In 1953, Margaret Bourke-White developed her first symptoms of Parkinson’s which forced her to slow her career in order to fight the encroaching paralysis. In 1959 and 1961 she underwent several operations to treat her condition, which ended her tremors but affected her speech. Bourke-White wrote an autobiography, Portrait of Myself, which was published in 1963 and became a bestseller.
Below is Bonnie’s account of her week of work with Peggy who autographed her book to Bonnie in 1963. “For Bonnie who has a new idea every minute. With admiration and affection, Peggy.”
One fall day a call came in to my office from a lady who said she was Margaret Bourke-White and she would like to consult me on an exercise program. I asked her what sort of program she wanted and how she would use it. I wasn’t prepared for the answer even though I knew all too well that famous people can be stricken with tragedy. “I have Parkinson’s disease and it is interfering with my walking.”
At that time my home, office and gymnasium work space were in one place in Stockbridge, Massachusetts on acres of field and woodlands…ideal for specific exercises. I told her I would be happy to see her any time she could come up from her home in Connecticut. “If you are intent on improving your musculature, you’d better plan on staying here for a week.” She had friends in Pittsfield where she was to visit the coming weekend, would Monday be all right? It was.
Margaret Bourke-White was a famous photographer of the forties and fifties. She covered World War II for the weekly magazine LIFE. She was well known as completely without fear, willing and able to cover any theater of war or anything else. She had an uncanny knack for being in that part of the war or the world, where trouble needed to be recorded for history. Parkinson’s had put an end to that career, but NOT Margaret Bourke-White. Okay! So she had had to give up photography. She could face that. But her independence was threatened and she wanted to put that off as long as possible.
When Miss Bourke-White arrived she was an imposing person whose disease, or the handling of it, had frozen the muscles of her face into one devoid of laughter and given over to the effort of intense concentration. She wore a peasant blouse and full skirt (probably several skirts) which she may have thought covered her infirmity. People of note and everybody else who is changed by a disease or accident at the height of their powers, often try to disappear into the background. They rarely succeed in that design. Accomplishment gleams from knowing eyes. A style of dress that doesn’t belong to the persona, can mark up a negative to observers. Since the sufferer has enough to deal with, any negative is destructive.
I had laid out a sky blue set of exercise pants, not baggy which might get in my way, but not so tight that they would get in hers. The top was a beautiful sweater of many blues. When she had put them on she looked her business-like capable self and FELT that way. Clothes do make the façade of a person and the façade always affects the creature inside.
The ambiance of a glistening hard floored gym helped too. It keeps minds on the work at hand.
First I gave her the Kraus-Weber Test for MINIMUM muscle function. It took two minutes and it was clear that she was strong, but inflexible which is usually connected with Parkinson’s if for no other reason than the concentration it requires.
The daily workouts were to music and she was soon striding around the track and through the woods. There was one hitch however. When swimming in the pool…all of a sudden she stopped swimming saying, “I’m sinking!” and forthwith sank! I was there in a second and brought her to the surface, laughing. “When I started to talk and then yell, my arms and legs stopped going. What a laugh!”
It may have been a laugh to her but to this exercise teacher, it was a revelation. Her muscles were at her beck and call IF what she was doing had a recognizable sequence that is not interrupted by fear or extraneous thought.
Her second major desire after walking well, was the need to get out of a chair. Since there IS a sequence learned in childhood and since relegated to automatic…and Parkinson’s throws a wrench into anything automatic…and she had never had the need to dissect the complicated moves, there she would sit…tied to her chair and seething. We took the moves apart. The sequence was:
- First, move bottom forward to the front of the chair.
- Thrust right foot back under the chair.
- Advance the left foot eight or so inches in front of the right.
- Lean upper body back to touch the chair.
- INHALE a huge breath…
- See a feather floating in front of you.
- Push your upper body forward HARD, exhaling to blow the feather away!!</li
It was a cinch since her strength was there and the coordination was required only with the push and no extraneous impulses could interfere. She went up as though on a spring. The advanced left foot was there to catch her forward thrust. The impetus of the forward push caused by leaning forward and blowing out the trapped air was assisted by the right foot under the chair. Margaret had to make only one decision. Lean forward and blow the feather…the rest was automatic. She spent most of the afternoon trying out chairs all over the house. When she KNEW the sequence and the idea of the feather for the impetus, she had it.
She had another request. At cocktail parties, people would hem her into a tight little circle and there was no way out because she could not back away. She was trapped by well-wishers. Walking backward was not a big deal in the middle of a room, however doorways and crowds sometimes required help.
“Are you one of the greatest photographers in the world?” I asked it standing immovably in front of her. “Yes, I am.” “You’re sure of that?” “Yes, what are you getting at?” “Well no one should stand in the way of such an artist. Put your hand gently on my shoulder and push saying, ‘Can you back up a little please and let me though.’” It worked and she used it very graciously forever after.
By the end of the week Margaret knew the importance of controlled sequences, she walked with a good swinging stride. She would need a personal trainer (this was before personal trainers were en vogue, but knew very little about the human body they were supposed to exercise). But I knew a REAL one. Almost impossible to find! She was a very lovely Mexican girl with a new baby to support. She had taught exercise for me for years in my Physical Fitness Institute. It was a match made in heaven. They were together for years.
When the week was over she unrolled the four incredible photographs she had taken herself in various parts of the world and gave them to me. The Miners was taken a mile down in an African diamond mine. The heat was appalling! The Indian Landscape was taken when the Hindus marched one way to Pakistan and the Muslems vacated their homes and returned to India. The beautiful but terrible The Road, was taken of that exchange. Snow Geese was taken in Alaska. What a gift. What a treasure.
If you have questions or need help, email me at enid@bonnieprudden.com. For more information about Bonnie Prudden®, Bonnie Prudden Myotherapy®, books, self-help tools, educational videos, NCBTMB Approved Courses, videos free, for rent or for purchase, blogs, vlogs and newsletters, visit www.bonnieprudden.com or call 520-299-8064 if you have questions or need help. Enid Whittaker, Managing Director, Bonnie Prudden Myotherapy®