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n the old tale of the blindmen and the elephant, oneman perceives the elephantas resembling a wall. Anotherlikens it to a spear, and

another, a snake. It’s impossiblefor them to experience thewhole elephant.

When people encounter John“Lucky” Meisenheimer, somesee Dr. John Meisenheimer,

dermatologist.Others seeCoach Lucky,coach of theOrlando SpecialOlympics swim

team and, until a few yearsago, Team Orlando Masters.Many see Lucky from his dockon Lake Cane hosting Lucky’sLake Swim. Others identify afilmmaker. Still others see aworld-renowned yo-yocollector and expert.Community activist. Writer.Husband. Dad.

But when Lucky Meisenheimerlooks in the mirror, he sees aswimmer, and he can tracenearly all the odd rabbit trailshis life has taken back to thatfact. He started at age 10 or 11...and never stopped. “My pillarthroughout my life has beenthe swimming,” he says. “WhenI started I was the asthmatic,out-of-shape kid, and I guess Iovercame a lot of physicalconditions to be able to swim.”The competitive Meisenheimer

went on to become an NCAAScholar Athlete at EasternKentucky University. He isamong the few Mastersswimmers who have never leftand then refound the sport,and he’s a past Mastersnational champion and worldrecord holder. He’s takenswimming with him whereverhe’s been...or it’s taken him.

During college, swimmingtook Meisenheimer into theannals of Ripley’s Believe It or

Not—for swimming a half-milewith his foot in his mouth. Hedescribes it as “‘one of my earlyaccomplishments’—and I putthat in quotes.”

One day, while stretching onthe pool deck, he pulled hisfoot up close to his face, Luckyremembers, “and some kid goes,‘Oooo! Don’t swim with yourfoot in your mouth!’ And so Iimmediately thought that I could.”

He wrapped a sock around histoe and bit down, swam andhad a friend snap a Polaroid,which Lucky ran in the smallnewsletter he published for histeam. Its headline proclaimednew world record for swimmingwith foot in mouth. Friendssuggested he send the photo toGuinness. “So I thought, well,maybe I could.” He worked upto longer stretches swimminghis new stroke. A publicitystunt took shape.

“One thing I’ve learned in mylife,” Meisenheimer continues,“if you ask somebody far enoughin advance, they’ll agree toanything, even a personalhanging—‘In three years, couldwe hang you out on the frontlawn?’ ‘Oh, yeah, yeah, sure,three years, no problem.’ So Iasked my coach about six monthsin advance, ‘Hey, on Februarythe 14th, could I swim half a

LUCKY IS AS LUCKY

DOESAnd Irrepressible Masters Swimmer

Lucky Meisenheimer Does a Lotby Christine Ennulat >>> Photos by Tom Reid

Christine Ennulat is a contributing

writer for SWIMMERand a member of

the Virginia LMSC in Richmond.

I

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mile with my foot in my mouthand set a world record?’

“‘Yeah, Meisenheimer, fine,fine.’”

Meisenheimer kept practicing.“I invented a little toe snorkelso I could breathe,” he says.Teammates posted fliers aroundcampus, landing the event inthe local paper.

The moment arrived, heraldedby the opening strains of “ThusSpake Zarathustra” (think 2001:A Space Odyssey, the monolithmusic) as the caped aspirant,lightning bolts painted on armsand legs, waited in the wings.The coach, with no inkling thatFeb. 14 was anything morethan another practice day, wasflummoxed.

“We filled the stands,”Meisenheimer remembers. “Wehad more people at that eventthan we’d ever had at any swimmeet.” The coach was so happyhe paid for the 20 pizzas theteam had ordered in his name.A local television station filmed,and local radio stations broadcast;the AP wire picked up thenews, then Paul Harvey, thenRipley’s Believe It or Not. “Theone thing it didn’t get into wasGuinness,” says Meisenheimer,explaining that the process for

that is much more complex. Meisenheimer supposes the

stunt may have been the impetusfor his later interest in TV, if nothis penchant for the over-the-top,which permeates his core. Heacknowledges that his unusualchildhood also may havesomething to do with it: growingup in Richmond, Ky., dressingup in frontier garb and shootingflintlock rifles competitivelywith his father; appearing inthe fishing section of the localpaper holding a big octopusinstead of a bass, like other kids;swimming with the originalFlipper at Florida’s Theater bythe Sea.... “I experienced a lotof weird things growing up,” hesays. Perhaps inevitable for theson of an organic chemistryprofessor who offered bonuspoints to students for dressingup as their favorite chemicalreactions.

Young Meisenheimer alsospent many hours roamingnearby fields and streams,catching snakes and other faunathat the biologist down the

LUCKY MEISENHEIMER moved to Orlando for the sake of his medicalpractice, but it’s not bad for swimming,either. His lakefront home, “Aquatica,”features a lap pool and an aquaticbasketball/volleyball court.

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block would help him key downand identify. President of thescience club at the ModelLaboratory School (“Thinkabout what comes out of there,”he quips.) and perennial sciencefair winner, he earned a biologyscholarship to Eastern Kentuckyand graduated pre-med in 1979.In his fourth year of Universityof Kentucky med school, hesettled on anesthesiology. “If ithadn’t been for swimming, Iwouldn’t be a dermatologist,”he recalls.

In Meisenheimer’s world, thatapparent non sequitur makesperfect sense: “There was adermatologist in my home town,so I called him up and said,‘Listen, I’d like to do a derma-tology rotation, but I’d like to bedone early enough so I can workout with the swim team whileI’m there.” Meisenheimer laughsa sly, deep laugh. “That wasvery brash.... But he was agreat guy, and he said, ‘Sure,come on in.’

“By the second day I was

there,” he continues, “I knew Iwanted to be a dermatologist.”Two weeks later, as they droveto an outlying clinic, Meisen-heimer told his mentor of hisplans, whereupon the man ranoff the road. “We’ve beenfriends ever since,” he says.Dermatology, he notes, hasbeen “a good fit. I still love myjob—I’m a skin cancersurgeon, and I love doing that.”

Why Orlando? “Because ofthe aquatic center,” he answers.“I love Florida, and my inter-est was in cutaneous oncology,and I wanted to do skin cancersurgery, so you go where thecancer is, which is Florida.” Tonarrow down further, Meisen-heimer mapped out the locationof every dermatologist in theSunshine State (“I’m veryobsessive-compulsive,” headmits.) and found a spot incentral Florida that had none,about a mile from the relativelynew Orlando InternationalAquatic and Fitness Center (nowthe YMCA Aquatic and Family

Center). “And I’m saying, if thisis not a sign from God, I don’tknow what is.” Now, 18 yearsinto a busy, high-tech medicalpractice, “I’m a dinosaur—still asolo practitioner,” Meisenheimersays. “I see all of my patients.I’m a firm believer that ifyou’re going in to see the specialist, you ought to see the specialist.”

Meisenheimer is absolutelyserious about his work. Despiteall appearances, in fact, he’sabsolutely serious abouteverything he undertakes; it’sthe undertakings that are lessso. Like yo-yos.

Soon after his 1987 arrival inOrlando, he began swimmingwith “whatever team would letme get in and swim with them,”including the small Mastersgroup. Which led him into—orback to—yo-yos and ultimatelyinto his enthusiastic collecting.In the early ’70s, he says, “Ipicked the yo-yos up likeanyone else, and, being a littleobsessive-compulsive, I got alittle better at playing than theaverage kid.” He put the toydown and forgot it until medschool, when he happenedacross a yo-yo and an old trickbook and began practicingtricks to relax between classesand entertain kids on roundsin the pediatric ward. Meisen-heimer realized—and otherpeople noted—that he hadbecome “about as good a yo-yoplayer as I’d ever seen.” But henever thought about the historyof the yo-yo until he begantraveling for events like theMasters nationals and openwater swims, which have a lotof down time. “So I would goto a lot of antique shops, andjust on a whim I started pickingup yo-yos. And I started findingthese wooden ones, and I’mgoing, ‘What’s up with that?’”

Thus did Lucky Meisenheimerenter into a whole new worldof yo-yo history. “I just becamefascinated,” he says. “It wasthis huge rite of passage foryoung boys from the ’30s tothe ’60s—the yo-yo man wouldcome in the spring, and they

would have yo-yo contests andall these awards, and differentvarieties of yo-yos, and I wasjust astounded.” Eager for moreknowledge, Meisenheimerbegan writing to some of theolder demonstrators andcollectors, turning himself intoa repository of arcane yo-yolore gleaned from his manyinterviews, undertaken simplybecause he was curious. Hebegan writing small articles forthe newsletter Yo-Yo Times.“Then I sent out to the collectorsa color copy of what I had fortrade. And nobody had ever donethat before.” Driven as he was,and with a collection that nownumbers more than 5,000 yo-yos,he became the pre-eminentnational authority on yo-yocollecting and served on theboard of the American Yo-YoAssociation from its inceptionin 1993 through its first few years.

“Somewhere along the line Idecided that I was going towrite a book on collecting,”says Meisenheimer. “I thoughtit would take about six months.”He finished Lucky’s Collectors’Guide to 20th Century Yo-Yos,“pretty much the bible of yo-yocollecting,” he says, four-and-a-half years later. Soon after, hiscollection entered GuinnessWorld Records as “LargestCollection of Yo-Yos,” with alisted total of 4,251, the pointat which he’d tired of catalogingthem. And he’s slowed hiscollecting, demonstrating ahealthy perspective despiteappearances to the contrary:“If I did add a yo-yo to thecollection,” he begins, thenstage-whispers, “no one wouldknow.” His most expensive item?On eBay, a boxed set identicalto one Meisenheimer traded for—did not purchase—just sold for$6,500. The largest expenditureon one of his yo-yos is a $300gift from his wife, Jacquie.

Three guesses how

Lucky’s yo-yo collection—including“yo-yo man”—is the largest in the world.The cabinets in the background are

filled with more than 5,000 of them.

AD

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Meisenheimer met Jacquie.In 1989, when the Masters

team at the aquatic center lostits coach, Meisenheimer wasthe only one around withcoaching experience. He tookit on in 1989 and, “being theobsessive-compulsive type”(no, no echo here), built theprogram from a couple dozento a 200-member-strongpowerhouse that boastedseveral national championsand USMS Top 10s. Along theway, Meisenheimer alsoachieved ASCA’s Level 5coaching certification, servedas president of the MastersAquatics Coaches Associationand worked hard to promotethe sport locally and nationally.

When Jacquie, a triathletelooking to improve herswimming, joined in 1993,

coach and new member caughteach other’s eye right away.Despite Meisenheimer’s policynever to date his swimmers,they married in 1995, andstarted their family immediately.They have three boys, John VII,10; Jake, 7; and Maximus, 5.(“You don’t get pregnantduring the time that Gladiatorhas been released,” explainsmovie buff Meisenheimer.)

Jacquie, a pretty, soft-spokenbrunette, has a master’s inexercise physiology and workedas a medical sales rep—andoccasional swim coach—untiltaking on full-time parenting.The Meisenheimer householdis a high-traffic area, not onlywith kids but also with theinnumerable people who passthrough for the daily 1K lakeswim, especially on Saturday

mornings. “I never thought...,”she begins, and then chuckles,“that I would ever be amidstall this, because I’m kind of,you know, private.”

If she wasn’t sure early whatshe was getting into, the marriageproposal, involving an elaboratetreasure hunt—and fire ants—should have been a clear sign.

Asked what has surprisedher most about her husband,she answers not with somewacky “Lucky”-type antic, butwith this: “How he can say he’sgoing to do something, andthen accomplish what he does.People say a lot of things—theydon’t really ever do them. Hejust does.” Jacquie knows athing or two about that qualityherself, having been the firstfemale runner at the Universityof Central Florida. Recently,she started piano lessons forthe first time—a challenge ifever there was one, in that house.

Although Meisenheimer’scapacity to make things happenhas stood him in good stead,it’s been eminently valuable toothers, as well. When theaquatics center went under andclosed its doors in 1992, heand other community leadershad a fight on their hands.

“They literally chained the

doors,” Meisenheimer recalls,and tells of how local hotelierand Masters swimmer HarrisRosen, “a very powerful personhere in town,” went for hisworkout one day and found oneof the Special Olympians alsostanding at the locked door. “Helooked up at Rosen and said,‘Did we do something wrong?’‘No, you did not do anythingwrong.’ ‘Can you get them toreopen the pool?’ the youngsterasked—not knowing that[Rosen] was probably the oneperson in the entire city whoactually could do something,and he said, ‘I’m going to.’”

Meisenheimer musteredgrassroots support while Rosen“held the big club—he hadenough power to bring incongressmen.” After a six-month fight, the centerreopened, as a YMCA.

Lost in the shuffle, though,was the fledgling SpecialOlympics program, which wasnow without a coach. YMCAleaders came to Meisenheimerand, reminding him that the tinySpecial Olympics program hadbeen a highly touted reason forkeeping the center open, askedhim to coach. Unable to say no,he signed on for one year. “Now,11 years later...,” he laughs.

“We have one of the largest,if not the largest, SpecialOlympics teams in the country,”he says. “We have a group offantastic volunteer coacheswho come in and work hard,”and 50-plus athletes ranging inage from 8 to 42, some of whomswim for their high schools andeven in Masters events. Sevenof them, Meisenheimer exults,have done Lucky’s Lake Swim.“I tell their parents, ‘Yourchildren are now in the top onepercentile in the world as far asswimming accomplishments.They may never be in the topone percentile in anything intheir life except for that, but

LUCKY MEISENHEIMER with hiswife, JACQUIE, and their threesons, JOHN VII, 10; JAKE, 7; and MAXIMUS, 5.

When the aquatics center went under and closed its doors in 1992, he and other

community leaders had a fight on their hands. After a six-month fight, the center reopened, as a YMCA.

Lost in the shuffle, though, was the fledgling Special Olympics program, which was now

without a coach. Unable to say no, he signed on for one year.

“Now, 11 years later...,” he laughs.

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they have that to wrap theirarms and legs around. And thatmakes a difference.’”

Although no longer coachingMasters, Meisenheimer continuesto tirelessly promote swimmingand the aquatic center, whichhas led him into yet anothercareer, as filmmaker. Over theyears, various TV shows hadfilmed segments about hisfamous yo-yo collection, andone day Jerry Rose, a soundmanfrom one of the shows, cameinto Meisenheimer’s office witheczema on his hand. “You don’tforget this guy,” says Rose ofhis meeting with Lucky.

At that time, Meisenheimerwas working with the local cablestation on a series of weekly

commercial spots honoringlocal swimmers (and pluggingthe YMCA). Rose, meanwhile,had been looking to expand intovideography. A change at thestation opened the way for thetwo to collaborate on theproject. So began Lucky-RoseFilms, with Rose’s wife,Jennifer, also at the helm.

The commercials they madewent over well, and the trio’snext project presented itselfwhen the world yo-yo champi-onship came to town. Quite afew other projects have followedthat documentary from PSAson drowning to The Finger, aspoof on 1950s monster movies,to medical informational videosfor Meisenheimer’s practice, to

funny short pieces (starringMeisenheimer and assortedfamily members), one of whichwon a prize at an undergroundfilm festival. Their latest releaseis Yo-Yo Kings, distributed byFogware Publishing, and fea-turing yo-yo champions as wellas instruction for newbies anda look at Meisenheimer’s col-lection. All the work is donein-house, with Meisenheimerwriting and directing. “Doccomes up with the initial idea,and we all kind of take it andrun from there,” says Rose.“He just runs a little farther.”

Lucky-Rose’s current filmproject is also the vehicle forMeisenheimer’s latest crusade,enlisting his filmmaker, coach

and activist components. Thedocumentary chronicles aseason with the Special Olympiansworking toward the state meet...and the heartbreak whenswimmers don’t get to gobecause of limited slots in thatmeet. “Through the years, I’vehad to tell about half of ourathletes, who’ve qualified forstate meet, that they can’t go,”protests Meisenheimer. “Howdo you do that? You’ve got kidscrying, you’ve got parents crying—how do you do that?” Aftertalking to the organization fromthe local level to the national,the answer he’s gotten is,“That’s just the way it is.”Meisenheimer’s response: “Itdoesn’t have to be.”

“His attitude, his motivationnever stops,” says Rose of hisfriend, “and that’s what carriesyou, too, his motivation, hisbelief in how far this thing cango. And he’s right. He’s a no-guts-no-glory kind of guy. Ifyou don’t buy the Lotto ticket,you’re not going to win.”

Jacquie puts it simply: “He’sgot such a big heart, such aheart for people.” Thanks tothat, as Meisenheimer has shownagain and again, just aboutanything can happen. <<<

Lucky Siteswww.luckyrosefilms.comwww.orlandoskindoc.comwww.teamorlando.comwww.yo-yos.net

>>>Go Jump in a LakeLucky Meisenheimer rarely knows who’ll show up mornings athis Lake Cane dock (right). Since 1988, beginning with a smallgroup of folks a couple times a week, that’s been the site ofLucky’s Lake Swim, a 1K course across the lake and back.

In 1999, just for fun, Meisenheimer designated a blank wallon the back of his house as the Wall of Fame (above), whichanyone who completes the swim can sign and get a patch.Recent signers include Meisenheimer’s mother and his twoolder sons. “We swam one on each side of the 6-year-old,”says Meisenheimer. “There are gators in the lake—not aproblem for an adult, but a 6-year-old might make a tastylittle breakfast.”

Members of the newly instigated 100K club get a hat. Seewww.luckyslakeswim.com.