So far, I have raced, if that’s the word, tentatively. It’s impossible, after all. Has a fever-wracked marathoner ever hit the jackpot?

Yet, passing through Natick Square a while ago, I think I heard “52-something.” Coincidentally, for the first time, I noticed I was swallowing without feeling I would vomit.

Low expectations and Newton Lower Falls complement each other. But for me today, the course’s lowest point short of its Back Bay finish line exerts an unexpected influence. I actually begin to believe I can finish.

Minutes after our trio tackles the first of those dreaded Newton Hills, Kilby makes us a foursome. As one, we take the 90-degree right onto Commonwealth Avenue, Newton. But the long ascent already behind us, and an ever-edgier wind, now out of the east, are fast escalating our battle to a point of merciless attrition.

Eblen becomes the first to falter. Then we are three. Two miles farther on, Heartbreak Hill takes care of Eino.

Somewhere in the mists ahead, between the solid-money Ethiopians and Kilby and me, a lone Belgian, Aurele Vandendriessche, races in perfect selfcontrol.

How can I be where I am?

As if free-falling off Boston College’s heights, I can sense Kilby’s fatigue. Another 200 yards, and I’ ve opened up 30. How can this be?

The temperature has plunged, maybe 8, maybe 10 degrees. The wind cuts the face like a jagged knife. Two fixed objects leap from the fog and the chasm of spectators delineating our final miles: a signpost, “Entering Brookline”; and a spectral figure, arms akimbo, teetering between forward movement and inanimacy. The crowd roars its approbation as I chug expressionlessly past a stalled and defeated Mamo Wolde.

One mile later, I repeat the process, this time with the incomparable Abebe Bikila.

ANDY YELANAK

Exactly 2 hours, 21 minutes, and 9 seconds after starting the self-adjudged most hopeless pursuit of my marathoning life, I cross the BAA’s Exeter Street finish line in second place, 2 minutes and 11 seconds behind the course’s new record-holder, Aurele Vandendriessche.

Ihave made my second-best “official distance” time over the course, which has kept its reputation as “the graveyard of Olympic champions.”

My old 1957 record is no more. Yet, the new record-holder isn’t the man no one believed could lose. It’s a fellow who kept faith with himself that he could beat Abebe Bikila, the man who revolutionized the modern marathon. ‘%

Next year I’ll probably have to deal with Buddy. iB

ee What I Learned…

In the meantime, what did | learn from that Boston Marathon experience?

NEVER COUNT YOURSELF OUT

Well, as Jessie and Johnny A. told me, “You’re not dead yet,” and “There are surprises waiting around every corner.”

Never count yourself out before your race is run. As Henry Thoreau urged, “advance confidently in the direction of your dreams.” And if, despite your best efforts, Fate should prove unkind, you will know that, even as Thresher’s shipmates, you have given all you had to give.

BOSTON The complete and compelling MARATHON HIRI a orm Loli Tn i

are “Compelling. Derderian’s sensitivity to

human detail has transformed a good and necessary book into a transcendent, thought-provoking one.”

Kenny Moore

Senior Writer

Sports Illustrated

1996 + Paper * 664 pp * Item PDER0479 ISBN 0-88011-479-7 *$21.95 ($32.95 Canadian)

For more information, call us or visit our Web site. 7 Human Kinetics | tout FREE: U.S. (800) 747-4457 ll Canada (800) 465-7301 The Premier Publisher INTERNATIONAL: (217) 351-5076 |) for Sports & Fitness WEB SITE: http: / www.humankinetics.com /

i A i

A History in 10 Parts: Part VIII

Charles Rowell and Patrick Fitzgerald battle to near death.

by Ed Dodd

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

In 1788 “pedestrian” Englishman Foster Powell travels 100 miles in 22 hours, while fellow countryman Captain Barclay outdoes him by covering 100 miles in 19 hours in 1806. Pedestrianism catches on in the United States, where the best Americans, Edward Payson Weston and Daniel O’Leary, compete in several six-day events in the 1870s. In 1876, the pair travels to England and continues to record impressive long-distance feats. British Parliament member Sir John Astley inaugurates a series of six-day races called the Astley Belt Races. O’Leary wins the first two races in decisive fashion but loses the Belt to Brit Charles Rowell in a gut-wrenching third race. After sitting out the first three events, Weston, whose career was thought to be washed up, competes in the Fourth Astley Belt Race, quieting his detractors with a record-breaking performance. Amidst great controversy, the fifth race takes place in New York

and violence, Charles Rowell wins the Belt. Six-day race mania sweeps the United States in 1879, and women pedestrians join the action. Charles Rowell captures the sixth and seventh Astley Belt Races to become the absolute owner of the Championship Belt. Charles Rowell sets his sights on a record distance in a six-day event, but he fails dramatically in two attempts.

CHAPTER 11: ROWELL RETURNS

Charles Rowell rested on his farm in England for almost a full year. He spent his time regaining his health and raising stock. Patrick Fitzgerald, likewise,

© 1998 by Ed Dodd

rested at his home in Astoria, New York. Neither man competed in 1883. In fact, there were no six-day races of any consequence that year.

Late in the summer of 1883, Rowell, completely recovered from his bout with malaria, began to train again and issued a challenge “inviting Adlerman Fitzgerald, of Long Island City, to contest a six-day’s race.” Fitzgerald accepted the challenge and deposited the necessary $100 in the office of Turf, Field, and Farm.

Rowell arrived in New York City on October 29, 1883, and immediately began serious training for his return match with Fitzgerald, which was scheduled for Madison Square Garden from April 28 to May 3, 1884. This gave both of the principals and any other interested pedestrians plenty of time to prepare.

Both Rowell and Fitzgerald viewed the upcoming race as far more than just another chance to make several years’ salary in six days. Rowell was determined to show the athletic world that his two defeats in 1882 had not ended his career as a pedestrian. And while Fitzgerald had performed well in both of his 1882 races, there was speculation in the sporting press that at the age of 38 he was too old to be bashing out these ordeals and that he would never again regain the form that had brought him his world-record performance in December 1881. This angered the big Irishman, and he was out to silence his critics.

Both Rowell and Fitzgerald began daily training regimens that consisted of between 40 and 50 miles a day of walking and running. Fitzgerald trained at Wood’s Gymnasium in Brooklyn, and Rowell trained at the American Institute Building in Manhattan.

Before the April 15 deadline for entries was reached, 11 other pedestrians had paid their $100 entry fee and signed the articles of agreement. Besides Rowell and Fitzgerald, the following men were to start the race: Robert Vint, George Noremac, Daniel Herty, Napolean Campana, Samuel Day, Alfred Elson, William Lounsbury, Peter Panchot, Charles Thompson, William Burrell, and Nitaw-eg-Ebow.

By the afternoon of Sunday, April 27, the usual loam, tanbark, and sawdust track had been laid and rolled firm. The new scoring system and large clock, first used in Hazael’s world record race, were again in place. The restaurant, bar, and carnival-like attractions were ready to operate.

At 11 p.m. there were more than 8,000 people in the Garden, and the bar and restaurant were packed. The vendors selling photographs of the pedestrians and programs for the race were doing a lively business. Three minutes before midnight the pedestrians were called to the starting line by Hamilton Busby. Every seat and every inch of standing room inside the track was taken. The judges, Leslie Bruce and L. E. Myers, took their places, and the band of scorers was deployed. Busby asked the men if they were ready, and after a moment of silence, he shouted, “Go!”

Ed Dodd THE GREAT SIX-DAY RACES 93

Yankee Doodle Dandies

Noremac and Campana shot to the lead as the band struck up “Yankee Doodle,” and the 10,000 spectators sent up rousing cheers. Noremac completed the first mile in 6:40, followed closely by the rest of the field. The pace slowed only slightly in the second mile, with Noremac still in the lead in 13:55. At the end of the first hour Noremac, Rowell, Sullivan, Day, Elson, and Thompson had all completed eight miles, with the other seven men all within three laps of this lead group.

Through the early morning hours Rowell and Day alternated the lead. None of the men left the track in the first seven hours. As the first light of dawn forced its way through the dirty windows of Madison Square Garden, there were still 5,000 people in various states of sleepiness watching the pedestrians tramp around the sawdust track.

The rest of the first day was uneventful. Day was the first to finish 100 miles at 3:29 in the afternoon, for a time of 15:29. Rowell passed 100 miles in second place in 15:57.

In the later afternoon, as the sun went down, it became quite chilly inside the Garden, and the men went to their tents to make a quick change to warmer clothes. Campana, better known as “Old Sport,” drew rounds of laughter as he wobbled along wrapped in a waistcoat that was about six sizes too big. He was by far the most awkward man in the building, andhe knew it. He grinned with delight when the people laughed at him, and he shook his fist at them good-naturedly. He plodded along as though he had another fellow’s arms and legs by mistake, and his thin face looked drawn and worn.

Rowell took very little rest during the day and evening, and by midnight he had a decent but not comfortable lead of nine miles over Fitzgerald. The results at the end of the first 24 hours were Rowell 135 miles, Fitzgerald 126 miles, Day 125 miles, Panchot 123 miles, Noremac 121 miles, Herty 120 miles, Elson 118 miles, and Vint 115 miles. The other five starters completed fewer than 100 miles, with Lounsbury retiring at 46 miles. DIANA PORTER

Rowell had gone to bed at 11:50 p.m. and Napolean Campana shakes was off the track until shortly before 3:00 a.m. his fist at the crowd.

When he returned, he immediately started off on his dogtrot and was soon joined by the other leaders in the race. Their trainers did not like the idea of Rowell extending his lead over their men. Lap after lap, Rowell, Fitzgerald, Day, Noremac, and Herty ran together in a line, one behind the other. Occasionally one of the men would run past the entire line and take a careful survey of the appearance of the others. Day was the first casualty of Tuesday, suffering from a painfully swollen knee. He would hobble along for two more days before finally dropping out.

As Rowell was steadily increasing his lead and Day was slipping farther and farther behind, Fitzgerald had a firm hold on second place. At the end of the second day the top names on the scoreboard read Rowell 240 miles, Fitzgerald 226 miles, Herty 217 miles, Noremac 216 miles, Panchot 212 miles, Vint 211 miles, and Elson 200 miles.

Nitaw-eg-Ebow was last with only 125 miles. He was a full-blooded Chippewa Indian. The management brought him into the race as a side attraction. He had no idea what he was getting himself into when he came to New York. The managers did all they could to keep him out on the track a couple of hours each day because his bright appearance and fancy costumes made him “popular with the women.”

Rowell Shadows Fitzgerald

Fitzgerald started the third day at 1:15 a.m. He was followed onto the track very soon by Rowell at 1:30. For the first time in the contest Rowell used his stalking tactic. He ran immediately behind Fitzgerald, never more than four feet away. Unlike Daniel O’ Leary in the third Astley Belt Race, Fitzgerald didn’t seem to be the least bit bothered by Rowell’s closeness. “I’ll make him follow me closer than that before the week is out,” he told his trainers.

Early in the day Charles Thompson and William Burrell took their names off the scoreboard. The field was dwindling, and it was evident that Day would be conceding at any time. Nitaw-eg-Ebow was still in the race, but he had made only a couple of token appearances on the track since the end of the first day.

Rowell retained a 10-mile lead over Fitzgerald all morning. As the afternoon wore on, a hot sun beat through the glass roof upon the heads and shoulders of the pedestrians. They became soaked with sweat and went to their tents to change clothes.

Rowell completed his 300th mile at 1:24 p.m. He had been on the track for nearly 12 hours, and except for some slightly sore feet, his trainer told a group of reporters that he was “in good condition,” and that they were confident of his ability to maintain his lead. They said that they had no intention of urging Rowell on to the record unless forced to do so.

Ed Dodd THE GREAT SIX-DAY RACES 95

Fitzgerald finished his 300th mile two hours and 15 minutes after Rowell. Rowell continued to stalk the tall Irishman. Fitzgerald, showing the first signs of being disturbed by these tactics, offered to run against Rowell in a short race within the race. The New York Times reported in this way:

“They spun around the track for a few laps shoulder to shoulder, but the Englishman proved the faster man. Frequent skirmishes of this kind with Herty and Noremac pushed him (Rowell) close to his best record. At 4:00 p.m. he was

His average speed (while on the track) since the race began was a trifle over six miles per hour.”

At4:05 p.m. Rowell went in fora brief rest anda change of clothes. Fitzgerald kept on with his steady, swinging gait, and reduced Rowell’s lead by two miles within the next 20 minutes. As Fitzgerald continued to run faster and faster, his trainer called out, “Better come in, Pat, and not try to do too much.”

“Let me alone,” was the reply, “I’m all right.”

“Talk about endurance,” his trainer said to the Times reporter, “that man’s tougher’n hickory. His early trainin’ ain’t gone for nothin.’”

Rowell came back onto the track at 4:45 p.M. inanew running suit. Fitzgerald was now only eight miles behind. Lap after lap, hour after hour, Rowell ran behind Fitzgerald as though he were his shadow. Rowell knew that his only serious challenger was Fitzgerald, and if he could just stay with him, whatever his pace might be, he could prevent Fitzgerald from gaining any appreciable ground.

When Fitzgerald ran hard, Rowell ran hard. When Fitzgerald walked, Rowell walked. When Fitzgerald took a short rest, Rowell took a short rest. In fact, at 10:20 P.M., when Fitzgerald stopped to drink a bottle of Appollinaris water and accept a bouquet from a Long Island policeman, Rowell leaned up against the fence encircling the track and waited for him.

Patrick Fitzgerald after his worldrecord performance in December 1881.

COURTESY OF ED DODD

At 11:05 p.m., Fitzgerald had been off the track no longer than two minutes at atime since 1:15 a.m. The weary former alderman went to his tent for a welldeserved sleep, having covered 110 miles in 22 hours. This was the greatest distance ever traveled by a pedestrian during the third day of a six-day race. Rowell had also put in an astounding third day, with 106 miles when he went to bed 10 minutes later.

Vint, even though hampered by a sore knee, had run quite hard through the afternoon and evening, and now was only two miles out of third place. He had covered 99 miles for the day.

After three days the scoreboard listed these distances for the competitors left in the race: Rowell 346 miles, Fitzgerald 336 miles, Noremac 312 miles, Vint 310 miles, Herty 306 miles, Panchot 302 miles, Elson 286 miles, and Ebow 136 miles.

After a short rest of only one hour and 45 minutes, Fitzgerald left his tent and resumed his tramp. As soon as Rowell’s trainers saw this, they woke up their charge and said, “Up with you, Charlie, Fitzgerald’s at work.” Rowell, although not at all recovered from his very difficult third day, needed no encouragement. He dressed quickly, swallowed a short drink, and was out on the track in pursuit of the Irishman.

Fitzgerald appeared just to be loping along easily. Rowell, however, was straining for all he was worth. His eyes were sunken, and it was evident that he was in trouble. He was forced to take numerous short rests. Fitzgerald kept circling the track at better than six miles per hour. By 4:00 a.m., Fitzgerald had reduced Rowell’s lead to a mere two miles. The race had completely turned around. Fitzgerald, seeing that he had Rowell going, refused to rest.

Fitzgerald Takes the Lead

At 6:00 a.m., on the fourth day, with Fitzgerald only a few laps back, Rowell could go on no more. He stumbled into his tent. His trainers quickly stripped him, gave him a massage, and put him to bed. Fitzgerald rambled on. In just a few minutes he passed Rowell’s distance, and his name was placed at the head of the list on the giant scoreboard to the cheering of the few remaining spectators and the loud shouts and yells from his own trainers and handlers. Rowell’s trainers were noticeably upset watching their man being passed while he slept. By the time Rowell returned, Fitzgerald had a four-mile advantage.

Fitzgerald continued to lap Rowell with ease. After the noon hour it began to grow warm on the track, as it had done the day before. Rowell left the track for about 13 minutes to change into lighter clothes, and Fitzgerald added another mile to his ever-increasing lead. The New York Times described the scene at 1:00 p.m.:

Ed Dodd THE GREAT SIX-DAY RACES mi 97

[Fitzgerald’s] perseverance and dogged determination to win were wonderful. He looked thoroughly tired out. His shoulders twitched at every step, and the veins on his brawny arms stood out like whipcords. He reeled off lap after lap with machineline regularity, never altering his step, and looking straight ahead of him with a dazed stare. A pail of cold water was placed on a chair in front of his tent, and every mile or so he would plunge his face into it. Not even stopping to use the towel, he continued on his course with the water dripping over his bent shoulders.

Fitzgerald passed 400 miles at 1:52 p.m. Even then, he refused to leave the track and started “away ata brisker pace.” Rowell was six miles back at this time.

The change in the figures on the hundreds of bulletin boards that were scattered throughout the city intensified the public’s interest in the race. The attendance in the afternoon was greater than on any other day, and before 9:00 p.M., more than 9,000 people were crowding each other for seats and standing four and five deep behind the railing surrounding the track. There were more women present on this fourth night than on all the other evenings put together. They waved their handkerchiefs and fans at the foot-sore men and threw nosegays in their path.

Fitzgerald left the track at 11:30 p.m. Incredibly, he had covered more miles during the fourth day than he had covered on Wednesday: 111.75 miles, another record. Rowell went to bed 20 minutes later. He had closed a bit on Fitzgerald’s lead in this time but still remained 7.75 miles behind. With two entire days remaining, this was far from a comfortable lead for Fitzgerald, and Rowell certainly knew this. Rowell planned his longest rest of the competition. He would leave the Garden and go to a private residence a few blocks away for a Turkish bath in the hope that it would relieve some of the aching stiffness that pervaded his thighs and calves.

Fitzgerald, veteran that he was, knew that he was far from having the race in the bag. Anything could happen in the remaining hours. He had seen men crumble and retire from the race with less than a day to go. He, himself, had experienced some miserably difficult sixth days. Still, he felt that he could not ease up very much. He had to break Rowell during the fifth day. He would rest only a little longer than the night before, get onto the track before Rowell, and increase his lead as much as possible. If he could get far enough ahead on Friday, perhaps he would discourage the Englishman and be able to have an easy time of it on Saturday.

At midnight on the fourth day, the scores were Fitzgerald 447.75 miles, Rowell 440 miles, Vint 404 miles, Herty 395 miles, Panchot 392 miles, Noremac 392 miles, Elson 372 miles, and Ebow 150 miles.

Fitzgerald, according to his plan, was back on the track at 2:30 a.M., after a rest of only two hours and 45 minutes. He seemed to be much refreshed by his short nap, and as he passed the scorers’ table the first time, he asked, “How do I stand?”

“You’re close to eight miles ahead of Rowell,” answered the man in charge.

“Good,” replied Fitzgerald, “he’ll never catch me at this rate.”

At 1:20 in the afternoon, Fitzgerald passed 500 miles to the shouts of 2,500 spectators. He had managed to increase his lead to an impressive 23 miles. He then took his first long rest of the day. He was off the track for 90 minutes. When he returned, a Times reporter noted, “After a rest of this length his step is more elastic, and he walks with greater comfort.” The reporter, wishing to know how this was possible, went to Fitzgerald’s tent and asked “Happy” Jack Smith, Fitzgerald’s head trainer, what they did to him. Here is the reporter’s account of the interview:

He [Smith] led the way into a badly ventilated room about six by twelve feet lighted by an oil lamp. A camp bed covered with thick blankets stood in the center, with a bathtub directly at the foot. A gallon of beef-tea steamed over a gas stove in one corner, while a dozen bottles of imported ginger ale were packed in a pail of pulverized ice in the other. Bottles, tin teapots, sponges, and a variety of kitchen utensils littered the shelves and tables. Directly over the stove shirts, stockings, and handkerchiefs were drying on a clothesline. “Now,” said the trainer, “when he comes in, we strip him and tumble him into the bathtub, which is filled with water as hot as he can bear it. He lays flat on his back with his feet up on that shelf. A man gets on each side of him and rubs in a preparation to take the soreness out of his limbs.”

DIANNA PORTER

into his arms and legs.

Patrick Fitzgerald’s trainers rub a special “preparation”

Ed Dodd – THE GREAT SIX-DAY RACES © 99

“What is the preparation?” asked the reporter. “Oh, come now,” said Smith, “it has taken me 25 years to find that out. After five minutes steeping we lift our man on the bed and wrap him up in hot clothes. An houtr’s sleep, a drink of beeftea or ginger ale, and away he goes again as fresh as a daisy. It’s very simple.”

Excitement Grows

Interest in the race had grown tremendously in the last two days. At 8:00 p.m. on day 5 it was hardly possible to find standing room. The area inside the track became so congested that a patrol of 30 policemen were stationed 20 feet apart the entire way around the track.

Fitzgerald’s tremendous running of the past 60 hours had taken its toll. While Rowell was slowly regaining his strength, Fitzgerald was beginning to come unglued. Throughout the evening Rowell was able to close the gap. By 10:00 p.M. he was only 15 miles behind. He had reduced the lead 6 miles in four hours.

Fitzgerald’s trainers did all that they could in the way of encouragement and more. They increased the dosage of the stimulants Fitzgerald was receiving. His fellow countrymen screamed and hollered as he shuffled by. But at midnight Rowell was only 11 miles behind. Both protagonists went to bed before 11:30 p.m.

The score after five days stood: Fitzgerald 536.5 miles, Rowell 525 miles, Panchot 496 miles, Noremac 494 miles, Herty 483 miles, Vint 480 miles, Elson 455 miles, and Ebow 157 miles.

Fitzgerald was given only a short two-hour rest. Rowell was still off the track, and Fitzgerald’s trainers wanted him to gain as much ground as possible before the Englishman returned. When Fitzgerald set out from his tent, he was wobbling and groggy. He seemed to perk up a bit under the loud encouragement of the several thousand spectators who could not pull themselves away from the drama of Fitzgerald’s struggle to stay ahead.

Less than three hours later, Fitzgerald finished his 550th mile. He was, however, quite exhausted. He groped his way around the track a few more times and then, as he approached Rowell’s tent, he stumbled and fell against the railing. Smith and two other trainers ran to his aid. He didn’t know where he was. After picking himself off the railing, he made a line for Rowell’s tent. One of the handlers took hold of him gently, turned him around, and pointed him down the track toward his own tent. By this time Smith and the others had reached him and assisted him to his tent. At this point Fitzgerald had a 20-mile lead.

Rowell charged out onto the track 10 minutes later, after a sleep of almost five hours. He was “as light on his feet as an antelope,” and began to cut into Fitzgerald’s long lead.

Fitzgerald stumbles soon after completing his 550th mile.

When Smith saw Rowell almost effortlessly scoring lap after lap, he gave the order to wake Fitzgerald, who had been in the tent only 20 minutes.

DIANNA PORTER

Ground Lost

The tired Fitzgerald was no match for the well-rested and revitalized Rowell. Fitzgerald, under constant prodding by his handlers, attempted to stay up with Rowell, but it was no use. He continued to lose ground, and was finally forced to his tent at 5:30 a.m.

Drastic measures were now being taken by Fitzgerald’s trainers to keep their man on the track and moving forward. A plaster was applied to the back of his neck in the hope that this would draw away some of the heat and cool him off. The strength of the stimulants was once more increased.

Rowell, constantly squeezing water onto his head from a huge sponge, continued to lap the dazed Fitzgerald. At 7:00 a.m. he was only 10 miles behind. By 10:00 a.m. he had closed to within eight miles. He had chopped off 12 miles from Fitzgerald’s lead in the last six hours. It now looked like only a matter of time before the Englishman would dash into the lead. Neither Smith nor Fitzgerald, however, would admit defeat. “Ill die but that I’’ll keep ahead,” Fitzgerald said with such a determined look that those around him felt that he would, indeed, run himself to death.

Just before noon, as he pulled to within four miles of Fitzgerald, Rowell was carried to his tent, undressed, and given a hot bath. He fell asleep while his throbbing legs were rubbed down, and he was put to bed. Fifteen minutes later he was awakened, pulled from bed, dressed with great difficulty, and sent back onto the track. He had lost only one mile.

As soon as Rowell appeared, Fitzgerald caught up to him, and fell in behind. Both men settled into their painful walks. Cheers broke out all along the track and followed them as they passed “on their weary way.” The cheers would continue unabated for the next nine hours.

Fitzgerald was not done yet. At 12:30 p.M., as he staggered almost blindly around the track, he opened up his bleary eyes at the scoreboard and read his score and that of Rowell. He seemed to appreciate for the first time just how

Ed Dodd THE GREAT SIX-DAY RACES lM 101

close Rowell was coming. He called out to Smith for a cup of beef-tea. This he received on the next lap and swallowed the whole thing in one gulp. The Times described Fitzgerald’s reaction to the drink:

“He suddenly put forth an effort and lumbered past Rowell, and his sympathizers sent up an encouraging cheer that made the roof ring, and stimulated by the applause, the long-limbed Irishman made a spurt. Rowell made a spasmodic effort to follow him, but stumbled, staggered helplessly, and almost fell, and then resigned himself to see his big adversary gain on his lead. Although his trainers ordered him to catch up to the leader, the little Englishman did not have the necessary power and only walked slowly down the sawdust.”

The spurt left Fitzgerald almost “reeling with fatigue.” He pulled up behind Rowell and dropped back into a walk. They continued like this for the next three hours. Both men were fast approaching the limit of their endurance. The emotional strain of forcing a totally exhausted, pain-racked body around and around was especially telling on Fitzgerald.

Rumors had been flying through the Garden all day that Smith had sold out to Rowell’s camp and was doctoring his man’s drinks. When one of the spectators hollered this out to Fitzgerald as he went by, he became infuriated. Half dazed, Fitzgerald rushed into his tent and began screaming at Smith. “Someone is trying to fix me. Did Duryea [Rowell’s trainer] give you money to lay me out?” Smith was able, within a few minutes, to calm him down and had him lay on the bed. As soonas he did, he fell right asleep. Half an hour later, Smith woke Fitzgerald, told him he had been asleep for four hours, and sent him out. Fitzgerald had completely forgotten what he had done.

Twenty minutes later Fitzgerald could hardly move, he was so terribly stiff and sore. The situation was desperate in the Fitzgerald camp. They had tried everything they knew to keep their man slogging ahead. He had now reached the end. He could suffer no more. After much discussion it was decided they would attempt something that they had never done before.

Their medical advisor, Dr. Taylor, was called in. Fitzgerald was carried into his tent and placed on a chair. Taylor removed a bronze, rectangular instrument from his bag. This was a scarificator, which had 16 retractable semicircular razor-sharp blades. The blades were retracted, and the instrument placed on Fitzgerald’s left thigh. Taylor then released the trigger and 16 eighth-inch deep incisions were instantaneously slashed into the pedestrian’s thigh. This was repeated a couple more times and then duplicated on the right thigh.

This bleeding process was intended to relieve the soreness and inflammation in Fitzgerald’s legs. While bleeding had been used extensively for hundreds of years, in 1884 the medical profession considered it almost “quackery” to use it as a viable therapeutic technique. However, trainers would do anything to their man in order to win the race.

Whatever the cause, Fitzgerald left the tent less exhausted than he went in, and munching on ice, once more took up his now familiar position behind Rowell. While 30 minutes before he was unable to keep pace with Rowell, he now had no trouble doing so.

Rowell had expected, as did everyone present, that when Fitzgerald returned he would be barely moving, and that his lead would be reduced to nothing in short order. What a shock it was to the exhausted Rowell Dr. Taylor uses a scarificator to slash into when he found that he could Fitzgerald’s left thigh. not pull away from the stalkee Oo ing Fitzgerald. He was only three miles behind, but Rowell realized that, with this newfound strength of Fitzgerald’s, it was over. The hope that had been sustaining him during his chase of the last 13 hours was gone. The drive, the enthusiasm that had enabled him to push his body far beyond what most men could endure had disappeared. Rowell’s eyes showed that he wished now for nothing more than an end to his self-inflicted ordeal. It was 5:00 p.m. on Day 6.

DIANNA PORTER

Fitzgerald Exceeds Record

At 5:25 Fitzgerald passed the world record of 600 miles. A roar of applause broke out and swept through the Garden. He passed this point 4.5 hours ahead of George Hazael’s time. With Rowell’s inability to gain any ground, Fitzgerald had regained his confidence. He perked up, and when he was presented with a gold-lined silver cup, he walked a lap holding the cup in the air over his head.

At 6:53 p.M. Rowell completed his 600th mile and became only the third man in history to cover that much ground within 144 hours.

Fitzgerald took a short rest at 8:00 p.m. When he returned a few minutes later, he was dressed in a bright new suit. The shirt and trunks were red and the breech cloth green. On his head he wore a green jockey cap embroidered with red, white, and blue stars.

After an extended period, Rowell returned at 8:35. As Fitzgerald passed his tent, Rowell joined in and the two men walked side-by-side “at the top of their

EdDodd = = = =~=~=~——.. THE GREAT SIX-DAY RACES 103