Considering the roles that Morse and McGillivray now fill, I thought back through five decades to 1959 and my first appearance in Boston as one of only 151 starters. Morse’s equivalent then was Will Cloney, teacher, reporter, and executive with Keystone Custodial Funds. McGillivray’s equivalent was Jock Semple, trainer for the Boston Celtics and Bruins.
Cloney had been tapped in 1946 by Walter Brown, owner of the Boston Garden where the Celtics and Bruins played, to direct the B.A.A.’s indoor track meet and the following year added the marathon to his duties. Semple was a journeyman marathoner, ninth in the 1937 race, who comfortably filled the role of Cloney’s sidekick. They had a handful of volunteers—and I’m talking about a handful—who made the race work.
Shortly before the noon start, Cloney and Semple would herd us into a fenced-in pen on the Green and check our numbers before sending us to the line. If, regardless of talent, you wanted to edge into the front row and lead the Boston Marathon for the first few hundred yards, you could do so—as several showboats often did. Poseurs often appeared smoking cigars or dressed in King Kong suits, causing Semple to gruffly shove them into the second row so as not to interfere with his favorite, John J. Kelley (no relation to the recently deceased
Guy Morse (left) serves as successor to long-time race director Will Cloney.
78 | | MAR/APR 2006
David McGillivray (left) is the high-tech version of Jock Semple, minus the brogue.
John A. Kelley), who remains the only runner to win Boston (1957) wearing the B.A.A.’s unicorn singlet.
Kelley was my nemesis—somewhat. From the mid-1950s and into the 1960s, Kelley the Younger (as he was called) was the dominant American presence at Boston, placing second five times in addition to his one win. I slipped past him once, finishing fifth and first American in 1964, a race won by Aurele Vandendriessche of Belgium, two-time European champion. Kelley placed seventh, and we were the only Americans in the top 10 in an era where Boston winners most often were Finns or Japanese rather than East Africans.
Much has changed during the nearly half century I have observed the Boston Marathon both as a competitor (18 times) and as a reporter for Runner’s World and other media outlets. As I rode the course on the press truck in front of the lead pack this year, I observed markers every mile, something marathoners today take for granted. Using digital watches or the more recent GPS watches, they can precisely monitor their pace. Runners from my era wore watches with hands that moved, not that even those watches did us much good. Boston of old had checkpoints at traditional but irregular points related to train stations along the railroad line paralleling the course.
This article originally appeared in Marathon & Beyond, Vol. 10, No. 2 (2006).
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