Two for One

In Madison Square Garden the Knights of Columbus games jumped and jogged along like any other indoor track meet until the announcer called through the tobacco smoke for starters in the Columbian Mile. A slim, sharp-featured six-footer, whose jersey proclaimed "U.S. Marines," got the track almost to himself. Because he was embroiled in a lawsuit, Lieut. Wes Santee, top U.S. miler (4:00.5), could get no real competition.

It was not Santee's talent that scared the other good milers off. It was his tilted condition as an amateur. Only two weeks before, the A.A.U. had suspended Santee for life from amateur racing (TIME, March 5) for cashing in on his expense allowances. Santee had gone to court and won the right to run this once, without prejudice to the court's right to side with the A.A.U. and declare him a pro. That was fine for Santee, but it meant trouble for other runners with reason to protect their amateur standings. Even if the courts finally overruled the A.A.U., the International Olympic Committee might still declare all who ran with Santee to be automatically tainted for competing with a pro.

Lawyers' arguments and legal decisions aside, the pompous Olympic authority shared the A.A.U.'s disapproval of Santee's" casual approach to amateur ethics. Every miler at Madison Square Garden had heard the I.O.C.'s toplofty President Avery Brundage's ominous pronouncement: "If I were a runner, I would not be running tonight against Santee."

No Way to Train. The only competition the K. of C. could round up for their star attraction was the Air Force's Ed Kirk, a runner who made his reputation as a half-miler at Georgetown, and the Army's Ed Shea, a former I.C.4-A two-mile champion. The resulting race was barely worth watching. Showing no sense of pace, Santee chugged home in 4:13.8, the slowest time for the K. of C. mile in nine years. Before the race he had blithely announced that he had kept in shape, was ready to turn in the race of his life. On second thought Santee explained that "running from courtroom to courtroom is not the best way to train."

The meet authorities could not bring themselves to waste the mile talent close at hand. They added a non-Columbian mile. Santee might have thanked the A.A.U. for keeping him out of competition with Villanova's Ron Delany, N.Y.U.'s George King and Oregon's Jim Bailey. All three looked sharp enough to run him into the boards.

Those three dominated the race. Irish Ron Delany simply hung back and watched the others work. His head bobbing in rhythmic jerks, his spikes scratching forward in his peculiar, snappy stride, he refused to run a bit faster than necessary. Ahead of him King, Manhattan's Jim Doulin and Collegiate Champion Bailey, an Australian who may yet join fellow Australian John Landy on the other side of the four-minute mile, took turns scrapping for the pole. Delany jogged steadily on, always within reach.

With two laps left Delany turned it on, moved past Bailey and King with impressive ease, finished in 4:11.8. Behind him King edged out Bailey for second. The fans, quick to boo the announcement of the special mile, were just as disappointed with Delany's heady race as with Santee's competitionless one. They had wanted a record. They got a smooth performance by a runner who can probably produce a record when forced to.

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