The 1879 Women's International Six-Day Race in New York City

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By Davy Crockett

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Many women participated in six-day races during the 1800s. With the great publicity of the Astley Belt Six-Day races, and the popularity of the new go-as-you-please format inviting running, the six-day race exploded into a craze in America and Great Britain. Of the 850 total starters in 85 six-day races in 1879, more than 120 starters were women. The details of the 17 women’s races held that year were fascinating, full of surprising drama, and needs to be remembered in this history, especially given the strong discriminating feelings toward women athletics in that era and for the century that followed.

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Women’s International Six-Day

After the Third Astley Belt Race was concluded in New York City’s Gilmore’s Garden (Madison Square Garden) on March 15, 1879, (see episode 109), it was quickly announced that a “Grand Ladies’ International Six-Day Race” would also be held at Gilmore’s Garden in less than two weeks. It would be the first “go-as-you-please” (running-allowed) six-days race for women. Yes, women would start running to the shock of the Victorian Age public.

Because of scheduling conflicts in the building, the race would need to span across a Sunday. At first, they were told they would be allowed to run on Sunday. However, the police chief later decided that they would have to take a 24-hour rest on Sunday during the race.

For the first time, a women’s ultrarunning race would include spectacular prizes for the winner. The first-place prize would be $1,000 ($28,750 value today) in cash along with a belt similar to the Astley belt, called the “Walton Belt” made by Tiffany valued at $250. The manager of the race was Francis Theodore “Plunger” Walton (1837-1911), a racehorse man and manager of the St. James Hotel in New York City. A hefty entrant’s fee of $200 was required to ensure that only the most serious women pedestrians would participate. All women who reached 325 miles, would get their fee back.

Many women athletes expressed interest, including a number of amateur pedestrians trying to break into the sport. The same track for the Third Astley Belt race would be used. Army tents were provided for each competitor and three medical attendants would take care of them during the race.

The Start

On the evening of March 27, 1879, as a promenade concert was being held, many women accompanied by friends. carried bundles, bedding, trunks, and other possessions to the row of white tents in Gilmore’s Garden. At 11 p.m., the eighteen women starters listened to race rules that included a new rule against dogging the runner’s heels ahead, a rule that wouldn’t be enforced very well.

The ladies were arranged in four rows and started with the word “go,” accompanied by music from the band and the cheers of about 1,000 people. Exilda La Chapelle, of Canada, was the early favorite, but few bets were made. The news press was generally unfavorable about having women participating in such an event. They wrote, “The pitiful spectacle of 18 women starting on a six days’ walk for money prizes was witnessed by about 1,000 spectators.” New York City’s foremost pedestrian promoter, William B. Curtis, (1837-1900), founder of the New York Athletic Club, refused to have anything to do with the race other than collecting the money to guarantee the promised prize package of $1,750.

It was reported, “As soon as the eighteen were well under way, the fun began. The crowd seemed to regard the affair much in the same farcical light as they would a burlesque entertainment at a theatre. They were a strange lot. Tall and short, heavy and slim, young and middle-aged, some pretty and few almost ugly. Here and there was a display of shapely limbs.”

As usual, the press commented about the dress of the female pedestrians. “The dress of most of the walkers is as unsuitable for successful pedestrianism as it can well be made. All the dresses are short and reach but a little below the knee. Instead of being made of flannel and as simply as possible, most of them are heavy garments of velvet, and many are covered with embarrassing bows, and knots of ribbon. The foot gears various, and while some are neatly and sensibly shod with laced boots, others wear low dancing slippers that will quickly fill with sawdust and cause trouble to the wearers.”

The poor women had to endure laughing and insulting remarks from the crowds of men who would hang over the rail surrounding the track. Some of the women runners would blush and look down, but most would just face their tormentors with brazen looks and often answer back boldly.

Exilda La Chapelle

Exilda La Chapelle (1859–1935), age 20, was born in Marseilles, France and as a child her family moved to Canada. Both of her parents soon died, and she was raised by an uncle. She began her walking exhibitions at the young age of 13, in 1872, in Canada and later in the upper Midwest of the United States. She married at age 15, gave birth to a boy, but he died within his first year, which devastated her. In 1877, she returned to her walking career.

At age 19, in 1878, being called, “Madame La Chapelle,” she walked 336 miles from Montreal to Toronto in 100 hours. Later that year in a competition with a man, Phil Dugan, Jr. (1854-1935) of Oshkosh, Wisconsin, on a track, he hit her twice with his elbows as she tried to pass him. She gave him a good slap in the face as she left the track.

She was described as “a small woman, compactly built, straight as an arrow and possesses wonderful endurance. She is very pleasant in appearance. She walks without effort.”

From January 25-February 22, 1879, she walked 2,700 quarter miles, in 2,700 consecutive quarter hours at Folly Theatre in Chicago on a tiny track, 28 laps to a mile. The Washington Post critically compared watching her suffer through that accomplishment like viewing the Spanish Inquisition. Her best 50-mile time was accomplished in 8:40, and her best 100-mile time was 25:24. She recently walked ten miles in 1:43:06, thought to be a world walking record for a woman.

Day One

La Chapelle walked the first mile in 10:30 with a two-lap lead already. After only an hour, and 3.7 miles, Marion Cameron of New York, was taken out of the race by her husband because he believed she was being cheated out of laps. She also was upset that she had to share a tent with another contestant and had to disrobe in the presence of strangers.

After 13 hours, the score was: Exilda La Chapelle 53 miles, Ada Wallace 48 miles, Bella Kilburn 45 miles.

La Chapelle held her lead through the entire first day. Her husband of a couple of years, a doctor also from France, William Napolean Derose (1852-), encouraged her to slow down. She quickly became a crowd favorite because of her occasional sprints. “Her gait was nervous and not over easy, but she showed little signs of weariness.” She was described as “small, vivacious and the liveliest walker.” She weighed about 100 pounds and was dressed in blue and white with red stockings. “Her arms keep vigorous time to the movement of her tough, sinewy limbs.”

As the day went on, most of the running turned into walking. By evening, there were about 2,000 spectators watching, with few women in the crowd. At the end of the day, the score was La Chapelle 88 miles, Wallace 75, and Kilbury 73

Day Two

At the beginning of day two, after midnight, all the runners looked very pale and tired. One young runner was white as a ghost. People were speculating that the race would be a bust, both financially and athletically. “There were rumors that the women who held out the longest would be the most deluded.” Three more women had dropped out, leaving fourteen.

By mid-morning, it was reported, “Many of the starters have already failed and those remaining are so grotesque and miserable in appearance that the boors among the spectators jeer them mercilessly, profanely, and indecently. Altogether it is a disgraceful exhibition for everybody concerned, especially for those who expect to make money out of the women’s suffering.”

“The one redeeming feature of this walk is that no smoking is allowed on the floor of the Garden and the atmosphere is comparatively clear.”

M’lle Lola, a famed trapeze artist from New York City was in the race. She had gained pedestrian fame when she became the first woman to walk against a man, a “battle of the sexes” in P. T. Barnum’s Hippodrome (see episode 97) four years earlier. “She moved around in a dark blue suit like a sick mermaid. Her head is constantly turned to one side, and the only time she smiles is when she passes her daughter, who sits in front of her tent playing with her pet cat.”

La Chapelle, with 140 miles by evening, continued to walk strongly as if she had just begun, with Bertha Von Berg just ten miles behind. “She and La Chapelle were the first two in the race and a special rivalry seemed to exist between them. Von Berg’s heavy frame was evidently a handicap to her.” La Chapelle was using Charles Rowell’s strategy to follow Von Berg each lap closely to maintain her lead. This started to bug Von Berg. She stopped and said, “If you come within six feet of me again, I’ll slap you in the face.” La Chapelle backed off after that, but she said she would “wipe the floor” with Von Berg’s face. But Von Berg was gaining on her.

Bertha Von Berg

Bertha Von Berg was born in Rochester New York of German parents. Her true name was Mattie Gangross. She was a boot and shoe seamstress. She burst into the pedestrian sport in 1878 when she walked 100 in 27 hours. But later she really impressed all by bringing her 100-mile time down to 23:12 and she started to win big money racing against men in upstate New York. She was described as a gallus creature, with sleepy eyes.

An observer of the six-day race wrote, “Von Berg sails around the track in a delicate mauve-tinted silk. She evinces her purpose in a quiet way to do or die easily. She is one of the finest figures in the procession. She is a large woman, walks with stride and a free swing of arms, and looks as though she were possessed of great powers of endurance.”

Three more contestants dropped out during that day, leaving eleven. The score after 48 hours was La Chapelle 141 miles, Von Berg 133, and Wallace 131.

Day Three

In the afternoon of day three, La Chapelle had a terrible physical strain that caused her to give up her lead to her nemesis Von Berg. “She had made a struggle to hold her own, coming out of her tent repeatedly and walking two or three laps when she should have been in bed.” She soon fell into third place and took a long stop, completely exhausted. The new second place runner was Ada Wallace, who received applause as she jumped up the scoreboard and progressed around the track “with her funny walk and still more curious style of skipping.” She used a type of “rope-skip” motion to rest her muscles.

Ada Wallace was about 30 years old, and from Baltimore, Maryland. She claimed to be the niece of General Joseph Hooker (1814-1879), a general for the Union in the Civil War. He defeated Robert E. Lee at the Battle of Chancellorsville. There is some doubt in the truth of that relation. She was a newcomer to Pedestrianism. In February 1879 she walked 100 miles in 24 hours in New Jersey. In early March she started a walk to attempt 2,058 quarter miles in the same number of quarter hours. After a week she quit because of a lack of spectators, but her judges later admitted her walk was a fraud with long rest sessions, missing nearly five hours per day.

During the six-day race she was described, “Wallace holds a cob in each hand like O’Leary and has high-heeled boots on. She moved with a strong stride in purple tunic and blue stockings. She is solidly built and walks with a steady firm step.”

About 1,500 spectators were in attendance during the evening that showed good enthusiasm toward the women. During the last 15 minutes of the day, Von Berg pushed very hard to reach her 199^th mile before the 11 p.m. pistol was fired to mark positions for taking Sunday off. They all were then taken away in carriages to a Turkish bath to rest.

The score after three days was Von Berg 199 miles, Wallace 186, La Chapelle 184.

Day Four

At 12:05 a.m. on Monday, after a day of rest, the ten remaining women continued their run. “Von Berg looked ruddy and well. She was in good spirits and walked with no signs of fatigue. Wallace’s cheeks were flushed, and she started off on a trot, moving easily. The plucky little French woman, La Chapelle, was a trifle pale, but she walked briskly without lameness. Her slight figure did not look able to stand the strain of another three days.” Three hundred spectators showed good humor and gave nice applause.

Fannie Rich, a book agent from Boston, reversed her direction on the track and would not give the inside lane to the others for some reason. She looked like she was losing her balance and started to collide with the other runners. After being warned by the judges, she retired to her tent, making loud charges of fraud against the scorers. When her trainer tried to reason with her, she hit him over the head with a stick, got a whip and hit respected Referee Edward F. Plummer across the face. She claimed that he pulled out a pistol, but he denied that. She was withdrawn from the race after 131 miles and griped about the unfair conditions she put up with compared to the other ladies.

The strangest highlight of the day took place at about 5:30 a.m. when a drunken man in the audience, flirting with two women in a box began a cruel mocking of La Chapelle as she went around the track. It was soon discovered that he was her husband, William Napoleon Derose (1852-), also of France. She chewed him out in French, and it was such an embarrassment to her, that she decided to quit the race after running 207 miles. She said, “I have made a pail full of money for that man, and he goes and gets drunk. Now he will have to work for his own living.” He pleaded with her to continue, to try to win the second-place money.

The two quickly reconciled but La Chapelle was now irate about the race. She accused someone of trying to drug her and she was clearly mad at Von Berg. “I could gain on Von Berg anytime I wanted, but she wanted to whip me three or four times. She got very mad at me.” She accused the scorers of cheating her on laps, about ten miles. The true breaking point for her was when a scorer put a stick in front of her and wouldn’t let her reverse direction to follow Von Berg closely. Twelve hours later she applied to enter the race again but was rejected by the race management.

Seven runners remained. Eva St. Clair, of Tonbridge England, had not run since the morning of Saturday, day three, and had been lying in her tent for fifty hours. She was finally taken back to her New York apartment “in such a precarious state that serious doubts were entertained as to whether she would live or die.” She was clearly worn out, having two weeks earlier, finished walking 1,250 quarter miles in the same number of quarter hours. The poor lady didn’t have a cent to her name and the next day her landlord tried to evict her, even though she couldn’t even stand up.

The score after day four was: Von Berg 262 miles, Wallace 246, and Kilbury 239. On finishing her last lap of the day, Wallace was nervous about Kilbury gaining on her and bugged by a slow scoreboard updater. She said, “I’ll whip that Dutch scorer for hanging up the wrong figure.” She was also mad at Kilbury for dogging behind her. “She may beat me in her mind, but she can’t in her legs.”

Day Five

Early on day five, two more women withdrew from the race, leaving only five of the original 18 starters. Von Berg continued to walk strongly with a 23-mile lead over determined sixteen-year-old Bella Kilbury.

Bella Kilbury

Bella Kilbury (1862-1897) of Hoboken, New Jersey, was the youngest runner in the race. She began the race penniless and humorously called her training wretched. She was described as “petite and fair, and altogether a lively girl dressed. There was an apprehension that she would wear herself out too soon. “She is the only really graceful runner in the lot and called, ‘Dead-eye Dick’ by friends because she had a glass eye. She wore a walking suit of blue silk, pink sash, and a quantity of silver lace and bullion fringe, renders her quite a striking object.”

By day five, young Kilbury, looking pale and haggard with lines on her forehead indicating suffering, limped along. The doctor had urged her to leave the track, that she would likely ruin her health for life if she continued. She refused and continued in her attempt to keep up with Von Berg. Of the walkers left, Kilbury attracted the most sympathy from the crowd.

Some of the New York press were stunned by what they witnessed. “They struggled on day after day, having no decent places to sleep. Suffering was written in every line of the face, while the steps grew slower and tottering. It was as pitiable a sight as mortals ever were invited to pay 50 cents each to look upon.”

The score after day five was: Von Berg 317 miles, Wallace 296, Kilbury 293.

Day Six

On day six, as the remaining women slept, it was noted that “the spectacle was made still more disgusting by the appearance of stalwart loafers hanging about the tents where the women slept.”

Later in the morning, Kilbury caught up and passed Wallace into second place. “After she passed Wallace, it was found necessary for one of the judges to escort her around the track for an hour to protect her from Wallace who lavished abuse upon the young Hoboken girl, calling her the vilest epithets and threatening her with bodily harm.” Kilbury quickly extended her lead by several miles. She was given constant cheers and was presented with baskets of many flowers. She draped an American flag on her shoulders and walked around beating a kettle drum. Later as things calmed down, all five women marched together to the music of “Yankee Doodle.”

As the race ended about 11 p.m., the three podium winners, Von Berg, Kilbury, and Wallace finished together as about 3,000 people cheered them on. The finals score was Von Berg, with a new world record of 372 miles, Kilbury 351, and Wallace 336. Von Berg was proclaimed the “champion long-distance female walker of the world” and received the Watson Belt which was made of maroon velvet and included four square plates of silver.

The promised prize money was paid to the three victors, but there was controversy over returning or deducting the $200 entrance fee, and it appeared that Kilbury was swindled out of $200 even though she reached over 325 miles. Von Berg received the largest women pedestrian winnings ever, $1,000 (valued at $28,750 today). The organizers kept all the gate money to themselves to pay expenses and receive a profit.

Viro Farrand, (1825-1898), a 53-year-old grey-haired veteran ballet dancer turned runner, had been paid off with $10 to quit after she grew ill. She had been bobbling around painfully with a sore knee. “When requested to withdraw her eyes filled with tears and she begged to be permitted to keep on.” After the finish, she was finally taken to Bellevue Hospital by ambulance, after suffering from chills and fever for 36 hours. She would recover and go on to resume her ballet career until at least 1888 at the age of 63.

Reaction

Criticism about the women’s race flooded in many newspapers, much of it unfair against women, but some also pointing out the strange drama that took place nearly every day. It painted a picture of crude women parading around, flirting with men in an environment that encouraged the worst dregs of society to act vulgar in full display of the public.

The characterizations were clearly affected by bias against letting women participate in such a sport. In Indiana it was commented, “The five who persevered were not a lovely spectacle as they crawled around the ring. Their hair had not been fixed for half a week, their faces had not been washed and some of them had not changed their clothes for five days. To make a long and unpleasant story short, this show of disreputable women and shiftless loafers is over.”

It was clear that many of the women were undertrained who should not have been allowed to complete. They pushed beyond their ability of endurance either by themselves or their backers. A week later a likely false rumor circulated that one of the women had died. Brooklyn proclaimed, “Pedestrianism is a noble and healthful exercise when it is devoted to the right ends, but such a vile exhibition as that which has just closed is totally devoid of any elevating influences. It is high time that something was done to stop these loose women from making themselves conspicuous. Let us go along in the old way, walking when we must, but never utterly abandoning street cars and stages.”

In Massachusetts: “The scene was fearfully brutal, many of the worst passions were excited, and the corrupting disgrace ought to be stopped.” Charges of brutality were emphasized in Brooklyn. “Some of the walkers walked as many as 25 miles without eating, not having means to buy food, and the majority of the contestants walked against disadvantages which men would die under. Help is needed for pedestrians of the weaker sex who will do whatever they choose and will imitate men in everything that offers remuneration.”

In Illinois: “The show of women walkers ended in a manner that ought to cause the managers of the spectacle to be held up to public execration. There ought to be a law in every state making it a penal offence to carry on and manage such a show. It is against common sense to attempt such feats as a six-day race. These desperate contests that rack the body for months are neither manly nor decent.” Some New Yorkers started putting pressure on city officials to refuse to grant licenses to similar future events. ”

Whether fair or not, much of the public was left with an impression that the race was “public torture of women. One of the most brutal exhibitions afforded the public in some time.” Negative feelings of women pedestrianism were expressed worldwide. England published this statement, “Woman is not physically organized for a six day’s tramp and it is a shame to allow her to abuse herself.”

But it wasn’t the end of the women’s six-day race. Just four months later, another such race would be held in San Francisco, California and a massive women’s race would return to New York City by the end of the year.

The parts of this Six-Day Race series:

Sources:

Harry Hall, The Pedestriennes: America’s Forgotten Superstars
Dahn Shulis, “Enduring a life of hardship, Exilda La Chapelle”
Green Bay Advocate (Wisconsin), Jul 11, 1878
Champaign Country Herald (Urbana, Illinois), Oct 16, 1878
The Oshkosh Northwestern (Wisconsin), Dec 13, 1878
Minneapolis Journal (Minnesota), Jan 28, 1879
Buffalo Morning Express (New York), Mar 24, 1879
Buffalo Courier (New York), Mar 24, 1879
The Boston Globe (Massachusetts), Mar 22, 25, 27-28, 31, Apr 1-2, 1879
The New York Times (New York), Mar 26-30, Apr 1-2, 1879
New York Daily Herald (New York), Mar 23, 28, 1879
Democrat and Chronicle (Rochester, New York), Mar 25, 1879
Louis Globe (Missouri), Mar 27, 1879
The Sun (New York, New York), Mar 28, 31, Apr 1, 1879
The Brooklyn Union (New York), Mar 28, 1879
The Buffalo Commercial (New York), Mar 28, 1879
Times Union (Brooklyn, New York), Apr 3, 1879
Fall River Daily Evening News (Massachusetts), Apr 4, 1879
The Pantagraph (Bloomington, Illinois), Apr 5, 1879
The Inner Ocean (Chicago, Illinois), Apr 8, 1879
Gloucester Citizen (England), Apr 10, 1879
The Indianapolis News (Indiana), Apr 12, 1879
The Brooklyn Daily Eagle (New York), Apr 3, 1879

110: Six-day Race Part 16: Women’s International Six-Day (1879)

By Davy Crockett