Richard Lacouse - 19th Century Ultrarunner and Scoundrel

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 28:55 — 34.2MB)

By Davy Crockett

You can read, listen, or watch

The strange story of ultrarunner Richard Lacouse has never been told before. Piecing together his unusual life story was an adventure in itself. He was once a famous, elite, ultrarunner/pedestrian from Boston during the late 19^th century, one of the most prolific six-day pedestrians during the early years of the sport.

As with other runners of his time who amassed a fortune in winnings, he chose to use that money for nefarious purposes, rather than for good. His life turned from a race around a track for six days, to a race to stay ahead of the law and to dodge one of the most skilled detectives in the country. In his wake he left behind abuse and corruption until deciding to make an honest living in Montana in the mine industry to conclude his life.

Get Davy Crockett’s new book, Frank Hart: The First Black Ultrarunning Star. In 1879, Hart broke the ultrarunning color barrier and then broke the world six-day record with 565 miles, fighting racism with his feet and his fists.

Early Circus Life

Richard “Dick” Amos Lacouse (1848-1923), a French Canadian, was born in 1848, in Sainte-Marcell, Quebec, Canada. He was the son of Joseph Octave Lacourse (1825-1876), a carpenter, and Emelie Guilbert (1826-1892), the oldest of eight children. His Lacourse ancestors had lived in Quebec, Canada for many generations. By 1870, the family moved to Fall River, Massachusetts. Once he reached adulthood, Richard left home seeking adventure and athletic performances, and for unknown reasons dropped the “r” in his last name for half of his life.

He claimed that he became acquainted with Charles Blodin (1824-1897), a man who had shocked the world by walking over Niagara Falls on a tight rope in 1859. Blodin taught Lacouse how to rope walk, but the young man gave it up after a serious fall during an exhibition. He next became a trapeze performer for several years, claiming to be a star in P.T. Barnum’s circus. In 1873, he gave up the circus, settled in Boston, Massachusetts, married Catherine Buckley (1844-), and started a fish market. The business venture failed, and he became a bricklayer.

Lacouse first appeared in newsprint in 1875, not for a great accomplishment. He was arrested and accused of stealing $150 worth of property from various people outside of Boston. He was living in the slums of Boston, where he worked as a bouncer and bartender in various houses of ill-repute.

Beantown Pedestrian

In May 1879, at the age of 31, Lacouse made his debut in pedestrianism when he participated in the first big ultrarunning event in Boston, Massachusetts. It was an interstate pedestrian tournament relay race between teams from Massachusetts, Maine, and Rhode Island. It was also called, “The Bean Pot Tramp” held in a mammoth tent at the Riding Academy in Back Bay, Boston.

With the popularity of pedestrianism taking fire, Lacouse decided to try out for the big event. It was reported, “he said he was undersized at that time, but his legs were hard as iron and sinews of steel wire. The tryout was a revelation to the management of the tournament which immediately bargained with Lacouse to join the Massachusetts team.” He was described as weighing 135 pounds, standing at 5’7”, a “stocky Frenchman,” who lived on Barton Street in Boston.

Each state’s team consisted of 12 runners. Each day, for six days, two runners on each team would run for six hours each. Maine came out on top, but Lacouse, often referred to as “the Frenchman,” ran more than 35 miles during his turn which was the second furthest of all the runners in the competition, earning him $75.

For the final week of the tournament, he competed in a six-day walking match with 20 others. He put on an impressive performance. “Lacouse is still in the lead. He is a wonderful specimen of humanity. His feet are badly blistered, yet he walks with apparent ease, and for pluck he has no equal. During the morning he frequently spurted around the track for two and three laps at a time.”

On the final day, he was in close competition with Frank Hart (1857-1908) for the win, but then ran into serious trouble. “Some outsiders gave Lacouse some stuff to drink which in a few moments acted on him in a strange manner. He looked insane and began striking himself with a stick and showing other signs of insanity which caused him to be removed from the track for some two hours.” He lost his lead, and when he came back out, he fell senseless on the track. His friends plead with him to quit, thinking that he would die. “At this time, he looked wild and ran out of the tent as he said, to get ice water. He was immediately taken back to the tent, where he begged for rest. But his trainers insisted on him staying on the track.”

The referee made a doctor check him over and diagnosed that he was delirious and suffering from congestion on the brain. He was put to bed, rubbed for an hour, and fell four miles behind Hart. Lacouse insisted on returning to the track and after being given some stimulants he “started out and ran like a deer.” Hart also collapsed and it was thought for a while that he was dead, but after an hour he was revived and taken home. Lacouse won the race with 427 miles, three more than Hart, winning $300 (valued nearly $9,000 today), and made a big splash for himself in the sport in Boston.

Prolific Six-Day Runner

In July 1879, with a growing ultrarunning reputation, he was accepted to run in O’Leary’s six-day 12.5 hours per day race in a field of twenty at the Music Hall in Boston that included all the principal winners of long-distance races in New England. Instead of running for 24 hours for six days, it was discovered that audiences enjoyed watching more competitive, fresher runners, who would all sleep through the night. He was obviously still a rookie. “Lacouse stopped frequently before the scorers’ stand looking at the score, evidently forgetting that he was in the race, and it required all the energies of his trainers to force him along.” Later on, his mind seemed to go to mush. “Lacouse showed signs of mental suffering. He talked at random, and once or twice became so forgetful of the real work he had in hand as to stop to talk with various parties on the track.” He finished in a respectable fourth place with 256 miles, winning $50.

Lacouse and his family still lived in a rough neighborhood of Boston. They couldn’t stay out of trouble. Just a week later after, his landlady, Bridget Costello confronted Lacouse’s wife, Catharine, for their rent money. Catharine picked up a stone and threw it at Costello causing a wound on her forehead. Costello’s sister, Kate, then hit Catharine with a clothes pole which also hit their fifteen-month-old son, Joseph. The confrontation blew up, hit the newspapers, and Catherine Lacouse was convicted of assault.

Lacouse was away from home much of the time trying to compete and win money in all the nearby races. In August 1879, he ran in a six-day, 75-hour race in Providence, Rhode Island. “Lacouse is looking in good condition for a man that has during the past few months been in so many pedestrian contests. The little Canadian deserves much credit for his pluck.” But Lacouse experienced the fatigue that eventually catches up with an ultrarunner. After 107 hours, he dropped out because of sickness.

Did he learn? Perhaps not, the next week he competed in another 75-hour race in the Music Hall in Boston. He showed amazing determination in a close race and won the race with 281 miles, earning him the Ennis medal, and $200. His winnings were piling up and he was becoming a very rich man. He quickly went to Dover, New Hampshire the next week and entered yet another 75-hour race with 16 others. He placed a surprising second place with 250 miles.

The following month, October 1879, he competed in Captain T. E. Halleck’s Worcester, Massachusetts six-day 75-hour race at the skating rink there. He finished in second place with an impressive 406 miles, winning $150. In November, he ran in yet another six-day, 75-hour race in Worcester, Massachusetts. He won again with 332 miles.

Lacouse was ready for the big time, the Rose six-day race in Madison Square Garden in December 1879, against 65 of the country’s best ultrarunners, including talents such as John Hughes, Steve Brodie, the newsboy, Frank Hart, and “Old Sport” Campana. But Lacouse’s recent massive miles finally caught up with him and he quit after reaching 188 miles. During his short 1879 pedestrian career, he had already run 2,280 miles in eleven races and won about $1,500.

1880 Competitions

In 1880, Boston still had great interest in pedestrian races and Lacouse was among their favorite sons. A 70-hour six-day race was held in the Music Hall in Boston. For the first two days, he was on the “sick list” but recovered and continued going over 200 miles. After he failed in another race the following month, he then wisely backed off and competed in lower distance ultras. He still tried several six-day races but did poorly.

Finally, he was again victorious at a six-day race held at the Boston Athletic Club’s covered training grounds, 520 Albany Street, winning with 475 miles. At the end of 1880 he raced for 130 hours at Boston’s Music Hall, “Lacouse never looked so well on a track before. He runs like a deer and is feeling confident of taking first place. He shows no sign of fatigue whatever, and his trainer, Mr. James Robinson, says that he will carry off the laurels.” He won with 425 miles in 127 hours. “On his leaving the track, he was loudly cheered by those present, and the wily little Frenchman kicked up his heels and remarked, ‘I never felt better in my life.’” He won $700.

1881 O’Leary Championship Belt Race

The most prestigious race of his career came in February 1881, the O’Leary Championship belt in Madison Square Garden in front of thousands. “Lacouse looks remarkably fresh, but he is believed to lack the grip necessary to carry him through the week.” He surprised many and climbed the leader board into fourth place by the final days. Large wagers of $5,600 had been made that he would finish in second or third place. However, Old Ben Curran was performing so well, twelve miles ahead, that he was disrupting this wager. Lacouse surrounded himself with shady characters. His backers boldly approached Curran to give up third place for $1,500 worth of wager tickets. The bribe was accepted, but later discovered by the race manager who made this public to keep the race legit. Lacouse finished in fourth place with 489 miles for a personal record. Curran reached 504 miles.

Lacouse didn’t even trust is own men. He felt that he was cheated, that his team had taken bribes to drug him. On day four, the trainer took him off the track and gave him something that “seemed to set his frame on fire” causing him to become feverish. Was it true, or just an excuse? He fired his trainers and disappeared from the sport for nine months. It was said that he was training himself, hidden in the woods of Massachusetts.

Comeback Attempt

In December 1881, Lacouse attempted a comeback and competed in the Ennis Six-Day race at the American Institute Hall in New York City, this time without a trainer. He started weighing only 116 pounds. At this race, Patrick Fitzgerald broke the world record with 582 miles. Lacouse stayed with the front-runners and broke 500 miles for the first time, finishing in fifth place with 501 miles, winning $100. In a weak condition, he was carried to his dressing room and attendants pulled off his shoes and socks that had not been removed for six days. He said, “By Jingo, my toenails, everyone came off with the stockings and the out skin halfway to my knees.” Lacouse again disappeared from the sport. During his three-year storied career, he competed in at least 23 races, winning six of them, reached more than 6,000 miles, and earned about five times the typical annual salary of the time,

Locouse’s Den of Ill-Repute in Gloucester

Instead of using his fortune for good, Lacouse turned to illegal activities to earn easy money. He established a boarding house in “Five Points” in Gloucester, Massachusetts. This was the redlight district of the city, a “den noted for harboring females of bad character. It was famous for assaults, shooting affairs, and attempted suicides.” Lacouse’s place was called a “resort” but was actually a brothel, saloon, and gambling hall. It was reported, “Lacouse made money fast and eluded justice on several occasions.”

By 1882, Lacouse had divorced or left his wife Catherine. She would marry again in 1887 to Patrick Mahoney, a fisherman. Lacouse married (or claimed to be married) his housekeeper in 1882, Maud (Lindsay) Edson, who had recently given birth to his son, Richard. Sadly, on Jun 19, 1884, Lacouse’s six-year-old son Joseph Richard Lacouse (1878-1945), by his first wife, Catherine, was playing in the upper story of the building on Porter Street and fell out of a window, causing a gash on his head and internal injuries. It was feared that he would not live and was taken to the hospital. Thankfully, he did recover.

Attempted Suicide?

Two months later, in August 1884, after Lacouse returned home from a trip to Portland, Maine, he had a terrible argument with Maud. “She stated that he attempted to shoot her, and that she took away the revolver twice. He then shot at himself, the bullet entering the back of the head. The shooting, she said, took place in the bedroom, but appearances indicated that he was on the sofa in the front room and fell forward on the floor.” The authorities were called. Lacouse was conscious and a doctor “probed for the ball. The bullet went through the outside of the skull and was not found.” It was said the cause for the shooting was because of jealousy but “the true version of the affair could not be ascertained.” Lacouse recovered and stayed with his wife. He later claimed that either Maud had fired the shot, or the gun went off accidently, that he did not try to commit suicide.

A couple of weeks later he published a strange notice in the newspaper stating that he would not pay any bills contracted by his wife.

Lacouse became an American citizen in October 1884. Strangely at the end of the year a notorious crook, John Houlett, was caught at Lacouses’s house of ill-repute. A detective was visiting there and caught the man. “The thief made considerable resistance and offered to pound him, but clubs were trumps and Houlett was dragged and locked up at Short Street. The police record shows that Houlett is one of the worst crooks in the city.”

The Mayor Attempts to Close Down the Business

In April 1885, it was said that Lacouse was operating a “den of infamy” in Gloucester that the new Mayor John S. Parsons (1836-1911) was determined to shut down. Once taking office, Parsons began a campaign of moral reform, and launched several raids on Gloucester’s brothels, including Lacouses’ Porter Street operation. Lacouse was arrested for “maintaining a nuisance.” Lacouse paid the bail.

Arrested for Beating Maud

Four months later, Lacouse was arrested again for assaulting his now former wife, Maud Edson. She had sold her furniture and intended to leave for Boston. Lacouse was accused of beating her. “On the night of July 28, 1884, while the revels were at their height in Lacouse’s den, a piercing cry of murder was heard by the patrolman on the beat, and upon forcing an entrance into the place, he found Maud Edson lying bleeding on the floor, her features so battered, that recognition was well-nigh impossible. The girl was insensible at the time and was removed to the hospital.” Lacouse was arrested on suspicion of being the assailant.

At the trial it was reported that he had thrown Maud down the stairs which caused her to be terribly disfigured. When the case was called, Maud could not be found, and it was alleged that Lacouse had arranged for her to be hidden away. “The testimony in the case by officers showed that his voice was heard cursing his wife during the disturbance. When arrested he said it was lucky that he was not arrested for murder. The judge said it was one of the most aggravating assaults that had come under his jurisdiction for a long time, and that the remark about murder was a confession.” His case would be referred to the grand jury and another bail was instituted of $600. Lacouse came up with the bail again and was released.

Porter Street Dive Again Raided

Soon after, Lacouse’s “Porter Street Dive” was again raided, and illegal hard liquors were found. “Officers saw five for six girls upstairs, the girls said they boarded and lodged there. The reputation of the house has not been a good one.” One girl said that Lacouse had knocked her down once and dragged her downstairs. The entire place was said to be noisy and disorderly. A lengthy trial was conducted with witnesses including Lacouse, who boasted that he did not have to pay police hush money to keep his place going, that instead he would make sure the annoying Mayor Parsons was voted out at the next election. (He would be reelected). Lacouse was found guilty of operating a place for prostitution and gaming, was fined $100, and sentenced to eight months in prison.

Lacouse Flees to Texas

A month later, October 5, 1885, Lacouse’s assault case came before the grand jury, but despite the $2,100 bail, he had fled to Galveston, Texas where he went to work in a saloon. Maud, who was apparently his wife again, followed him there. Lacouse got into an argument with his employer over money and right after he quit, the building was discovered to be on fire. He was suspected of causing it, but no firm evidence was found. He next opened a small restaurant and cheap boarding house with Maud.

Apprehended and then Escaped

In 1886, The district attorney in Gloucester hired the Pinkerton firm’s best detective, M. J. Healy to locate and apprehend Lacouse. The detective was successful, arrested Lacouse in Texas, and they started for Massachusettes by the steamship San Marcos to New York. Before leaving, Lacouse tried unsuccessfully to bribe the detective to let him go ashore. Then on the way, Lacouse went on a hunger strike and was put on suicide watch. “He was handcuffed for some time, but after a while Lacouse was freed from the iron bonds and mingled with the passengers in the cabin.” The steamer stopped at Newport News, Virginia for coal, anchored about eleven miles from shore in Chesapeake Bay.

One evening, Lacouse was playing cards in the cabin. The detective went on deck to light a cigar, and five minutes later a passenger reported that Lacouse had left the cabin. A search was performed but Lacouse was nowhere to be found. “Several people were on deck at the time, and it was clear moonlight, but no one had seen a man go overboard.” An intense search was made of the entire ship including the cargo areas that were storing cotton. Once the ship arrived in New York, detectives watched closely until all the cargo was removed but Lacouse was not found. “It was believed that Dick jumped overboard, as he would take any chance to escape, but as the sea was running high, there seemed no possible chance for his escape from drowning. The detective felt the loss keenly, that Lacouse was only the second man lost by the Pinkertons in 35 years.” The authorities presumed the Lacouse was dead. Some who knew that he was an extraordinary swimmer, believed that he had escaped and would eventually turn up.

Lacouse Found and Brought to Justice

To the great surprise of everyone, Lacouse lived and indeed had escaped. On June 3, 1885, he was arrested at Middlegge’s Place, “a pleasure resort” about five miles from Galveston, Texas. He had indeed swum ashore and made his way back to Texas and linked back up with his “pseudo wife,” Maud. “Last night, to the astonishment of the police, she appeared and swore out a warrant changing that Lacouse had again attempted to kill her. She divulged his hiding place.”

The Chief of Police, Jordan engaged four mounted officers to ride down the island to apprehend Lacouse. “Lacouse saw the cavalcade in the distance, guessed they were after him, and down the island he flew. The officers followed; their horses taxed to the utmost to overtake the runner. The chase continued five miles along the seashore and Lacouse was finally captured under a farmhouse.”

Lacouse claimed that on the ship his escape was aided by a man from Boston and some of the crew who sympathized with him. “He was provided with a life-preserver, and while the detective was doing the honors for some of the lady passengers, he quietly slipped overboard and swam toward the shore.” He said he saw Detective Healy and the officers of the San Marcos flashing their lights over the side of the ship looking for him. “He was laughing at them from the dark water in the distance.” It took him five hours to swim to the shore. He then went into a town where he found clothes, took a train to Baltimore, and returned by steamer to Galveston, arriving two weeks later. Old sailors said his story was improbable.

On return to Galveston, Lacouse had discovered that Maud had already taken up with another man and had sold his restaurant. He had demanded money from Maud, wanting to flee for Canada, but she refused, and they got into a fight during which he tried to kill her again, leading to his arrest.

The Pinkerton Detective Agency just couldn’t accept the wild escape story and believed that he had stowed away, escaped the search of the ship and returned to Galveston by the same steamer. The Boston Globe was also skeptical of the amazing story. “The story of swimming ashore, sounds a little fishy. If the story be true, he ought to be fitted out as a cruiser to protect our fisheries.”

C. Burrows, the captain of the San Marcos gave a different story. He believed that when the ship went into dock at Newport News to obtain the coal, that Lacouse, who was not being watched well by the detective, had simply lowered himself over the rail and swam 150 yards to the dock. Once they were out in the sea again, a search of the ship was made. The captain said, “The story of Lacouse’s jumping from the steamer 11 miles at sea is a good yarn to help a man out of a difficulty, but I don’t like to see the public gulled.”

At a Galveston trial for threatening bodily harm on Maud, she promptly withdrew her changed, but the trial went forward. Bail was set at $750 and he remained in jail. The Pinkertons were again engaged to take Lacouse back to Gloucester, Massachusetts to face trial there. Legal wrestling occurred to extradite him. Lacouse wanted to remain in Texas where he said he had the best jail that he had ever stayed in. After a couple weeks of wrangling, Pinkerton Detective Healy got his man and took charge of Lacouse with the help of the Texas Governor John Ireland (1827-1866). This time he took to prisoner to Boston by railroad. Lacouse soon found his new home in Salem Jail, in Boston.

Montana

No details were found about his trial, but about 1890, Lacouse, age 42, resurfaced in Butte Montana involved in mining with the Anaconda Copper Mining Company, working as a bricklayer, building smelters. He changed his last name to “Lacourse” and soon became a respected member of his community of Anaconda

When legendary Daniel O’Leary came to town on a barnstorming trip with other runners in 1891, Lacourse quickly organized a six-day race championship at Evan’s Opera House, that he also participated in. He was confident that he could win, so he held back during the early stages to let the betting odds against him increase. Then he poured it on. “Presents were showered upon him which were of nominal value. One-dollar bills which he had not time to examine did the work of tens or twenties urging him to further efforts. He ran his feet off and went into the lead on the fourth day.” He won with 501 miles, finishing in a suit of black, received a gold trophy with the figure of a man walking, and declared himself the champion of Montana. O’Leary reached 401.

Lacourse made a false claim that he ran in 17 six-day races in Boston and won 16 of them. “He says he can stay as long and run as fast as he ever did.” A few other Montana races were held, but Lacourse finally retired for good and concentrated on making money mining.

Final Years

In 1893, He married for a third time to Annie Lawnson (1866-1955). A daughter Helen (Doran) (1896-1990) and a son Octave “Otto” (1899-1987), would soon be born. Even though Lacourse seemed to have cleaned up his life, over the years it wasn’t surprising that he got involved in fights and lawsuits. In 1916, at the age of 68, he fell off a scaffold at a smelter and suffered some serious injuries. In 1921, at the age of 73, he and his wife in retirement, started to travel, taking vacations in California and Mexico, where he became ill. “He said he began to feel like his natural self as soon as the train carrying him came within sight of the big smelter stack.”

On November 4, 1923, Richard Lacourse died at the age of 75. He had not been feeling well since returning from an annual vacation in California. “He was in a jovial mood when he sat down to the supper table with his wife Sunday evening, and after eating remarked that he would lie down a while and rest. Shortly after, he laid down, his wife stepped to his side to inquire how he was feeling and found him dead. Death had come peacefully and without pain.” A long obituary was printed in the Montana newspaper that outlined his pedestrian accomplishments but left out his wild escape in Texas. A large funeral was held for him attended by the bricklayers’ and masons’ union. He was buried in Mount Carmel Cemetery, in Anaconda, Montana.

Legacy Left Behind

What legacy did Richard Lacouse leave behind? Sadly, it can be seen in his son who did not come with him to Montana. Back in Massachusetts, his son, Joseph appeared in the news regularly. He became a notorious criminal in the Boston area, involved in burglary and escaping from prison. He followed in his father’s terrible activities and in 1903, he and his wife, Winfred, were arrested, accused of operating a brothel in Gloucester, enticing young girls from Boston to be part of their business that was frequented by sailors and longshoremen. They were sentenced to prison and fined.

His son William was arrested for breaking and entering a house in 1906. He was found hiding under a bed. “He swore that he hadn’t stolen anything and wanted it to be believed that he had crawled under the bed to go to sleep.”

Son, Otto Lacourse became a stone mason in Montana, moved to Sacramento, California working as a bricklayer. In the 1950s he was a patient at the Napa Mental Hospital. He died in 1987 at the age of 92. Daughter Helen Lacourse married Joseph Doran, an iron moulder, and raised three children in Anaconda, Montana and then moved to California. She died in Oakland, California in 1990 at the age of 95.

Ultrarunning Stranger Things Series:

Sources:

Boston Globe (Massachusetts), Oct 29, 1875, May 5, 14-18, 31, Jun 1, Jul 24, Aug 4, 14, Jul 27, 1879, Oct 25-26, 1879, May 31, Dec 26, 1880, Mar 7, 20, 1881, Aug 20-21, Sep 6, 1884, Jun 20, Dec 30, 1884, Apr 2-3, 7, Aug 3, 17, Sep 15-16, 1885, May 14, Jun 3-4, 1886, Oct 12, 1888, Jul 25, 1906
Fall River Daily Evening News (Massachusetts), May 27, Oct 27, 1879
The News Journal (Wilmington, Delaware), Jun 2, 1879
Hartford Courant (Connecticut), Jul 28, 1879
New York Daily Herald (New York, New York), Aug 16, 1879
Fort Scott Daily Monitor (Kansas), Sep 7, 1879
New York Times (New York), Jan 28, Mar 2, 1881
The Galveston Daily News (Texas), May 19, Jun 3,5. 8, 26. Jul 1, 1886
Louis Globe-Democrat (Missouri), Jun 3, 1886
The Saint Paul Globe (Minnesota), Jun 4, 1886
The Sunday Leader (Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania), Jun 6, 1866
The Anaconda Standard (Montana), Feb 12, 16, 1892
The Butte Miner (Montana), Jun 21, 1921, Nov 6-15, 1923

120: Ultrarunning Stranger Things – Part 10: Richard Lacouse – Scoundrel

By Davy Crockett