Ultrarunning History

• 170: Old Sport Campana (1836-1906) – Part Three

  By 1880, “Old Sport” Peter Napoleon Campana (1836-1906), a fruit and nut peddler from Bridgeport, Connecticut, had established himself as an odd anomaly in the very popular spectator sport of six-day indoor races held in arenas in northeastern America. He had not yet won a race but would almost always stick it out to the end of the six days when usually 75% of the other runners would quit before the end. People would pay to come watch the races he was in, specifically to watch him run. Race directors would promise him a salary just to be in their races. No one ever could predict what unusual and amusing antics he would perform during a race. He seemed to never be formally training, but perhaps with all the miles he put in pushing his cart, he was able to regularly run more than 300 miles in a six-day race. Campana was unusually “unbalanced.” When some spectators mocked him, he would punch them in the face and then continue running. The crowds would roar with approval and the race management would do nothing. The New York Times wrote, “Napoleon Campana, better known to the world as ‘Old Sport,’ is called the clown of the walking matches, and a race without ‘Old Sport’ in it would be a novelty.” His eccentric nature was also seen in his personal life as a peddler in Bridgeport. His hot-headed nature would frequently end him up in jail. By 1880, his wife Jennie (Dalton) Campana had apparently left him again. He still loved her deeply and had her name tattooed on his leg. Even with the money he received at races, and with his national popularity, he appeared to be nearly destitute because he spent his earnings so quickly, likely on a lot of alcohol. O’Leary International Belt After being away from the sport for seven months, Campana, age 44, came back in January 1881 to compete in the O’Leary International Belt held in the American Institute Building, in New York City. The track was eight laps to the mile and 8.5 feet wide. It was constructed on top of the concrete floor. The track base was composed of three inches of clay and tan bark, laid over with sawdust, and surrounded by a sturdy picket fence to keep spectators off the track. Wooden huts of 10x5 feet were put up for each runner, furnished with a bed, washstand, small mirror, chair, and a gas stove. A large blackboard would be used to display the standings. Every seat within the building was filled by 10 p.m., two hours before the start, with about 5,000 people. A “sacred concert” was put on, with soothing music appropriate for Sunday. “Between the pieces of music, the sound of the busy hammers finishing the improvements in the building, the voices of sellers of programs about of the walkers, lager beer, peanuts, cakes, candies, cigars, and shooting galleries, try your weight, electric batteries, and a confused babel of thousands of voices filled the structure.” The building was lit with gas lights and warmed by steam and large stoves. The Start American Institute Hall When Campana came out to the start line on January 24, 1881, he received huge cheers as spectators recognized him. At 12:05 a.m., thirty-one starters, arranged in ten rows, were sent on their way with the word “Go” by Referee William Buckingham Curtis (1837-1900), of Wilkes’ Spirit of Times. “With a bound, the men darted around the track, the new men mostly at the top of their speed, the more experienced and knowing ones at a steady jog.” Early on, Campana kept up with the frontrunners.  After twelve hours, he reached 56 miles, eight miles behind the leader. On the next day, a cheer went up from all over the building and then changed quickly to laughter. “Campana was seen wildly flourishing his arms over and around his head, He dashed forward at the top of his speed, passed John “Lepper” Hughes (1850-1921), the leader, and then subsided into a slow and limping crawl. Bald-head Campana, with his punch-like face turned more to one side than ever, kept up the struggle gamely.

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• 169: Old Sport Campana (1836-1906) – Part Two

  By Davy Crockett In part one, “Old Sport” Peter Napoleon Campana (1836-1906), of Bridgeport, Connecticut, a poor street vendor, and talented runner, wanted to become a professional pedestrian/ultrarunner. At age 42, he was viewed as very elderly, a strange anomaly on the track. It was said that it looked like he had been run through a threshing machine. “He looks like a physical wreck and every stranger expects to see him collapse momentarily. His shriveled, shrunken, crooked figure is one of the marvels of pedestrianism.” In early 1879, he had a poor reputation, and his integrity was questioned. But during the coming 15 months, as he ran more miles in races than anyone in the world, he would win over the hearts of the public. He would be called “perhaps one of the best-known athletes in the country.” He became a crowd favorite to watch in 1879 when the six-day race was the most popular spectator sporting event to watch in America. Learn about the rich and long history of ultrarunning. There are now twelve books available in the Ultrarunning History series on Amazon, compiling podcast content and much more. Learn More. Despite the six-day race loss to Daniel O’Leary, in December 1878, Campana, now wealthy and newly married, sought to further profit from his newfound notoriety. He was now mentioned in newspapers every week across the country. Some of the press was negative, as word spread that his Bridgeport six-day world record run of 521 miles in November 1878 was a fraud. He stated that the accusations came from disgruntled men who wanted more money from him. The New York Sun looked deeply into the matter and concluded that “the fraud was inspired by a wish to make a big record, arouse public interest, and thereby bring in gate money.” The scheme had succeeded. What was the reaction to the bombshell news in Campana’s hometown? “Bridgeport had freely given Campana their confidence and their backing. Now there is surprise that the community could have been sold so cheaply and completely. As a pedestrian, Campana is looked upon as a dead duck.”  Still, there were those who believed his effort was legitimate. A reporter from another newspaper, who witnessed the last day of that event and interviewed witnesses stated, “I gained a firm impression that the walk had been honestly conducted, and that Campana had really passed over the number of miles with which he was credited. No one whom I met in Bridgeport appeared to have any doubt about the matter.” He believed there was a conspiracy against Campana. (Author’s note: Given that Campana never exceeded 521 miles in all his future 40+ six-day races that he competed in, I believe that the effort involved fraud and should be discounted. It is likely that Campana was naïve and wasn’t involved in the fraud that was conducted by his backers.) Campana had a trial in late January for physically abusing his new young wife, Jennie A. (Dalton) Campana (1853-). She returned to her father’s home and took her new wardrobe and $100. “In court he showed a big roll of bills and said that he was in the hands of men who had hired him for a year, and he couldn’t walk anywhere without their permission.” He had argued with his wife when two other women came into their new house in Waterbury, Connecticut, who he didn’t want there. He suspected that she had him arrested so she could strip the house of costly things while he was in jail. Despite this terrible incident, the two were reconciled and Jennie moved back to their home. On the Road Campana was not a “pedestrian dead duck.” His career was just beginning, with the help of his dominating backers. At that time, professional pedestrians were not kicked out of the sport for perceived fraud or misbehavior. First, he tried to issue challenges against other runners for large amounts of money. Those went without responses. Next, he went on the road to give running exhibitions. Boston Music Hall

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• 168: Old Sport Campana (1836-1906) – Part One

  By Davy Crockett Peter Napoleon Campana (1836-1906), of Bridgeport, Connecticut, known as "Old Sport," was recognized as the most popular and entertaining “clown” of ultrarunning. It was said of him, "Campana kicks up his heels and creates a laugh every few minutes." He was one of the most prolific six-day runners during the pedestrian era of the sport. All of his amazing ultrarunning accomplishments were made after he was 42 years old, and into his 60s. He competed in at least 40 six-day races and many other ultra-distance races, compiling more than 15,000 miles during races on small indoor, smokey tracks. He never won a six-day race, but because he was so popular, race directors would pay him just to last six days in their races. Admiring spectators would throw dollar bills down to him on the tracks during races. He didn’t age well, lost his hair, had wrinkled skin from being outdoor so much, and people thought he was 10-15 years older than he really was. He never corrected them in their false assumption and wanted people to believe he was very old. While he was well-loved by the public, he wasn’t a nice person. During races, when he would become annoyed, he would frequently punch competitors or spectators in the face. In his private life, he was arrested for assault and battery multiple times, including abusing his wife, and spent time in jails for being drunk. Read about the fascinating history of the more than 500 six-day races held from 1875 to 1909 in Davy Crockett's new definitive history in 1,200 pages. Get them on Amazon. Campana’s Youth Campana was born in Petersburg, Virginia in 1836. His family came from France. When four years of age, he moved to New York City with his mother, his father having died in North Carolina of yellow fever. Shortly after his arrival in New York, his mother died, and he was cared for by the Metropolitan Fire Brigade. He first worked as a messenger boy, the first delivery boy for the New York Clipper in 1853, then became a hose-cart attaché, and finally a full-blown fireman, one of the “Fulton Market Boys.” On his left arm he had tattooed “Clinton Engine Co. 41, Old Stag.” He said he learned to run in the fire department and saved a great number of lives. “Like a young partridge, he tried to run as soon as he was hatched and has been running ever since.” He became very involved in athletics and received the nickname of “Young Sport.” His first race was with a man named Lee, in New York City for $10, for a half mile. He next raced the champion of New England, Amos Saunders, of Brooklyn, in a five-mile race. "The day of the race arrived and found him in prime condition for the test of endurance and speed. He won the race in a canter." As a young man of about twenty years old, in 1856, Campana moved to Bridgeport, Connecticut. He became a peddler of nuts and fruit, and at other times operated a corner peanut stand. “He soon became known in Bridgeport as an expert and fearless volunteer fireman and did good service at several large fires. He was always a fast runner and was noted for his courage and promptness of action in time of danger.” He made a challenge to all New England runners in a five-mile race to win a belt. He won the race that took place in Providence, Rhode Island. Life Before an Ultrarunner In 1860, he lived in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, again working as a fireman. He once challenged the entire fire department of the city to a half-mile race. The challenge was accepted, and he won in 2:30. He competed in several races up to ten miles and won many. He beat a noted runner, “Indian Smith” at ten miles, in 57:26. That year, he married Mary (1840-) and had a son Napoleon Campana (1861-1862) who died as a young child. They later had another child that died young. In 1862, Campana enlisted in the Civil War, with the 114th Pennsylvania Infantry. He said, "At Gettysburg, I met my first defeat as a runner.

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• 167: Connie Gardner – National Champion Ultrarunner

  By Davy Crockett Connie Gardner, from Akron Ohio, is the 25th person inducted into the American Ultrarunning Hall of Fame, joining the Hall in 2024. From 2002 to 2012, she was a national champion twelve times at 50 miles, 100 kilometers, 100 miles, and 24 hours. She has finished at least 180 ultras, with more than 80% of them on trails, with nearly 100 wins, including three wins at the prestigious JFK 50 in Maryland. During her ultra career, she established 37 course or event records. She was a member of the U.S. National 100K Team and the U.S. National 24-Hour Team for many years, competing in many World Championships. With a busy family life and children, she didn't start running ultras until her late 30s, but dominated into her 50s. She was named the USA Track and Field (USATF) Ultrarunner of the Year in 2003 and 2012, and the USATF Masters Ultrarunner of the year in 2011. Learn about the rich and long history of ultrarunning. There are now eleven books available in the Ultrarunning History series on Amazon, compiling podcast content and much more. Learn More. If you would like to order multiple books with a 30% discount, send me a message here. Constance “Connie” Margaret (John) Gardner (1963-), of Akron, Ohio, was born in Washington D.C. to Dr. James Edward A John (1933-2010) and Constance Brandon (Maxwell) John (1932-1999). Her father was an electrical engineer and president of Kettering University in Flint, Michigan. He worked with the National Academy of Sciences in Washington D.C. where Connie went to elementary school. Her ancestry on her father's side was from Cornwall, England, by way of Belgium and Canada. Her ancestry on her mother's side was Irish. Even as a child, she was always competitive, trying to reach for lofty goals. She explained, “My brothers and I were always trying to get into the Guinness Book of World Records, flying a kite, for three days, playing War for as many days as we could.” Each year, a field day was scheduled at her school. “I was terrible. They wouldn’t put me in anything because I wasn’t very fast. If you weren’t good at anything else, they threw you into the distance run because nobody wanted to do it. So the first year I failed and then I started to train for it. I wanted to do it. I’ve always wanted to see that I could do.” She believed she was a good kid, but got in trouble often with her teachers and sometimes experienced the paddle. She would often run before school to help her focus. “All I needed to do was to run down to the river, watch the sun come up, run home, and go to school.” High School and College Years In high school, Connie competed on the girls’ cross-country and track teams at Olentangy High School, in Lewis Center, Ohio. She won all-conference honors, running on the 4X800-meter relay. Her team finished runner-up at the state finals in 1980 and 1981. She said, "I was so focused on running, that my crowd in high school was just my cross country team, so I didn't get in any trouble.  I made sure we wouldn't botch up our chance to win state. At a young age, that kept me on a nice path." Connie attended Ohio State University and then The University of Massachusetts where she received a Bachelor of Science degree in sports management. While a freshman at age 17, she ran her first marathon at the 1981 Columbus Marathon and finished in 4:11:00. At UMass, she was on the eight-person rowing team for three years but continued running. She would run six miles to and from the boathouse. She ran a lot of 5Ks and 10Ks during the 1980s and a marathon in the fall and in the spring. In 1987, she married Robert Charles Gardner in Massachusetts. They would have two daughters, Abby and Gwen. Busy Life as a Mom Connie moved to Portland, Oregon, to attend graduate school. To earn money, she became a bicycle messenger. That unique job helped get her into top physical shape, and she started to run with running groups.

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• 166: Stu Mittleman – The Ultrarunning Professor

  By Davy Crockett Stu Mittleman was the sixth person to be inducted into the American Ultrarunning Hall of Fame. During the 1980s, while a college professor from New York, he became the greatest multi-day runner in the country who won national championships running 100 miles, but ran much further than that in other races. During that period, no other American ultrarunner, male for female, exhibited national class excellence at such a wide range of ultra racing distances. He brought ultrarunning into the national spotlight as he appeared on national television shows and became the national spokesman for Gatorade. Learn about the rich and long history of ultrarunning. There are now eleven books available in the Ultrarunning History series on Amazon, compiling podcast content and much more. Learn More. If you would like to order multiple books with a 30% discount, send me a message here. Stuart “Stu” M Mittleman was born in New York City in 1951 to Irving Jacob Mittleman (1924-2009) and Selma R (Mitzner) Mittleman (1929-2023). His Mittleman grandparents were Jewish Russian immigrants who came to America in 1913. When he was in high school in Dumont, New Jersey in the late 1960s, he was on the track team and ran the mile in 4:39 mile, the half mile in 2:01. He was better at wrestling in which he lettered and was a district champion. At the University of Connecticut, he continued wrestling for one season but switched to long-distance swimming and weightlifting. At Colgate University, he was on the dean’s list and earned his bachelor’s degree in liberal arts. He earned his master's degree at the University of Connecticut. He was a heavy smoker during school, going through two packs of cigarettes per day. During the early ‘70s, he became disillusioned with the state of the country during the Vietnam War era and spent time on the West Coast, where he took up running again “for his head.” But while skiing in 1975, he had a terrible fall, tore his ACL and damaged cartilage. He had knee surgery and could not run for five months. When he could run again, he did it for relaxation and to find a quiet time for himself. Becomes a Marathon Runner In 1977, he ran up Flagstaff Mountain in Boulder, Colorado and fell in love with running. He went into a running store and asked how he could sign up for the Boston Marathon, three months away. They told him he needed to qualify, so he ran Mission Bay Marathon in San Diego with a qualifying time of 2:46. Early into his dream race at Boston, he was running in a drainage ditch in efforts to pass runners and twisted his ankle terribly. Disappointed, but determined, he tied ice around his swollen ankle and vowed not to drop out of the race. He finished in 4:03. He returned to Boston the next year and finished in 2:31:11. After finishing the New York City marathon six months later in 2:33:00, he couldn’t understand why he couldn’t run any faster, even though he was never tired at the end of his races. “I just started thinking, why did I have to stop? I wondered how much longer I could have run." This thought made him turn to “the longer stuff. First Ultramarathon Mittleman was 5’ 8” and about 140 pounds. As a graduate student in sports psychology at Columbia University, Mittleman ran his first ultra in 1978, running 6:11 in the Metropolitan 50 in Central Park, New York. That year the race was poorly organized, and the front-runner went off course, but he placed 8th with 6:13. “I ended up sprinting the last 10 miles and I was hooked.” He liked ultras better than marathons because they were less competitive and they had a friendlier atmosphere. The 1979 Unisphere 100 With that elite performance, he qualified to enter the 1979 Unisphere 100, held at Flushing Meadows in Queens, New York, on a 2.27-mile loop road course around Meadow Lake. This 100-miler was first held in 1978, won by Park Barner in 13:57:36. In 1979,

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