Sport: Brave Victory

To most Bostonians, Massachusetts' legal holiday on April 19 is better known as the day of The Marathon than the anniversary of the first battle of the Revolutionary War. For parents who have to stand on a curbstone for hours so that their saucer-eyed brood may catch a glimpse of the first gaunt & gasping runner plodding along Commonwealth Avenue, and for motorists who are forced to detour all around town, the Marathon is a notorious nuisance. But for chronic gawps, students of foot racing and officials of the Boston Athletic Association (who sponsor the run), it is a great event.

Last week, for the first time in 27 years, it was a rainy Patriots' Day. Less than 100,000 spectators lined the 26-mile, 385-yard route, from the little town of Hopkinton—via Natick, Wellesley and Newton —to the Boston A. A. clubhouse on Exeter Street. But the rain that was responsible for the smallest turnout in many years was also responsible for a new record in the annals of the ancient sport of foot racing.

It was a fine field at the starting line: 179 U. S. and Canadian runners, including five onetime champions. Hopkinton yokels, looking them over as though they were horses in a paddock, pointed to a stolid, bronze-skinned young man. "Look, there's the Indian, Tarzan Brown, who won in 1936. But he went over to those Olympics and hasn't been the same since. Finished 31st two years ago and 54th last year. He'll set the pace—and burn himself out."

This year Ellison ("Tarzan") Brown, 24-year-old Narragansett Indian from Westerly, R. I., did not follow his usual custom. He hung back, let Leslie Pawson, the favorite, go out in front. At Natick the Rhode Island Redskin (whose Indian name, Attuck-Quock-Wussete, means Deer-foot) found himself leading the pack, along with Walter Young, 1937 winner. Together they loped along for twelve miles.

When they reached the first of the three roller-coaster Newton hills, Tarzan decided to climb the hill as fast as he could. Opening his mouth wide for a minute he let the raindrops trickle in. Then, refreshed, he streaked up the hill like a supercharged racing car. From then on, it was a lonely run.

Lengthening the gap on each hill, the wooden-faced Indian, pattering along in the rain, was soon out of sight of his closest rival. When he reached the finish line, a roar of applause greeted him. His time: 2 hr., 28 min., 51 4/5 sec.—more than 27 seconds faster than the alltime record set by Japan's Kitei Son in the 1936 Olympics. Crowned with the traditional laurel wreath and hailed as a super-runner, Marathoner Brown, a stone mason by trade, smiled feebly. Said he: "I would like to have a steady job instead."

Another super-marathoner, 50-year-old Clarence DeMar, felt the same way last week. Seven-time winner of the Boston Marathon, DeMar, who finished 30th last week, had a "Situations Wanted" ad in a Boston newspaper the day of the race.