Wren Okonkwo
Runs the dawn session and the brass tally frame. Keeps a notebook of every hundred-length swim and writes the names onto the centenary board herself.
Six stewards run the deck: they time steam turns, count plunges, fold the blankets and settle every queue dispute since 1934. Their word is the house rule.
Runs the dawn session and the brass tally frame. Keeps a notebook of every hundred-length swim and writes the names onto the centenary board herself.
Ottilie's great-grandson. Refuses to correct the slow clock, will explain why at length if you let him.
Keeper of the ceramic clock and the eucalyptus question. Answers "plain fog" without judgement.
Counts every descent out loud, in the same steady voice, whether you take thirty seconds or nine.
Folds the blankets, dims the lamps, and has never once spoken above a murmur on duty.
Tends Bertha and Ada. Appears on deck only when the water misbehaves, which is the correct order of things.
Written in the 1954 manual and recited, half-seriously, at every winter staff supper: "Heat and cold in their order. The count spoken truly. The blanket folded. The clock left slow." June Ferro keeps the original page framed in the Resting Hall.
Demonstration: the stewards are invented; any resemblance to real bathhouse staff is wishful thinking.
Cascade, Meridian, Mosaic, Plunge, Resting. In that order.
41 °COne spring, honestly described, never sweetened.
Since 1926Ottilie Marsh, the ward years, the slow clock.
8 ritualsHands, heat, salt and birch, priced plainly.
ArchiveLonger notes from the stairwell cabinet.
VisitTrains, towpaths, punts and what to bring.