Wheelchairs, Perjury and the London Marathon
Page 9
One other matter I particularly remember was the local media reception. A photo and short report eventually appeared in the local paper, but at the finish was a reporter from the local radio station. The race was, I think, the week before London, so when I was asked about the course, the race and so on, I praised the course but cursed the weather, and made sure to point out that if London had been as enlightened as they were in Norfolk, I wouldn’t actually have been there at all; but that since London was blinkered, I was happy to come and do their race.
The First Battle Of Marathon
The May edition of “Running” magazine was published in late April. It included a short article by me, explaining how wheelchair road racing started, the best way of including a wheelchair section in a running race, what had been done so far in Britain, especially in contrast with the times being recorded in America (1h 48m 06 s in the 1982 Boston Marathon) and expressing frustration at the continued ban by London on wheelchairs. The magazine then went off to John Disley to seek his views on the matter. What follows is a direct quote of his response to the magazine:
“The Gillette London Marathon is a ‘foot-race’ held under IAAF, AAA and WCCA Laws and Rules of Competition. It is not a multi-purpose jamboree [really?]. Any disabled person is entitled to apply for entry as long as they intend to traverse the course on foot.
The wheelchair racers do, of course, deserve to have their sport developed and if it were possible to incorporate them into the London Marathon without threatening the efficiency, fairness and success of our running event no doubt their inclusion would be considered.
The fact is we are straining our persuasive powers to the limit to achieve the route and timing we now have for 1982, and the inclusion of a wheelchair event in conjunction with our foot-race could only be done by eroding the quality of the race. This we are not prepared to do.
In a few years time, things may change, but in the meantime the London Marathon will benefit charities to the extent of some £2 million-plus generated by the sponsorship of many of our runners.”
I was appalled at reading this, and said so to the editorial assistant from “Running” who had sent me the magazine. As an afterthought, I added a PS at the end:
“Do you remember the time when women runners were forcibly pulled out of the Boston Marathon? Disley is inviting the same development with respect to wheelchair athletes.”
I wasn’t prepared to leave it at that, though, and wrote a vicious piece about a fictional interview with a former athlete, John Wiseley:
“What’s it like if, as an active sportsman of international repute, you find yourself struck down by accident or disease? What sort of hopes do you have for the future? We went to interview John Wiseley, former international athlete and member of the Sports Council, who was severely injured in a car accident some months ago, leaving him paralysed from the waist down. Sitting in his wheelchair, he outlined to us how he plans to develop his life again.
“I know that my running days are over,” he told us, “but there is the possibility of taking part in some wheelchair sports. Of course, now I am in a chair I realise that I am not a proper person any more, still less a real athlete. It means, for example, that I won’t be able to take part in serious events like the London Marathon. There are many difficulties, you see: I can’t carry a tray with a bottle of Perrier water on it, and the balloons and streamers which some athletes wear would get in the way of the wheelchair. Without these decorations, of course, wheelchairs taking part would make the whole thing look like a multi-purpose jamboree, and I wouldn’t want that.”
“Other things make it difficult as well,” he went on. “I’m concerned with the quality of the event. After all, in the USA the best wheelchair times for the marathon are only around two hours, and this really isn’t good enough for an important event like the London Marathon.
“The problem began, I think, when they first let women take part. They’re so much slower than men, which means that the whole thing takes so much longer. I really think the organisers will have to think again about letting them take part. And as for letting wheelchairs in, with their times, they would simply erode the quality of the race even more, and the organisers quite rightly shouldn’t consider that.
“Of course, it is nice to know that the organisers want everyone to raise money for you, even if we’re not allowed to do it ourselves. Real people don’t have such a good opportunity to be patronised by such important people.”
John Wiseley concluded his penetrating analysis with the following thoughts: “Even if I won’t be able to enter the London race, there are other, less serious events in the provinces which are only too pleased to accept we poor cripples: Newcastle, Manchester [I’ d entered the forthcoming Piccadilly Marathon, told them I was in a wheelchair, but hadn’t been rejected], Hull, Birmingham, Norwich, Guilford and Cardiff, for example, where they obviously have a different view of handicapped people like us.”
We left this humble, thoughtful man and returned to the city where 18,000 real athletes will soon be endeavouring to raise the standard of the London even higher than before.”
I don’t know if I sent this anywhere, or simply kept it, having vented my spleen at what I regarded as an ignorant and patronising view of things: “Not a multi-purpose jamboree” – what did he think of all the runners dressed up in fancy pantomime gear? “Eroding the quality of the race” – what did he think of the fastest wheelchair times in Britain, now rapidly approaching the 3-hour barrier with the prospect of getting down to the American times of 2 hours and below? I had concluded my reply to “Running” magazine by saying that I’d had my opportunity to make the case, and perhaps it was now time to let others take up the running. Then the PS thought came; and then there was the 1982 race, held on May 9th.
I didn’t watch it, but listened to the radio commentary, fronted by Cliff Morgan. He was as enthusiastic as ever, obviously about the great effort the runners were putting in, but also about the huge crowd of spectators at the finish, mentioning in particular Margaret Maugham “…sitting in her wheelchair, the winner of the first gold medal for Britain in the first-ever Paralympic Games back in 1960 in Rome.”
I didn’t need any further invitation, writing to him the next day suggesting that as well as being spectators, some wheelchair users were actually pushing marathons themselves, and wouldn’t it be a good idea if there was a wheelchair section in London? He replied, very quickly, on BBC notepaper on May 11th – the same day, that is, that he will have received my letter:
“Dear Mr. Marshall,
Thank you for your letter of 10th May. Certainly, I will speak with Chris and John Disley about the entries of people in wheelchairs for the London Marathon. I do not know what the situation is but I will enquire and let you know.
My very best wishes
Yours sincerely
Cliff Morgan
Head of Outside Broadcasts Group, Television”
Rather irritatingly (and carelessly), I don’t have copies of my letters to him, though I do remember writing back saying that making a case for a wheelchair section with B&D would get nowhere, because they were against, full stop. To his credit, he did reply, on June 1st:
“Dear Mr Marshall
Further to my last letter of 11th May, I now have some more information which I hope will help.
The reason why wheelchairs are difficult in the London Marathon is because there are so many tight bends and cobbled sections in the narrower streets of London which does make it a hazardous proposition for everyone concerned.
New York, of course, has lots of long straight runs which makes it a lot easier but then they have to restrict the number of wheelchairs very severely. [This wasn’t correct, of course; Fred Lebow banned them completely]. I am assured – and I honestly believe – that there is no anti-wheelchair attitude. On the contrary, there are so many people who care very much.
Yours sincerely …”
Not surprisingly, I found the explanat
ions difficult to accept, pointing out that the reasons given to him for the non-inclusion of wheelchairs were different from the reasons given to us. By then I’d had a further exchange with John Disley (see below) and wrote back quoting the “caring” nature of Disley’s remarks in “Running” magazine, as well as the more recent correspondence with him, a copy of “Sharing the Road” and so on. It was all returned, but without a covering note.
I also wrote to Des Lynam, who was the chief commentator for BBC television – again, my letter to him is missing – about the issue, and he also replied, being rather more supportive than anyone else so far, but by this stage unable to do anything:
“Dear Tim
Thank you very much for your letter. Had I been aware of the position before the event took place, we might have been able to help, however, I feel it is too late.
Yours sincerely…”
And … there was a wheelchair athlete in the race, someone called Billy Thornton, well-known to the Stoke Mandeville hierarchy, who had completed the entry form in the usual way and then, somehow, engaged the services of Jimmy Savile to get into the marathon. I don’t know the details of how this was done – at what stage in the application–registration–turning-up-on-the-day sequence JS was pulled in. I did find out that the athlete was made to start at the back, but there he was, the first ever wheelchair in the race. So I wrote to Jimmy Savile at “Jim’ll Fix it”:
“Dear Jim
OK, you fixed it for the guy in the wheelchair last Sunday. But did you know that a number of us have been trying to persuade the organisers of the London Marathon to have a proper wheelchair section – established as the British National Wheelchair Marathon? People have completed wheelchair marathons in the following places: Manchester, Birmingham (twice), Guildford, Stockport, Norwich, Wolverhampton, Cardiff and Humber Bridge (at least). How to run a wheelchair section is explained in the May edition of Running magazine (pages 82-83). Can you pull any strings for next year? I can produce a dozen people who already have faster times than the bloke who did the London course this year.
Best wishes …”
I didn’t hear anything, probably because the letter will have been screened out by the army of production assistants before it reached him.
And then there was the exchange with John Disley. I wrote straight after the race. Actually, I drafted a letter on the Monday, but did a re-draft which was sent on Thursday the 13th, after the first reply from Cliff Morgan:
“Dear John Disley
My apologies for taking things up again quite so soon, but really! A pantomime horse, a three-legged affair, a penny-farthing, roller skates, an ostrich, a pram … and a wheelchair. More power to his corns, and I am pleased that he finished, but I can produce a dozen people in this country (including at least one woman) who have done far faster times on far harder courses. After last Sunday more extensive wheelchair participation is bound to be attempted next year, and it were far better that it be organised properly than that you try to cope with a bunch of gate-crashing cowboys. In anticipation I am already compiling a ranking list of this season’s performances.
I can understand that you have more than enough on your plate without becoming involved with a wheelchair section as well. If the British Sports Association for the Disabled were approached, I am sure they would be willing to organise a wheelchair section limited to (say) the best dozen or so athletes from the previous year.
With best wishes …”
He replied a week later, on May 21st, though whether this was before or after Cliff Morgan had approached him I don’t know. The letter was hand-written, on official London Marathon notepaper:
“Dear Tim Marshall
Thank you for your comments about the ‘clowns’ in our marathon [NB I had made no comment about the ‘clowns’, merely describing either their dress or means of locomotion].
Although we are not best pleased with ostriches and pantomime horses [why not? Don’t they add to the gaiety of the occasion?] at least they did not commit perjury when they signed their entry forms, as Mr Thornton apparently did [perjury? PERJURY! This is getting heavy!].
Incidentally, we did not permit Mr Thornton to start, we just left him alone, however he did receive a medal at the finish and I believe that our officials were courteous to him.
Next year we will again run our race under IAAF, AAA and WCCA rules which do not admit to wheels of any kind – cycles, prams or chairs.
Yours sincerely
John I Disley”
If I was appalled by his comments in “Running”, I was outraged by this letter. The accusation of perjury was almost laughable, had it not been made by someone in such a position of authority in the race. But a wider perspective, taken in conjunction with his comments in “Running” (“not a multi-purpose jamboree”) shows a distaste for, and almost a disapproval of, the very people who make his race possible, the thousands of runners both dressed up and not, and of whose fund-raising activities he was so proud. Except for something like a World Championship or an Olympics, the prospect of having the roads closed for several hours for, perhaps, 50 or even 100 elite runners seemed to me pretty thin; and even if it were possible, they wouldn’t be raising money for a favourite charity.
The immediate next step was to complain to the Minister for Sport about the attitudes revealed by Disley’s letter; not for itself, because anyone might validly hold what I regarded as antediluvian views, but because he was Vice-Chairman of the Sports Council whose major slogan was “Sport for All”, and the attitudes expressed in the letter seemed incompatible with that. Neil Macfarlane replied six weeks later, on July 23rd, welcoming the efforts the Sports Council had made during the IYDP to increase access to sport for disabled people, but pointing out that it would take some time for “unnecessary barriers” preventing participation to be removed. Almost as an afterthought, he added that John Disley’s term of office as Vice-Chairman of the Sports Council had finished on June 30th and was not renewed (he had been a member of the Council for 12 years by then).
The Internationals, Stoke Mandeville 1978: The men’s relay
How to load a wheelchair into a Boeing 747. Heathrow, 1978
Cyclops, an early handcycle. Craig Hospital, Denver, August 1978
The attack on Kathy Switzer, Boston Marathon 1967. Credit The Boston Herald
“Brands Hatch comes to Sutton Park” (1). May 1980
“Brands Hatch comes to Sutton Park” (2)
Interlude 1. Challenger, the trimaran
The first Norfolk Marathon - finish. May 1982. © Eastern Daily Press
Interlude 2. Sledging above Chamonix, early 1980s
London Marathon finish, Westminster Bridge 1985
Breathing Space
Away from road-racing for a short while, Sports ’n Spokes now published an article as significant in its own way as “Sharing the Road” had been the previous year. The previous few years had seen the development of a series of what eventually became known as the Diamond League athletics meetings, one- (or more usually two-) day athletics meetings all over Europe and the USA (and latterly in the Middle and Far East as well) show-casing the top athletes in each event, with results from each meeting cumulating to an overall champion. This is similar to what now happens in rowing, skiing, cycling and no doubt many other sports. Now, there was a series of wheelchair races, between 400 and 1500 metres, inserted into the running events as part of the afternoon’s entertainment, in several of the athletics meetings. “Integration”, in the track circuit, and absolutely analogous to the road experience, consists of staging an event in parallel with the able-bodied activity, and placing the wheelchair version of the sport in front of spectators come to view the sport. It can be seen, in a not very subtle way, as part of a public education campaign.
Another example of the same principle occurred around the same time, or maybe a couple of years earlier. Arising from my membership of the Watersports Sub-Committee, Liz Dendy asked me to run the Sports Council’s
“Canoeing for Disabled People” stand at Crystal Palace National Sports Centre as part of the “Canoe Show” held over a weekend in February or March. The Council produced the literature, the photographs, and the Caranoe, and my role was to sit there explaining to anyone who stopped by about how disabled people could be got canoeing. On one of the occasions I did this I noticed posters all over the centre advertising the forthcoming “Basketball Finals” to be held there shortly. All the preliminary matches had been played earlier, resulting in a final between the two best teams in the country. But not just a one-off match between the two best male teams: specifically, the poster gave the timetable for different matches: there was the youths’ final followed by the women’s final followed by the wheelchair final … and so on. You would go to watch these if you were interested in basketball (or, maybe, because you had a relative playing there), and would encounter, maybe for the first time, a version of the sport of which you might have been completely unaware; putting the “disabled” version of the sport in front of a sport-specific audience. At this stage Phil Craven was a very successful international player, and it’s likely that he was already getting involved with the administration of the sport. I don’t know for certain, but I suspect he had something to do with the outreach of his sport into the public space.