“Sure is … Like a steer just off summer pasture.”
Again, the suspicion crossed his mind that the two years when Thorpe had been “missing” may have been a part of Pop Warner’s long-range plan.
Thorpe’s version was simple. He’d been at the Carlisle railroad station with a group of students waiting for transportation to their summer “outing” placements. He’d been scheduled to work at farming, for which he had no great fondness, and was approached by a couple of friends who were similarly disinclined. They said they had jobs in North Carolina, not connected with Carlisle’s outing system. On a whim, Thorpe had decided to go along for the ride with Joseph Libby and Jesse Young Deer. At the summer’s end, he’d gone back to spend the winter with family and friends in Oklahoma instead of returning to school. He’d helped around the farm of an aunt, but became restless as summer came on, and returned to North Carolina for the season. The part-time job there evaporated in midsummer of the second year, and he’d returned to Oklahoma, where he’d encountered Exendine.
The timing was fortunate, especially for Warner’s 1911 football season. His 1910 season, eight wins and six losses, had been one of Warner’s worst, lacking the skills of Jim Thorpe.
“But I thought Pop wanted him for track,” John protested to Mac.
“He does,” chuckled Mac. “But he needs him for football. It’s okay. Jim likes football better than track, anyway. He can do both.”
Jim proved to be a big, easygoing teddy bear of a man, with a friendly grin and a tolerant attitude. Except, of course, in competition. John studied Thorpe’s running style on the football field, where he could observe unnoticed. He had been described as difficult to tackle, slippery, and unpredictable in his running. John expected to see a light-footed, shifty broken-field expert.
On the contrary, Thorpe seemed to simply run over opposing tacklers. His running style was with knees high, utilizing the length of his thighs. More than one opposing player who simply tried a clean, open-field tackle from the side was rewarded with a ride off the field on a stretcher. After such a collision, even an expert tackler became cautious.
Carlisle’s 1911 football schedule was one of the toughest in its history. Despite the previous lackluster season, Carlisle was spotted as the team to beat. Thorpe did not yet have a prominent name, but the crowds and the sportswriters knew Stansil “Possum” Powell, Carlisle’s great fullback. Also due to attract attention were Pop Warner’s innovative techniques and trick plays, the “Warner system of modern football.” Already, rules had been changed to prohibit some of Warner’s shenanigans, such as the “hidden ball,” shoved up the back of Charlie Dillon’s jersey and removed by a teammate after he crossed the goal line.
More recently, Warner had developed extensive use of the “forward pass,” created by high-school teams in the Midwest some years earlier.
But this season promised to be like no other. On their schedule were teams boasting no less than twenty-two all-Americans: Georgetown, Pittsburgh, Lafayette, Pennsylvania, Harvard, Syracuse, and Brown. And many of their other opponents were equally strong.
Their first game was against Lebanon Valley College on September 23. The Indians defeated Lebanon 53-0. Four days later, Muhlenburg College fell to Carlisle, 32-0.
The season continued. Highly rated Georgetown fell 28-5. A Washington newspaper began the sports stories of October 15:
Not since Custer made his last stand against Sitting Bull at the Little Big Horn has a battle between redskins and palefaces been so ferociously fought as that which was waged on Georgetown field yesterday afternoon when the chiefs from Carlisle savagely forced Georgetown’s weak, though gallant cohorts to bite the dust 28-5.
One week later, Carlisle defeated a fine Pittsburgh team, 17-0.
Commenting in the Pittsburgh Leader, sportswriter Henry I. Miller noted:
To say that Thorpe is the whole team would be fifty percent wrong, but he certainly is the most consistent performer trotted out on the Forbes gridiron in many a moon … Thorpe carried the ball two of every three times for the visitors …
The Pittsburgh Dispatch concurred:
This person Thorpe was a host in himself. Tall and sinewy, as quick as a flash and as powerful as a turbine engine, he appeared to be impervious to injury.
The next contest was in Lafayette’s home field at Easton. No opponent had crossed that goal line since 1908. The final score was Carlisle, 19-0. A disappointed Easton sportswriter commented:
The entire team seemed to be built around Thorpe, the redskins’ big halfback. Thorpe was a bad man for the Lafayette tacklers to stop …
Penn … Jim Thorpe suited up, but was sidelined because of a badly sprained ankle in the Lafayette game. His teammates, now exuberant with the taste of victory, still defeated Penn, 16-0.
November 11, 1911, was the date scheduled for Carlisle to play Harvard, the defending national champions. A recognized powerhouse, Harvard’s “Crimson” had allowed opponents to score only fourteen points in the previous six games. Coach P. D. Haughton had assembled a squad with depth at every position, comprising three complete units. By contrast, Carlisle’s traveling squad consisted of only sixteen players.
Having missed the Pennsylvania game because of the injury inflicted at Lafayette, Thorpe was limping and heavily bandaged. Harvard had the homefield advantage, and more than 30,000 fans jammed the stadium, one of the greatest crowds in football history.
Haughton elected to play the game in an odd way: He started his second team, reputed to be as good as his first. Substitutions were from his third squad until the fourth quarter, when he would bring out his fresh first team against the tired and battered Indians.
Scoring was low, with both teams struggling against the defense of the other. Thorpe was unable to cross the Harvard goal line, but did kick four field goals with his bandaged leg: one in each quarter.
At the half, Harvard led, 9-6. Carlisle managed to put together a good third period, scoring a touchdown plus one of Thorpe’s field goals from the 37-yard line. The quarter ended with the score 15-9 in favor of Carlisle.
At the start of the fourth quarter, the Harvard first unit ran onto the field. Only two players remained who had been in the game before: the quarterback and the right guard.
In this quarter Jim Thorpe kicked the longest field goal of the game, from 48 yards. The spectators reported that the ball soared higher than the uprights of the goalposts as it passed. Even Coach Warner stated that it would have been good from 20 yards farther out.
Harvard fought back, scoring another touchdown, but the game was over, won by the margin of Thorpe’s 48-yard field goal.
Thorpe had done all of the kicking for the Indians, and had carried the ball on three out of five plays.
Shocked by the defeat of his elite squad, Coach Haughton could only state for the press, “I realized that here was the theoretical superplayer in flesh and blood.”
Thorpe had an interesting comment on the game. He later told a reporter:
One of the men who bothered me most was the umpire. If you remember, he was clad in a red sweater and golf trousers that looked enough like moleskins to disturb anybody at a critical moment in play. I am sure that I dodged him at least a dozen times in my open-field runs … . I asked him to change the sweater several times, but he apparently forgot what I had said to him.
The Pennsylvania newspapers heralded the win with great glee:
CARLISLE GOES CRAZY, VICTORY OF TEAM WILDLY CELEBRATED BY STUDENTS
Headed by the famous Carlisle Indian band, the entire battalion of Indian boy students snake-danced through the principal streets of the city in weird contrast to the ostensible purpose of their procession, which was that of an escort to the recumbent figure of Crimson Harvard laid out on a stretcher borne by redskin bearers.
Their next game was against Syracuse, and Pop Warner confided to his assistants that he thought the team was becoming careless. He predicted a slump.
To make matters wor
se, it had rained all week, and the field at Syracuse had been described as a “sea of mud.” This could become a major problem. The Indian athletes played for fun, and mud was no fun. This had become a factor a few years earlier, when one of Carlisle’s opponents, aware of this idiosyncrasy of the Carlisle squad, watered their field with fire hoses for three days before the game. The Indian attitude was reflected by Little Boy, Carlisle’s big center, when he stated flatly, “Football no good fun in mud or snow.”
Syracuse won the game, 12-11, on the muddy field.
This was the only loss for the season. Carlisle had scored 298 points to their opponents’ 49, and the name of Jim Thorpe was now recognized everywhere.
John had spent a season of worry over Thorpe’s health. The injury in the Lafayette game was of great concern. That ankle would need to be in top condition to even qualify for tryouts for the Olympiad. The mechanical stress of one play at a time was a far different matter from the prolonged pounding necessary in the hurdles and the distance events.
All of this did not seem to bother Thorpe. Many years later, biographer Robert Wheeler was to write:
Christmas, 1911, found Jim, dressed as Santa Claus, passing out toys to the Indian children. When “Santa” was unmasked, he was serenaded, cheered as the “great All-American” and presented with an American Flag.
Thorpe’s one regret for the season was that he blamed the one loss of the year, against Syracuse, on himself. He had missed the extra point that would have tied the game.
THIRTY-SIX
In later years, it was written that the 1912 spring track season at Carlisle provided merely a warmup for Jim Thorpe, leading to the Olympics in Stockholm. That, of course, was a deliberate understatement. There was a lot of training to do before that even became a possibility.
Thorpe limped off the field after their last 1911 football game with a heavily bandaged leg, but was training hard by January. It would be necessary to attend the Olympic tryouts at one of three regional sites: Stanford in California, Marshall Field in Chicago, or Harvard Stadium in Cambridge, Massachusetts. The athletes from Carlisle would compete at the nearest, the facility at Harvard.
First, however, they must prepare outdoors on the cinder track when the weather permitted. When it didn’t, they ran laps in the gym and practiced the jumping events and hurdles.
There were four major track meets on the East Coast that spring, and Carlisle athletes competed in all. Thorpe did well in all, demonstrating his versatility and improving through the season.
At the Boston Athletic Association’s meet, he claimed a gold medal in the 100-yard dash, a silver in hurdles, and bronzes in high jump and shot put.
Next at Pittsburgh, three gold medals: 12-pound shot, 60-yard hurdles, and 60-yard dash. John was impressed. Seldom does the same athlete win both the dash events and the heavy shot put.
At Middle Atlantic, three more gold medals: both 12- and 16-pound shot, as well as 75-yard dash, and a silver in the standing jumps.
In the Carnegie Meet, a short time later: gold medals in shot, high jump, and 220-yard hurdles. Silver in the broad jump and in 220 yard dash, and a bronze in the 100-yard dash.
Jim Thorpe’s versatility would stand him in good stead in the variety of events in the decathlon.
Two athletes from Carlisle qualified for the Olympiad at the Harvard tryouts. They were Jim Thorpe and Louis Tewanima.
On the morning of June 14, 1912, the United States Olympic team boarded the ship that would take them to Europe, from New York harbor. She was a Red Star Line steamer, the S.S. Finland, chartered by the American Olympic Committee, and carrying 164 athletes and their coaches and trainers.
Some of the athletes had a certain amount of anxiety over the ocean crossing. A few, of course, were already veteran world travelers; but to some, the ten-day crossing without a glimpse of land was a bit frightening. John could not forget that only a few weeks before, a huge ship—the largest and safest in the world, according to all reports—had sunk on her maiden voyage. There had been great loss of life, and for days, the newspapers had carried stories of tragedy, heroism, and miracles. Someone fortunate enough to have missed the ship as she sailed … . Someone else, who had not planned to be on the ship at all, but had boarded at the last moment … .
It was no comfort to know that only two months earlier, the Titanic had struck her fatal iceberg in the same general area as the route to be followed by the Finland.
Since athletes must train to stay in top form, they trained on shipboard. There were endless laps around the cork-covered deck for the runners, makeshift jumps, hurdles, and tennis courts—even a canvas tank in which the swimmers could exercise. Riflemen practiced on targets towed behind the ship.
For some events, it was virtually impossible to practice: shot put, javelin, hammer throw, and discus. (Despite this, the United States team won three gold medals in shot put and hammer throw.)
A legend arose later that Thorpe had refused to train on shipboard because he “didn’t need to.” Several other athletes, however, recalled challenge sprints with Thorpe. There are, in fact, photographs of Jim running laps on the deck of the Finland, wearing his military cadet’s uniform.
There would be no loafing on the Finland. Mike Murphy, trainer for the United States track team, would not have permitted it. Besides, the Carlisle athletes had Pop Warner to keep them alert and moving.
When they docked at Antwerp, Belgium, there was a three-day layover to regain their equilibrium before starting on to Stockholm, another four days on shipboard. This time, by order of the coaches and Mike Murphy, the head trainer, there would be no strenuous training until the games themselves began.
On July 6, 1912, teams from twenty-eight nations entered the new stadium at Stockholm, erected for this occasion and financed by a national lottery. A crowd of 30,000 packed and overflowed the stands. The athletes marched through the mighty arch and around the track, thrilling to the sound of a 4,000-voice chorus singing “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God.”
They passed the royal box, where King Gustav, Crown Prince Gustav Adolphus, and Grand Duke Dimitri of Russia were seated. The athletes saluted as they passed, with hats over their hearts.
There were speeches of welcome and presentations, and finally His Majesty the King formally opened the games. The crowd burst into a roar and quieted again.
Then the events were called by the clerk of the course:
“All out for the hundred!”
The Fifth Olympiad had begun.
All of this was nearly overwhelming for John. He had seen many crowds and many shows, but never anything to compare with this. His blood raced, and he longed to be competing. There had been a time when … No, he probably could never developed the skills to compete in such a tournament. It was enough of a wonder to be here at all … . Still, there was a pang of regret over what might have been.
It recalled to him his lost love, Miss Jane Langtry, and what else might have been. He hadn’t thought of her for a long time. He wondered what the world had brought her.
This, in turn, brought his thoughts back to Hebbie. He had missed her terribly, but not until this moment did he realize how much. He wanted to share this with her … But his feelings assured him of one thing: He would ask her to marry him the very next time he laid eyes on her.
The first events for Carlisle’s Jim Thorpe would be the following day; the Pentathlon was a new event, a mix of five unrelated efforts. The Scandinavians were expected to dominate, with their lead competitor a big Swede, Hugo Wieslander, already famous in worldwide competition.
The five events were running broad jump, javelin, 200-meter dash, discus, and 1500-meter race.
In the broad jump, Norway’s Ferdinand Bie, with a jump of 22 feet, 5.7 inches, established the tone of the competition. No one had approached this distance until Thorpe, the unknown American, stepped to the line.
John held his breath. He knew that Thorpe, like the other Indian athletes, cared nothing about setti
ng a record of any kind. The goal was to beat the other competitors. It was a major advantage to compete late in the event, when the spectators had virtually declared Bie the winner.
Thorpe’s tremendous speed and the strength in his legs would stand him in good stead here. His momentum would gain distance. He soared—there is no other word—the winning distance of 23 feet, 2.7 inches, nearly a foot beyond his nearest rival.
The next event, the javelin, was virtually conceded to Sweden’s Wieslander. This was the Third Olympiad to offer the javelin throw, and since 1906 it had been dominated by the Swedes. It was a bitter disappointment to the American team. Thorpe’s throw of more than 153 feet was beaten by nearly 10 feet; Wieslander’s javelin sailed to 162 feet, 7.30 inches.
This defeat and determination on the part of the Americans created a spectacular finish to the next event, the 200-meter dash. It was described later as “the most thrilling race of the entire games.” Jim Thorpe’s winning time was 22.9 seconds. Two other Americans, Donahue and Menaul, finished in a dead heat at 23 seconds flat. Two Canadians finished fourth and fifth, with 23.2 and 23.5 seconds.
The discus, one of Thorpe’s best events, brought another first, with a throw of 116 feet, 8.4 inches. His teammate, Avery Brundage, placed second for the Americans, and other efforts “were not even close,” John wrote to Hebbie.
The Long Journey Home Page 22
