Old Sport Campana (1836-1906)

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By Davy Crockett

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 19^th 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.

The New York City press was favorable. “Old Sport Campana, whose increasing years seem to add new vigor to his constitution, will start. He will celebrate his 99^th birthday on the track.” He was confident that he would reach 550 miles before he retired from the sport. Everyone wondered what new antics he would perform during this race.

A bold prediction was made that George Littlewood (1859-1912), of England, would break the world record. “Probably no man alive today can beat Littlewood. He is a phenomenal pedestrian, and having a poor field to beat should win with ease.”

New book! Old Sport Campana: Ultrarunning’s Most Popular and Amusing 19^th 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 six of the book. To read the entire story of Old Sport, get my new book on Amazon.

The Start

An hour before the start, Madison Square Garden was full, with 9,000 spectators, despite a howling blizzard that ripped through the city during the day. Thirty-six runners came to the starting line, led, as usual, by Campana, age 52.

At 12:05 a.m. on November 26, 1888, Campana led the runners across the line. “Campana who has been likened to a fragment of time, broken off the far end of eternity, got a big start and made his bony shanks play like drumsticks for a lap. He passed under the wire first.”

That first-place lap won him a bet with Police Captain Tom Reilly, who paid him a five-dollar silver certificate over the fence. “Campana is badly in need of a shave and looks rather more cadaverous than usual. He is in high spirits. He wears an American flag around his waist, an old pair of white gaiters, and a boutonniere of greasy silver certificates.”

George Littlewood, of England, took the lead right away, completed the first mile in 5:02, and reached the future marathon mark in about 3:20.

Through the first night, it became obvious why there were plans to have Madison Square Garden demolished and replaced. “The ring in the center of the garden looked as if it had been swept by a hurricane. Booths were overturned and the floor was flooded with melted snow, which had dropped through the crevices in the roof.” Littlewood, dressed in white drawers and an undershirt, with a red cloth around his neck and a toothpick in his mouth, reached 77.5 miles in twelve hours in front of about 700 people in the cold building.

After twelve hours, Campana had covered 60 miles. Campana complained that the scorers were rigging the race against him. “He went on again, with a blue nose, red cheeks, and open mouth.”

Littlewood was the first to reach 100 miles in 15:59:00. “He was roundly cheered and presented with a floral horseshoe. Campana became so worked up by the demonstration that he skipped around the track as he did in days of yore.” Sixteen of the runners reached 100 miles on the first day, earning them a refund of their entrance fee. Even Campana reached that mark. “His homely figure and good-natured smile have been seen on every sawdust track for years past. He received a perfect ovation when he scored 100 miles late in the evening.”

With 122 miles, Littlewood left the track for a long nap, dropping him to fifth place. He had drunk a bottle of beer that had gone slightly sour, and it upset his stomach. All runners who reached 75 miles during the first day could continue. The field was cut down to 24 competitors.

Day Two

Shortly after dawn on the second day, a “loafer” made an insult to Campana. “The Bridgeport centenarian always prefers paying value received, and he scrambled over the picket fence, and, after a short interview with the loafer returned to the track, leaving him with a black eye and a sadly troubled pride.”

Campana looked fatigued on the second day. His wife, Jennie, was not cooking his meals in this race, but from Bridgeport, she sent a telegram that told him not to lose heart. The Marquis of Queensbury, John Douglas (1844-1900), dropped in to watch. “He and a select coterie amused themselves for an hour by tossing dollar bills to Campana. He picked up the bills reverentially and then kissed the tips of his bony fingers to the English nobleman and continued on his journey. The wad of bills acted like oil on a rust wheel box, and the veteran outdid himself for a few minutes.”

Campana sent home $55 to his wife that he picked up off of the track. For each bill received, he knotted them on a cord that he wore around his neck, making a knotted necklace. His Connecticut rival, Alfred Elson (1836-1900), who was the same age as Campana, remarked, jealously, that spectators only gave bills to broken-down walkers. It was ironic that Elson was twenty miles behind Campana and in last place. Elson admitted that he would not refuse the bills if offered to him.

James Albert (1856-1912) of Atlantic City, New Jersey, the current six-day world record holder, was not in the race. He visited and gave his view of the race so far. “I think George Littlewood‘s chances are the best of any of the walkers now. His stomach trouble has recovered, and he is now not at all liable to be sick in the same way again, while others may be troubled at the moment.”

At the end of the second day, ten of the eighteen runners had reached 200 miles, the most ever during a race in the pedestrian era. Campana reached 190 miles. “Campana is surprising himself and others by the score he has already made.”

Day Three

At daybreak, the five leaders were all within twenty miles of each other. Before noon, Littlewood climbed into third place as other runners began faltering. Littlewood seemed to be the greatest eater among them. During the morning, he ate eleven lamb chops, washing them down with two large bowls of oatmeal gruel.

The runners continued to circle that track all day. Littlewood, eight miles behind, ran hard as dusk arrived and the gas and electric lights were seen through the “sickly atmosphere” of cigar smoke.

Campana “jawed and grumbled to himself and at everybody else as he trudged about the ring.” He was already too far behind to end up in the money, but he continued on. He reached 263 miles in 72 hours.

A 19-year-old English boy, Charley Smith, was in the race. He had run away from home in England, boarded a ship in steerage, and arrived in New York City just a few hours before the race. The boy had been popular in England, and it was claimed that he once covered 298 miles in a 72-hour race. Race manager, O’Brien, let him start the race. He was only about five feet tall, had no shoes, and ran in his stocking feet. He quit the race on the third day with only 107 miles. The crowd had sympathy for him, and they threw down bills and coins for him as he kept coming out on the track to run for fun. “Campana is perhaps the only person connected with the race who did not take to little Smith. He has not looked upon the lad with favor. He interfered with Campana’s business. He got from people in the audience some of the dollar bills of which Sport had always held a monopoly. It forced the old man to do more work.”

Day Four – Thanksgiving

Seventeen runners remained. During the wee hours of Thanksgiving morning, Littlewood went into second place. “About 300 people, including a half dozen females, remained in the Garden all night and breakfasted on Frankfurter sausages, rolls and coffee in the morning. They had prepared to celebrate Thanksgiving cheaply and becomingly.

The Thanksgiving spectators were dressed up. “There were Sunday coats and Sunday trousers, with store wrinkles still in them. There was a clean-shaven and freshly brushed air about the men, and the wives and sweethearts were numerous. Everybody was particularly good-natured and the peanut, popped corn, and refreshment stands did excellent business. The condition of most of the men was remarkably good. All are footsore and stiff, of course, but the hollow eyed, utterly exhausted look which usually comes about the fourth day was generally absent.”

At 11:10 p.m., Littlewood went into the lead. He covered 431 miles for four days, nineteen miles behind Albert‘s world record of 450.1 miles.

Day Five

Littlewood‘s lead was short-lived. At 12:10 a.m., Dan Herty (1857-1931) of Boston, Massachusetts, came back onto the track and built a five-mile lead by the time Littlewood started running again. “He was stiff when he began his task and covered his first mile only after a great deal of effort, for his limbs almost refused to act. But the mile limbered him up so that a few minutes later he began to move rapidly and then broke into a run. Herty tried to keep up with him for a time, but on the advice of his trainer, gave up an effort that was exhausting him.”

Littlewood retook the lead at 4:30 a.m., with 450 miles, increasing his lead to four miles by daybreak. But when he left the track at 12:30 p.m., a rumor circulated that he had fainted on the track and was taken to his hut. It apparently was not true, because he quickly returned to the track.

Campana continued to receive dollar bills from spectators. He sent home $55 to his wife that he picked up off of the track on the previous day. For each bill received, he knotted them on a cord that he wore around his neck, making a knotted necklace.

Littlewood completed his 500^th mile at 109:56:30, only 38 minutes behind the world record held by Fitzgerald. “The crowd cheered, and the band played ‘We Won’t Go Home ‘Till Morning.’” As the evening progressed, more people came to watch Littlewood try to break the record.

After five days, Littlewood reached 538.7 miles, which was about six miles behind the world-record pace and thirteen miles ahead of Herty.

The Final Day

At midnight, Littlewood received an alcohol bath and a rubdown, and then was tucked in his bed for a two-hour nap. “His limbs were as clean as those of a racehorse and there was not a mark nor blemish on him. His feet were pink and white, like a baby’s and there was never a blister.” He gradually increased his lead to eighteen miles by dawn. Fourteen of the 36 starters remained in the race and ten still hoped to reach 525 miles, to claim a share of the gate receipts.

At 6:54 a.m., Littlewood caught up with the six-day world record pace as he reached 568 miles. “The contingent of British subjects which has infested the Garden since the race began, cheered, and the sleepers in the back seats awakened and joined in the applause, while the band played, ‘Hail Britannia.’” If he could maintain a 15-minute-mile pace to the end, he would win with the world record. He continued to either be cheered or hissed on the turns.

Campana reached 400 miles, in tenth place, during the morning, but was said to be in a crying mood. “One scorer named J. Harrison, was standing by his tally sheets when Old Sport came by. He was about to make a sympathetic remark to Campana, when Campana struck him with his clenched fist on the nose. ‘First blood’ remarked Campana as he resumed his customary jog trot. Harrison, having washed the blood from his face, met Campana once more and asked him why he struck him. Campana’s hands went up in answer, and both men clinched. The battle was short, sharp and decisive. Mr. Harrison was taken away. The crowd went wild with enthusiasm over Campana’s boxing encounter.” As he was running next to Herty, a man yelled, “Don’t lend him a cent, Dan.” “Quick as a flash, Campana’s fist left his shoulder, and the man spent the next minutes wiping the blood from his damaged nose.” His local newspaper was critical, writing, “His eccentric conduct injured his reputation.”

But Campana was smart enough to know how to keep the crowd on his side. “Campana raised a burst of enthusiasm by making a lap with a handsome baby in his skinny arms. The little one crowed joyously.”

Six-Day World Record

At noon, Littlewood was 13 miles ahead of the world-record pace. Manager O’Brien brought in the Fox Diamond Belt. It was put on exhibit in a glass case on a background of purple velvet and placed on a table at the scorers’ stand.

At 8:01 p.m., George Littlewood broke Albert’s six-day world record of 621.7 miles. “James Albert came down to the track and accompanied Littlewood around the track on the next lap, carrying his hat in one hand and a broom onto which a couple of American flags had been fastened, in the other. The crowd of 7,000 people cheered and shouted and clapped its thousands of hands together frantically while the band played ‘Rule Britannia.’” Campana and the small boy, Smith, followed Littlewood around the track with American flags attached to brooms for two laps “amid deafening applause.” Littlewood continued on to raise the record to 623.7 miles, a record that would last for nearly 100 years.

Campana finished with a respectable 450.7 miles in eleventh place, earning $61, probably in salary. He lost only two pounds during the race, ending up weighing a skinny 133 pounds.

New Haven Connecticut wrote, “Old Sport Campana, who was familiar all last summer as a fruit vendor at Savin Rock Amusement Park, was one of the interesting features of Madison Square Garden. At times he would run around the track like a fighting cock and seem to enjoy the whole thing immensely. A few minutes later you would see him with his head hanging to one side, his body doubled up, and presenting the appearance of a man in the last throes of agony. He was a favorite with the spectators and money was liberally thrown to him from all sides. When a bill was thrown to him, he would hold it high in the air and gallop around the track like a schoolboy. During the week, the old man covered 450 miles and probably raked in a couple of hundred dollars, besides having, as he expressed it, ‘a lot of fun.’”

Before leaving New York City, Campana continued to make news. He claimed that Littlewood was going to take him back to England. He expressed a desire to set up running matches with some of England’s old-time runners. He also stated that he would set up a business with his wife, Jennie, who he said was “the prettiest girl in America.” The only thing he needed was a clam cart. He boasted that he never ate meat. He said, “Soup, oysters, and clams is my bill of fare. If I could only have had three good meals a day, I would have beat ‘em all.”

Back to Connecticut

Campana did not sail to England, as many reports claimed. Instead, he returned to Connecticut and before the end of 1888, competed in a 27-hour race in Birmingham, Connecticut, where he reached 120 miles, in fourth place. He was awarded a pie five feet in diameter. For 1888, he raced in ten ultra-distance races, totally 2,412 miles.

54-Hour Race in New Haven, Connecticut

In mid-January 1889, Campana competed in a 54-hour race held in Quinnipiac Rink, in New Haven, Connecticut. After 24 hours, he was in third place with 105 miles and was serious about doing well. “He ceased swinging his arms and shouting to the spectators around the track and had not stopped walking since the start.” He finished in second place, with 200 miles.

72-Hour Race in Brooklyn, New York

Campana, on an impressive streak of races, immediately went to Brooklyn to compete in a 72-hour race at the West End Casino. The world record for 72 hours was 353.2 miles, set by Charles Rowell, of England, at Madison Square Garden in 1882. The race began on January 24, 1889. Campana took the lead from the start and was the first to complete a mile. He maintained second place throughout the day. “Old Sport, his toothless jaws munching continually on a straw, finished his 100^th mile in 21:40.”

For the first 100 miles, he ran continuously without once leaving the track and his performance was greeted with rounds of applause by the spectators. “He was the recipient of flowers and a shower of dollar bills, and small change was rained upon him by the admirers of his pluck.” Happy Jack Smith (1849-1920) was the referee, and he commented that considering that Campana was 58 years old (actually 52), his performance was stupendous.”

On the second day, “Old Sport kicked up his heels and ran around in ludicrous style that won him several greenbacks and a number of small coins from the amused onlookers.”

A curious reporter wrote, “It is surprising how Campana shows up at the various exhibitions given throughout the country. It has always been said that he is a very poor man, but no matter where there is a walking match, he manages to get there.” The reporter went to the race one evening and saw a man stretched out in front of a large stove. He was told that he was Old Sport. “When the men were called out on the track at midnight, he was the first one to get in place. There was no one at his side to receive his hat or coat. He threw them on the floor, depending entirely upon the honesty of the spectators to see that no one carried them off.” He asked, another runner’s backer, “How does he manage to get rest and get rubbed down. The reply was, “He attends to all that himself. In a match of this kind, he depends entirely upon what the owners of the place will give him. They know he will draw quite a number of persons on account of the queer manner in which he acts while on the track, and so he is presented with a few dollars to go on when the attendance is the largest. His only fault is that he entered pedestrian life when he was too advanced in years.”

On the final day, Campana ran when he wanted and rested when he wasn’t interested. “He frequently drained the contents of a beer glass ‘for a reviver’ while the spectators cheered him at each fresh outbreak. Campana finished in second place, with 280 miles, earning him only $23.75 for his effort. Samuel Day (1847-1913) won with 300 miles.

Sources:

The Sun (New York, New York), Nov 22, 27-28, Dec 1, 1888
The New York Times (New York), Nov 27, 1888
The Evening World (New York, New York), Nov 22, 26-30, Dec 1, 4, 1888
Wilkes-Barre Times Leader (Pennsylvania), Nov 23, 1888
Pottsville Republican (Pennsylvania), Nov 27, 1888
The Brooklyn Daily Times (New York), Nov 28, 1888
The Brooklyn Citizen (New York), Jan 27, 1889
Reading Times (Pennsylvania), Nov 28, 1888
The Meriden Daily Republican (Pennsylvania), Dec 1, 24, 1888
Chicago Tribune (Illinois), Dec 2, 1888
The Morning Journal-Courier (New Haven, Connecticut), Dec 3, 5, 1888
The Waterbury Democrat (Connecticut), Dec 22, 1888

172: Old Sport Campana (1836-1906) – Part Five