JJ Millar was well known on the Scottish Athletics circuit as a photographer of some talent. The photographs were sold from tables at track and field venues as well as at cross-country races the length and breadth of the land. However, his work was also published in Athletics Weekly magazine and six examples of his work published in AW featuring Lachie Stewart is below.
September 1965
November 1965
November 1965
January 1966
February 1966
National Championships 1967
Joe Small of Monkland and Clyde Valley has written this profile of John Mulvey, a very good young distance runner indeed following his recent coverage of the career of Jim Finn of Monkland. Both from the same area, both very talented and an interesting portrait of a local area and what can be produced there in the way of athletic talent. First is a photograph of the young Mulvey.
Following on from an earlier article on Jim Finn, a similar story can be told about a young boy from the same area. In the late 1960’s/early 70’s Monkland Harriers held a series of cross country races for local schools. 2 races were held before Christmas, 2 after. The main reasons for organising these races was to provide competition for schools and hopefully recruit new club members. A good number of runners were unearthed, probably the best known would be Nat Muir and Ronnie MacDonald. However, one person slipped through the clubs fingers – John Mulvey.
From Chapelhall, just outside Airdrie, John was an outstanding junior and senior boy over the country. In the early schools races John finished in second place in the first two races, before winning the third race, Paul Bannon finishing second. A few days after his first appearance in the local schools race, he was approached and asked if he would like to join Monkland “I’ve already joined Shettleston” was his answer. Alex Naylor (who else!) had appeared at his door one night and signed him up, together with a few of his St. Aloysius schoolmates like Peter Fairlie and Terry Hughes, also talented runners.
In December 1967 John won the junior boys title at Lanarkshire cross country championships, later in the season he won his first national title, again as a junior boy, at the National Cross Country Championships. A second place, behind Laurie Spence, at the Scottish Schools Championships completed what appears to have been his first competitive season.
The next winter, 1968, he had moved into the senior boys age group and swept the board, taking the Lanarkshire, Inter-Counties, Midland District & National cross country titles. It is possible to win races of course against good opposition but if we look at the calibre of athlete that he was racing against we get a measure of his ability: Lawrie Spence (Glenpark Harriers), Lawrie Reilly (VPAAC and Paul Bannon are just some of the opposition. In addition, he won the Scottish Schools cross country championship, reported as follows: “Easiest winner in the three races was J Mulvey (St. Aloysius Chapelhall). He was never challenged after the halfway mark & won by over 100 yards.”
The next season? Same again – victorious in all three senior boys championships, beating Laurie Spence at the National & Jim McLuckie from Larkhall in the Midland and Lanarkshire races.
In the ‘69/70 season, another win in the Lanarkshire senior boys race was followed by a Midland District win and victory in the Inter-County cross-country championships held at Bellshill. With Lawrie Reilly (Victoria Park) and John Buntain (Springburn in second and third there was no doubt abut the team victory. Another tow firsts in one afternoon. There was then a third successive National cross country title, beating Lawrie Reilly of Victoria Park into second place.
1970/71 saw John enter the youths age group. The season again kicked off with a Lanarkshire win. In the Midland District championship he finished third, behind winner Laurie Reilly and Stewart Gillespie of Springburn. This was the first sign of a fall off in his performances. The National in February of ‘71 produced a fourth place, winner again was Reilly with W. Rowan of Ayr Seaforth second and Shettleston teammate Paul Bannon in third.
There is no record of any results in the next season apart from a mention in the National championships official results, where it is noted that Shettleston failed to close a team, but one of the three finishers in 54th place was J. Mulvey. This appears to have been a huge drop in standards, reasons unknown, possibly injury, lack of training or just the process of stopping running. There is no further mention of John in any available results.
All of the above were cross country races. A few performances on the track were recorded. In 1968 at a schools competition at Rawyards in Airdrie he won the 13-15 age group 880 yards in 2min 16 sec. In 1969, as a boy, he won the West District 800m in 2.11.4 and the Inter Counties 1500m in 4.27.3, these results ranked him fourth over 800m and third over 1500m for that year. It would seem that strength over the country rather track speed was his main attribute. Looking at the photograph with his school team mates, he appears to be much bigger & stronger than everyone else.
It is difficult so many years later trying to figure out why the likes of Laurie Reilly and Paul Bannon went on to have successful careers at junior and senior level, while others, like John, disappeared from the scene at a relatively young age. One coach tells us that there are two ages which are vital in an athletes’ career which determine his future and possible realisation of his talent. One is at 16 years of age when school work starts to bite, when the youngster and his family are looking ahead to possible careers and a decision to prioritise the things that matter to them. The other is 26 years old when marriage, maybe children are on the agenda and when careers start to make demands if the runner is to make progress. It is maybe more likely however that people like John with an abundance of natural ability and physical advantages, find it difficult when rivals starting beating them either through training harder or just generally maturing later – who knows?
No apologies for returning to the 1970 Commonwealth and Empire Games in Edinburgh in 1970. What Lachie did that early evening in Meadowbank did more for Scottish endurance running than anything I’ve ever seen before or since. The reason for returning to it is that I found in a bundle of old magazines the Athletics Weekly coverage of the race before and after the event. They reflected the widely held pre-race assumptions and the post race lamentations for Ron Clarke. I simply reproduce them here. First is Mel Watman’s preview on 18th July, 1970.
Given that Lachie has been written out – or rather omitted completely – from the above, we might all be excused for thinking he came from absolutely nowhere on the day of the race. But wait a minute: look at the Commonwealth rankings for the race as reproduced in A.W. of the same date as Watman’s article.
Jerome Drayton, better known as a marathon runner, is at number one but then – whose name leads all the rest? J Lachie Stewart and who follows him in third place? Dick Wedlock. They were 10 seconds (Lachie) and 9 (Dick) seconds ahead of Ron Clarke; 33 and 31 second ahead of Dick Taylor. As for Stan Green’s predictions, Lachie was 85 second ahead of Roger Matthews and 6+ seconds slower than the man forecast to be third!
Came the race and the report. The report appeared in the AW of August 1st.
That’s a lot of information about Lachie Stewart and his career pre-1970, the only question that arises is about why it was not imparted in a separate report before the Games started. After all, he was top British athlete at the time placed above everybody from England (3 of them) Wales (2 of them) and Northern Ireland (1). It was similar to the attitude of a very famous BBC athletics commentator who commented at the AAA’s championships that “Stewart is said to have run 23:34 for the distance at the Scottish championships.” He wasn’t said to have run it, he HAD run it – maybe the Scottish time keepers were not as good as the AAA’s ones. Maybe it’s a chip on my shoulder but I still, after all those years, feel that he did not get the credit he deserved. The testament to the SAAA selection race can be seen in the faces of Stewart and Wedlock after the race, seen in the photo below.
I can remember when I started in the sport that the local club starting blocks were made in the local factory as a private enterprise. They came in sets of two adjustable blocks with a carpet covered foot plate, and four spikes to be slotted through holes in the bottom of the block which were hammered hammered into the track. Each block was fixed to the track separately, the whole process taking some time to complete. It did not take the experts long to bring forward blocks fixed to a central column which speeded up the setting of the blocks. But how did we get to the place where starting blocks were developed at all, never mind to the sophisticated starting aids we have now? Tom McNab gives us a brief history of sprint starts through the centuries.
HUSPLEX TO STARTING BLOCKS
I recently posed a good friend of mine, a fine sprints coach, a few questions on his event. When, I asked him, was the crouch start invented? He was about twenty years out, and no wiser about the date of the invention of the starting block.
Before answering either of these pressing questions, let me say that I believe that any coach with a passion for his event should immerse himself in it. For that interest should surely travel far beyond the most recent Powerpoint presentation or the latest drills, and involve at least a passing interest in the history of his event. Perhaps that is just the opinion of an old fogey, but that’s the way I feel.
The crouch start was invented around 1885 by the Irish-American coach Mike Murphy ( father of the film star George Murphy), and presented a year later on May 12th at the Rockaway track to a bewildered starter by the sprinter Charles Sherrill, who was advised by him to adopt a proper position. I have the photograph to hand as I write. There are three other sprinters, all adopting various versions of the standing start. These were the ”lunge”,( a half-twist), a basic standing start, and the “dab” start, which meant that the front foot came down first. And then there is our man Sherrill, knuckles on the ground, toe on the line and wearing a woollen hat, with left knee way out of line.
By the first Olympics of 1896, the crouch start had begun to establish itself, but even in the 100m. final only one runner adopted it. Another had a semi-crouch, supported on high pegs, the rest simply stood.
There was little in the way of technical development of the crouch start in the next forty years, when the starting block was invented. But I am getting ahead of myself. For the Greeks had invented a starting-sill, with grooves set a few inches apart in the stone sill. And they had also invented a starting-gate, the husplex. This was a right -angled gate, with the runner behind a horizontal wooden slat, held so by a string which passed down the vertical post into grooves on the sill, back to the starter, who held the strings for each husplex. When he dropped the strings, the horizontal slats fell, allowing the runners to surge forward.
What happened before the husplex? Simple. False starters were whipped. I have put this idea to the Technical Committee of the IAAF, but have so far received no reply.
Husplex being used at a relay changeover
The modern starting block was invented by the American George T. Bresnahan in 1927, was called “the G.T. Bresnahan Foot Support”, and given Patent Number 1701026 on April 29th, 1927. Within a year George Simpson had run 9.4 for 100 yards using them, a time which was not accepted as a world record.
By the 1948 Olympics starting – blocks were accepted. I remember them well, heavy cumbersome things, with coconut matting to cover the block- surface. The 1980 Games saw the introduction of pressure-sensitive starting- blocks.
So there we are, from husplex to starting- blocks, but that isn’t all. For what happened before the starting gun? In rural sports, starts were made using a drum or even a trumpet. In betting-based two man match-races, starts were “by consent”. This meant that they were rather like a Western gunfight, the only difference being that if one runner was unhappy, then the whole process had to be repeated. This led by the middle of the 19th century in contracts insisting on a gun-start if consent was not secured within a given time, and soon consent had virtually vanished. By the 1860s match-races had begun to fall out of favour, and handicap-based “Pedestrian Carnivals” began to dominate, making consent impossible.
So we are at end of this particular story, from husplex to starting- blocks, from “consent” to gun, from the “dab” start to the crouch. Perhaps it doesn’t matter, what happened in the distant past, but there is a saying that those who know nothing of the past are lost in the present.
But our governing body clearly thinks that the past is of some importance, for in a high jump instructional poster it states that the Greeks “probably” practiced high jump. No ,they did not. And that women first competed in Olympic athletics in Paris in 1924. No, it was 1928, in Amsterdam. But what does it matter?
Lastly, sprinters had traditionally made their own rudimentary starting blocks, but when it was announced that the London Games in 1948 would allow such aids for the first time, Rottenburg came up with adjustable blocks and a system to anchor the mechanism to the track.
Born in Glasgow, Rottenburg attended Kelvinside Academy and Loretto School, before studying mechanical science at King’s College, Cambridge, where he was a varsity rugby fullback. He also played for representative matches with Middlesex and was capped five times for Scotland, which included regaining the Calcutta Cup from England in 1899. After a spell in America, Rottenburg returned to Cambridge in 1904 and lectured in electrical engineering. He was involved in athletics as a measurement official for the Amateur Athletic Association and is crediting with inventing the modern starting blocks, having come up with the original design of blocks that were adjustable and anchored to the track.
The story of Rottenburg and the starting blocks can be found at:
Rottenburgh testing his blocks,
I once walked through the streets of Springburn carrying two knives with 12″ blades, albeit that they were in a nice box. That’s one of them above. They were the first handicap prize from a 12 mile road race. Handicap prizes were not always appropriate. I was once chased through the streets of Helensburgh by a team mate after the 16 mile road race. There were four in the team, the first three were the scoring runners who had won the team race, and I won the first handicap prize. Their award was 6 coasters + 6 place mats with pictures of highland cattle up to their knees in water – mine was a Schreiber coffee table. Handicap prizes were not always distributed equably. For the team prize at another meeting we won fireside rugs (57″ x 25″ I think) and mine was given to a friend as a wedding present. Handicap prizes were sometimes useful. On another occasion I ran a 16 mile point to point, won a handicap prize that was a metal fire screen which I had to transport home on a bus. Handicap prizes were sometimes sources of puzzlement . . . or puzzlement.
The races above were in the 1960’s and early 1970’s and in the amateur ranks subject to many rules. They were much less uniform across the country as far as the professionals were concerned – see Handicapping – SCOTTISH DISTANCE RUNNING HISTORY . The form below tells us that the practice was very well established in the ranks of the amateurs well over a century ago. Tom McNab’s look at the history of handicapping is below.
Handicaps . “ T. Cowburn will run any of the following men 100yards, R. Haworth, Manchester, if he will allow two yards start, or Oakes of Bolton, one yard in a hundred. Or Winstanley of Miles Plattin 120 yards, level. Any of the matches can be made at Crompton’s Rifleman, Hulme, for £5 or £10 a side.”
Thus Bell’s Life, September 8, 1861. The newspaper records fifty matches for September, but that probably represents only a small fraction of the foot-racing matches in that month, (most of them local), between men far short of championship class.
The culture of handicapping depended on betting, with the aim of dead heats, or certainly close races, something which scratch competitions rarely offered. It centred, as did pugilism, round public houses. The rapid growth of the railway system after the “Rocket” in 1825 meant that, even as early as 1861, local handicap-based match-racing would begin to decline, to be replaced by “Pedestrian Carnivals” in the major towns. Of these, Sheffield was the Blue Riband, to be replaced in the final quarter of the century by the Powderhall New Year Handicap .Twenty years later, Bells Life advertised no local match-races, though a handful still occurred, almost always between elite athletes, and mostly on a scratch basis. Match-racing ended in Scotland , in the early 1930s.
Corruption eventually killed Sheffield as a centre for professional handicap racing by the end of the 19th century. Not so Edinburgh’s Powderhall Handicap, which stood above all other meetings in the quality of its ethics. By this time, there had been the ghastly Hutchens-Gent fiasco at Lillie Bridge in 1884. There, no agreement on the winner having been previously reached, neither athlete ventured from his dressing-room, and an enraged crowd burnt down the Lillie Bridge stand. This sounded the death-knell for professional footracing in London.
So handicap professional athletics retreated to Scotland, Wales and the industrial north, though it lingered in the minefields of Kent and in occasional rural meetings in southern England.
Enter the amateurs, in the final quarter of the 19th century. Ignoring the fact that handicaps rested upon betting, they ruled over a network of mainly rural handicap meetings. This meant that it took till 1906 to remove bookies from amateur meetings, and the corruption that went with them.
A major problem which faced the amateurs was the question of prizes, for its administrators believed that men should compete for the joy of it, rather than for a prize. So at first the meet-organisers offered cups and medals, which the athletes firmly rejected. Next on offer from governing bodies was any prize upon which an EPNS plate could be riveted. Here the aim was probably to avoid the re-selling of prizes. This naturally limited the type of award which could be offered, and was almost equally unpopular. Finally, the blazerati caved in and offered straight prizes, usually a useless piece of bric a brac, thus obliquely preserving the ethic of sport for sport’s sake.
Which is where I come in, around 1950. I found that there was little competition in our Scottish handicap open meets for fifteen year olds, and all of it was in running events. And when senior status was secured, field events were rare, despite the fact that Scotland had bequeathed to the world most of its field events programme. And, lawdy lawdy, all field events were also on a handicap basis, something quite alien to the professional Highland Games whence they had derived. Handicaps ruled. Hell, we even had 120 yard hurdles handicaps, a nightmare to anyone who had any realistic aspirations in the event.
Thus it was that I was regularly given a 30cm. start on our great Scots high jumper Alan Paterson, and it shames me to admit that I never once defeated him. And later, when I was Scottish triple jump champion, I had to give away starts of over two metres.
The basic principle of the amateur handicap system was to hand out prizes to the mediocre, to retain them in the sport. And it was based on fixed penalties, ie a win in 100yards lost you 1.5 yards. But it went beyond that. I well remember winning prizes in one meet in shot put and high jump. As a result, my handicap in the sprint next week was immediately reduced by a yard, and my mark in half mile by 20 yards.
Handicapping in professional athletics was driven by betting, but in amateur athletics it was driven by the desire to evenly dole out prizes. In the races, it had the advantage of occasionally providing blanket finishes, but only rarely, because handicaps were not based on time, but on fixed penalties. The “blanket finish “ advantage did not, of course, apply to field events, where handicaps simply meant handing out prizes to athletes with big starts. And the prizes! Each meet-organiser seemed to have a friend in town who earned his living by selling junk. Thus it was that I returned to my mother many a summer Saturday with barometers, cake-dishes and cutlery. And woe betide any athlete who found out where that junk had come from, and took it to the shop to replace it for something which he actually wanted. For he immediately became a “professional”, as he did if he dared to sell his prize for filthy lucre.
So much for the history of handicaps, hardly an honourable one, one of corruption in professional athletics and the rewarding of the mediocre in the amateur sport. I have no objection to their occasional revival, as a curiosity, or for variety, though if we wish to operate with betting-odds and bookmakers, as did the old professionals, then buyer beware. And handicaps can undoubtedly be of great value with children. They have, however, no place at all in field events, and that is not because, fifty years ago, I had to give away two metre starts in triple jump!
The extreme was events such as the one retold to me by a very good Irish runner living in Glasgow in the second half of the 20th century. He and his wife or brothers would go on their bikes to what he called a “wee flapper meeting” out in the sticks, he wearing his work boots and long trousers. He’d approach the handicapper and ask if he could get a run, mister. He’d be looked up and down and told to start up there, the official pointing at a favourable mark. Off the runner went, removed his trousers, changed his shoes and won the race. He’d collect the prize at the run and they’d all take off on their bikes as fast as they could go. There are similar tales told in Powderhall & Pedestrianism: 1 – SCOTTISH DISTANCE RUNNING HISTORY about even quite famous runners such as the Irishman Tincler. It’s a subject that lends itself tales told.
Walter Eadie (33) in Strathclyde University colours in Scottish Universities Championship at Cambuslang.
Walter Eadie was a talented runner on the road and over the country and it was a sad loss to Scottish athletics when he emigrated to Canada after graduating from Strathclyde University. He started out with the Stirling club St Modan’s which had been the home club of marathon great Joe McGhee whose victory in the Vancouver Empire Games was never properly recognised or celebrated outside Scotland. St Modans was a good club which catered for more than endurance runners with George McLachlan a GB decathlon internationalist, as well as Mike Ryan who ran for New Zealand in the Olympic Games in Mexico and won a bronze medal for doing so.
We can start by looking at some of Walter’s replies to the questionnaire to find out more about him, his beginnings in the sport and where went from there.
Club/s: St Modan’s AC, Stirling AC, University of Strathclyde
(despite the catholic high school name, St Modan’s was a community club. They later changed the name to Stirling AC to make that clear)
Date of Birth: 3 Oct 1945
Occupation: Product & Marketing Manager, Plastics Industry (Ontario, Canada)
Is there any family background in athletics or any other sports? No
How Did You Get Into The Sport Initially?
I ran x-country for Denny High School in the annual Joe McGhee Trophy race, the Stirlingshire schools championships. I was invited to go to the St Modan’s club by a committee member who saw me run the year I finished 4th. A week later I won the St Modan’s Boys race and a week or so after that finished 3rd in the NCCU Scotland Boys race (March 1962, behind Middleton and Wedlock – our team was 1st).
Personal Bests? Nothing that was remarkable or memorable.
What exactly did you get out of the sport? Success in running gave confidence as the first in my family to go to university. Discipline in training carried over to discipline in studies which resulted in academic success.
Can you describe your general attitude to the sport? I just generally loved running and training. I liked the “Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner” aspect of training but, on the other hand, I still have great memories of the people I trained with and competed with 60 years ago
What goals did you have that were unachieved? I should have run a marathon when I could have, instead of putting it off “until I was really ready”
Can you give some details of your training? Too far in the past to remember much.
When did you head for Canada? Did you do any running when you got there? Have you kept up with the sport?
I left for Kingston Ontario in December 1968, and in 1969 got to know the Queen’s University track coach. I ended up coaching (and training with) the Queen’s cross-country team until 1977. In that time, I represented Ontario in the Canadian championships in Edmonton Alberta. I ran lots of cross-country and road races in that period. After my son was born, I became more involved with football coaching, refereeing and administration. Too many years of road running with poor footwear left me with knees that no longer liked the pavement pounding.
–
Lots to look at there – for instance what he got from running is more than just the travel and friendships but developed confidence which transferred to other spheres of life. That and the associated discipline required to be a successful runner are life lessons to be noted. It is also noted that like several others who emigrated at a relatively young age he continued in the sport in various categories – coach, runner, team member. Having won trophies at St Modan’s, he also made his mark at Strathclyde University as John Myatt says in his own “Strathclyde University Reminiscences” : ” Strathclyde, as a newcomer to university athletics, was developing its own traditions from scratch. Walter Eadie had set the standard in representing Scotland in the Junior International in 1965 while the founding fathers had developed an active social life to complement the running.”
Walter’s first appearance in the National Championships was on 3rd March, 1962 at Hamilton Race course where his third place was a remarkable run for one so young in his first major championship, indeed it was his very first competitive race.. That opening race of his career is noted below
The complete result is available at National XC Results 1961-2 Men.pdf
He had joined a very good team – the St Modan’s Boys team had finished third in the Midland District Championships at Renton in January, less than two months before the National but there was no mention of young Walter, he was not even on the programme. Reason? See above, the SCCU Championships was his first competitive race. The coming of Eadie strengthened an already good squad and St Modan’s AC won the team race with Eadie 3rd, Brown 6th and Fleming 12th, The following year he was up an age group and ran in the Youths (Under 17) age group where he finished eighteenth. Tom Brown was the top St Modan’s runner that year when he finished 5th and the team was also fifth. He had missed the District Championships again although this time he was on the programme.
BY season 1964/65 Walter’s name was appearing in results from all over the country – the success rate was high and many of the athletes beaten were of very high quality. For instance in November 1963 he was in Clydebank for the Youth Ballot Team Race. The race first appeared at the end of the War and was one of the very first open races for the Under 17 age group. The report on the race read:
E Knox (Springburn Harriers) won Clydesdale Harriers open youths two and a half miles road race in the new record of 13 min 51 sec, 2 sec better than the time returned when I McCafferty (Motherwell) won the race last year. Other positions:- 2. W Eadie (St Modan’s) 14:04; 3. AD Middleton (Springburn) 14:05; 4. T Brown (St Modan’s) 14:09; 5. J Brennan (Maryhill) 14:12; 6. C Martin (Dumbarton AC) 14:35. Ballot Team Race:- 1. T Brown 4th, M Bradley 7th, A Johnston (Victoria Park) 16th 27 points; 2. W Eadie 2nd, J Fleming (St Modan’s) 14th, T McEwan (Beith) 21st 37 points.
Look at the names there – Duncan Middleton, Colin Martin, Jim Brennan, Mike Bradley and Alistair Johnstone were all international representatives. The Ballot Team had been originally devised to give every young athlete the opportunity t win a prize even if he were the only one in the age group in his club. Before the start of the race, the names of the entrants were sorted into three piles of equal size with the most successful in the first pile, the least successful in the third pile and the rest in their own. Before the race one athlete from each bundle was picked out at random to make a team of three. At the end of the race, the team with fewest points was the winner.
In January 1964 the District Championships were held on the heavy going and hilly course in Strathleven Estate, Renton, and again it was a superb field in which Walter was sixth in 15:14. The team of Tom Brown (5th 15:12) and Jim Fleming (8th 15:42) was second.
On 1st February , the Inter Counties Championships were held at Cleland Estate, where the first four in the Youths race were: 1. E Knox (Lanarkshire); 2. AD Middleton (Lanarkshire); 3. R Wedlock (Lanarkshire); 4. W Eadie (Stirlingshire). Team Race: 1. Lanarkshire; 2. Midlothian; 3. Dunbartonshire. Another good race on the lead in to the Scottish Championships. These were held on 29th February, 1964; Youths W Eadie 4th 15:18 [E Knox, D Middleton, R Wedlock] Team 2nd (T Brown 5th 15:19, J Fleming 19th, A MacFarlane 31st). First ten listed below:
On the track in 1964 Walter represented the University as he had done over the cross-country season to good effect when won the Scottish Universities 3 miles championship race in 15:07.
In season 1964/65, running in the Junior Men’s age group, he was a student at Strathclyde University which opened up the whole field of University athletics to him as well as having to run in what was probably the toughest County Championships in the country – Lanarkshire. The first really big race that he took part in was the Edinburgh to Glasgow elite 8 stage relay race. There were two stages recognised as for the toughest of the tough, the stages of champions and these were the second and the sixth. On his first run in the race Walter was asked to do the second stage. No easy task and in that year the opposition included Fergus Murray, Mel Edwards, Hugh Barrow, Bill Ewing, Bert McKay and Bert Irving. Taking over in 17th position, Walter worked his way up to 14th over the six miles. Not a bad run at all. He was tenth fastest on this ferocious stage despite probably being the youngest runner there.
The Scottish University Championships, held on 23rd January, 1965, were held at Cambuslang where the photograph above was taken. Walter ran well in the race and finished fifth leading the Strathclyde University team home into fourth place.
The Midland District Championships were held at the Renton again and he and he was placed 25th, leading the University team home. Came the National Championships and on 27th February over the well known trail at Hamilton Race course Walter was fifth in a very good field – see below. The Strathclyde team finished fourth.
The Senior and Junior Men’s teams were selected for the international that year immediately after the championships and the Junior team consisted of R Wedlock (Motherwell YMCA), W Eadie (Strathclyde University), I Young (Edinburgh University) and E Knox (Springburn Harriers) with J Brennan (Maryhill) and JW Raeburn (Teviotdale) selected as reserves.
The venue that year at the Hippodrome Wellington in Ostend, Belgium on March 20th, 1965. The Championship had grown from the previous year with first appearances from Argentina, New Zealand and West Germany. Complete results were published in the Glasgow Herald”, one of the few papers to do so, and for the Junior event, there were only to be three counters. Walter was third Scot to finish when he crossed the line in 22nd position. Results of the race are below to indicate the calibre of runner in a very hard race – Walter’s time was only a minute behind the bronze medal winner over the 4.75 miles (7.5 kilometre) distance.
Walter ran in his second Edinburgh to Glasgow relay in November 1965 and again ran on the second stage. Alex Wight, Alistair Heron, Eddie Knox, Dick Hodelet, Jim Johnston and Mike Bradley were among the runners on that stage. Walter took over in tenth place and held that to pass the baton in tenth place at the end of his leg to Stewart McCrae. He was ninth fastest on stage. At the end of the season, still a Junior, Walter ran in the National at the end of February 1966 and finished twelfth, sandwiched between Alistair Johnstone and Duncan Middleton for the Strathclyde team that was placed fifth.
In 1966, he ran a different stage for the University – the longest and some would say the toughest stage in the race – when he started out on the long 7 miles of the sixth leg. It was one of the toughest in terms of competition that some had ever seen – Olympians Alder, McCafferty and Macgregor, Games athletes like Bryan-Jones and Joe Connelly, Scottish internationalists like Pat Maclagan, Mel Edwards, Eddie Knox, world class hill runner Bobby Shields were all out there. Walter could not fail to be a bit disheartened – the Strathclyde had dropped to 20th place of the 20 teams running at the end of the second stage and stayed there until the finish. He started out four minutes behind the second last man – internationalist Jim Johnstone of Monkland. It came of course at a crucial time as far as his University studies were concerned and training was clearly taking second place. The studying resulted in a first class honours degree in 1967.
It was a time of runners doing big mileages in training – many runners, including university athletes, were running some ferocious miles in training. After graduation, Walter stepped up his training mileage in 68 and 69 and there were associated injuries that hampered any progress he might have made post-graduation.
He emigrated to Kingston, Ontario in December 1968 and got to know the University track coach the following summer. As he says above, he also became in volved in cross-country and road racing. How well did he do? He was fourth in the Eastern Canadian cross-country championships in Ottawa in 1970 and was on the Ontario team in the Canadian Championships in Edmonton, Alberta. However, he tells us that a lack of familiarity with ice and snow underfoot conditions resulted in a disappointing race. In 1974 he was fifth in the Ontario cross-country championships and continued to run road and cross-country through the 1970s (10k times on the road around 32 min).
At that point in his life, as with almost all runners, there were more demands on his time and he says that family and work pressures reduced his serious running after that and he became more involved in football refereeing and volunteer administrative roles.
Walter came into the sport as an Under 15 athlete who had a great degree of talent and won two medals (individual and team) in his very first race. When he was allowed to train as he wanted and follow a good racing season, he showed that the talent was there and was developing. It is good to see that he kept running with some success despite all the adaptations necessary after emigrating. He can be justly proud of his athletics career, and Scottish athletics was the poorer for his leaving.
It might be difficult to realise in the 21st century with telephones that can take photographs, but there some runners who had no pictures taken of them in action. Jim was one of whom there are few: the picture above shows the start of the Edinburgh to Glasgow with Jim the runner in the red box. Any others out there would be welcome.
One of the finest young runners that I have seen in a career in the sport that has so far lasted for almost 70 years was a chap called Jim Finn who ran in the colours of Monkland Harriers. The pity is that he barely raced as a Junior or Senior athlete and his talents have been almost forgotten. Joe Small, who himself ran for the club has written this account for us. Joe writes.
Speaking to Tom Callaghan over the years, he has occasionally mentioned a runner called Jim Finn who normally appears in results, reports and athletics journals as J. T. Finn. Jim was a tremendously talented cross-country runner who won numerous races as a boy (Under 15) and Youth (Under 17) before disappearing from the scene as a Junior Man (Under 20). From the village of Mount Ellen near Coatbridge, he joined Monkland Harriers in the late 1950’s. He was successful right from the beginning. Note the progress in the National Championships:
*In the 1958/59 National Cross-Country Championships he finished seventh and was a member of the Boys team that finished second, the other runners being J Grant (3rd), R Grant (12th) and T Callaghan (35th). The team was only three points behind George Heriot’s School.
*By 1959/60 he had moved up to be in the Youths age group where he led the club to fourth: Jim actually won the race in his first year as an Under 17 with R Grant 15th, J Johnstone 19th and EN Marshall 59. With 94 points they were only one single point behind the Dundee Hawkhill team that took bronze. The Glasgow Herald race report read – “JT Finn (Monkland Harriers) caused a surprise when he beat the holder, W Fleming (St Modan’s AC) for the Youths title run over 3 miles. Finn won by 60 yards with M Ryan, also of St Modan’s, just beaten on the line for second place.”
*In 1960/61 he was again first in the age group, followed home by such talents as GB Brownlee (ESH), Hugh Barrow (VPAAC), JC Douglas (Teviotdale), A Leitch (Gateshead) and L Stewart (Vale of Leven). The club was again fourth with Jim followed home by J Grant (5th), T Gallagher (55th) and F Thomson (65th) but missing third place medals again by only one point behind George Heriot’s. The report this year said: “Easy win for Finn – JT Finn the holder, of Monkland Harriers, beat his principal rival, GB Brownlee (Edinburgh Southern), the Eastern District champion, by 60 yards in the Youths Three Mile event. H Barrow (Victoria Park, last year’s boys champion, finfished a good third.”
*His first year as a Junior (1961/62) saw Jim finish a very creditable sixth. Sixth in his first race as an Under 20 Junior runner. He was of a generation blessed with genuinely highly talented runners as can be seen form those in front of him – AIC Heron, Craig Douglas, Mike Ryan, Allan Faulds and Jim Bogan. Bearing in mind that this was his first year in the age group he had behind him such as Lachie Stewart (8th) Leitch (9th), Chris Elson (10th), and others such as Fergus Murray and Martin Craven. This result saw him selected for the International Cross-Country Championships where Scotland was third team with the medal winners being Lachie Stewart in tenth, Alasdair Heron eleventh and Jim sixteenth. The Glasgow Herald reported on the race briefly as follows:
“Scotland’s Junior team performed creditably, finishing third to England with a total of 37 points.”
*In the National in 1962/63 he finished 20th in the Junior race – the first time that he had finished outside the top ten. The opposition was even stronger than in the previous year but there were some ahead of him who had finished after him more than once.
This progression was of course shown in other events such as the District Cross-Country championships. where the results were as follows.
| Year | Group | Individual Placing | Team Placing | Team Members |
| 1959/60 | Youths Age Group | 3rd Individual | 1st team | JT Finn, J Johnstone, R Grant |
| 1960/61 | Youths | 1st | 3rd team | JT Finn. R Grant, T Callaghan |
| 1961/62 | Senior/Junior | 31st | – | – |
Senior Junior Career
Jim had had a stellar career as a boy and Youth, especially over the country but his career in the Senior ranks was sketchy with only a few appearances at the top. For example he only had one run in the Edinburgh to Glasgow Relay. That was in November 1962 where he was twelfth of the twenty runners on the first stage. sandwiched between former internationalists Tom O’Reilly of Springburn Harriers and Dick Penman of Bellahouston. Not in evidence at the Midland District Championships his run in the National Championship that year seems to have been his last race ever. Placed 20th, it was not a bad run at all. He was two places behind Dick Hodelet of Glenpark Harriers and one place behind Ray Baillie of Glasgow University, one place ahead of R McKean of St Andrews University and two in front of Brian Scobie (Maryhill) and three ahead of Albert Smith of Victoria Park.
The name of Tom Callaghan has appeared in many of the results noted above and he was a team mate of Jim’s in County, District and National medal winning races. Tom comments: “JT Finn was an outstanding talent as a Youth who was able to perform to the level he did with a limited amount of training. He seemed to have so much natural ability that he should have been a top performer at 5000m on the track. Perhaps the natural ability wasn’t enough and the work ethic was missing.
Our three for most races was Jim Grant, Jim Finn and myself, with Tommy Gallagher as fourth choice. During the two seasons we ran as Youths, we were almost unbeatable in relays. I would run first, Grant second and Finn on the last leg. Our one regret was that we never won the National as a team despite JT Finn winning the individual title twice in 1960 and ’61. I think it was in ’61 that Finn was beaten in the Midland District cross-country at Renton, after which one of the senior members of the club said to him, “What happened to-day?” Finn replied “Wait till the National.” In those days the National was held at Hamilton Racecourse. Finn allowed whoever wanted to make the pace do so, until the final hill where he just ran away from the field to score a convincing victory.”
The following results in very high quality relays verify what Tom said above.
Summing up, another immensely talented runner as a Boy and Youth who never made the transition to the Senior Ranks, reason unknown – a great loss to the sport.
We have on the websites some works which are now out of print and difficult to access such as Emmet Farrell’s autobiography, the history of Powderhall and professionalism, the history of the Scottish Marathon Championship by Colin Youngson and Fraser Clyne and several more. This one is exceptional and a bit different in that it is from a current work. It is well worth a read and deals with the elite, classic and unfortunately now defunct Edinburgh to Glasgow Road Relay. The introduction below is by Colin Youngson.
Below is a key chapter from Brian Gardner’s excellent 2025 novel ‘Return to the World Cross’ (which is a sequel to his previous work ‘The World Cross’), both of which are available from amazon.co.uk. These books include a great deal of authentic detail about cross-country running in particular. (Brian himself raced well in the Scottish Senior National and went on to win the M45 division of the annual British Veteran Five Nations Cross-Country Championship.) His main characters are three young runners who look strangely similar, despite coming from different places (Australia, England, Scotland). In this sequel, they are training together and preparing to race for Scotland in the 1979 World Cross-Country Championship in Limerick, Ireland. The E to G is a vital part of their preparation. Although the chapter is fiction, it is firmly based on the real 1978 Edinburgh to Glasgow Relay.
Extracts from Running Shorts by kind permission of Colin Youngson
The Gathering
‘Now remember, young Danny. This is a team race, the most important one in Scotland. You’ve seven runners relying on you. So hang on to the group until the hill after the Barnton roundabout. Then give it everything you’ve got left. One hundred per cent, all the way to the line, eyeballs out!’
‘Okay, Jock. I promise I’ll do my best.’
‘I’m sure you will. You’ve got the talent and the guts. Right, two minutes to go. I’ll take your tracksuit and pick you up at the other end. Best of luck! I’ll be watching!’
No pressure then, thought Danny nervously as he stripped down to his red vest and shorts, a cold blast of air whipping his bare skin. He edged into the gathering crowd of equally nervous runners, their collective anxiety so acute that he could almost taste it. The freezing wind blew into their faces while they shivered outside the ornate gates of Fettes College, Edinburgh at 10.30am on Sunday 19 November 1978 for the start of the annual Edinburgh to Glasgow road relay. It was going to be a long day.
A whistle blew and a serious-faced official called each runner, in alphabetical order of club, to the white line chalked across the road. Each man was handed a light, metal baton. One, decorated with dark blue ribbon, was presented ceremoniously to the athlete wearing a white vest with two dark horizontal bands hugging his chest as if to keep him slightly warmer. Tradition had it that last year’s winning team carried a baton with a message from the Lord Provost of Edinburgh to his counterpart in Glasgow. This year the honour fell to Edinburgh Western Harriers, whose first stage runner, Menzies Haven, accepted the challenge with suitable grace, and then returned to his shivering.
Our main rivals, so Jock keeps telling us, thought Danny. He looks more confident than I feel. Standing behind the line, he nodded to Haven and waited for the signal to begin the be-all-and-end-all of road races. Jaysus, I wish this bloke would hurry up and get on with it, we’re all freezing our bollox off here.
‘All the best!’ shouted Archie and Eddie from the pavement.
‘Take it steady,’ called Sandy.
Less stressy than Jock, Danny thought appreciatively.
‘Good luck, Danny!’ called his mum tentatively.
Mum’s come all this way on the bus just to see me off, she’s trying really hard, all those years ago we travelled here together to escape Glasgow, now I’m about to run in the opposite direction, Mum never said how she’s getting back though. Then there was no time left to think, because the starter finally called the runners to their marks and raised his arm.
Stage One (five and a half miles) Fettes College to Maybury Roundabout
Crack! went the starting pistol, and the first of eight stages on the far-reaching road to Glasgow began. Long before the athletes disappeared around the first bend, officials and supporters dived into their cars to motor five and a half miles west to the first changeover at the Maybury roundabout. Sandy’s car would continue further to the start of stage three, where Eddie would complete his warm up and wait for Clyde Glen’s second-stage runner to pass him the baton. Archie was due to start the sixth stage and run into Airdrie, home territory.
Meanwhile, Danny was not happy. Something’s not right, he worried, no way should I be this tired and sore already, we haven’t run a mile yet.
‘Come on, Danny! Stay in touch!’ called Jock near the junction of the Craigleith and Queensferry roads.
How did he get here so quick? As promised, Danny was trying his best to do what Jock had asked of him, but he was going backwards. His body wasn’t responding to the pressure of the race. It was one thing to push yourself in training but the stress of competition was something else entirely. It must be the glandular fever, worried Danny. What else could make me feel so shit? There was no escaping that negative conclusion. Nor was there any escape from the race because, unlike another on the roads years ago when Danny gave up and dropped out, this was a relay. Jock’s words rang ominously in his ears: ‘This is a team race. You’ve seven runners relying on you.’
Danny plodded on as another two athletes easily overtook him and sauntered ahead as though they hadn’t a care in the world. And there was nothing that Danny could do about it. ‘You’ve got the talent and the guts,’ Jock had said. What talent, what guts? Danny asked the icy downpour as, clutching his half-frozen gut, he staggered into the gale. Barton roundabout, must get to the Barton roundabout, then eyeballs out and it’s all over, Barton roundabout.
Miles of pain later Danny heard Jock from the roadside again: ‘Last mile, Danny! Stick in there, you’re not that far behind!’ Where the feck is that bloody Barnton roundabout? Following instructions, Danny tried to push hard up a steep hill, and there at last was the elusive way marker, overgrown as though it had been waiting all year for Danny. It must be downhill to the finish from here, please! Glimpsing the road ahead through the foliage, his spirits sagged, because the hill kept going up. Oh, God, Jock did say to hang on until the hill after the roundabout, I forgot, oh no! A wave of weariness slowed the pitifully increased pace that Danny had fought to muster. Another rival passed him and his stride degenerated into a shambling shuffle.
Half a mile to go, downhill to the main road and the changeover zone at the top of the next hill was within his blurred vision. John Black jumped up and down in his eagerness to collect the baton that Danny couldn’t wait to get rid of. When he was close enough to hear his team-mate’s shouts of encouragement above the howling wind, he remembered the extra rep that Sandy had sprung on them in that hill session a few weeks ago, and he dredged up something resembling a sprint, running the last twenty metres with his baton-clenching hand outstretched, and then the cold metal was no longer his responsibility. Thank feck for that.
‘Not too bad, Danny,’ said Jock, clapping him on the back, nearly sending him sprawling. ‘Twelfth, we can catch up. Now come one, here’s your gear. Do a wee jog and get your breath back, then I’ll drive you on to your dad. Don’t hang about though, we haven’t got all day.’
Danny muttered something unintelligible between heaving gasps, hefted his tracksuit top over his aching shoulders and struggled manfully to pull the trousers over his shoes. One wee jog later he was bundled up in the front seat of Jock’s car and looking forward to a rest, although aware that it was bound to be disturbed by the driver’s nonstop encyclopaedic blethering about the greatest relay in Scottish athletics, even greater than Scotland’s history-making triumph in the Commonwealth Games 4×100 metres, apparently. No sooner had Danny sat down than his head was shunted backwards on to the headrest as Jock rammed his foot on the accelerator and the car screeched into action. The team manager was obviously in more of a hurry than his first stage runner had just been.
‘The leader’s a minute and twenty-eight seconds ahead of us. More to the point, we’re only just over a minute slower than Edinburgh Western. John’ll make most of that up.’
1. Albert Park AC (A. Black) 27:03
2. Glasgow College (F. Fyne) 27:04
3. Forrest Runners (G. Killin) 27:09
4. Cambuswee Harriers (C. Connelly) 27:13
5. Edinburgh Western Harriers (M. Haven) 27:24
6. Edict & District AC (A. Muller) 27:25
. . . 12. Clyde Glen AAC (D. O’Toole) 28:31
Stage Two (six miles) Maybury Roundabout to Broxburn
‘Did you spot that official in the striped blazer nicking the fancy baton from the Edinburgh Western runner?’
‘Yeah,’ grunted Danny, gripping his seat tightly as Jock’s car took a corner Grand Prix style.
‘Oh, aye, they gave him an ordinary one instead. They save the special one for the leader at the start of the final stage. Can’t risk losing it before then, you know. They’ll never forget the year that Western runner stopped dead and chucked the baton into a garden. Had enough, he said, until his manager kicked him up the backside and told him to get on with it, not in so many words, mind, and not before a big row with the guy who lived in the house. He’d just shut his front door on his way to collect his News of the World when this metal tube landed in his pride and joy.’ Jock sighed. ‘Aye, great memories.’
‘Erm, do you think you could slow down a wee bit, please?’ asked Danny, feeling sick.
Jock carried on as though his passenger hadn’t spoken. ‘Of course, your stage was like a normal race. The weaker clubs always put their star on the first stage, which is partly why you were back in twelfth, but now it’s every man against the elements. Determination, intelligence, self-motivation—a relay runner needs the lot. Mind you, a good second stage runner can make up a lot of places; most of the guys are still close together.’
‘What’s this stage like?’ asked Danny, feigning interest in the hope that Jock would remember he had a passenger whose life might be in danger.
‘Six miles straight and flat until the last mile uphill. Ideal for track athletes; a lot of fast guys on this one. The best teams put their top men here and stage six. Innes Steward holds the record, and he won the Commonwealth 5000 metres in this city back in 1970. Won the World Cross once as well.’
‘I know,’ gasped Danny as Jock suddenly swerved to avoid a cyclist.
‘Look at that: John’s made up four places already. I told you not to worry.’
I’m worried now, thought Danny, wondering if he dared ask Jock to pull over so that he could throw up. However, Jock was in full stride:
‘Of course, they invite the top twenty clubs in Scotland to this race—there’s even a guest team from Norway this year—but only half a dozen can compete for the medals. That’s how many have the strength in depth for an eight-man relay. Are you feeling better, by the way?’
‘Erm—’
‘Wind your window down, will you?’ interrupted Jock. ‘You’re doing great, John!’ he bellowed, leaning precariously over Danny and breathing stale bacon-and-egg fumes all the way down into his already delicate constitution. ‘They’re all lining up for you! See you at the finish!’ Only just remembering to look at the road ahead, he swung left to avoid an oncoming car, horn blasting. ‘What a man, that John Black, eh? He’s bringing us right back in contention. I told you twelfth wasn’t too bad.’
Please stop, thought Danny. This is worse than the run, even the glandular fever was a walk in the park compared with this.
Jock kept up his obsessive patter for another couple of miles until the car, tyres shrieking in protest, shuddered to a halt on a grass verge near the Broxburn town baths changeover. Danny piled out and immediately emptied the contents of his stomach all over the pavement.
‘You runners are all the same,’ tutted a sour-faced woman walking her dog. ‘Walk on, Lachie, never mind that disgusting boy, you’re much more discreet, aren’t you? Good dog.’
Over at the start line, Eddie glanced across at Danny while he waited for John Black to appear. Poor Danny, he thought, as Sandy and Archie headed over to console their friend. I’ll see you later, I’m a bit busy at the moment, and I’ve got a point to prove.
Edinburgh Western Harriers 56:27 (I. Stobs 29:03),
Clyde Glen AAC 56:58 (J. Black 28:27—fastest of the stage)
Cambuswee Harriers 57:25
Albert Park AC 57:39
Shingleston Harriers 57:41
Edict & District AC 57:43
Stage Three (four and a half miles) Broxburn to Wester Dechmont Farm
The reason that Eddie had a point to prove was that Jock had put him on the shortest stage because he was a poor wee lad who was the first to catch the lurgy. Jock’s skewed logic was that Eddie must be the weakest not only of the three residents of Cairnhill Hospice but also of the whole team. That’s how Eddie had found himself amongst the gnarled legs and bald heads of the older runners clustered around the changeover area. He rubbed his gloved hands up and down his arms and thighs, trying to generate some heat, although thermal long johns would have done a better job. Jogging on the spot, he extended a cold arm, ready to grab the baton from John, who came huffing round the corner in a cloud of steam like he had his own personal generator. So fast was the incoming runner’s approach that he collided with Eddie and shoved him on his way as soon as the precious tube changed hands.
I’ll show Jock, Eddie promised himself as he powered up the first of a series of short hills.
These pathetic humps in the road are easy peasy after training up and down Airdrie’s seven hills, he thought later as he piled up the last of them.
‘You’re doing great!’ shouted Jock from his car, passing perilously close to Eddie’s elbows. ‘You’re catching him!’
It’s hard enough being battered by hailstones without your team manager nearly running you over, Eddie grumbled to himself, then peered ahead at a white vest barely visible through the near-whiteout. Jock was right: he was getting closer.
‘You’re closing in, Eddie!’ called Archie from the front passenger window of his dad’s car.
‘Brilliant running,’ added a pale faced Danny from the back seat.
The course flattened out, the hail mercifully eased off and Eddie had a clear view of Edinburgh Western’s Charlie Fume not far ahead. They were in the last half-mile; was that long enough for Eddie to catch him? Inexorably, stride by stride, the gap closed. Glimpsing a nervous expression on the face of Fume as the leader glanced back, Eddie found another gear but Fume responded, and the space between them stubbornly remained at the next exchange outside a gloomy Wester Dechmont Farm.
‘Well done, man!’ Jock-on-the-spot shouted in his ear, only moments after Eddie had safely transferred the baton into the waiting hand of Jim Montrose. ‘You’ve made up twenty-four seconds on Western. We’re only seven seconds behind now. We’ve got this.’
But there’s another five stages, reasoned Eddie, although he didn’t say it out loud. There was obviously no point in arguing with Jock when he was excited; he never listened. Besides, Eddie didn’t have enough breath to contradict anyone. However, he was feeling good; tired but satisfied. This was a successful comeback on the road to Dublin and the World Cross—or at least to Glasgow, for now.
Edinburgh Western Harriers 1:18:51 (C. Fume 22:24)
Clyde Glen AAC 1:18:58 (E. Hollingsworth 22:00—fastest)
Albert Park AAC 1:19:44
Fife Kingdom Runners 1:19:57
Cambuswee Harriers 1:19:57
Shingleston Harriers 1:20:10
Stage Four (five and a half miles) Wester Dechmont Farm to Armadale
‘Great running, Eddie,’ said Sandy. ‘That must be the fastest of the stage. How are you feeling?’
‘Surprisingly okay, thanks.’
‘Well, you’ve put the team in strong contention now, and Jock’s a happy man.’
‘So I gather.’
‘Anyway, the main thing is that you’ve had a good run and you’re okay, unlike Danny unfortunately.’
‘How is he?’
‘Groggy. He assumed he was still getting over the fever but now he thinks it’s a bug or something. I’m going to drive him and Archie on to stage six. Look, there’s your dad. See you along the road, right? And again, well done.’
‘Brilliant run, Son,’ said Edward, grinning. ‘Proud of you.’
‘Thanks, Dad, thanks for coming.’
‘Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.’
The sound of squealing tyres and roaring engine signalled Jock’s pursuit of his fourth-stage runner. Sandy’s car followed more sedately, a groaning Danny in the back, his pale complexion replaced by a sickly green. Archie fidgeted in the passenger seat. He was wearing his club vest underneath his top to save time, and the over-large race number was irritating him. The stiff paper was inflexible and its sharp corners dug into his armpits. I know, he thought. Mum always keeps a pair of scissors in the glove compartment.
‘Can you see if Jim’s any closer to Rabson?’ asked Sandy, interrupting Archie’s thoughts. ‘I’m having enough trouble seeing the road.’
It had taken longer than expected to locate the leading pair, such was the speed of the chase on the opening, downhill section of the stage. The windscreen wipers were working overtime because the hailstorm had returned with a vengeance. Sandy and Archie peered at the familiar, forward-leaning, long-striding, wide-armed running style of the tall Jim Montrose.
‘Looks to me about the same gap,’ answered Archie. ‘That’s a Commonwealth medallist he’s chasing. It’s a big ask.’
‘What do you reckon then, our steeplechase star or their 1500-metre maestro?’
‘What do you think, Danny?’ Archie said over his shoulder, ‘Can our man do it? He’s a Scottish Native record holder, like you.’
Danny whimpered in response. He knew that Archie meant well, but the distant memory of a record breaking summer only emphasised how crap he felt now. Running to the toilet would be about all he could manage now. Come to think of it . . .
Edinburgh Western Harriers 1:48:14 (J. Rabson 29:23—fastest)
Clyde Glen AAC 1:48:22 (J. Montrose 29:24)
Albert Park AAC 1:50:25
Shingleston Harriers 1:50:32
Cambuswee Harriers 1:50:55
Fife Kingdom Runners 1:51:00
Stage Five (five and a half miles) Armadale to Forrestfield
‘That’s Sandy’s car,’ said Eddie as he and his dad drove past later. ‘And there’s Danny bent over again. He must have been there a while. Dad, turn back! Archie should be at his start! He must be panicking. We need to help.’
Archie was jogging back and forth in the layby while Sandy tried to reassure patient and son at the same time but for different reasons.
‘Sandy, we’ll take Danny home!’ Eddie shouted through the downpour as his dad’s car skidded to a halt.
Moments later, Sandy and an anxious Archie sped away in a race to beat the leaders to the stage six start. A miserable Danny wobbled on weakening legs to unleash another vile torrent from his insides, Eddie and Edward holding him up, preventing him from collapsing into his own gloopy mess.
Sandy’s car slowed down slightly to negotiate the interim changeover zone, too late to find out who had won the battle of the fourth stage, and in too much of a hurry to ask. Jock would surely tell them later. Jock! He must be having a fit at the start of stage six! Quick!
Crossing the ‘border’ from the East to the West of Scotland the hail turned to snow, making visibility even worse. Fortunately, the snow had yet to lie on the road surface, which was Sandy’s excuse for giving the accelerator some welly. They whizzed past tailenders and followers, and then the two leaders suddenly appeared, Edinburgh Western’s ever-reliable Craig Rawson ahead of Clyde Vale’s Rab McRonald, and it looked as though the lead had increased, but not by much.
Archie was too worried about his own impending race to shout encouragement. ‘Drive faster, Dad!’
‘Archie, try not to waste valuable energy panicking about something you can’t control. We did the right thing stopping with Danny. In years to come you’ll look back on this as a good memory because you put your friend’s health first. Anyway, we’ll be there in a few minutes, well before the runners. You’ve got your number on and your racing shoes, you’ve warmed up a wee bit, you did your business in the hedge back there. All you have to do is strip off, jog and stride a bit more, and enjoy a good run. Everything’s going to be fine’
‘You make it sound so simple, Dad,’ said Archie, wriggling out of his tracksuit in the tight space.
‘It is simple. Look, there’s the Forrestfield Inn. Get ready to hop out.’
No sooner had Archie fallen out of the car and rushed to the start than Jock was on him like a ton of bricks. ‘Where have you been? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?’
‘Sorry,’ mumbled Archie, jogging in a circle around the zone.
‘First I thought you were in the pub like that bloke the other year who missed his start. I’ve spent the last, long half-hour of my life staring into the blizzard, like Scott of the Antarctic hoping to be rescued.’ He paused to stare at Archie’s chest. ‘Oh-oh, your number.’
Right on cue, red-striped-blazer man appeared: ‘Whit’ve ye done to yer number?’ he demanded. ‘Tamperin wi race numbers is contrary tae rule fifteen! Clyde Vale could be disqualified for this!’
‘Erm . . .’
‘Hold on, sir, please,’ pleaded Jock, bending at the waist at clasping his hands together submissively. ‘The lad’s come all the way from Australia to run the E to G, so famous is this brilliantly organised race of yours. He doesn’t know the rule about numbers. Where he comes from they use jackets for football goalposts, so what chance has he got of understanding intricate regulations? Have a heart, would you?’
‘All the way across the world tae run in oor relay, ai?’ replied red-stripe, flattered, stroking his chin pensively and staring at Archie’s hopeful expression. ‘Haud oan a wee minute, did Ah no see you oan stage wan?’
‘I thought I saw him on the third stage,’ added another official, helpfully.
‘Come on, Jock,’ said red-stripe. ‘You’ve been in this game lang enough tae ken that ye cannae run the same man on mair than wan stage.’
‘Leaders approaching!’ warned the other official.
‘We’ll huvtae take this matter up again in Glasgow,’ said red-stripe, blowing his whistle.
Splashing through the puddles on the exposed lochside road came Craig Rawson, head down into the gale, hurtling towards the inn without a backward glance. His experience would tell him that although Rab McRonald had not closed the gap, every second could be the difference between his team winning or losing. He sprinted towards his waiting team-mate, who stepped calmly in front of Archie to receive the baton. It was Albert Moor, reigning Scottish Cross-Country Champion and road runner extraordinaire. Waiting in the wings was a rival familiar to Archie: Shingleston’s Nicol Morland.
The big guns were gathering outside this lonely inn near Airdrie for the longest stage of them all. Archie tried manfully to shrug off the effects of his chaotic build up—the glandular fever, the months of isolation, the panic en route to the changeover and now a threat of disqualification—and remind himself that he was the champion of the world, not only of Scotland, not only this windswept corner of Lanarkshire. It’s them that should be worried about me, he mumbled as he stood behind Albert Moor and waited for Rab McRonald and his precious metal cylinder.
Edinburgh Western Harriers 2:17:13 (C. Rawson 28:59)
Clyde Glen AAC 2:17:23 (R. McRonald 29:01)
Albert Park AAC 2:19:31
Falkirk Flyers 2:20:50
Cambuswee Harriers 2:21:11
Fife Kingdom Runners 2:21:24
Stage Six (seven miles) Forrestfield to Airdrie
Archie shuffled into the space vacated by the outgoing Moor and gave a final shout of encouragement to the incoming McRonald. There’s no one else in sight, was Archie’s last, fleeting thought of the nineteen teams that were now out of the equation; his last glance behind when he grabbed the baton from his team-mate. He turned to face front and set off in determined pursuit of the galloping leader of this two-horse race in the grand stakes of the E to G.
Snow gave way to sleet and then rain, all in the opening miles of undulation. Edinburgh Western had started the stage ten seconds in front of Clyde Glen but it might as well have been ten minutes for all that Archie could see of his white-vested target in the enveloping murk. With each bend and rise in the road, Moor flitted in and out of his pursuer’s vision. One minute he seemed to be closer, the next further away. Relentlessly, Archie kept up the chase, racing against the elements and his elusive prey, the Arctic wind a bitter enemy. A road that was also taking Archie into familiar training haunts. He rounded another bend and sloshed through a flood underneath a bridge, which he knew was three miles away from Airdrie Cenotaph and the end of this stage. Only three miles, nearly all downhill, on a surface that remained solid despite the constant battering from the skies. Surely an insignificant distance for a well-trained runner who had conquered the world on the stormiest of days in the muddiest fields imaginable.
The road straightened out on the relentlessly long main street of Plains, and still Archie maintained his dogged pursuit, and still his rival remained just out of reach. Down a leafy glen, up the other side and into Clarkston, through traffic lights—red, but controlled by a police officer signalling all vehicles to stop. Just as well, because there was no chance of Archie stopping; he sprinted straight across, utterly single-minded in his effort to reduce the rift.
Downhill again, zipping over the black and white chequered roundabout known as the terminus, although trams had long since ceased to roll through the town. Careering down Forrest Street, past the big posh houses and into Airdrie’s thoroughfare. Calm the breathing, check knee-lift, grip the baton safely and concentrate, work hard but don’t overdo it, keep a bit in hand for the final flourish. Crashing through another set of red lights at Airdrie Cross, scudding alongside the town hall and public baths, leaving the shops behind, flashing past the big Tudor Hotel. What’s that sound, not a bugle? And there was Westend Park on the left, and just beyond, the cenotaph and its attendant crowd of matchstick figures, Lowry style, and still Archie was still the same distance in arrears! Sprint!
‘Sprint!’ echoed Jock. ‘Eyeballs out!’
‘Last effort, Archie!’ cried his dad. ‘Big finish!’
Archie sprinted, eyes popping out of their sockets, staring straight ahead at the eager face of the waiting Innes Gillanders. Tired legs carried a wheezing Archie and steered his priceless cargo into the dock-like, grasping fingers of his team-mate. ‘Go, go!’ he gasped, and Clyde Glen AAC entered the penultimate stage in their now accustomed role of pursuing Edinburgh Western Harriers.
Edinburgh Western Harriers 2:50:59 (A. Moor 33:46)
Clyde Glen AAC 2:51:11 (A. MacTavish 33:48)
Albert Park 2:54:40
Falkirk Flyers 2:55:23
Cambuswee Harriers 2:55:47
Shingleston Harriers 2:56:00 (N. Morland 33:17—fastest)
Stage Seven (five and a half miles) Airdrie to Barrachnie
‘Great run, lad!’ shouted the ever-present Jock. ‘You’ve set Innes up nicely. Twelve seconds is nothing to him. Brilliant run by Nicol Morland, though—33:17 is some going, but his team’s no threat, they’re miles behind. No, it’s us against those Prima donnas from Edinburgh who think they own the place because they’ve won everything else this year. Well, they’re not going to win the main event. We’ve got them now, you wait and see. Right, I’m away to the next changeover. See you at the finish, and don’t worry: I’ll smooth over that number problem. Nothing’s going to get in our way today!’
Archie slumped over the bonnet of a parked car and waited for Sandy.
‘Dad?’ he asked, after absorbing his less obsessive praise. ‘Was that really a bugle or was I hearing things?’
Half an hour later they drove through the final changeover zone, having just missed the exchange between Gillanders and Clyde Glen’s anchor leg runner. Sandy spotted his friend and Scotland team manager, Neil, heading for his car.
‘Hey, Neil,’ he called out of the window, slowing the car to a crawl. ‘What’s happening?’
‘Big rumpus. The official got himself into a right fankle, wondering who to give the fancy baton to. Gillanders was closing up on Andy Robinson so fast that the poor bloke was hovering between the two eighth-stage runners. First of all he pointed it to your man, then to the Edinburgh guy. It was comical. Anyway, Robinson just held off your man, and his mate grabbed the fancy baton off the official to make up his mind for him. Then, what do you know, Gillanders clattered into his mate and their ordinary baton flew up in the air. Both of your blokes caught it between them and then away went your glory-leg man. You couldn’t make it up.’
‘That’s hilarious, Neil.’
‘There’s more, wait til you hear this. That tuneless trumpeter from Edinburgh Western played The Last Post when your man ran past him, still some way behind Robinson at that point. You know what your Jock told him when he caught up with him here? He said he was premature in his ejaculation, which I thought was quite witty for Jock in all this excitement. And you know what he said after that? He told him to stick his bloody bugle up his—’
A blast of a horn warned Sandy that his car was blocking the road. He jolted into action and joined the line of cars leaving the housing schemes of Baillieston behind and following the leading duo on the final stage towards Glasgow’s George Square—a place steeped in Scottish history, where pens were poised to write a new page in the history of Scottish road relay running.
Edinburgh Western Harriers 3:17:34 (A. Robinson 26:35)
Clyde Glen AAC 3:17:35 (I. Gillanders 26:24)
Albert Park AAC 3:21:49
Shingleston Harriers 3:22:22 (S. Weston 26:22—fastest)
Falkirk Flyers 3:22:31
Edinburgh Central AC 3:23:07
Stage Eight (five miles) Barrachnie to George Square
Jock had said that he could name any one of half a dozen club-standard runners to fill the final place in the team of the century. In top junior Baird McCloy, he had far more than that minimum requirement. The pesky bugler and the rest of the Edinburgh Western contingent placed their trust in seasoned campaigner Irvine Morton, but it soon became clear that he was struggling in the renewed blizzard. By the time that Sandy edged his car ahead of the front-runner it was the Clyde Glen man who held a commanding lead in the busy streets of Glasgow.
‘He’s going away,’ said Archie. ‘All those miles running west, chasing Western, and now it’s too easy. Jock must be in a lather.’
‘Definitely. It’s a proud day for the team manager.’
Jock was jumping up and down in childlike delight at the finish line in the shadows of the dignified monuments in George Square when Sandy and Archie arrived.
‘Team of the century! I told you it was our turn to win this year!’ he spluttered to anyone who might be listening.
‘Congratulations, Jock,’ said the Edinburgh Western team manager, patting his counterpart on the back. ‘The best team won.’
Jock calmed down momentarily to acknowledge his rival’s sporting gesture, and then resumed his bouncing on the spot when the rapidly striding figure of Baird McCloy entered the Square. This was Jock’s crowning achievement. Years of domination by the team from the east with the name from the west, and now with only seconds of almost four hours of road racing remaining, the usurpers named after the west’s famous river were flowing unimpeded towards a glorious victory. Baton raised high above his head, Lanarkshire lad McCloy breasted the tape and broke the hearts of Midlothian.
For the first time in his life Jock was lost for words. He bent over and coughed into a slushy puddle. The stress of months of preparation, miles of tension and anticipation on the road and the exertions of his demented leaping up and down had finally caught up with him, here at the climax of it all in Scotland’s so-called second city. There was nothing second best about Jock’s team of the century though.
‘Superb management,’ said Neil as he, Sandy and Archie joined the crowd gathering in concern around the victor apparently choking.
‘Ma-cough-marvellous! I-cough-told you we’d do it!’
‘You did at that, Jock.’
‘And do you know what? Cough. The team wasn’t even at its best. Cough. Rab’s not fully fit, Innes obviously enjoyed a long holiday after the Commonwealths, there was that mix-up with the baton at the last changeover, and your three lads haven’t properly recovered from the glandular fever, have they?’ Jock asked Sandy. ‘Where’s the other two by the way?’
‘Eddie and his dad are looking after Danny back home in Airdrie. Archie and I are going to head off soon to check on the poor lad . He’s had a rough day of it.’
‘There you go then,’ said Jock. ‘I hope he’s okay. Anyway, just think what we can achieve when everyone’s fit. Roll on, Livingston.’
‘Livingston?’ asked Archie.
‘That’s where the Scottish Cross-Country is this season,’ explained Neil. ‘Jock won’t be the only team manager keeping an eye on you Clyde Glen stars.’
‘Oh, aye,’ added Jock. ‘You’ve got three months to get fully fit, and then we’ll show those Edinburgh guys that their days of domination are over. Look, there’s that red-striped official taking the poncy baton off the Edinburgh guy and passing it to our Baird, and there’s the Glasgow provost waiting for it.’
‘Oh-oh, Jock,’ said Sandy. ‘Red-stripe’s coming this way.’
‘Hmm, cough.’
‘Congratulations, Jock,’ said red-stripe. ‘Noo, aboot yon race number . . .’
Clyde Glen AAC 3:46:07 (B. McCloy 28:32—fastest)
Edinburgh Western Harriers 3:48:42 (I. Morton 31:08)
Albert Park AAC 3:51:35
Shingleston Harriers 3:52:29
Edinburgh Central AC 3:53:07
Falkirk Flyers 3:53:08
We have only just heard of Chris’s death and Colin Youngson has written this tribute to a man liked and respected in equal measure.
Chris Leck was a very valuable team man for Spango, contributing to medal-winning successes in all three major winter relays. In the Scottish cross-country relay, Spango finished third in 1983 and second in 1986. The E to G (which Chris ran eight times in succession between 1980 and 1987) added ‘most improved’ awards for 7th place in 1981; and bronze in 1984. The Scottish Six-Stage Road Relay produced three bronze medals in 1983, 1985 and 1986.
Chris was a very good runner who was highly rated by everyone on the scene. Principally a classy cross-country and road runner who never showed the same form on the track but had some outstanding runs in the Edinburgh to Glasgow Road Relay.
“SPANGO VALLEY AAC (excerpt) by Cameron Spence
Spango Valley AAC was formed in September 1973 when a group of IBM employees decided they would like to form an athletics club.
From early local successes the club started to make its presence felt nationally from about 1978 winning many Local, County and District Championships at cross-country Relays and 6-man team contests. The results they achieved at the National Relay were outstanding for a provincial club. But the highlight for the club and myself was winning the National 4 man Relay at St. Andrews in 1985. The four man team was Peter Conaghan, Chris Robison (there’s is another great story on how he joined Spango), my brother Lawrie and myself. To win the National in the mid 80’s was something special. Scotland at that time had an abundance of athletic talent. What a day it was for the club. And the trip back to Greenock will go down in history.
Over the years the club has had many international athletes running in the famous blue and yellow stripes. Here are some of the names: Graham Clark, Peter and Steven Conaghan, Lachie Stewart, Hammy Cox, Tommy Murray, Chris Robison, Mark Pollard (as a boy), my brother Lawrie and myself. Many of these athletes had won National and District titles. But we had a lot of very gifted and talented club runners who did a fantastic job for the club. Here are some of their names: Chris Leck, Terry Wilkie, Joe Gallagher, Charlie Doyle, Ray Hyett (the father of Graeme), Martin Coyle,Tom Dobbin and Stuart Hodge. These runners were just below International standard. In fact the times they were doing back in the 70 and 80’s would put them among the best runners around today.”
In the Scottish National Cross Country Championships, the club’s best performance was fifth in 1985 when Cammie himself led the team home and they had four runners in the first 100 – he was 13th, Chris Leck was 22nd, brother Lawrie was 31st and Peter Connaghan was 61st.
In the West District Cross Country Championships, Spango Valley’s first win was in 1985/86 with 93 points and the athletes responsible were Chris Robison 2nd, Lawrie Spence 3rd, Chris Leck 18th, Cammie Spence 29th, Lachie Stewart 32nd and Ed McKee 37th. 
Robert Quinn (former Scottish Cross Country Champion) and many more of Chris Leck’s Facebook Friends expressed great sadness at his sudden death. Chris was widely considered not only a very talented runner but more importantly an extremely popular and valued friend. Sincere condolences.
John Brown Senior’s scrapbook was a traditional sort of scrap book in which he kept such records written by hand as he wanted to keep mixed in with cuttings from newspapers and magazines. The order was chronological order and the cuttings covered Olympic Games, sports meetings, articles on training, on athletes and on the history of the sport. We have a small selection from the book below. The first piece on training by Joe Binks was typical of the advice given out by most coaches and ex-athletes of the time. I know of one international athlete and coach who wrote to him c/o The News of the World asking for advice and saying he was training 5 days a week, only to receive a handwritten reply telling hom for goodness sake to ease up, he would only harm himself.
Now a report from Dunky Wright followed by a report on the SAAA Championships at Meadowbank.
