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By Davy Crockett
This episode is a replay of the popular early episode 29, about the Tarahumara runners of Mexico.
In recent years, the story of the amazing Tarahumara (Rarámuri) runners from Mexico exploded into international attention with the publication of Christopher McDougall’s best-selling 2009 book, Born to Run. Runners everywhere in 2009 naively tossed their shoes aside for a while and wanted to run like these ancient native Americans from hidden high Sierra canyons in Chihuahua, Mexico. Many other runners left the marathon distance behind, sought to run ultramarathons, and dreamed about running the Leadville 100, which exploded with new entrants.
Readers of Born to Run think that the Tarahumara Indians made their debut running in America in 1992. Born to Run features their 1994 race at Leadville, Colorado. It has been falsely claimed that this was the first time that this indigenous people showed up to run outside their native environs. This is not true. Yes, the Tarahumara competed in the U.S. in 1992, but it was not the first time that they displayed their running abilities in the United States. The Tarahumara competed in America more than six decades earlier when they made an even deeper impact on ultrarunning history.
In 1889, “Old Sport” Peter Napoleon Campana (1836-1905) returned home to Bridgeport, Connecticut, after his four-month trip to California. His celebrity status had increased because of news stories across the country about how he beat up the unscrupulous race manager, Frank W. Hall (1860-1923). During his ten-year ultrarunning career thus far, he had competed in at least 42 races, including 24 six-day races. As he did each summer, Campana took time away from racing, but frequently made appearances at local sporting events, including foot races.
After ten years of competing in ultra-distance races, Old Sport, Peter Napoleon Campana (1836-1906), age 52, had never gone west of the Mississippi River. That was all about to change in 1889. Frank W. Hall (1860-1923), of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, had managed some very successful six-day races. He decided to take the sport out to California. It had been about four years since the west coast had hosted a race. Hall hired Campana to be in the race and paid for this train ticket to California. He left on February 6, 1889, riding the Cincinnati Express. He arrived a week later with fellow runners Frank Hart (1856-1908) and George Cartwright (1848-1928). They created a stir among west coast sportsmen who wanted to get a glimpse of the famous runners.
New book! Old Sport Campana: Ultrarunning’s Most Popular and Amusing 19th Century Runner. As I researched for these podcast episodes, I realized that I had enough content for an entire amusing and interesting book. This episode previews chapter eight of the book. To read the entire story of Old Sport, 
By 1888, Old Sport Campana had competed in 35 ultra-distance races, and eight in 1888. He also competed in the most historic six-day race of the 19th century, held in November 1888 in Madison Square Garden. William M. O’Brien (1858-1891), was the race organizer. He partnered with Richard K. Fox (1846-1922), editor and publisher of the sporting publication, The Police Gazette, to offer the Fox Diamond Belt, valued at $2,500 to the winner. If someone beat James Albert’s (1856-1912) world record of 621 miles, they would get a bonus of $1,000. The contestants needed to reach 525 miles in order to claim a share of the gate receipts. With an entrance fee of $50, about 125 runners applied for entry, but the race was limited to 40 starters, including Campana.
By 1884, “Old Sport” Peter Napoleon Campana (1836-1906), had gained national fame. He was being called “the clown of the walking matches.” While he was never competitive enough to win a six-day race, event managers knew that he was a huge draw to bring spectators into a race. They paid him a salary to be in their races. At age 52, some called him “The living skeleton.” Campana acted the part of a decrepit old man and said, “I am 62 years old and I haven’t got a tooth in my head and only a few hairs on it, but I’m here for sport, and don’t you forget it.”
By 1880, “Old Sport” Peter Napoleon Campana (1836-1906), a fruit and nut peddler from Bridgeport, Connecticut, had established himself as an odd anomaly in the very popular spectator sport of six-day indoor races held in arenas in northeastern America. He had not yet won a race but would almost always stick it out to the end of the six days when usually 75% of the other runners would quit before the end. People would pay to come watch the races he was in, specifically to watch him run. Race directors would promise him a salary just to be in their races. No one ever could predict what unusual and amusing antics he would perform during a race.
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