Ultrarunning Stranger Things – Part 1: Two Tales

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By Davy Crockett

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On March 3, 1879, at the Fifth Regiment Armory in New York City, during Peter Van Ness’ attempt to walk 2,000 half-miles in 2,000 consecutive half-hours, one of the most shocking events in ultrarunning history took place. Van Ness, sleep deprived, drunk, and in intense pain, got hold of a gun and shot his trainer, Joseph Burgoine, in the arm, next took a shot at his manager, Simon Levy, grazing his silk hat. Panic resulted among the spectators. It could have resulted in mass murder. How could this be?

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The sport of ultrarunning during the 19^th century was truly filled with tales of strange things that are unthinkable and shocking to us today. This is the first part of more than ten true surprising articles/episodes taken from 19th century newspapers about wild tales that took place in the sport of ultrarunning/pedestrianism This episode will present two bizarre and shocking stories that have never been fully told and have been forgotten — the Van Ness shooting, and the head-scratching story of John Owen Snyder, “The Indiana Walking Wonder,” who may have walked and run more miles in three years than anyone in history.

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Peter Van Ness

Peter Lewis Van Ness (1853-1900) was from Brooklyn, New York. He began his famed professional pedestrian career in 1876 when he started to walk six-day matches against women, reaching 450 miles. He was about six-feet tall and was known to plod along in “rakish style” and a strange gait, wearing striped stockings up to his knees. He had walked in several six-day races and had success in 50-mile races.

On January 27, 1879, Van Ness, age 25, started his 2,000 half miles in 2,000 half hours competition in New York City against Edward Belden (1856-1926), age 22, of Milwaukee, Wisconsin. The venue was in the old Fifth Regiment Armory located in lower Manhattan, at Hester and Elizabeth Streets. The wagering stakes between the two were huge, $500 ($5,800 value today). Belden was trying to cover the 2,000 half miles in consecutive 20-minute segments. A track of sawdust and loam was created in the Armory’s drill room with eleven laps to the mile.

The 1,000 Mile Match Begins

Everything started out well during the first week. Both started to complain of calloused heels and Van Ness suffered from headaches. But both looked well and didn’t show signs of exhaustion. “Van Ness walks with a free and easy movement of his whole body, keeping a sharp eye on his opponent and laughing and talking with friends in the room. His walk is strongly suggestive of a hungry man on his way to dinner.” His fastest half-mile was clocked in 4:20.

Belden wore velvet trunks, red socks and a light-colored vest covered with medals. After a couple of weeks, Belden hit his knee against one of the stakes of the ring and it was feared that we would have to quit. “A speedy application of liniment relieved the pain and kept down the swelling so that the effects of the blow soon wore off.” Van Ness was said to be very nervous and cross, and “frequently has difficulties with his trainer when ‘time’ is called, and he has to appear on the track.” The dismal hall had strong odors of stale cigar smoke and beer. A small Italian orchestra played tunes on a harp, violin, and flute.

After 20 days, Beldan was a mess. “His feet are a mass of blisters and it is almost impossible to wake him up.” The stress put on both men, physically and mentally was incredible. On Feb 23^rd, after 28 days, Belden was successful in his grueling task and reached his 1,000 miles. “After finishing his journey, he retired to his room, donned citizens’ clothes, returned to the track and walked three half miles.” Van Ness was at 672 miles and continued. He said that he felt so well that he could continue for six months.

Van Ness Parties

On March 3, 1879, after Van Ness had covered about 859 miles in 36 days, everything went bad for Van Ness. Many of his friends from Brooklyn came to watch his performance and during his rest spells would join him in his room to drink. “The pedestrian joined them in their carousal. He drank freely of port wine and became hilarious.” Out on the track in his drunkenness, he entertained about 50 people with “some rapid walking and occasionally peculiar fancy steps, as if he were balancing himself on a giddy trapeze.”

A bell rang when he reached his half mile, and he went back to his room to party with his friends. Finally, completely drunk at 8:30 p.m., his friends were forced to leave by his handlers. For unknown reasons, one of his friends presented him with a gift of a revolver which was loaded. Van Ness then fell into a deep sleep.

Shots Are Fired

“When the moment came for him to be called to go upon the track, his trainer, Joseph Burgoine, undertook the task of getting him out of bed. But Van Ness was sound asleep, and it required physical force to awaken him. He protested against the operation and became violent and abusive.” Burgoine was forceful and insisted the Van Ness return to the track. His ankles and legs were badly swollen, and he complained about a burning sensation in his throat and brain.

“He broke away and dodged through a door opposite the dressing room. His trainer, Burgoine and the assistant trainer, Rafferty, burst through the door, and were met by the raving pedestrian with a seven-shot revolver in his hand. He had every appearance of a maniac. His eyes glared ferociously, and he was muttering unintelligible words to himself.”

“Van Ness excitedly presented a revolver at his trainer’s head, snapped the trigger, but it misfired. A second time he was more successful. The ball passed through Burgoine’s arm, just below the elbow. Burgoine fell and shouted, ‘I am shot.’ Then Van Ness discharged the pistol at his assistant trainer several times in rapid succession, causing a momentary stampede among the audience. The crowd of women and men rushed into the street and intense excitement prevailed.” One version of the incident claimed that Van Ness ran out into the building and emptied his pistol at the spectators, but that appeared to be a dramatic embellishment. But the audience heard the shots and the Italian orchestra dropped their instruments and got down behind the railing.

Van Ness’ manager and financial backer, Simon Levy (1840-1902), of Flushing, Long Island, New York, owner of clothing stores, rushed into the room and a bullet “popped his head,” put a hole through his silk hat, but luckily missed his scalp. The final shots only hit walls. “Van Ness struggled desperately with the two men and acted generally as if he were bereft of his reason.” After discharging seven shots, he was finally disarmed with no police intervention. Van Ness then fainted and was comatose.

Woman pedestrian rising star, 17-year-old, Amy Howard, (1862-1885) of Brooklyn, who had just put on a walking exhibition in the hall was in the women’s dressing room next door. Hearing the shots, the women in the room screamed. A bullet was later found in the wall of that room. “Howard declared that the bullet went almost near enough to her head to scorch her frizzes.”

The Show Must Go On

With so many dollars of wagers on the line, the show must go on. “Hot drops” were administered to the crazy pedestrian, and shortly thereafter Van Ness was brought back on the track and resumed his task at after 9:00 p.m.” Most of the spectators, fearing they would be shot, had left the building.

Why wasn’t Van Ness hauled off to jail by the police? His trainer, Burgoine, who suffered greatly from the shot to his arm, stayed in the room, and wanted to keep his wounding secret. He especially did not want any police involvement, fearing that Van Ness would be arrested and taken from the track. There was too much money on the line. But the detailed story was covered in the newspapers the next day. Burgoine explained that this was not the first time that Van Ness had behaved in a crazed manner, that he had experienced several mad fits during his walk. At one point he had even demanded getting a pistol to kill a cat that had been following him on the track.

Marketing Hoax?

The Boston Post speculated, “It is supposed the whole affair was an advertising dodge.” Given the printed evidence and conflicting strange versions of the story, it is possible that the Boston Post was correct. But contemporaries seemed to mostly believe the incident was true. The shot in the arm was only a flesh wound. On March 10, 1879, Van Ness successfully completed his 2,000 half miles in about 2,000 half hours. It is pretty clear that he missed at least one-half hour during the incident.

Two weeks later Van Ness raced against John Colston at Eagle Hall in Hoboken, New Jersey. But during the evening he quit, claiming that he received a telegram that his brother, Schuyler was dying in Brooklyn. “The visitors of the hall denounced the affair as a fraud.” His brother must have recovered because he did not die until 1908. Van Ness did not accomplish any further significant pedestrian accomplishments and he soon disappeared from the sport. He died of a heart attack in 1900 while playing cards with his family. “Peter Van Ness suddenly fell from his chair and died in a few minutes. He was in the best of health and had been laughing and joking over the game of cards.”

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The Strange Indiana Walking Wonder

John Owen Snyder (1834-1887), a farmer from Millgrove, Indiana, developed a bizarre ultrarunning affliction that caused him to walk or run nearly continually. He would walk at least eighteen hours a day and did it for three years. The mileage claimed, over 60,000 miles seems to be physically impossible, no one in history has legitimately come close to that mileage in three years. But with multiple detailed investigative reports, thousands of witnesses, and examinations from more than 50 doctors, there is little doubt that the man had a severe very rare ultra-walking affliction and perhaps he did walk that far.

Snyder was married with five children and lived on a small remote farm a few miles from any town. While working in the harvest fields with his sons on October 24, 1884, a feeling attacked his arms that was terribly painful. He discovered that the relief only came when he did vigorous exercise. He said, “I wanted to use my arms all the time. I had to keep ‘em in motion. I chopped wood in the day and at night I would grab a broom and scrub all night.”

Walking Begins

In six weeks, the disease shifted to his hips and legs, requiring him to walk to find relief. “I could not stand still. I had to keep moving. I used to go slow at first. I couldn’t sit down. My legs would get cold and pain me. Then I got to going pretty fast and then it got me running.”

It seemed like three layers had mysteriously formed on the soles of his feet. He believed that the only way to remove them would be through walking. “He at once took up the line of march in the rear of his dwelling on his farm, walking in a circle.” His friends and neighbors tried to get him to stop but failed in their efforts. His doctor tried to convince him that the problem was in his head, not his feet and legs.

Efforts to Cure Snyder

A religious evangelist came one day to cure him. Snyder said, “He went down upon his knees and prayed so long and loud that it made me tired. He said I had no faith. I told him to go over to a neighbor and cure a poor fellow afflicted with cancer and then call again, and I would have more faith. He never returned.”

Early on, he was sent to an asylum and continued to walk while under mental care. “When restrained from walking, his feet alternately would lift from the ground. He said that if he would stop walking, his limbs and body would fly into a thousand fragments.” He was released from the hospital and declared mentally sane, harmless, but afflicted by a rare brain disease. He continued to walk.

Nationwide Publicity

About nine months later, in August 1885, the first of many news stories was published nation-wide about Snyder, over-estimating that he had walked 16,000 miles so far. “He walks around a small ring near his house in all kinds of weather, eating as he walks and stopping only when too tired to go any longer. Then he drops into a chair and sleeps a few hours, and immediately resumes his walk. He has not lain down since he was attacked by this peculiar mania.”

He never seemingly would grow hungry and never asked for food or drink, but took anything given him, all the time continuing his endless round. His two adult sons had to take over the farm work. One day he decided to help and steer the horse plowing the field. But when the plow struck a root and became stuck, he let go of the plow handles and continued in a circle around the field himself. His plow paths were always in a continuous circle.

As his continuous walking continued, he became stronger and was able to increase his pace and run occasionally. Witnesses were unable to keep up with him. “The circle in the rear of his residence is beaten as hard as a rock, and not a vestige of grass may be seen. He never removed his clothing, but about 2 a.m. he occupied a chair near his circle and at once would fall asleep.”

In cold weather he walked in his small home in a room reserved for his walking. While inside, he felt like a prisoner but would accelerate his pace until he “fairly runs about his apartment.” He wore broad, heavy-soled shoes, without socks, and the muscles and tendons of his legs were as tense and firm as rawhide. Oddly, he never became sick. His digestion was good and temperature, circulation and respiration normal.

Even more strangely, he seemed to have a gift to foretell coming events. Many events occurred that he predicted accurately. In 1885, he talked about a great world war that would happen in a few decades, but also predicted that the world would soon end as the sun cooled. “He never jests or laughs, nor whistles, but will talk to all who visit him and is clear and lucid on all points except the cause of his desire to walk. He is of a quiet disposition, unless aroused by some insinuation that he is a crank or monomaniac; then he is someway violent and demonstrative.”

After more than a year of this, he believed it would take 50,000 miles to cure him of his malady. But after believing he exceeded that distance, he kept it going

Hundreds Come to Witness

Hundreds of curious people would visit Snyder on his remote farm each week and watch him walk for hours. They went away mystified but convinced that the bizarre reports were true. A few months later it was falsely reported that he was walking himself into his grave. “He was in the clutch of death but has resumed walking. Physicians say it is only a question of endurance. Death alone, they say, can relieve him from the iron grip of his mysterious malady.”

A month later, during the cold December of 1886, a reporter described his home, an old three-room log cabin. “In front and on either side of the cabin are narrow foot-paths, worn deep into the earth and made hard almost as rock by constant travel.” He went into the house and found Snyder marching around a wood-burning stove. The walker enjoyed telling the story of his sad affliction.

He stated that he had not been able to sit down for a meal with his family in over two years. “A large pan was strapped in front of him, in which is placed his food.” He had also perfected the art of sleepwalking. “The many absurd and ridiculous stories that have been put into circulation concerning him afford himself and his family much amusement, as well as a great deal of annoyance.”

In two years, he had worn out ten pairs of heavy shoes and twice that number of soles and had walked an estimated 59,000 miles. He had been married for 30 years and two of his adult sons cultivated the farm and provided support for the family. Three daughters helped with duties in the home. He felt confident that at some time he would overcome the disease.

Exhibitions in Museums

In January 1887, Snyder was convinced to put on exhibitions in cities throughout the Midwest attracting thousands to come to see him. As he traveled from city to city, he walked in train cars. His managers secured venues for him to walk day and night. His first visit was to Cincinnati, Ohio where he walked at a museum in a space 100×50 feet enclosed by a railing. A Doctor Zenner, professor of nervous diseases at Ohio Medical College, observed him for 48 hours. Snyder walked for all but seven of those hours proving to the doctor that he was not an imposter. But his disease was a mystery.

After two weeks, he next moved on to Chicago by walking in a train’s baggage car. He then walked at Kohl & Middleton’s Dime Museum for $100 per week. Chicagoans were amazed. “He walks with rather an awkward shuffle, with his hands hanging in a listless way at his side. He walks for the same reason other people breathe, because he is obliged to in order to live.”

He started to be called “The Indiana Walking Wonder.” He told the people at a Dime Museum, “I can set down sometimes and sleep a half an hour, but not often, and it isn’t pleasant. I have lain down on the bed several times but couldn’t stand it. In the last four months, I have lain down four times. I don’t get tired walking. I get tired when I stop.” Changing his clothes was a big problem because he was always moving. For three days and nights his attendants watched for an opportunity when he could stop long enough to change his pants.

In Chicago, an entire floor of the West Side Museum was reserved for his use to walk day and night around a little track. Spittoons were arranged along his route because he was a big tobacco chewer. He kept company there with Princess Ida and a company of performing birds.

His walking pace was observed to be about three miles per hour. “Snyder walked with a shuffling gait, very difficult for an ordinary man to keep step with. He always wore rough shoes, the heavy kind often worn by farmers when plowing. Sometimes he would trot for an hour or two.” Many physicians and professors came to observe him and tried to diagnose the illness. No one had ever seen anything like it before. The general opinion was that he was a victim of a nervous disorder.

While in Chicago the odd feeling went from his legs to the soles of his feet and he had hope that he was finally walking out of it, but the weather changed, and the pain went back up in his legs again. He explained what it felt like. “It is a kind of tickling pain. It goes first up one side of my leg and then down the other and feels more like a bug or something crawling up and down your legs more than anything else.”

He moved his show on to Indianapolis. More than 10,000 people would come to Eden Musee to watch him walk during a week. He then walked at various fairs in Indiana. But after nine months, he stopped his tour once an impostor started appearing in cities. He put a stop to the fraud and vowed to never appear in public again. His appearances netted him about $12,000 (worth $370,000 in today’s value). The fortune allowed him to expand his farm to 50 acres and make his family comfortable.

Snyder’s Final Months of Walking

A few months later in the summer, a correspondent visited Snyder walking on his farm on a hot day in the 90s. “Notwithstanding the excessive heat, Mr. Snyder showed not the slightest evidence of fatigue, as it may seem, was as cool, apparently as an iceberg, no traces of perspiration being visible.” Hundreds visited the farm weekly.

During the Fall of 1887, Snyder became ill and started to get steadily weaker. His legs began to swell, making him walk with a limp. “It was a sad scene that met the eye of this reporter. With feeble, tottering steps, and a face upon which was stamped suffering and melancholy.” When asked if he would ever stop walking he replied, “I am afraid not in this world. In the next, dunno.”

He soon became pale and haggard and at times refused to talk. It was evident that he was slowly dying. When visited in early November, he said, “I feel I am nearing the end of my journey.” A week earlier he rejoiced when he thought the end had come when he became blind and felt faint, but he revived and continued on. He said he still averaged walking about 20 miles per day. He said he was feeling lonesome and sad at times. “I fear I may die, and none be near me to know how I die or assist me if I need help. I wish to die while walking about. My three years’ affliction has warmed my heart towards all mankind.”

But still he walked on. “he says the only relief he can obtain is in keeping in motion. To stop means suicide, to stop means death, and a terrible death. To stop, the legs and feet cramp until the torture is beyond endurance in its intensity.”

Finally in late November he was confined to his bed, requiring his family to constantly rub his legs to prolong his life. Too weak to walk, he still had a desire to move his legs and was in agony if his attendants ceased rubbing him.

Snyder died on December 5, 1887, at the age of 54. He finally died of his strange affliction. The sad announcement of Snyder’s death was published in newspapers all over the country. It was said that he had walked more miles than was ever accomplished in three years by any human. At his death, he had walked 1,115 consecutive days. If you conservatively estimate that he walked 40 miles per day, that would be 44,600 miles in those three years. He was buried in Strong cemetery, near Albany, Indiana. It is possible that he had a very extreme case of “Restless Legs Syndrome,” also known as “Willis-Ekbom Disease” which wasn’t fully documented until 1945.

Ultrarunning Stranger Things Series:

Sources:

The Buffalo Commercial (New York), Jan 28, 1879
The New York Times (New York), Feb 2, 10, Mar 24, 1879
The Inter Ocean (Chicago, Illinois), Jan 18, May 1, 1887, Feb 15, 1879
The Saint Paul Globe (Minnesota), Feb 24, 1879
The Philadelphia Inquirer (Pennsylvania), Feb 24, 1879
The Sun (New York City, New York), Mar 4, 1879
The Boston Globe (Massachusetts), Mar 4, 1879
New York Daily Herald (New York), Mar 4, 1879
The Gazette (Montreal, Quebec, Canada), Aug 19, 1885
The Indianapolis News (Indiana), Aug 7, 1885, Dec 18, 1885
Winfield Daily Courier (Kansas), Feb 17, 1886
The Post-Star (Glens Falls, New York), Jul 8, 1886
The Indianapolis Journal (Indiana), Nov 23, Dec 12, 1886, Apr 10-11, Jul 28, 1887
The Muncie Morning News (Indiana), Jan 8, 1887
The Dayton Herald (Ohio), Jan 21, 1887
The Fort Wayne Sentinel (Indiana), Mar 21, 1887
The Indianapolis Journal (Indiana), Apr 17, 1887
Chicago Tribune (Illinois), Oct 29, 1887
The Jasper Weekly Courier (Indiana), Nov 11, 1887
The Advance (Soldiers Grove, Wisconsin) Dec 12, 1887
The Huntington Democrat (Indiana), Dec 15, 1887
The News (Quincy, Illinois), Dec 6, 1887
The Cincinnati Enquirer (Ohio), Dec 6, 1887
The Boston Globe (Massachusetts), Dec 7, 1887
Manitoba Weekly Free Press (Winnipeg, Canada), Dec 8, 1887
Democrat and Chronicle (Rochester, New York), Apr 15, 1900

111: Ultrarunning Stranger Things – Part 1: Two Tales

By Davy Crockett