The most difficult a human being was ever asked to run
I had a sort of presentiment that the Olympiad would match the mediocrity of the town
Locals called it “the stinking river.” It was neither colloquialism nor affectionate nickname, so much as accurate descriptor. The river’s weak flow pooled sewage within America’s second largest city, and typhoid – among other diseases – followed. It was a relic of the prehistoric Lake Chicago, whose retreat formed modern Lake Michigan some 11,000 years ago, leaving areas of swamp and sluggish water flow in its wake.
Efforts to reverse the Chicago River’s flow were taken up around the middle of the 19th century with disappointing results. In 1871, work to deepen the river managed to reverse the waters for precisely one season. Seventeen days into the new century, an engineering marvel comprised of canal locks finally managed a permanent reversal, sending the flow of the stinking sewage waters 300 miles south to the city’s chief midwestern rival, St. Louis.
Seven years prior, Chicago scored a massive cultural coup, beating out St. Louis to host the 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition. The 690-acre world’s fair lasted just under seven months and changed the city forever. St. Louis would get its own crack at the event 11 years later. Where the earlier fair was a slightly delayed celebration of Columbus’ arrival, the “Gateway to the West” marked the centennial anniversary of the Louisiana Purchase. It, too, missed the mark by a year, in a bid to involve more states and countries in the festivities.
While the St. Louis event didn’t achieve the cultural purchase of its predecessor, it still offered several important technological debuts, like the telephone, x-ray and fax machine. It hosted the world’s first airship contest, popularized the waffle cone and inspired the popular song, "Meet Me in St. Louis.” The massive “human zoo,” however, presented a far more dubious legacy.
Chicago managed to beat out St. Louis yet again, winning the bid to the first-ever American Olympics that summer. This time, however, the Windy City win didn’t last long. After delaying the fair a year, St. Louis grew concerned they would be overshadowed by a competing event in a nearby city that was both better known and more easily accessed. David Francis – the former St. Louis mayor and Missouri who had spearheaded the fair’s delay – announced that the Louisiana Purchase Exposition would host its own games, challenging the third Olympics of the modern era.
The threats worked. The emissaries the politician sent to meet with the game’s organizers sealed the deal. “Everything is settled,” they cabled the World’s Fair Commission in Paris. “You have the Olympics.” The games’ founder, Pierre de Coubertin, was none too pleased about having his hand forced in such a manner. He wrote decades later, “I had a sort of presentiment that the Olympiad would match the mediocrity of the town.”
The abrupt change of venue one of many issues. The Russo–Japanese War had kicked off the beginning of the same year, severely limited mobility among participating nations. Fewer than 1/10th of the 650 competing athletes arrived from outside of North America. The games weren’t entirely devoid of highlights, however. The decathlon, boxing, dumbbell lifting and freestyle wrestling made their modern Olympic debut in St. Louis. German-born George Eyser – who had lost a leg in a train accident during his youth – also managed to win six medals in a single day with the aid of a wooden prosthetic.
The men’s marathon was set for August 10th, with 32 athletes representing seven countries. Runners from Cuba and South Africa marked their countries’ first appearance in the competition. Len Taunyane and Jan Mashiani became the first two black Africans to compete in the Olympics, as they were already in town for the Fair’s South African exhibition. American distance runner Arthur Newton was the only athlete to return from the 1900 competition, where he had placed fifth.
It would be another 17 years before marathon distance was standardized at 26 miles. The St. Louis track fell just short at 24.85. Any advantage created by the shorter distance was, however, immediately negated by running conditions. The race kicked off at 3PM, with a temperature of 90 degrees.
“The course through St. Louis County was the most difficult a human being was ever asked to run over,” one runner’s trainer noted. “The roads […] were frightful.”
The path started off well enough, with five laps around the Francis Field track. Things grew significantly more difficult from there, as the runners took Olympian Way to Forsyth Boulevard. Horses leading the way kicked up dust from the dirt roads, as the runners had to avoid bicycles and Olympics staff. The automobile, a recent addition to the roads, provided its own obstacles, while blanketing the air with thick exhaust. Water was only available to the runners at the six- and 12-mile marks.
John Lordan, who had won the previous year’s Boston Marathon, was overcome with physical illness and began vomiting violently within half-a-mile. Sam Mellor – who had won the Boston race the year before Lordan – bowed out 16 miles in. A third America, William Garcia, was found lying in the road during the race. Inhaling dust and exhaust had left him in excruciating pain and near death. In all, only 14 of the 32 runners finished the race.
Frederick Lorz was the first to cross the finish line – and impressive feat for a professional brick layer who spent his nights training. His picture was taken with presidential daughter Alice Roosevelt on the way to the podium, when officials stepped in. He, too, had collapsed during the race – around nine miles in. His manager picked him up, tossed him in a car and drove 11 miles, allowing him to go the rest of the way on foot. Lorz was quick to confess, suggesting the whole thing had been a joke. The Olympic Committee enacted a lifetime ban.
With Lorz disqualified, fellow American Thomas Hicks won gold. Nearing collapse, his trainers mixed strychnine with brandy and egg whites, in some early 20th century version of Red Bull. Flagging soon after, they applied another dose. A third hit of poisoning may well have finish him off, but thankfully two were all that were required to finish with the worst-ever first place time in Olympic history. Deep in the throes of hallucination, he collapsed soon after completion. Doctors intervened to save the life of the runner. He had lost a full eight pounds during the race.
The Cuban athlete -- Andarín Carvajal – finished in fourth. He had hitchhiked to St. Louis and ran the race in street clothes. Having not eaten for nearly two days, he stole peaches from an attendee and grabbed apples from a nearby orchard. The latter had gone rotten, causing the postman to take a quick nap during the race. Taunyane, one of the two South Africans, finished ninth, having been chased around a mile off the path by a pack of dogs.
Lorz’s lifetime ban lasted a year. He was reinstated on the grounds of “temporary insanity” and went on to win the 1905 Boston Marathon.
Sources:
St. Louis Gets Olympic Games https://timesmachine.nytimes.com/timesmachine/1903/02/12/101972758.html?pageNumber=10
How St. Louis Won the 1904 Olympics—by Stealing Them From Chicago https://www.thedailybeast.com/how-st-louis-won-the-1904-olympics-by-stealing-them-from-chicago
Lacustrine System http://www.encyclopedia.chicagohistory.org/pages/702.html
The Strange Story Of The 1904 Olympic Games Marathon http://mentalfloss.com/uk/sport/35532/the-strange-story-of-the-1904-olympic-games-marathon
The 1904 Olympic Marathon May Have Been the Strangest Ever https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/the-1904-olympic-marathon-may-have-been-the-strangest-ever-14910747/