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A $5 Terry Fox bill would be great. Here's another option: Tom Longboat

On March 11, nominations close for the person to appear on the updated $5 bill. And it seems one of the leading contenders could be the late great Terry Fox. Such a worthy candidate. His Marathon of Hope inspired and continues to inspire countless people around the world. Fox is a household name across the country and beyond our borders. We couldn't know his story better than we do now. 

That said, when it comes to runners, there is another, perhaps lesser-known in some quarters, who might provide greater benefit from the acknowledgement: Tom Longboat. One of the greatest athletes of the 20th century.

Longboat, also known by his Iroquois name Cogwagee, was born in 1887 and grew up on a small farm. His father died when he was young. When he was 12 years old, he was forcibly taken from his home and plunked alongside other First Nations youth in the Mohawk Institute Residential School. He would promptly try to escape. Twice. The second time stuck, and he fled on foot to his uncle’s farm and hid from authorities. 

The following is an excerpt from a previous article I wrote on Longboat two years ago, that will give more background. 

On a warm June day, a grassroots race was held at the Six Nations Community Hall near Brantford, Ontario. The annual Tom Longboat Run saw runners take a short and fun jaunt down Fourth Line in the rural town of Oshweken, Ontario. 

The organizer of the race for the past 19 years is Cindy Martin, the great-great grand niece of Longboat. In attendance, Phyllis Winnie, Longboat’s 98-year-old daughter, his last living child, alongside many other friends, family and members of a community of people committed to honouring his legacy. 

For them, Longboat or Cogwagee, his Iroquois name, has come to symbolize much more than just running excellence. For them, and for other Indigenous Peoples across the country who learn his story, he has come to symbolize freedom itself as he continues to instil hope in generation after generation.

“In his time, you had to get a pass from the Indian Agent to even leave the reserve for whatever reason no matter how long,” says Martin, who is the traditional wellness coordinator on Six Nations of the Grand River reserve. “For him to even leave is remarkable, let alone go to the United States, to the Boston Marathon, to travel abroad. He represented freedom for all indigenous people and the right to pursue not only athletics but the right to move around and travel and pursue our dreams.”

Martin talks about him often — although to her growing up he was just Uncle Tom — especially when a kid shows up to run and feels less than adequate because he doesn’t have the latest $300 running shoes let alone compression socks and an array of pricey athletic props. She simply tells the story of Longboat and how he came to line up at his first big race. 

On Oct. 18, 1906, Longboat, who at that point was coached by fellow Six Nations runner Bill Davis, toed the line at his first Around the Bay road race with some old sneakers and wearing what has been colourfully described as a “droopy cotton bathing suit.” People may have laughed at the idea of running 19 miles in such a get-up, but by then the swift-footed youngster was already long gone and on his way to winning the race and launching a career that would catch the attention of the world.

Longboat was born in 1887 and grew up on a small farm. His father died when he was young. When he was 12 years old he was forcibly taken from his home and plunked alongside other First Nations youth in the Mohawk Institute Residential School. He would promptly try to escape. Twice. The second time stuck and he fled on foot to his Uncle’s farm, where he was hidden from authorities. 

After realizing the young Longboat had a talent for running, the West End YMCA in Toronto at the corner of Queen Street West and Dovercourt Avenue offered to house and train the talented runner while he continued to win races and break records.

In 1907, he left the country and headed south of the border to compete in the most prominent race of the day, the Boston Marathon, which he won, setting a record. Oh, and it was during a snowstorm. No big deal. He arrived back home to a victory parade, and a superstar was born. 

The Boston Globe wrote glowingly of the young runner: “The thousands of persons who lined the streets from Ashland to the B.A.A. were well repaid for the hours of waiting in the rain and chilly winter weather, for they saw in Tom Longboat the most marvellous runner who has ever sped over our roads. With a smile for everyone, he raced along and at the finish, he looked anything but like a youth who had covered more miles in a couple of hours than the average man walks in a week. Gaining speed with each stride, encouraged by the wild shouts of the multitude, the bronze-coloured youth with jet black hair and eyes, long, lithe body and spindle legs, swept toward the goal.”

He followed this up with an Olympic Games race, which saw him out in front and on his way to a victory before falling violently ill. Some say he almost died that day, others suggest that he was slipped a drug of some sort. We may never know what really happened.Longboat’s life was far from a storybook. Truth be told, during his heyday, he was portrayed by some, including those in the media, as a person prone to fits of laziness with a taste for the booze. 

According to Bruce Kidd, himself a former Olympic runner, before the 1970s the legend of Tom Longboat was one of victory but also of tragedy. It spoke of opportunities squandered due to alcohol and flawed character that led to lax training. It was this tale, all too standard in an age of rampant anti-indigenous racism, that confronted Kidd as he began work on a biography of Longboat, which was published in 1980. 

“The sentiment of the day was that Longboat was a tremendous talent who won some important races but refused to train and abused his body… that was my starting point,” he says. “But I was a runner myself and when I read his performances it just didn’t make sense to me that this guy wouldn’t train, or he’d be hungover at starting line, yet run these spectacular races.”

Kidd soon realized that Longboat had long be viewed through a very racist lens that was extremely vicious and, more importantly, got it completely wrong. 

“He had a terrific understanding of his own body and he relied upon a traditional Iroquoian and indigenous way of training and nobody even recognized it,” says Kidd, referring to one particularly damning attack in the pages of the Toronto Star that stated Longboat refused to train, and all he does every day is go out for a 20-mile jog. Ahem.

“And, of course, in the 70s runners were rediscovering the concept of long slow distance as at least an important stage of endurance training,” says Kidd. “Some people, who were very successful such as the New Zealanders only did long flow distance.”

Short sprints and other such methods were the prevailing school of thought for endurance training, but long slow distance running was introduced as a legit alternative in 1969 by Joe Henderson. But back in the 1910s, following the success of  Longboat, other runners began to incorporate the methods of the legendary runner long before Henderson came along and popularized it.

Kidd realized that Longboat was completely misrepresented and, in fact, had a remarkable understanding of how to train and do well.  

“I went to the reserve and talked to people and learned of the long tradition of distance running whether it be for fitness, races, a message system or warfare, they were used to covering long distances,” he says. “Longboats form of long slow distance was rooted in this tradition of Iroquoian endurance running.”That doesn’t surprise Martin, who speaks of the history of distance running dating back hundreds of years before the arrival of the horse. She says stories passed down from generation to generation speak of runners so gifted they could run hundreds of kilometres without stopping. 

“Running was a way of life for passing messages from community to community, before telephones and vehicles we had long-distance runners and they were remarkable,” she says. “I couldn’t tell you how far they could run, but some say 300 kilometres in a day. It seems almost impossible to think about, but for him to run as fast as he did over those distances, you can almost see it.”

Most Tom Longboat stories begin in the bowels of the cavernous Madison Square Garden at a match race between Longboat and famed British runner Alfred Shrubb. 

Match races over the marathon distance were all the rage back in the day, and this was akin to the race of the century as thousands packed the arena to the rafters including many from Toronto and Buffalo who took the train down to New York City. 

Wagering was rampant, a band played for entertainment and the runners went head-to-head over hundreds of laps in the smoke-filled room. 

Shrubb, more of a 15-mile specialist, took off like a shot and built up a 15-lap lead over Longboat before the tide turned and the Onondaga sensation started to make his move. 

“Longboat would make a casting motion as he came up behind Shrubb and make this motion like, ‘I’m reeling you in,’” says Kidd. “Then he’d go by him and say something, and gradually he caught up every one of those laps and went on to win. Over the last three or four miles people were on their feet screaming.”

The last match race of note for Canadians was more than 20 years ago when Olympic gold medal-winning locomotive Donovan Bailey defeated puny American sprinter Michael Johnson. But that was over in mere seconds as Bailey dusted his American competitor after a few short strides. 

There was another race in the Longboat legend that gets far less fanfare. One that Martin’s family still remembers well and passes down. It was run over a distance of approximately 15 kilometres from Caledonia to Hagersville. On this particular day, Longboat raced and defeated a horse. He was that fast. 

When Longboat was confronted with those who questioned his methods, Kidd says he did what nobody else did at that time, white or otherwise. He bought out his contract and managed his own career, including executing a successful European tour that included wins at several professional races. 

“He broke a lot of boundaries in that time period that gave people a whole different perspective,” says Martin. “So, Canada celebrates him, instead of forgetting about his legacy, and we appreciate that.”

Tracie Leost heard very little of Tom Longboat while growing up in Manitoba and attending a predominantly white school. But, when she found running, she found Longboat.

“His story is literally everything,” says Leost, a 19-year-old Metis runner from Treaty 1 territory in Manitoba. “For one, he was a residential school survivor and then won the Boston Marathon and went on to join the Canadian Army. At that time, Indigenous Peoples were not even considered humans. In 1906, Indigenous Peoples would still be forced into residential school for another 90 years. So, running is one thing, but then winning the Boston Marathon as an indigenous person after going through something so horrific is something you never hear about.”

When Leost talks about Longboat, she doesn’t concentrate on his athletic feats. She talks of what he had to overcome, the struggles, the racism. And what his story means to her. 

When Leost first started running, it was a conduit for her own grief after her father was in a car accident that almost killed him. She ran because it made her feel good and provided some relief. And she’s never stopped. 

Like Longboat, she wanted to do something more, and in 2015, when she was just 16 years old, she ran 115 kilometres over four days to raise awareness of missing and murdered Indigenous women. One day, her blisters got so bad she couldn’t even lace up her sneakers instead running part of the way in moccasins. 

“At that time, it was something that Canada was ignoring, and I wanted to bring attention to a Canadian crisis by doing something I was good at,” says Leost, who last competed in Toronto at the 2017 North American Indigenous Games. “It meant everything to me.”

Following the war, Longboat returned to Toronto and worked in the public service until 1944 when he retired and moved back to the reserve. 

The city recently named a road after him in the St. Lawrence Market area. There is a popular running club that bears his name, and they hold the Longboat Toronto Island Run every fall. In 2008, June 4 was officially declared Tom Longboat Day in Ontario. There is little chance this remarkable runner will be forgotten any time soon. 

“He was a remarkable athlete and for the most part self-trained and managed,” says Kidd. “And he was a very popular runner and despite mistreatment and some difficulties he always held his head high and treated others with respect. He was just a remarkable man.”

Leost, for one, is sure to pass his name down to her own family and others who need a little hope and tell of how a special young man from the reservation made his dreams come true despite incredible odds. 

“His story gives people hope,” she says. “Now, an indigenous person sees that someone who went through residential school can overcome that and win the Boston Marathon, what can they do? That is something I will for sure pass on to my kids and something I really believe in.”

Like Fox, his story is one of bravery and fighting against all odds. It is inspirational to its core.  And with a profound need for reconciliation, honouring Longboat in this way seems like a great thing to do at this moment. 

To nominate someone for the $5 bill go here.

To learn more about Tom Longboat go here

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