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Grease, grease, grease. First a coat of lanolin, an eighth of an inch thick, then a coat of heavy grease. Gertrude Ederle, standing bare in the Hotel Sirene, Cape Gris Nez, France, shivered slightly and pressed her legs together. "Gee whiz, let's get started." Her sister, Margaret, dipped her hands once more in the grease pail. "Put your bathing suit on," she directed over her shoulder. More grease was applied to the strong stumpy body, clad now in a thin racing suit, cut away deeply under the arms. Gertrude Ederle (pronounced "Ed-er-ly")...
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