[uw The Great

una Six-Day Races

A History in Six Parts: Part Ill

American Daniel O’Leary Defends the Championship Belt in a Gut-Wrenching, Four-Man Battle in Gilmore’s Madison Square Garden

by Ed Dodd

Here’s a quick summary of Parts I and II of The Great Six-Day Races, which appeared in the first two issues of Marathon & Beyond. — Editor

Late 18th and early 19th century athletes known as “pedestrians” extend the concept of how far man can travel under his own power. Englishman Foster Powell covers 100 miles in 22 hours in 1788, fellow Brit Captain Barclay surpasses that by covering 100 miles in 19 hours in 1806, and in 1874 American Edward Payson Weston walks 500 miles in six days. In Chicago, Irish immiin a six-day duel, which O’ Leary wins by covering 503.33 miles. In 1876, O’Leary and Weston travel to England, where they continue to record impressive long-distance feats. British Parliament member Sir John Astley, known as the “Sporting Baron,” is so taken by the 1877 O’ Leary-Weston rematch that he inaugurates a series of six-day races called the Astley Belt Races. Weston sits out the first two races, which O’ Leary wins in convincing fashion. O’ Leary is one match away from becoming the permanent owner of the Astley Belt.

CHAPTER 5: THE THIRD ASTLEY BELT RACE

Around and around the gravel walks of the kitchen-garden Charles Rowell went. The morning mist, which had left the path wet, was just beginning to rise. The sun had yet to break through. He had been covering every mile in 7:30. Sir John Astley was watching intently. Today would decide if this was the man to send to the United States to win back the Championship Belt.

For several weeks Astley had conferred with his associates at the Guard’s Club of Maidenhead. Lord Balfour had suggested Rowell, the 5’6″, 137-pound former boatboy at the club. The Prince of Wales seconded this suggestion. Rowell had competed against Edward Payson Weston back in 1876 and most recently had finished third in the English Astley Belt Race with 471 miles. Astley remembered Rowell from that race and had been impressed with the manner in which he conducted himself on and off the track. Rowell really seemed to enjoy the competition. Astley described the scene in his biography:

[Rowell] ran the first 16 miles with such ease in two hours that I went away, telling one of the gardeners to score up the laps with a bit of chalk on the garden wall. In about an hour | returned, and he seemed to be going easier than when he started; so I let him continue another hour, and when he had covered 32 miles—just under four hours—he had not turned a hair.

This performance convinced Astley that Rowell was the man all England was looking for. Astley paid the $500 entry fee and gave an additional $1,250 to cover expenses for Rowell and two handlers to travel to the United States.

FRANK LESLIE’S ILLUSTRATED NEWSPAPER

Charles Rowell is England’s entrant in the third Astley Belt race.

Competitors for the Third Astley Belt Race

Arrangements for the third Astley Belt Race were soon completed. It would be a four-man race at Gilmore’s Madison Square Garden, March 10 to 15, 1879. Daniel O’Leary, the defending champion, would attempt to win sole possession of the Belt. Charles A. Harriman of Haverhill, Massachusetts, and John Ennis of Chicago, Illinois, would be the American challengers, and Charles Rowell would be the lone representative of Great Britain.

John Ennis was an Irish emigrant, like O’Leary, and came to Chicago in 1869. He was 37 years old, 5’8″, and 156 pounds. Ennis had competed against O’Leary twice before, in handicap 100-mile races, losing both times. In Buffalo in July of 1878 Ennis walked 108 miles in 22 hours. His only previous six-day effort came in the English Astley Belt, where he finished fifth with 410 miles.

Harriman had no experience in six-day contests. He was well-known, however, for his victory in a 36-hour championship race held in New York the previous year. He covered 160 miles in 34 hours and 29 minutes, taking only 17 minutes of rest during the time. He made 100 miles in 19:36:52 without a single rest. He was 25 years old, stood 6′, and weighed 170 pounds.

The duty of keeping score was placed in the hands of the well-known sporting gentleman of New York City, Mr. William B. Curtis. Each of the 24 hours were divided into four 6-hour tours. The judges were G. W. Atkinson, London Sporting Life; Charles Colwell, New York Clipper; Captain Bruce, Turf, Field and Farm; E. Plummer, The Sportsman; W. B. Curtis, New York Athletic Club; George W. Carr, Manhattan Athletic Club; James Taylor, Brooklyn Athletic Club; W. J. Kendrick, Harlem Athletic Club; Max E. More, Scottish-American Athletic Club; and John Gath, American Athletic Club.

Readying the Garden

Sunday, March 9, 1879. Throughout the day preparations were made for the contest, and by nightfall they were hardly finished. The sawdust track was completed and rolled until it was hard and firm. The four houses to be used by the pedestrians were readied. The furniture, gas stoves, lights, cooking utensils, cots, and so forth were brought in during the afternoon. The giant blackboard at the lower end of the enclosure was painted with the competitors’ names.

Gilmore’s Garden was arranged better for this race than any former. The entire space within the track was boarded over to cut down on the dust that had greatly hindered the walkers in previous matches. The eight-lap, 10-foot-wide track was surrounded by a strong wooden railing. The area reserved for the press and scorers was protected by a high picket fence. The long bar was placed under the southern tier of seats and was gaily decorated. Thomas Gallagher paid $2,525 for the privilege of selling the liquor.

Long before 10:00 p.M., when the tickets were to go on sale, a large crowd had gathered in front of the Madison Avenue entrance. When the gates opened, there was a tremendous rush. It was impossible for the ticket sellers to keep up with the demand, and the crowd extended down Twenty-sixth and Twentyseventh streets to Fourth Avenue. As the eager spectators poured into the building, the band began to play, and the bartenders at once began to do a lively business. The long tiers of seats filled rapidly, and by 11:30 p.m. there wasn’t a seat left. The oval area inside the track was filled next. The bookmakers and betting centers were scenes of mass confusion—people pushing, shoving, and hollering to place bets on their favorite pedestrian.

Shortly before 12:00 a.m., Peter Van Ness, the celebrated pedestrian who had recently completed 2,000 half-miles in 2,000 consecutive half-hours,

entered the hall and was given a standing ovation. With great difficulty he was escorted through the crowd to his private box near the starting line. The four contestants were smuggled in a side entrance without any notice.

Half an hour before the 1:00 a.m. starting time, Rowell came out of his cabin and, accompanied by one of his trainers, walked once around the track amid wild applause. As soon as Rowell returned to his cabin, Ennis left his and walked slowly around the track with his wife at his side. The applause was far greater than that given Rowell. Next to O’Leary, Ennis was the crowd’s favorite.

At 12:45 a.m. the crowd still seeking admission had become so uncontrollable that Captain Williams of the 29th Precinct ordered the sale of tickets stopped and the doors closed without warning. Hundreds of people were still rushing up to purchase their tickets in hopes of seeing the start. Unaware that the doors were already closed, they pressed in on those in front. The crush of humanity was becoming unbearable on those being hemmed in against the doors. Amidst curses and cries of pain, everyone began to push and shove.

At 12:55 the champion, O’Leary, made his appearance. The 10,000 ( people now jammed into the Gar- 4 i) den gave him aresounding wel- } e =) ‘Y . come. A lady admirer pre- \ = dl . sented him with a “token of S a \\, luck,” a silver horseshoe.

Mr. Curtis called the com- === petitors to the line. O’Leary, dressed in white shirt and pantaloons, black velvet trunks, with a silk

handkerchief around his

neck, was on the inside. === John Ennis stood beside O’Leary. He was wearing white tights, blue trunks, and a white sleeveless Danie! O’Leary is the favorite in the third Astley shirt. Next to him stood Belt race.

Harriman in his white tights and shirt, purple trunks, and a ribbon across his right shoulder. He also was sporting a diamond pin on his shirt. On the far outside, Charles Rowell, the youngest of the four, waited. His costume was the most colorful: lavender tights with a blue and white striped shirt that “made him look like a little zebra.”

DIANNA PORTER

And They’re Off!

The word was given, and the four pedestrians began their incredible journey. For the first two laps they walked ina line, O’Leary leading. Then Rowell broke into a trot, followed immediately by the others. The applause was constant and tremendous. Rowell finished the first mile in 9:25, O’Leary in 10:27, and Harriman and Ennis in 10:40.

The shouts and cheers from inside the Garden that announced the start of the great walk “acted upon the mob outside much as the flaunting of a red flag in his face acts upon an infuriated bull.” They charged through the lobby, past the ticket windows, and hurled themselves against the flimsy doors that blocked their entrance. Two policemen and several Garden employees made a futile attempt to reinforce the barrier with pieces of wood. But in less than a minute, the first of the mob broke through and rushed toward the track. At the same time Captain Williams and 12 policemen came upon the scene. With their night sticks flailing, they tore into the crowd. “The sound of the heavy blows that rained upon the defenseless heads and bodies of the unfortunates who happened to be in the front ranks was sickening.” The crowd fell back and was driven not only from the Garden but all the way up to Twenty-seventh Street. There they were held in check until after 3:00 a.m., when they gradually dispersed.

The first 24 hours brought immediate surprises. After only 30 miles, Ennis became ill. He vomited freely and was forced to stop several times during the day for up to an hour. The biggest surprise, however, was O’Leary. In the first 12 hours he covered only 59 miles—7 miles fewer than in his performance at Agricultural Hall the previous March. He suffered from colic and an upset stomach. Both men, however, seemed to revive a bit later in the evening.

O’ Leary retired to bed at 11:00 p.m. Monday night with 93.75 miles. Rowell left the track at 11:16 with 110 miles. Harriman finished 100 miles at 11:30 and promptly went to bed. While the others rested, Ennis plodded on, making up as much of the lost ground as possible. Finally at 12:30 a.m., Ennis finished his 95th mile and turned in for sleep. O’Leary now found himself in the unusual and uncomfortable position of being behind after the first day. The betting men were in a quandary. O’Leary, who looked to be a certain winner at the start, appeared to be almost out of the race.

The Second Day

Early the morning of the second day, O’Leary was finally able to keep down the first solid food since Sunday afternoon (a little calf foot jelly and some mutton stew). Throughout the day he restricted himself to small doses of limewater and eggs. This appeared to perk up the champion, but the O’ Leary of old

COURTESY OF ED DODD.

O’Leary continues to lose ground to his competitors.

showed himself only sporadically. It was evident that O’Leary was a broken man, and he continued to lose ground.

As if to add insult to injury, Rowell continued his questionable tactic of following right in O’Leary’s footsteps. If O’Leary altered his pace, so would Rowell. Fora man accustomed to controlling arace, this was more than O’Leary could stand. He would attempt to pull away from Rowell, but that was a hopeless task in his condition. With no effort Rowell would plod right along. O’Leary would then slow to a crawl, and Rowell did likewise. When Rowell thought he had O’Leary disrupted enough, Rowell would pull up beside the poor pedestrian and “give him a look that was a crowning act of insult” and then break into his trot once more. He would continue like this until he had gained another lap on O’Leary and then would begin his stalking technique again.

Rowell was taking no chances. He was certainly many miles ahead of O’Leary, but he realized a comeback was not impossible. He did everything he could to disturb and dishearten O’Leary. He probably felt confident of victory—if he could only break O’Leary completely. By the end of Tuesday this defeat was just about accomplished.

Interest in the pedestrian contest increased hour by hour. At least 2,000 people remained through the night. By 1:00 p.m., the crowd grew to 4,000, by 7:00 p.M., 6,000, and by 9:00 p.m., 10,000. In the evening Madison Avenue swarmed with scalpers selling 50-cent tickets for 60 to 75 cents. There was no trouble as on Sunday night. As the New York Times noted:

All classes were. . .represented. The millionaire, the black-leg, the hard-working mechanic, the common laborer, the tramp, the thief, and

the street-urchin were the component parts of the vast mass of human beings that framed the track and jostled each other in the excitement of a common impulse on the inner floor.

Many of the actors and actresses from the Broadway stage would stop by after their performances. William H. Vanderbilt was in attendance, as was Sir Edward Thornton, the British Minister.

The Race Was on Every Tongue

As the match continued into its third day, the progress of the pedestrians became the “one theme of town talk.” Hourly reports were kept on large bulletin boards in hotels, barrooms, cigar stores, barbershops, corner groceries, and every place where people gathered. Some establishments even charged a small cover charge to view their scoreboard. Immense crowds, without a hope of gaining admittance, formed daily outside Gilmore’s Garden. They lined Madison Avenue, opposite the main entrance, four and five deep. On Twenty-sixth Street, crowds of “‘street boys” hung around a series of low doors that were previously used to allow entrance to the animals of Barnum’s Museum. They would work diligently to dig holes through the panels with their jackknives, and once the holes were complete, they fought each other for a chance to look in.

In addition to those outside the Garden, large crowds gathered in Madison Post Office and Printing House squares to study the large illuminated boards that had been erected to show the mile-by-mile progression of the peds. Uptown, the two main bulletin boards were at the intersection of Broadway and Fifth Avenue and Broadway and Thirty-third Street. At all of these locations the police had their hands full in keeping the streets cleared for the regular traffic.

There were always shouts of excitement whenever the mileage was changed for any of the pedestrians. Light showers or a strong midday sun had no effect upon these people. They would stand in the mud for hours just watching those boards and arguing the merits of their favorite pedestrian. At the end of 48 hours, the score stood thus: Rowell, 197 miles; Harriman, 186 miles; Ennis, 173 miles; and O’Leary, 164 miles.

O’Leary Is Gone

Daniel O’Leary struggled through Wednesday morning and on into the afternoon. His situation was hopeless. By 4:00 p.m., “looking sick and worn,” he left the track. His physician, Dr. Robert Taylor, advised him to withdraw from the competition. Several other physicians concurred with this opinion. And so at 5:36 p.M., O’Leary said to the judges, “Gentlemen, I have finished.” Later on, he said, “I feel like a worn-out piece of machinery, and think I shall never be able to walk again; but I trust the public will look upon me with a lenient eye.”

Ed Dodd THE GREAT SIX-DAY RACES Mi 97

O’Leary expressed the despondency and despair of a defeated champion. O’Leary would never again gain possession of the Astley Belt, but no one ever put together such a string of six-day victories as he did from 1875 to 1878.

With O’Leary’s withdrawal came cries of “fraud” and “sell out.” Friends of O’Leary would hear none of this and came to his defense. They claimed he had been tricked into accepting one or two attendants of suspicious character. One of his best friends, John E. Tansey, in a biography published a few months after the race, gave this reason for O’Leary’s failure:

A few of his attendants were disreputable individuals of the cut-throat stamp, creatures in whom neither the pedestrian nor the public could place the smallest amount of confidence—men who would consider no crime too glaring, no art too fiendish, provided a few dollars were given them to accomplish it. Such was the character of those cooking his food and preparing his drinks. Is itno wonder that Daniel O’Leary was seized with violent pains and curious sensations never before experienced by him previous to his being twelve hours on the track? . . . That he was drugged by one of his trainers I [Tansey] have no doubt.

As further evidence that O’ Leary was in the best of health and spirits and confident of success, Tansey noted that prior to the race O’ Leary had deposited $3,000 in the office of Wilkes Spirit of the Times onhis ability to cover 540 miles inside 142 hours. The money was held for one week by Mr. Curtis, but no one covered the bet and it was returned to O’Leary.

O’Leary himself would not publicly admit to being drugged. He did, however, deny throwing the race in a letter dated Saturday, March 15, 1879, and published in the Turf, Field and Farm:

I desire to say that the statement published in a morning journal of yesterday, to the effect that I was backed to lose by a clique of gamblers who knew that I had been drunk for weeks before the race, and therefore unfit to enter the contest, is an infamous lie. It is a well-known fact to the sporting world that gentlemen of that profession will back the favorite. From my previous record I was naturally the favorite, but the fact is that the great loss sustained has fallen entirely upon myself.

O’Leary’s retirement did nothing to decrease the enthusiasm in the contest.

Rowell Holds the Lead

The question of nationality began to play a greater part in the public’s interest. O’Leary had been almost everyone’s favorite. All hopes were placed on him to keep the Belt on this side of the Atlantic. Now support was divided. The Irish backed Ennis, an Irishman by birth. The native-born Americans gave their

allegiance to the Yankee Harriman. Butit was the little Englishman Rowell who still maintained a sizeable lead that third night.

Rowell continued to circle the sawdust track with his incessant “dog-trot.” The spectators had given him the nickname “sawed off.” While he was by far

FRANK LESLIE’S ILLUSTRATED NEWSPAPER

Rowell, witha commanding lead, receives a bouquet from the crowd.

the shortest of the three remaining pedestrians, he was the most solid-looking. His calves were large and out of proportion to the rest of his body. With O’ Leary out of the race, Rowell began to use his stalking techniques on his next most challenging opponent— Harriman. Unlike O’Leary, Harriman was undisturbed by Rowell following so close behind.

Harriman was “tall, rawboned, thin, hollow-cheeked,” with very thin thighs and calves. His stride, however, was tremendous, and his machine-like motion led to the nickname “Steamboat.” It was impossible for Rowell to stay up with Harriman without breaking into a run. At times when Rowell would trot along behind Harriman, he would

be greeted with taunts of “There’s Harriman’s pup,” “Trot along, doggy,” “Get a chain for Harriman’s dog,” and “Give a poor doggy a home.”

While Rowell was concentrating his attention upon Harriman, John Ennis had been slowly making up ground on both of them. He had fully recovered from his upset stomach on Monday. Early Wednesday morning Cusick, the noted trainer of the professional boxer Heenan, took over the duties as trainer for Ennis. At his hut at the northwest corner of the enclosure Ennis’s wife fixed all his food and drinks and watched anxiously as her husband moved lap after

lap around the oval.

This excerpt from the New York Times of Wednesday, March 13, 1879, describes the early morning hours inside the Garden:

It is damp and chilly, and altogether dismal. There is no music, and the smell of stale cigar smoke, left by the crowd of the night before, lurks in every corner, waiting for fresh puffs to come from fresh crowds, and

Ed Dodd

THE GREAT SIX-DAY RACES i 99

drive it out through the skylights. The remains of the big masquerade balls, signs in gilt and colors, do not help to make the place habitable. The people who are present look as if they had been up all night, and so they have, most of them, watching the pedestrians.

The evening hours were quite different. From the beginning of the race, the pedestrians had been receiving bouquets of flowers at frequent intervals. Long tables had to be placed in front of each cabin to display these many gifts. Whenever one of the pedestrians was given a bouquet, it was a signal for the entire Garden to break out in loud cheering and applause.

A Crash in the Gallery

At 8:30 p.m. on the third day, a tremendous crash was heard to the right of the main entrance. The previous winter, an addition was built to the gallery, bringing it out over the garden. Between two and three hundred spectators were in this gallery, and a similar number were sitting underneath when it began to give way. Panic spread rapidly, and about one-half of the audience began a mad dash for the exits.

Many of the spectators, however, seeing that the trouble was confined to one area, kept their heads and their seats and did not add to the confusion. The panic lasted only about two minutes, and the police were quick to come to the aid of those trapped by the fallen timbers. Those who had been sitting underneath were very lucky. The wood from which the gallery had been constructed was nearly new and it did not break and fall all at once. It actually took almost a minute to collapse, giving people time to escape. Only nine people sustained injuries, ranging from bruises to a broken leg.

All three pedestrians were on the track at the time of the accident. They had to leave the track to allow the police to clear the debris. Immediately after the panic subsided, an eerie hush fell over the stunned crowd. It did not last long. The excitement over the match was too great to be quieted by anything short of some great calamity. From 9:30 p.m. until the early hours of Thursday morning the cheering, yelling, and applauding were almost continuous, as the pedestrians made their laps.

The Halfway Point

At the halfway point in the competition, 1:00 a.m. Thursday, Rowell had covered 283.5 miles, Harriman 270, and Ennis 250. All three men took long rests, ranging from 3 ‘4 to 44 hours. At 4:00 a.m., Harriman entered the track a different man. His eyes were bloodshot, and his stride was stiff. The experts’ opinion that he was too “fair” for the six days of walking seemed to be coming true. He had averaged 90 miles a day for the first three days, but by mid-morning

it was clear to all that Harriman was finished as a contender for the Belt.

Realizing Harriman’s state, Rowell and his trainer turned their attention to the only man left—John Ennis. Ennis was still more than 30 miles behind but actually looked fresher than he did on Monday. His step was quick and sharp, his disposition pleasant, and his appetite immense. He was almost constantly munching on chunks of beef and bread, refusing to leave the track to eat in his effort to catch Rowell.

Rowell, while still in control, was not without his troubles. Both of his feet were badly blistered, and the upper portion of his left thigh had a terrible chafe. He left the track several times during the morning to have the dressing on his swollen leg changed.

By 3:00 p.m., Ennis had cut Harriman’s 20mile advantage down to 5. Rowell now decided that he must test this Irishman, for in the last days of such a contest the victory went to the pedestrian who could endure the most. Rowell suddenly accelerated his pace and flew by Harriman, who gave only a passing glance as he sailed by, and then set after Ennis, who at this time was about 100 yards ahead.

As Rowell sped by, Ennis hesitated a second and then took off. The crowd roared to its feet, shouting encouragement as the two men, seemingly oblivious to the fact that they had been on their feet for almost four days, continued to increase their pace around the track. Rowell lead for two laps, and then Ennis took over, slowly pulling away from Rowell. The race lasted one mile, with Ennis turning an impressive 8:05 to Rowell’s 8:35. Rowell now knew that Ennis was to be feared.

The worn-out Harriman took several long rests during the day. His trainer, Mr. Lathrop, revised his schedule. They now hoped just to manage 450 miles so that Harriman could win a share of the gate money. Harriman was not really sick or lame; instead, he was overcome by an overpowering drowsiness. Whenever he left the track to rest, he would throw himself on his cot and instantly be sound asleep. It was all his attendants could do just to awaken him and push him back onto the track.

At 6:00 p.m. on the fourth day, Ennis caught Harriman and moved unchallenged into second place. Ennis became the center of attention. All hope for

DIANNA PORTER

Intent of catching Rowell, John Ennis refuses to leave the track to eat.

America’s retaining the Belt was placed on his shoulders. Every minute that he was on the track he was followed by a continued barrage of cheers. The public did not, however, forget the valiant Harriman. It was impossible to find a single individual who did not sympathize with the struggling athlete. All urged him on toward the completion of his 450-mile goal. Bouquets of flowers were given to Ennis and Harriman almost hourly. At the end of four days, Rowell had the lead well in hand with 360 miles. Ennis was second with 335 miles and Harriman third with 325 miles.

On Friday Ennis tried desperately to close on Rowell, but the plucky Englishman, with thigh swollen and feet terribly sore, kept plugging away. While Rowell was on the track, he stayed right with Ennis and allowed him no chance to make up a lap. Harriman continued to “totter” around the track. His handlers realized that the only way to keep their man moving would be to use stimulants. They fed him milk-punch, champagne, brandy, and “other stimulants.” Among the other stimulants were most likely belladonna and strychnine. The use of these two drugs was a common practice among the men who ran for money. Time after time a pedestrian would enter his tent looking, as the newspapers said, “all done-in,” only to return 15 minutes later fully recovered, eyes ablaze, and ready for more pounding of the sawdust. Beside stimulants, Harriman’s handlers also administered electric shocks at regular intervals.

The positions remained unchanged all day Friday. The fifth day drew to a close with Rowell having 428 miles to his credit, Ennis 406 miles, and Harriman 390 miles.

Even though a Rowell victory was apparent by Friday evening, this did nothing to reduce the extraordinary public interest in the race. Saturday found Gilmore’s Garden Ft @ swarming with the larg- _ iy 3 < 4 Sy est and most frenzied \ KX hp > crowds of the week. SS i They came to urge their favorites on through the last day of their ordeal.

Just as the morning _ light was beginning to filter though the skyA moment of ugliness in the third Astley Belt race—a drunken Irishman rushes onto the track to attack Charles Rowell.

DIANNA PORTER

lights Saturday, a drunken Irishman rushed onto the track toward Rowell. With aloud curse he raised his arm to strike the Englishman. In a flash a policeman grabbed the drunk, spun him around, and threw him to the outside of the track. Several other policemen were necessary to subdue the would-be assailant.

Ennis Speaks to the Crowd

Ennis heard the commotion and slowed his pace until Rowell had caught up to him. Then, shaking Rowell by the hand, he turned to the crowd and shouted out, “Gentlemen, I don’t know if you are friends of mine or not. If you are, you can best show your friendship by respecting this man.” He pointed his forefinger at Rowell as he spoke, anda loud cheer went up from the crowd. When the applause had subsided, Ennis pointed his finger at Rowell again, while his eyes flashed. “You see this man. I want you all to understand that if this manis injured, I will leave the track and not walk another mile. He is an Englishman, and I’m an Irishman, but that Englishman has done the square thing ever since this walk began. If he wins it, it will be because he is the best man. Give him fair play, gentlemen. If you don’t, I’ll give you foul play Sy leaving the track.” This was no idle threat. A good deal of money had been bet on Ennis’s finishing second. Rowell then grasped Ennis by the hand, and the crowd cheered as the Englishman and the Irishman circled the track hand-in-hand.

All through the day Harriman hobbled on. His eyes were sunken, and his legs trembled as he went slowly on his way towards 450 miles. Earlier in the morning Rowell and Ennis, convinced that it was impossible for Harriman to finish 450 miles by 11:00 p.M., agreed to give him his share of the gate money if he would withdraw. This was no small sum—estimated to be about $10,000. Harriman, however, refused this charity and said that he would not accept a penny unless he earned it “squarely and honestly.”

He did, however, accept the encouragement and camaraderie of Rowell and Ennis. Rowell, in particular, spent the majority of the day walking beside

FRANK LESLIE’S ILLUSTRATED NEWSPAF

John Ennis extends a show of support to his rival, Charles Rowell.

Harriman, giving him advice and aid. But now personal prejudices were forgotten, and the crowd, recognizing his generosity, cheered him heartily.

Whenever Harriman looked especially bad or would begin to stagger, the band would strike up “Yankee Doodle” or “Marching Through Georgia,” and the crowd would yell “three cheers for the Yankee.” This never failed to perk up the exhausted pedestrian.

The competitors were not the only ones feeling the strain. Everyone concerned with the organization and running of the race was showing the effects of the past six days. The scorers were complaining that they were “wearing away” and tired of eating the same type of sandwich day in and day out. The judges were tired and irritable. Even the young man who had climbed a ladder to the blackboard at the east end of the Garden to post the number of miles looked “pale and thin.”

At 6:00 p.m. Captain Williams entered the north door of the Garden with a squad of 110 policemen. They marched right up the track until they reached the center of the building, and then every six feet a man was dropped off and left standing on the edge of the track inside the rail. The appearance of the officers was greeted with applause. Their presence was a guarantee that Rowell would be fully protected.

The New York Times described the last evening of the race in the March 16, 1879 edition:

The attendance was the largest of the match. Along the sides of the building the crowd was so dense that all outline of boxes and seats was extinguished. The side pens below. . . were fairly bursting with people. … Never before was an assemblage so madly and persistently enthusiastic.

The cheers rolled in successive swells around and around the vast amphitheater. . . .Rowell and Harriman kept close together, the little Englishman devoting all his time to coaching the poor, miserable-looking, staggering, but plucky Down-easter, in his desperate effort to encompass 450 miles… .

In this style the procession went—Rowell with head erect and eyes bright, but hobbling painfully on tender feet; tall Harriman, pale, hollow-eyed, thin almost to a skeleton, and looking as though every tottering step would be his last; and sturdy Ennis, stiff and tired, but plodding with determined gait.

Harriman Makes It to 450

The scene as Harriman walked his last lap was incredible. For three long days and nights the crowd had watched the broken-down pedestrian struggle. Their

relief was evident. Their admiration intense. Everyone was standing, screaming, stamping, and hollering out his name, waving hats, canes, and handkerchiefs.

Harriman finished his 450th mile at 8:44 p.m. He went immediately to his tent, but reappeared within two minutes, “his face aglow and his eyes glittering with excitement and gratification.” Across his chest he wore a tri-colored silk scarf with fluttering ribbons. He circled the track three more times, “bowing and shaking hands on every side as he passed.” The rafters shook with applause. He retired for good after completing 450 miles and three laps in 139:46:40.

Eleven minutes later, Rowell finished his 500th mile amidst the same cheering and waving of hats and handkerchiefs. Rowell covered the last lap carrying alarge American flag while the band played “God Save the Queen” as he retired to his tent at 8:56 P.M.

Ennis was not left to himself. The applause continued without a stop for the next hour as he closed in on his personal goal of 475 miles. With one mile to go, the band played a lively tune as Ennis spun around the track in the fastest mile recorded for the entire week, 6:55. He finished at 10:00.57 p.m., having covered 475 miles in 141:00.57.

When Harriman finished, he was immediately carried from the track and placed into a carriage that hurried him to the St. James Hotel. There he was placed in bed ina feverish state, and he fell asleep instantly.

Rowell, the effects of fatigue camouflaged by the thrill of victory, walked briskly from the Garden and down Fourth Avenue, chatting with his attendants, to owmaroner the Ashland House Hotel. There he took Rowell wins the third Astley Belt race a saltwater bath, drank some beef-tea, in convincing fashion. and went to bed fora brief two-hour nap.__._-4HRJ>YmAuvumXHYFH Sa He was in “capital condition and spirits.” He claimed that he could have made 20 more miles without any great difficulty.

Ennis was also in good condition when he finished, as evidenced by his last mile. He walked, with apparent ease, across the street and up two flights of stairs to his room in the Putnam House. He was given a hard rubdown by his trainers and buried under several blankets in bed. In answer to a reporter’s

Ed Dodd THE GREAT SIX-DAY RACES M105

question on how he felt after tramping around a track for six days and nights, Ennis was not at a loss for words:

I feel first class. They have given me a scrubbing, and I am fresh as a lark. I have no blisters to speak of. . . .Rowell is a good man, a tough man, but I think I can beat him, nevertheless. He did not worry me in the slightest by keeping so closely on my heels. . . .He broke up O’Leary completely, however. O’Leary didn’t have head enough on him to see the game that the Englishman was playing. Harriman is a good fellow, but hardly built for long walking.

I’m going after the Astley Belt, and am going to challenge Rowell next week, before he returns to England. I’m positive I can beat him, and if there had been one more day to the match I think I should have carried off the Belt.

The Good Word Reaches Astley

Hardly had the word of Rowell’s victory been flashed over the cable to England before a dispatch returned from Sir John Astley: “Well done, my boy. Pay O’Leary 100 pounds deposit on the Belt. Weston has challenged you. Match to take place in London, May 5th.—Astley.”

On Monday, March 17, 1879, the New York Times contained an editorial that attempted to explain the fascination of the race:

It is not easy to account for the depth of interest with which the public has regarded the walking match just concluded in this city. While it lasted, no other event on the face of the earth was so absorbing to the people who read the New York newspapers. . . .During the past week, while three or four men were walking against time, and against each other, at the circus building on Madison Avenue, everything was more or less colored by the current which flowed from the match. The woes of O’Leary, the hopes and ambitions of Ennis, the patriotic endurance of Harriman, and the comic diversions of Rowell formed an inexhaustible staple in the conversation of the day, and furnished food for thought. Almost everyone within easy reach of the walking match has been to see ieee

We are glad that the race is over and that the week’s craze may be succeeded by sobriety. We are glad, too, that the American love of fair play, our shining national characteristic, has been vindicated once more, and that the plucky little Englishman takes home his trophy without having won an unfair bruise in the long struggle.

Dividing The Loot, Ignoring O’Leary

Wednesday morning following the race, Rowell and Ennis visited the New York Stock Exchange and were mobbed as though they were selling gold futures for a tenth of the going price. They shook every hand in the place before they were able to make their escape. That afternoon the pedestrians and their backers and trainers met at Kelly and Bliss’s Turf Exchange to divide up the proceeds of the previous week. Rowell was accompanied by his trainers Atkinson and Busby, Ennis by his agent Hatch, Harriman by his backer Walton, and O’Leary by Smith, Harding, and Aaron.

After an amicable greeting and some small talk, the three pedestrians who had finished the full six days went upstairs to a small room for “consultation.” There they argued back and forth for almost four hours. The major disagreement was whether or not O’Leary should receive any of the gate money. On Tuesday, during the race, a hastily-drawn agreement was signed by Kelly, Hatch, Walton, and Busby. The agreement said that each man would receive $2,000, whether he finished 450 miles or not. At that time O’Leary was still considered by all to be in contention for first place. After O’Leary withdrew, two of the signatures mysteriously disappeared from the document.

Rowell still seemed to be in favor of giving O’Leary the full $2,000, but Ennis and Harriman were set firmly against this idea. It was proposed then to give O’Leary $1,000. Once again Harriman and Ennis vetoed the suggestion. Finally, it was decided that O’ Leary would receive no share of the gate money.

O’Leary’s backers were furious. They claimed that without O’ Leary in the race the first three days, the crowds would have been greatly reduced. They were no doubt correct, but the argument had no effect. O’ Leary received nothing. O’Leary seemed to take the disappointment rather philosophically, saying he had enough money to support himself and he did not mind the loss of $2,000 “as much as he did the feeling manifested against him by his late friends and rivals.”

In addition to the gold and silver championship Belt, Charles Rowell took home the fantastic sum of $20,398. John Ennis won $11,938, and Charles Harriman was happy with his $8,679. At this time the average salary of a working man was about $500 a year. Rowell thus collected almost a lifetime’s earnings for his six-day effort. Sir John Astley said later that this was “a pretty good haul for a man who seldom had two sovereigns to rub against each other.” Reprinted with permission of Ed Dodd. The illustrations on pages 94, 101, 102, and 105 were created for this revised edition of The Great Six-Day Races.

The Great Six-Day Races will continue in the next issue with

Chapter 6: The Fourth Astley Belt Race Chapter 7: Disputes