Among so many sports champions from the black nation who made their country proud. There is one very great athlete who is rarely exposed to the mass media. In fact, he is one of the true sportsmen, who deserves to be an icon of the heroic legend of the black race, an ultramarathon who fought as hard as he could to achieve achievements, for the sake of fighting for racial equality in the US.
Eddie Gardner was born in Birmingham, Alabama, in 1898. In 1914, Eddie became a student at the Tuskegee Institute (now Tuskegee University), the technical school for black people founded by Booker T. Washington. In Tuskegee, he majored in boiler engineering. And during college, he actively joined the athletic team, especially the marathon, and became a prominent sports player.
By 1927, Gardner had won the ten-mile championship three times, set a state record for the distance, and had beaten the best collegiate and independent athlete in the Northwest, ten years his junior.
His typical costume, a white towel tied around his head, a white sleeveless shirt, and white shorts. At first glance he looks like a sheik (Islamic scholar), giving a special impression to his supporters. They shouted his nickname "oh you sheikh!". The nickname stuck with him to the end, and Eddie Gardner was known as the "Shaykh" to many of his fans.
He then set his sights on winning the "Bunion Derby," the name of a very, very long distance marathon race with a very dangerous and risky route. The first trans-American marathon, which started from Los Angeles, California to New York City, on March 4, 1928. Contestants will cover 3,422 miles in 84 race days. Each will be a separate stage race that is run from one city to the next along the track, the stages covering approximately 41 miles per day on average. There has never been a marathon like this before. Gardner follows Derby hoping to win a share of the $48,500 prize money that race organizer Charley Pyle has set up for the first ten finishers, with $25,000 going to the first place winner.
Imagined in the minds of the participants of the competition, how badly needed the demands of physical and mental strength to be faced.
Known popularly as the "Bunioneers," the trans-American marathon crossed the Mojave Desert in California and risked freezing in the highlands of Arizona and New Mexico. When the 93 surviving bunioneers reach eastern New Mexico, they arrive as iron men after their brutal initiation in the desert and mountains.
Imagined in the minds of the participants of the competition, how badly needed the demands of physical and mental strength to be faced.
Known popularly as the "Bunioneers," the trans-American marathon crossed the Mojave Desert in California and risked freezing in the highlands of Arizona and New Mexico. When the 93 surviving bunioneers reach eastern New Mexico, they arrive as iron men after their brutal initiation in the desert and mountains.
However, for the five African-American runners, there's still an added weight of passion and courage: they'll soon face the real possibility of death as they cross the Texas panhandle, Oklahoma, and Missouri, where Jim Crow segregation is the law. Here Gardner, as one of the frontrunners, experiences a shower of racial slurs and death threats from southern whites who are outraged at the sight of a black man beating a white competitor. In one case, a white farmer put a gun to Eddie's back and followed him on horseback all day, challenging him to pass other white men. In another case, a mob surrounds Eddie's coach and threatens to set it on fire.
Gardner had learned to ignore threats with composure, because he knew that even though white people hated him, he had the wholehearted support of the black community. He became a symbol of hope and pride for the thousands of African Americans who saw him compete, especially for those who followed the race in black media.
Gardner finished eighth out of 55 finishers and first among three African-American finishers, earning a thousand dollars for his efforts.
Charley Pyle started his second and final round of the Derby Bunion on March 31, 1929. This time he reversed course, starting the race in New York City and finishing in Los Angeles. The race was dominated by the winners of the Derby Bunion first round, who had learned the lessons of speed, diet, and hard-earned training. "Sheik" is ready for the race and faces a barrage of racial slurs and death threats that he knows await him in the South.
After a few days of racing, he told a reporter that "just from New York to Baltimore, I had so much to say to me along the way that you can only imagine what it was like further south."
Gardner had learned to ignore threats with composure, because he knew that even though white people hated him, he had the wholehearted support of the black community. He became a symbol of hope and pride for the thousands of African Americans who saw him compete, especially for those who followed the race in black media.
Gardner finished eighth out of 55 finishers and first among three African-American finishers, earning a thousand dollars for his efforts.
Charley Pyle started his second and final round of the Derby Bunion on March 31, 1929. This time he reversed course, starting the race in New York City and finishing in Los Angeles. The race was dominated by the winners of the Derby Bunion first round, who had learned the lessons of speed, diet, and hard-earned training. "Sheik" is ready for the race and faces a barrage of racial slurs and death threats that he knows await him in the South.
After a few days of racing, he told a reporter that "just from New York to Baltimore, I had so much to say to me along the way that you can only imagine what it was like further south."
Gardner's coach, George Curtis, a middle-aged African-American tailor and apartment owner from Seattle, has joined Eddie for another trip across America. He came equipped "with everything needed for such a job," including army cots they could use for camping in the deserts and western prairies and in cities without African-American communities where no hotels gave them rooms. Even in the North, most hotels were reluctant to accept Gardner as a guest, and when they did, he was often relegated to a boiler room, basement, or other less-than-ideal accommodation.
Together, however, Gardner and Curtis are ready to face the ordeal that awaits them.
As the Derby enters Route 40 from Baltimore, Maryland to St. Louis, Missouri, Gardner emerged as one of the three front runners which also included Pete Gavuzzi of England and Johnny Salo of Passaic, New Jersey. In Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois, the trio continued to push the pace and open a huge gap between themselves and the rest of the field. Gardner has entered the elite ranks of the new sport of trans-American racing.
On race day 24 of the race, Eddie came in third after covering 1,040 miles. The next day, Derby will cross the Mississippi River into Missouri where secession of Jim Crow is state law, and Gardner wants to make a statement. He ran a marathon in under three hours on the short 22-mile trail that ran through St. Louis on his way to the finish in Maplewood, Missouri.
Eddie wore his signature outfit, like Sheik's, with the number 165 pinned to the front of the shirt. A few inches below that number, he had sewn the American flag. It was about six inches wide and put there for all to see. Sad, wordless, Gardner announced his return to Jim Crow South.
Death could await him at any crossroads or from any passing car, but he kept going, unaffected by fear. White people might kill him, beat him, or threaten him, but they couldn't change the fact that today he was running as the leader of the greatest race of his age and challenging deeply held prejudices about black men as he left while giving hope.
To the millions of African Americans who saw him race or who read about his exploits in the black press. In the year of birth of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Eddie has returned to the South with the American flag on his chest, a man who would die for his cause.
Together, however, Gardner and Curtis are ready to face the ordeal that awaits them.
As the Derby enters Route 40 from Baltimore, Maryland to St. Louis, Missouri, Gardner emerged as one of the three front runners which also included Pete Gavuzzi of England and Johnny Salo of Passaic, New Jersey. In Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois, the trio continued to push the pace and open a huge gap between themselves and the rest of the field. Gardner has entered the elite ranks of the new sport of trans-American racing.
On race day 24 of the race, Eddie came in third after covering 1,040 miles. The next day, Derby will cross the Mississippi River into Missouri where secession of Jim Crow is state law, and Gardner wants to make a statement. He ran a marathon in under three hours on the short 22-mile trail that ran through St. Louis on his way to the finish in Maplewood, Missouri.
Eddie wore his signature outfit, like Sheik's, with the number 165 pinned to the front of the shirt. A few inches below that number, he had sewn the American flag. It was about six inches wide and put there for all to see. Sad, wordless, Gardner announced his return to Jim Crow South.
Death could await him at any crossroads or from any passing car, but he kept going, unaffected by fear. White people might kill him, beat him, or threaten him, but they couldn't change the fact that today he was running as the leader of the greatest race of his age and challenging deeply held prejudices about black men as he left while giving hope.
To the millions of African Americans who saw him race or who read about his exploits in the black press. In the year of birth of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Eddie has returned to the South with the American flag on his chest, a man who would die for his cause.
Unfortunately, this is Gardner's high-water mark in racing. He pulled the leg muscles and then began a painful attempt to stay in the race. He was eventually forced to drop out in Oklahoma.
For Eddie "the Sheik" Gardner, the Bunion Derby was more than just a running race; it has become a racial war, a vehicle to fight the endemic racism he encounters every day on many routes across America, and Eddie has dedicated his body and soul to that cause. He apologized to his fellow African-Americans for dropping out of the race. "I hope they understand," he told a reporter, "that I'm staying at the [Bunion Derby] as long as my physical condition allows. I did my best. That's all anyone can do." "I'm sorry," he added, "I want to keep running and winning—TO YOU, my people."
By the time Gardner died of a stroke in Seattle in 1966, most of his fans had forgotten about him. His story, however, deserves to be remembered and celebrated by anyone who took up the ultra-marathon sport, and for that matter, by anyone who marveled at his courage and perseverance in the face of near-impossible odds.
source : blackpast
For Eddie "the Sheik" Gardner, the Bunion Derby was more than just a running race; it has become a racial war, a vehicle to fight the endemic racism he encounters every day on many routes across America, and Eddie has dedicated his body and soul to that cause. He apologized to his fellow African-Americans for dropping out of the race. "I hope they understand," he told a reporter, "that I'm staying at the [Bunion Derby] as long as my physical condition allows. I did my best. That's all anyone can do." "I'm sorry," he added, "I want to keep running and winning—TO YOU, my people."
By the time Gardner died of a stroke in Seattle in 1966, most of his fans had forgotten about him. His story, however, deserves to be remembered and celebrated by anyone who took up the ultra-marathon sport, and for that matter, by anyone who marveled at his courage and perseverance in the face of near-impossible odds.
source : blackpast
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