes a cigarette when she feels like it.”  In keeping with the sexism of the era, articles about Lawrence often mentioned her looks and marital status, referring to her as “lithe” or as the “slim protégé” or “America’s skiing housewife.” Her refusal to follow the period’s style dictates also drew comment. “She sets her own fashion in other ways,” Time noted. “She wears no lipstick; she has never been to a manicurist or a hairdresser.” Her husband explained: “I guess she thinks you ought to be the way God made you.” An Associated Press photograph published two weeks before the Olympics showed U.S. women’s ski team members modeling sleek, off-the-shoulder “official evening dresses.” Lawrence stands at the side of the group, wearing dark trousers and a light, collared shirt. Evidently, the dress wasn’t for her. Finally, on February 14, Lawrence could put aside journalists’ requests for a photo or for yet another interview, and concentrate on why she was in Oslo. The women’s giant slalom would be the first event of these Olympics. Lawrence drew the fourth starting spot, which was considered a good position. She wouldn’t be the first to carve her way down the mountain, but she wasn’t starting so late that the slick course would be rutted. When the starter tapped her on the back, Lawrence launched herself down the course. Taking a perfect line through the gates, she crossed the finish line in a time of two minutes, 6.8 seconds. She skied up to David, who hugged her, handed her a cup of hot chocolate, and shooed away reporters until she could catch her breath. After several minutes, she was ready to talk: “Gee, it was great,” she said. “The course was fine and I went faster than I thought.”   Fast enough, in fact, to win a gold medal. Her margin of victory was  2.2 seconds—an eon for an Olympic giant slalom race. No one has yet won the women’s event by more. The victory made Lawrence an international celebrity. The British Broadcast Corporation snagged her for a radio interview. Congratulations poured in from around the globe. President Harry Truman sent a telegram calling her triumph a “great honor for the United States.”  Lawrence missed the Olympics’ opening ceremonies the next day, preferring to watch David compete in the men’s giant slalom. He finished 35th.  Journalists started speculating that Lawrence might win three golds. She was favored to win the slalom and was seen as a contender in the downhill.  The downhill came first, three days after the giant slalom. The steep and twisting, roughly mile-long course proved treacherous. Six of the 43 competitors failed to finish. Lawrence fell twice, and while she managed to finish, the falls cost her valuable time. She finished 17th, still the best showing by an American that day. Lawrence had two days to get that fall out of her mind. Then it was time for the slalom event, which would be decided by the best combined time over two runs.  During her first time down the highly technical 49-gate course, Lawrence caught the tip of her ski on one of the gates, spun nearly completely around and fell.  That could have been where her Olympic dreams ended. But, but… “Recovering quickly, she dashed wildly for the finish line to post a time of 67.2 seconds,” wrote ski journalist Hewitt V. Penney, who filed an exclusive story for the Rutland Herald. Despite the fall, Lawrence’s time was the fourth fastest on the first run. Leader Ossi Reichert of Germany, who finished in 66 seconds flat, was 1.2 seconds ahead—a seemingly insurmountable lead. That first run appears to have taught Lawrence something. When it came time for the final run, Penney wrote, it seemed that she had memorized the placement of each gate.  “Andy’s second run was one of the greatest ever witnessed anywhere,” Penney stated. “With poles dug firmly into the snow and with legs and arms working like pistons, she fairly flew down the steep mountainside.” Andrea Mead Lawrence stands on the podium after receiving a gold medal for winning the giant slalom competition. Photo courtesy of U.S. Ski and Snowboard Hall of Fame As she crossed the finish line, the crowd grew quiet as it waited for her time to be announced. “Then, as though he could not believe it, the timer half-gasped 63.4 seconds,” Penney wrote. “I knew I had to do it, so I just cut loose,” Lawrence explained. As Ossi Reichert prepared for her second run, the German later said, “I was scared stiff with Andy in front of me.” Reichert managed to beat her own time from her first run, but it wasn’t enough. Lawrence had won the slalom by .8 seconds. The victory brought Lawrence a second gold medal. She is still the only American alpine skier to win two golds in a single Olympic games.  Exhibiting home state pride, the Burlington Daily News splashed news of Andrea Mead Lawrence’s second gold medal in all caps on its front page. Screenshot via Newspapers.com Then, as now, much of the media coverage of the Olympics focused on the medal count for each country. Norway, the host nation, ended up winning 16 medals, including seven golds. The United States’ finished second with 11 total medals, and Lawrence’s two victories accounted for half of the four gold medals America won. Speedskater Ken Henry and figure skater Dick Button won the others.  The New York Herald Tribune said Lawrence’s victories “epitomized the United States coming of age in international skiing competition.” In reality, it would be another 20 years before another American skier took home a gold. It was again a Vermonter, Barbara Cochran of Richmond. Andrea Mead Lawrence lived a full life. She raised five children, was actively involved in her community and worked tirelessly to conserve the mountains she loved.   Olympic documentarian Bud Greenspan called Lawrence the greatest Olympian of all time: “Andrea personified the Greek concept of the ideal—excellence both in body and mind. It is indeed rare to find someone who throughout her life pursued two passions in the purest and highest form of the human spirit.”  During her 76 years, Andrea Mead Lawrence perhaps never felt more alive than during the minute she spent schussing down a slope in Norway. “When I took off for the second run, I was released as the full force and energy of who I am as a person,” she told The San Jose Mercury News in 2002. “In a way, the second run was a perfect run. There are few times in our lives where we become the thing we’re doing.”   Read the story on VTDigger here: Then Again: The ‘perfect run’ that made her Olympic alpine legend. ...read more read less