The Many Lives of Alice Brown

Alice Brown is a vibrant 95-year-old who lives independently and often swims laps in her Sunset condominium pool—despite being declared dead twice on paper.

In case you missed our coverage, Brown’s ordeal of “mistaken death” began in February 2011 when she received a letter from the California Teacher’s Retirement System (CalSTRS) requesting proof of life. This request started the retired teacher’s yearlong quest to verify to everyone from CalSTRS to the Social Security Administration that she was indeed still breathing. Fortunately, we are happy to report that Brown is now just as alive in the world of administrative paperwork as she is in the world of the living.

Strong and spirited, Brown remains undeterred by the stress caused by her bureaucratically-induced tribulation. However, as sensational as her story of “mistaken death” is and was, it’s her life story that continues to spark the interest of this reporter.

Born in Alameda and raised in Berkeley, Brown graduated from UC Berkeley in 1940 with a degree in political science. After college—and against the wishes of her mother—Brown joined Billy Rose’s Aquacade, a synchronized swimming show on San Francisco’s Treasure Island.

“I was a very independent woman,” Brown says. “Things were different back then. Girls couldn’t go anywhere without a chaperone.”

The Aquacade featured elaborate Busby Berkeley-like productions that included synchronized swimmers, dancing and intricate stage productions, both in and out of the water. The show premiered in 1936 at the Great Lakes Exposition in Cleveland (a city hit hard by the Depression) before moving on to New York, and was considered the most successful production of the 1939 New York World’s Fair. According to the International Swimming Hall of Fame, nearly five million people paid (about 50 cents a ticket) to see the show at the New York State Marine Amphitheatre.

While at the Aquacade, Brown earned $45 a week and worked alongside the likes of swimming legend Esther Williams, the star “aquabelle” of the entertainment show, and 1924/1928 Olympic champion Johnny Weissmuller,  already famous as Tarzan.

“Billy Rose was a big showman,” Brown says. “He would put on these Vegas-style water shows. Esther was the star, and I was what you’d call a showgirl now.  I tried for a swimming position, but I just didn’t get it. They said I was ‘too tall.’”

Brown, who was 5’11”  tall,  may not have been in the main spotlight but she appeared in one of the show’s biggest scenes, called “A Beach in California,” which included performances by Morton Downey (a popular singer nicknamed “The Irish Nightingale”), champion swimmer Gertrude Ederle and many others.  Brown joined the show the same year as Williams, who was a somewhat unknown 100-meter freestyle swimming champion and U.S. record holder.  Williams, who had already been picked to swim in the 1940 Olympics in Tokyo, only to see this hope dashed by World War II, would swim elaborate choreographed duets with Weissmuller. She was spotted by scouts from Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM) studio, and this led to her movie career and subsequent fame.

Her eyes lighting up with fondness of days past, Brown says her six-month experience at the Aquacade in San Francisco holds some of her happiest memories. Weissmuller was a great athlete, and he could out-swim everyone in the show, Brown recalls, adding that he was 36 years old at the time while most of the other male swimmers were much younger.

“I remember once he grabbed me with his legs and picked me up,” she says, describing how “he loved joking around.”

When asked about Williams, Brown says the swimming icon was “full of herself—a real diva. She thought of herself as a queen.”

In all, Brown says the Aquacade experience was a turning point in her life. “It was just so much fun working there, and at the time $45 a week was a lot of money.”

But the job exacerbated the strained relationship she had with her mother who was “verbally abusive and didn’t support my self-esteem very well,” Brown recalls.

“Working on the show helped boost my self-confidence, but my mother didn’t like it. She called me a ‘fallen woman’ for joining the Aquacade, but she would also come see the show because I gave her free tickets.”

Brown remained with Rose’s show until it ended in 1941 after playing at the 1940 World’s Fair in San Francisco. Proud of her independent spirit, Brown confesses to being an adventurous woman during a time when women had a domestic role. The second wave of women’s liberation (post suffrage) was still decades away.

In 1943, Brown met her husband, Ed Brown; the two shared a same last name and were married just months after meeting in Laguna Beach. Ed was already a sergeant in the U.S. Army Air Force and later served as a glider pilot, while she worked at the Kaiser Shipyards in Richmond.

At Kaiser, Brown worked as an electrical draftsman and helped construct amphibious landing ships that helped carry troops and cargo onto enemy shores in the Pacific, North Africa, and Europe.  Thousands of women worked in Kaiser’s shipyards during the war, often facing hazardous conditions, while earning much less than their male counterparts.

“We pushed one of those ships in the water every 10 days,” Brown says. “During World War II, everyone was involved in the war effort; it was entirely different than it is now. We are at war now, but no one ever really thinks about it and we just go about our lives.”

After leaving the shipyards, Brown began working with the Red Cross as a psychiatric social worker, counseling wounded veterans who had severe spinal injuries.

During that time, post-traumatic stress disorder was not a recognized medical diagnosis during the war and didn’t enter psychiatric vocabulary until the 1980s.

After the war, Alice and Ed eventually settled in Los Angeles and had four children: Farnie, Steve, Marsha and Laura. In 1957, the couple moved from Central L.A. into a home on Enchanted Way in Pacific Palisades.

Ed worked as an insurance adjuster, but he started drinking heavily, Brown says, adding that “he was an alcoholic and was very (emotionally and physically) abusive.”  She recalls one attack that gave her a concussion and left her unconscious for hours. “I was so worried about my children,” she remembers.

The abuse and drinking lasted until 1961, when “Ed went to AA [Alcoholic Anonymous] meetings and things started to change.” By this time, the Browns had moved to a home on Tellem Drive.  The sobriety lasted nine years and then “Ed started drinking again,” Brown says. The couple divorced in 1973 and Ed died five years later of natural causes.

“We had a very bitter divorce,” Brown says. “After all that time [and abuse], he wanted to give me only $6,000 for 30 years of marriage, but I went to a lawyer and got a little more than that.”

Knowing she had to earn a living somehow, Brown earned her teaching credential at the age of 53 and began teaching first graders and kindergarten in LAUSD schools. At 63, she earned her state Spanish teaching credentials and continued teaching until the age of 78, when she retired.

Standing before a world map and photos of the 55 countries that she has visited, most of them while traveling alone, Brown says, “I’ve had quite a life.” Two deaths, too, thinks this reporter internally.

Brown jokes that she still might have another bureaucratic struggle in her future. When asked what, she remarks: “They probably won’t believe it when I do die.”

Considering her feisty spirit and bold independence, neither will this reporter.