The 100-miler – Part 3 (1879-1899) 100 Miles Craze

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By Davy Crockett

Contrary to popular misinformed opinion, 100-mile races did not originate in California, with the Western States 100 in 1978. One hundred years before, by the end of 1878, more than 200 successful 100-mile finishes had taken place in the 19^th century, most of them with times under 24-hours, on dirt roads, trails, and indoor tracks.

Part 1 and Part 2 of this 100-mile series covered the stories of remarkable long-forgotten ultrarunning pioneers. By 1879, a remarkable shift started to take place. The most elite professional 100-mile walkers and runners became focused on competing in indoor six-day races for huge prizes and fame. That year more amateurs entered the sport and attempted to run or walk 100 miles for wagers or for nothing at all.

More of the general public started to hit the roads and tracks trying to achieve ultra-distances on foot. The newspapers called this obsession “walking match fever,” “tramp fever” or “pedestrian mania.”

A Pennsylvania newspaper reported, “One of the most absurd manias that has recently afflicted humanity is the pedestrian craze which at present disturbs the mental balance of several cities in the interior of this state. The pedestrian craze infects lawyers, tradesmen and physicians. Half the population walk habitually on a dog-trot, and the police are instructed to see that amateur matches on the public streets do not interfere with the transaction of business. To what purpose is this waste of energy and enthusiasm?”

A Kansas newspaper wisely observed, “This is a great country for crazes. They sweep over the country like cyclones. Whence they come and whither they go, man knoweth not. Recently, the entire country was in the throes of the pedestrian craze. In every city, town and village athletes were wearily tramping around and around a sawdust circle, while thousands of spectators applauded the dreary exhibition. The men had had the red necktie craze and recovered from it in time to laugh at the suspender craze. America soon loves her fads to death.”

It was wondered what craze would come next. “How would it do to inaugurate ‘standing on your head’ matches as the next? They would certainly draw, and the man who will first stand on his head for a thousand consecutive hours will go down to posterity, and be remembered to the remotest generation.”

Ultrarunning historian Andy Milroy commented, “Dan O’Leary’s 1877 and 1878 six-day wins in London created a huge stir in the US. It inspired ordinary people to undertake Pedestrianism. Most could not afford the time to tackle a six-day, or even a 50-miler. That was beyond them. So, they became fixed on the 25 mile distance. There was an explosion of such events, newspapers wrote of a plague of such events gradually spreading out from New York.”

For the successful ultrarunners of the time, the financial impact on their lives was significant. There has never been an era in ultrarunning when being a professional impacted so many runners and brought in so much money. The amount that was successfully won in one race could be the equivalent of a lifetime’s earnings. Managing that wealth was another challenge. Edward Payson Weston won an enormous amount of money during this era but lived a lifestyle where he spent more than he brought in. He missed some key international events because he had to deal with legal troubles involving his finances. All this potential wealth also attracted greed and the potential for fraud. This article will include stories of that side of the sport.

1879: 100-mile craze continues

In 1879, many daring new-comers sought for attention by trying the 100-mile distance either in races (matches) or in solo attempts. More than fifty successful 100-mile finishes that were found in the newspapers for 1879 and there were likely many more that weren’t reported. Numerous races were announced in papers to stir up attendance for the event, but often the results were not published. Professional women pedestrians continued to be a main feature of the 100-mile events, with at least 20 finishes that year.

The 100-mile craze occurred mostly in America, but was also pursued at times in England and Australia. Those entering the sport included people such as Henry E. Nutting, a member of Boston’s YMCA gym, Charley Joe, a native American from Michigan, postmen, mothers, and many young men in their early twenties.

100-milers in America

In March,1879, a historic 100-mile race was held at the Douglass Institute (named after Frederick Douglass) in Baltimore Maryland. The Douglass Institute hosted countless meetings of organizations promoting African American causes. This race was a unique contest for a couple reason. First the course was on a very tiny track with 52 laps to a mile on a hard floor with some sawdust sprinkled on it. That was only about 34 yards per lap! But more importantly, the two contestants were black, Isaiah Hawkins, age 41, and his nephew James Williams, age 19. Hawkins had no previous walking or running training. The race was planned to last 26 hours and the prize was for $100. After 5.5 hours, the race was close with Williams at mile 21 and Hawkins at mile 20. After 26 hours, Williams was declared the winner with 89 miles. Hawkins reached 85. The attendance to witness the race was fair.

In April 1879, two experienced 100-miler women, Mabel Scott and Ida Blackwell faced off for a 100-mile match at the Music Hall in Boston. “Miss Blackwell is a quick, nervous walker, while Miss Scott is most graceful and possessed of much staying power, so that a finely-contested race will surely result.”

A large crowd gathered to witness the start despite a terrible storm outside. The track was twenty laps to a mile. News coverage described the clothing they wore more than the details of the race. “Miss Scott’s hair was arranged in a twist with a single white rose on the left side.”

Blackwell took the early lead but Scott caught up as Blackwell took rests. “A fine band of music was present, and added to the enjoyment of the spectators as well as cheered the walkers. After 20 miles, Blackwell’s ankle began to trouble her. Scott took the lead at mile 23 but accidentally hit her left ankle against an iron post which caused it to swell up. Blackwell finally quit at mile 70 when she was 12 miles behind. The race was finally called at 27:54:09 when Scott had completed 89 miles. She quit once a 50-miler race was arranged between the two for the next month. Blackwell won that race by two miles.

P. T. Barnum

A New York City block, where present-day New York Life Building stands on Manhattan, was the scene for a decade of many 100-mile and six day races. P. T. Barnum (1778-1826) of circus fame entered the Pedestrianism scene. Few realize that Barnum was an ultrarunning pioneer.

Barnum began his career as a showman in 1841 when he established “Barnum’s American Museum” on Broadway at New York City. His fame and fortune grew and in 1870 he established a traveling circus, menagerie, and museum of “freaks” called, “P. T. Barnum’s Travelling World’s Fair, Great Roman Hippodrome and Greatest Show on Earth.”

The Hippodrome

In 1874 Barnum established his traveling circus on a good portion of a city block between 4^th and Madison Avenue, between 56^th and 57^th Street. The site had been used by an old Harlem and New Haven railroad depot. He rented the train sheds there, opened a museum, and constructed a “Hippodrome” which was an open-are venue with tarp roofs over the seats giving a “big-top” feeling. It included performance rings and a track to host chariot races. The Hippodrome was opened in April 1874. It was soon reported, “Barnum’s Hippodrome with its rich pageants, displays of strange animals and exciting races, continues to attract mammoth audiences.”

Barnum named the new arena the “Grand Roman Hippodrome” and declared it the “largest amusement building ever constructed.” Despite Barnum’s ballyhoo, however, the Hippodrome was a rather simple structure: an elongated dirt oval surrounded by wooden bleachers. Balconies that hung low over the main floor were later installed, bringing the venue’s capacity to ten thousand. The Hippodrome was enclosed by a three-story brick wall. Seventeen huge furnaces warmed the space in the winter. Occasionally Barnum would cover the arena with one of the canvas tents from his traveling circus—in a way, it was the first stadium with a retractable roof in the United States.

In 1874, Barnum smartly saw the financial attraction of including Pedestrians in his show. He signed up Edward Payson Weston to bring his 500-miles in six days attempt to the Hippodrome. Weston started his walk on September 14^th, right after midnight. “From early morning until late at night the people kept flocking into the building. He struggled during the early miles feeling “heavy and oppressed.” His pace was conservative and he reached 75 miles in 24 hours. In the end, he came up short, reaching 326 miles.

In December 1874, Barnum hosted “Professor” John R. Judd at the Hippodrome. Judd was a gym owner from Buffalo, New York. “Judd is excessively muscular. His ‘professorship’ being not anything in the line of learning but simply that of gymnastics.” He attempted to walk 500 miles in six and a half days in the Hippodrome but failed, reaching 369 miles on the sixth day before quitting. P.T. Barnum smelled success and knew he could make a huge profit hosting a Pedestrian race.

On March 1, 1875, he put on the first formal six-day race in America. It was a $5,000 match race between Edward Payson Weston and Professor Judd. During this historic New York race, Judd gave up on the fourth day with sore feet. Since the event was no longer a competition, just Weston walking, Barnum realized that he needed to keep spectator interest. He allowed other walkers to take Judd’s place against Weston. Weston wasn’t happy about having other walkers share the stage with him and toward the end he demanded that the other walker be removed which caused “considerable dissatisfaction among the rowdy element in the audience.” Weston reached 431 miles in this first American six-day race.

Gilmore’s Garden

William Henry Vanderbilt (1821-1885) actually owned the property and after the circus vacated that year, band leader Patrick Gilmore (1829-1892) leased the property for concerts, flower shows, beauty contests, dog shows, and boxing matches. The venue was renamed to Gilmore’s Concert Garden. A permanent roof was finally added around 1876. It became one of the most popular venues in the city and eventually in 1879 was renamed to Madison Square Garden.

In April 1879 at Gilmore’s Garden, a 28-hour contest was held. George Guyon reached 100 miles in 21:05:35. Later in the race, a contender, Wall had serious trouble. “Wall, who said he was 21 but did not look to be over 18 fell apparently lifeless on the track while crawling over this 114^th mile. His trainers placed him on some chairs and bathed and rubbed him with spirits for a few minutes when he showed signs of life. He was then placed on his feet, a white blanket thrown over his shoulders and started on his journey again.” He continued only for a few more laps.

George Hazael

What about speedy 100-milers? With “go as you please” rules, runners started to lower the best times. The most elite ultrarunners of the time were participating in the six-day races during its heyday. While not running in a 100-mile race, some split times were recorded and are worth mentioning.

In April 1879, a six-day “Championship of England” was held at the Agricultural Hall in Islington, London England. Contestants included famous Pedestrians, Edward Payson Weston, William Corkey, Blower Brown, and George Hazael of England. Hazael had been training hard for this race at the Sussex County Cricket Ground near Brighton.

Race Director John Astley yelled “Go” at 1:02 a.m. All but Weston started to run fast. He chose to go at his usual walking gait and took up the rear. Hazael built up a mile lead during the first hour. “Little happened worth recording in the early morning beyond the fact that Hazael continued to widen the gap between himself and the others, whilst Weston maintained his usual sure and steady mode of progression.” Hazael reached 50 miles in an amazing time of 6:14:37 which was a world’s fastest known time for the 50-mile distance, about two minutes faster than the previous time.

By mid-day at mile 75, his potentially suicidal fast pace started to take its toll and he had to lie down for 22 minutes because of stomach cramps. He was slower when he resumed but, quickly made up for the two miles that the others cut into his lead.

“Hazael still continued to widen the gap between himself and the others during the afternoon. A most unprecedented performance was recorded, namely the accomplishment of 100 miles by Hazael in 15:35:31, thus beating the fastest time for that distance by 1:28:35.” (Hazael had set the previous record of 17:03:06, also at Agricultural Hall about eight months earlier.) Hazael went on to finish second in the six-day race with 492 miles, but had established himself as the world’s best 100-mile runner.

Charles Rowell

But soon Charles Rowell (1852-1909) would take over the crown as the fastest 100-mile runner of the 19^th century, when he ran in the International Pedestrian Six-Day Contest held November 1880 in Agricultural Hall, in London.

Charles Rowell was born in Chesterton, Cambridge, England and was sometimes known as “the Cambridge Wonder.” He had been hired as a pacer for Weston, but later competed on his own. He soon won two world championship six-day races with at least 500 miles. Unfortunately for this race, the weather in London had been very poor, preventing training outdoors leading up to the race. George Littlewood (1859-1912) of Attercliffe, Yorkshire, England was a speedy newcomer running in his first six-day event.

The track was in good condition for the 1880 race at Agricultural Hall. It was seven laps to the mile, composed of “sifted garden mould, tan-bark and a top dressing of sawdust.” The race started at 1:00 a.m. Littlewood quickly settled into the lead but soon was passed by Rowell who reached 50 miles in 7:38:44. The next closest competitor was about six minutes behind. At mile 70, Rowell led Littlewood by four miles. “At 13 hours Rowell began to put more distance between himself and Littlewood, who by that stage, had started to walk at times.” Rowell reached 100 miles in a new world-best time of 13:57:13 in front of 2,000 spectators who cheered him enthusiastically. He smashed Hazael’s previous record by about an hour and a half. Rowell went on to win the six-day with 566 miles, also a new world’s best.

Two others in this race also beat the previous 100-mile world-best, John Dobler with 14:52:48, and Littlewood with 15:19:30. John Dobler (1859–1943), age 21, was an Austrian-American from Chicago Illinois. His 100-mile time crushed the American record by about 3.5 hours. His trainer was none other than the legend, Daniel O’Leary. A reporter at the race commented, “Rowell’s 100-mile performance is a most marvelous one, and far exceeds anything ever attained in long-distance pedestrianism, while Dobler’s efforts are also far in excess of record.”

The 100-mile world-record would fall again in 1882 to a time that wouldn’t be touched for 55 years. Another six-day race was put together to be held in Madison Square Garden in New York City billed as “The Race of the Champions.” It turned out to be a very historic race. Leading up to the race, Rowell trained hard, sometimes reaching 40 miles in a day on the American Institute indoor track. “In the morning before breakfast, he will do about five miles, and then after breakfast take a spin of twenty miles or so at the rink. Then a slight lunch, and a fifteen-mile run on the road would finish up the day.”

Rowell said, “I feel in first rate condition. I think I may give my competitors some trouble before they beat me.” Asked about his race strategy, he replied, “I go according to what the other men are doing. My game is to beat the other men. I shall eat oatmeal, beef, tea, chicken, broth, eggs, chops, oysters, and nourishing food of that kind. My drink will be ginger-ale and sometimes bottled cider. I have no regular hours of eating, but eat when I am hungry – that is pretty much all the time.” When asked how far he planned to run the first day, he replied 150 miles. “My best first day’s record is 146 miles in less than 24 hours.”

The Madison Square Garden track was put into fine shape. Several strong truss bridges were constructed over the tracks to prevent the spectators from walking on it. Instead of a tanbark track, Rowell asked that it be made up of loam and sawdust which he thought would be much faster. The arena was heated by steam. “The excitement in this city over the six-day pedestrian contest at Madison Square Garden has almost reached a fever heat. The Garden was illuminated by 30 electric lights and decorated with flags and banners of all nations.”

Right before the race, vendors were stationed at the Madison Avenue entrance trying to sell their wares shouting, “Lives of all the walkers” and “program of the race.” An hour after the doors were open, 6,000 people were in the building with hundreds still waiting in line. The bookmakers with tin boxes sat at small tables operating near the scorers, taking bets. Rowell was a 2-to-1 favorite.

The race began as 12:05 a.m. in front of 10,000 cheering spectators. Gilmore’s 50-piece band was hired to perform music during the race. After four hours, Rowell took the lead followed closely by Hazael. With the cramped track, some runners issued protests to the referee because of bumping taking place or they felt that their progress was being impeded by runners in the way. The referee took charge and made the participants stop complaining.

Newsboys woke up citizens at all hours of the night shouting the latest reports from the race. Bulletins were displayed on walls and dining windows in every block. “Tens of thousands of people, mostly fools, were eagerly asking, ‘Who’s ahead?’”

Rowell reached 50 miles at the seven-hour mark with a ten-mile lead. He liked creating a good cushion to use in case he ran into trouble. It was rumored that massive bets were being placed on Rowell and that the bookies were not accepting any more money on him. “Rowell trotted along with his head bowed, and he evidently was figuring up his share in the profits. Although the crowd was large, there was less enthusiasm manifested than has been witnessed in previous contests. Excepting when the band of musicians gave vent to their feeling, the scene was almost funereal. The spectators stared at each other oftener than they did at the champions.”

Rowell reached 90 miles in an impressive 12 hours. He went on to break his world-best 100-miler with an amazing time of 13:26:30. He went on to reach 150 miles in just 22:30. The band played “Pinafore” and “He’s an Englishman.” He did not make it to the end of the six-day race. He got sick and dropped out after about 415 miles. But George Hazael went on to win with 600 miles, the first person to ever reach that milestone.

100-mile fraud

As these 100-milers received intense public attention, widespread wagering took place. Skepticism arose whether these events and accomplishments were completely legitimate. In New York it was written, “People are beginning to awaken to the barefaced swindling which is being perpetrated in the matter of making matches. It may be doubted whether there has ever been a fair race since the day when O’Leary won the first Agricultural Hall race in London, in 1878. Matches upon which money is stacked and matches involving the suspicion of ‘crookedness’ are all the rage.”

With high-stakes wagering, at times greed motivated investors to take things into their own hands. At Reading Pennsylvania, Samuel Mishler was attempting 100 miles. After 15.5 hours at 70 miles, he asked for a drink of water. “Mr. Mishler says that a glass of water was handed him and that it had been drugged, for he was unable to continue to his walk. Others say he dropped to the floor in a swoon. He did not recover from the effects of the drug for several hours afterwards. When asked whether he though he had been intentionally drugged, he answered ‘Yes, because there was considerable money at stake.’”

At North Adams, Massachusetts, sad facts had been revealed about a pedestrian, William Dutcher, who had performed well in the city and had been treated as a hero by the citizens. Presents had been showered upon him. He ran up debts around town based on his popularity and arranged for a grand ball where he would be featured. He sold many tickets but skipped town and didn’t show up on the night of the event. It was soon also revealed that at his famed walking match there had been cheated. His timers and judges had been bribed and credited him miles while he was actually sleeping.

At the German Theatre in Davenport, Iowa, a 100-mile race was conducted and Edward Miller was declared the winner with a time of 23:22. His competitor, a Mr. Collins had quit at mile 88. Collins admitted that he had purposely allowed Miller to lead him by several miles, that he had been bribed to do so in order that more bets would be made. “The agreement being made that Miller was to let him catch up and win the match at the close.” People doubted his statement because Miller was the favorite anyway, but this illustrated that fixed 100-mile races likely did take place.

At Chicago an important “100-mile Championship of America” for $500 took place between professionals William E. Harding and John Ennis. Harding had been sick for three days before the contest and continually left the track during the race. He quit after only 41 miles. Ennis covered the 100-mile distance and won. But it was reported in the betting circles that Harding had purposely sold out, a charge that one of Harding’s backers emphatically denied. But with each race, there were more and more skeptics whether that sport was clean.

The prolific 100-miler M’lee Dupree didn’t trust the time-keepers during her matches. She would mentally keep a record of every lap she completed and also what her competitors were doing. “In this way she was able to confirm the time-keepers’ work whenever she chose and often did so.”

Scandal also was reported in the 100-mile women’s sport. Elsa Von Blumen (1864-1934) ran into trouble at Hillsboro, Ohio. The wife of her trainer became very jealous of the attention that her husband was giving to Von Blumen. The result was a very public “grand old row” among them that created great excitement among the citizens of the city. It was reported, “Miss Von Blumen seems to have the sympathy of our citizens, and no imputation against her character are intimated. It is an unfortunate affair all around, as the entertainment was drawing full houses and giving good satisfaction.”

Von Blumen finished her 100-miles as promised. “Miss Von Blumen made a good impression upon her audience. She is good-looking, and lady-like, full of pluck, and possesses great powers of endurance. She was neatly and appropriately costumed and walks quite gracefully.”

At York Pennsylvania, Nelson performed in a 100-mile match at the Laurel Engine House, trying to reach that mark in 30 hours. He was to push a wheelbarrow for the last 18 miles. He made it to mile 96 and suddenly quit, claiming that he could continue no longer. Fraud was suspected.

J. H. Harriman, a 100-miler from Massachusetts eventually used fraudulent tactics. He once strode into Bismark, North Dakota, claiming that he had covered 100 miles in nineteen hours. But it was later revealed that his manager had helped him take a ride on a freight train to the city.

In 1885, Professor Loring advertised widely that he would be walking 100 miles in 23 hours at Greenleaf, Kansas. A large crowd showed up to watch, but Loring failed to appear. “It was noised around that Professor Loring was a big fraud. The management of the skating rink refunded the money to those who had gone to see him and at last accounts they were hunting for the aforesaid Loring with the City Marshall.”

100-mile interest wanes

With each passing month in 1879, public interest was waning and crowds reduced. One newspaper column commented on how the world had thought it was amazing when Weston had walked 100 miles ten years earlier in 1868. “But no one thought that in so short a time would his feat be considered a very ordinary affair. And now women have become imbued with the craze. Every female in the country has set to show what she can do. For no other reason than that of the notoriety gained. But it is time to drop it. Give us a rest. Why do not some of these persons who want to show their powers of endurance tackle a woodpile and see how many quarter cords they can saw in a certain number of quarter hours? There are a number of things they could do and should do.”

At Rutland, Vermont, Marie Vernon began a walk at an Opera House but quit “disgusted” because the audience was so small and she knew she would not make very much money. Her brother took her place to at least fill the obligation. It was reported, “Speculative walkists will no doubt give this place a wide berth in the future.”

At Saint Paul, Minnesota, a highly publicized 100-mile race was a failure as one of the contestants just didn’t show up. The other walker reached 100 miles in 23:45 but the event received little attention and a sparse audience.

Critics

As pedestrian events became more popular, increased voices from critics arose about the dangers and cruelty of the ultra-distance sport, including 100-milers. Descriptions included audiences watching “the agonies of a half-dead man staggering along a track to the music of a band.”

Watching two men who had walked 400 miles in a week was compared to seeing boxers who had pounded on each other’s faces for three hours with their fists. “There is no grace, beauty or true manliness in them. The men who take part are on the intellectual, moral and physical level of prize-fighters, and it is hard to see wherein such matches are superior to the battles of the ring. In both it is merely a question of the man who can stand the most suffering and still keep on his legs. What single good purpose was ever served by one of these degrading and brutal exhibitions?”

Violence and tragedies even occurred with the women pedestrians. At Westfield, Massachusetts 100-mile match, a competitor grabbed the hair of Anna Berger “and the struggle became one of hands instead of feet.” At Milwaukee, Wisconsin, May Fanning fainted on the track and lay for two days in a stupor.

“As long a long-distance walker is tolerably fresh, there is little excitement in watching him. But once serious fatigue and pain set in, he does not see the crowd, which stares, and smokes. He does not hear the music which mixes in a dream of the past life. He thinks that he is working in some country place that he knew long ago before he was a long-distance walker, and a mirage floats before him. Softer-hearted on-lookers wish to have some of the walkers removed, but their backer will not permit this.”

“The New York ‘blood merchant” hires some poor penniless lad who has the pedestrian fever and puts him on the track, and keeps him there until he drops from fatigue or exhaustion. The unhappy victim is forced into his tent and subjected to a course of treatment calculated to bring him to his senses or send him to his grave. Flogging the victim with wet towels and riding whips, running pins and needles into him, tweaking his nose, pulling his ears, kicking, thumping, cursing and swearing are among the many amiable attentions that the ‘ped’ is subjected to by his brutal attendants.”

Six day races were opened up to women in 1879 when a women’s race was held that year at Gilmore’s Garden with 18 women who were required to wear full-length dresses. Bertha Von Berg won with 372 miles. The press said that race was “public torture of women.” It was called “one of the most brutal exhibitions afforded the public in some time.” Soon New York City banned “all public exhibitions of female pedestrianism.”

Why did these 100-milers do it? “Any reputation or popularity he may secure is extremely short-lived, and is confined to the lowest classes. With few exceptions they are handled by ‘backers’ who have them wholly in their power, who put up the stakes, pay the expenses, pocket the profits and too often sell out their men. The sooner we see the end of these races, the better.”

People could even detect the impact that these grueling events had on their American hero, Daniel O’Leary. After some sickness when he still competed in a race. It was written, “It was evident to every critical spectator that he had broken down and was fast weakening. He hardly walked a single yard without swerving from side to side, his steps describing a zigzag course. If you were to see him, you would be surprised. He is thin. His legs are not half so big as they were. He hadn’t the flesh to carry him through, let alone the vital force.”

During that six-day event in March 1879 at Gilmore’s Garden, O’Leary quit after 215 miles. “He looked like a corpse. His face was terribly flushed, and his neck and chest were as red as a beet. He was the personification of a man who had walked himself to death.” Rumors flew around that city that after he was taken to a hotel, he died. But he did not. He recovered, but soon retired from the sport.

100-miler retirees

In May 1879, professional 100-miler Edward E. Miller could not find a challenger to race with him. He wrote in the newspaper, “I will now challenge the public at large to compete with me in the manufacture of a select article of either ice cream or lemonade. I agree never to be out of ice cream which will be on sale every day of the week by the gallon, quart, or dish.”

By 1880 many 100-milers evolved into novelty acts associated with fairs. The 100-mile attraction had worn off. There were much fewer 100-mile accomplishments mentioned in the newspapers.

By 1881, John Ennis, the well-known pedestrian from Chicago also could not find challengers, so he turned to 100-mile ice skating. He defeated Rudolph Goetz a champion long-distance skater from Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Ennis reached 100 miles on very rough ice, seven miles before Goetz, winning $100. His time for the 100-miles was 10:57.

Edward Payson Weston’s Christmas 100-miler

On Christmas Day 1896, Edward Payson Weston, age 57, tried to bring back some of his glory years attention by attempting to walk 100 miles at the Ice Skating Palace in New York City. A track was built on the skating floor, eight laps to a mile. The track, four feet wide, was made of boards with heavy paper covering them. At the start he was introduced to the audience who cheered him “to the echo.” It was said, “His hair has turned white but he looked remarkably well.”

He started at 10 p.m. “As in former days, he walked with the same sprightly tread and carried a whip. As he made the first circle around the track, he was loudly applauded. He finished the first five miles in 58:20 and when this announcement was given out, he was again liberally applauded.”

Skaters still went around on the ice. He told his doctor that his legs below his knees had gone to sleep but this had happened before and he wasn’t concerned. “During the night Weston ran and walked alternately, and now and then reversed his way of going around the track. The coolness of the atmosphere in the Ice Palace did not appear to trouble him in the least.”

In the morning, the skaters returned to the rink. “They livened the veteran pedestrian very much. Some of them would skate around the edge of the rink, keeping abreast of Weston, who chatted and joked with them.” At 15 hours he took his first rest. “During that time, he had eaten lots of eggs and calves’ foot jelly and drunk beef tea, milk and coffee. While he was off, he had a bath and changed his clothes.”

After 19 hours, Weston’s strength faltered and a dizzy spell overpowered him. “He was assisted from the track as weak as a baby.” His doctor worked on him and “soon the wonderful old man was up again and asking what it was all about.” The doctor made him rest for nearly an hour. “He then appeared somewhat discouraged, but was cheered on by numerous friends. He soon struck his old-time gait and kept up bravely to the end.” Weston succeeded and reached 100 miles in 23:56:30.

100-mile 19^th century craze concludes

After 1882, 100-mile attempts, even by the amateurs, quickly disappeared and very soon the accomplishments of those in the 1870s were forgotten. By 1890 transcontinental walks and walks “around the world” took over the attention the fascination of Americans, especially as Jules Verne’s Around the World in 80 Days novel became more widely read. Unfortunately, nearly all of these distance walkers fabricated their accomplishments once they discovered that the task was far beyond their abilities.

During the 1890s, 100-miler distance walkers returned to the outdoors and at times outrageous stories were printed in the newspapers. In July 1896, two men in Illinois walked 100 miles from Chicago to Rockford without stopping for food or rest. “Both are hypnotists, and they claimed that they hypnotized each other and imagined they were riding. This might be very useful to bicycle tourists whose wheels break down when they are at a distance from a repair shop or railroad station. But it is a little singular that two men should be able to hypnotize each other. How can that be possible?”

In 1896 Robert Cook, an inventor from Americus, Georgia, claimed that he walked 100 miles on Lake Ontario in 65 hours. People who had seen him perform said he was no fake. He invented water shoes that he claimed he could walk with as much ease and comfort on water as anybody could on pavement.

“The shoes are a trifle over 4 feet long, 6 inches wide and 6 inches deep. The place for the foot is in the center and the shoe is strapped to it. The shoe is perfectly airtight. It is covered with white cedar wood, the bottom being of white hickork, which gives strength to the shoe. It looks like a small-sized canoe. A set of fins on either side of the bottom of the shoes operate in a peculiar way, securing a resistance to the water and preventing him from slipping backward or losing his balance.” For months he publicized that he would walk from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania to Cincinnati, Ohio on the Ohio River, about 450 miles. It never happened. He was likely a fraud.

How many people finished 100-milers during the 1800s? I estimate there were likely more than 400 finishes in less than 30 hours and the vast majority were less than 24 hours. Competitive 100-mile races took a hiatus at the turn of the century as attention turned to covering 100 miles on bikes, horses, or automobiles.

The parts of this 100-mile series:

Sources:

Barnum’s freaky link to Madison Square Garden
The Western Spirit (Paola, Kansas), May 1, 1874
The Brooklyn Sunday Sun (New York), May 17, 1874
The Luzerne Union (Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania), Sep 23, 1874
The United Opinion (Bradford, Vermont), Oct 3, 1874
Matawan Journal (New Jersey), Dec 5, 1874
The Valley Sentinel (Carlisle, Pennsylvania), Aug 30, 1878
Rutland Daily Herald (Vermont), Feb 12, 14, Apr 25, 1879
Reading Times (Pennsylvania), Jan 23, 1879
The Boston Globe, (Massachusetts), Jun 30, 1878, Feb 8, Apr 18-20, May 19, 1879
The Muscatine Journal (Iowa), Oct 11, 1879
The Lake Geneva Herald (Wisconsin), Feb 8, 1879
The Morning Democrat (Davenport, Iowa), Apr 17, 1879
The Saint Paul Globe (Minnesota), Apr 7, 1880
Fayette County Herald (Washington, Ohio), Jul 3, 17, 1879
Public Ledger (Memphis, Tennessee), Feb 27, 1879
Chicago Tribune (Illinois), Mar 15, 1879
The Sun (New York, New York), Apr 27, 1879
The York Daily (Pennsylvania), Dec 29, 1879, Jan 2, 1880
The Atchison Daily Champion (Kansas), May 17, 1885
The Baltimore Sun (Maryland), Mar 21, 1879
The Daily Gazette (Wilmington, Delaware), Mar 22, 1879
The Cincinnati Enquirer (Ohio), Mar 22, 1879
The Muscatine Journal, (Iowa), May 12, 1879
Nebraska State Journal (Lincoln, Nebraska), Feb 17, 1881
The Morning Post (London, England), Apr 22, 1879, Nov 2, 1880
The Graphic (New York, New York), Jan 27, Mar 8, 1881
The Buffalo Commercial (New York), Feb 4, 1882
Buffalo Evening News (New York), Feb 27, 1882
New York Tribune (New York), Feb 27, 1882
The New York times (New York), Feb 28, 1882
The Bismarck Tribune (North Dakota), May 9, 1884
The Argentine Eagle (Kansas), Aug 26, 1892
Abilene Weekly Reflector (Kansas), Jul 16, 1896
Evening Star (Washington D.C.), Dec 26, 1896
The Gazette (Montreal, Canada), Dec 28, 1896
The Ottawa Journal (Ontario, Canada), Jul 19, 1897
S. Marshall “Charlie Rowell – aka the Cambridge Wonder”
P. S. Marshall, “George Hazael: The First Man to Run 600 Miles in 6 Days!”
P. S. Marshall, King of the Peds
Matthew Algeo, Pedestrianism: When Watching People Walk Was America’s Favorite Spectator Sport
Andy Milroy, Long Distance Record Book
Harry Hall, The Pedestriennes: America’s Forgotten Superstars

56: The 100-miler – Part 3 (1879-1899) 100 Miles Craze

By Davy Crockett

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