“CANADA CONFIDENT ON THIRD DAY OF OLYMPIC CARNIVAL,” Bobby Robinson announced in a newspaper article to Canadians back home on Tuesday, July 31. The overcast skies and falling rain that greeted the men’s and women’s track-and-field teams in the morning failed to dampen their mood. They were cheerful and impatient to begin. The beneficial effect of Percy Williams’ championship on Canadian athletes, officials, and supporters was magnified by stories of the 100 meters, which filled European papers. Pictures showing the race and Percy being carried on the shoulders of his teammates covered the front pages. Any doubts about the quality of Canada’s Olympic team had been convincingly dispelled.
Williams’ victory was a glorious feat in itself, Robinson said, but it had also instilled a grim determination in the entire team. What the Vancouver schoolboy had done, others wanted to do. The enthusiasm produced by his success had spread to the women, spurring Myrtle, Ethel, and Bobbie to do well in the 100 meters final. Alex Gibb believed Myrtle and Bobbie had the best chances to win the event, but Ethel couldn’t be counted out. The only question was their order of finish — first, second, or third?
As the Canadians looked forward to further triumphs, the Americans were in shock from the results of the previous day. Losses in the 400 meters hurdles and hammer throw to athletes from other countries had staggered them. And when Percy Williams won the sprint final, the American runners finishing fourth and sixth, the day of disaster was complete. The United States had never been worse than second in the event. Prior to the Games, the president of the American Olympic Committee, Major-General Douglas MacArthur, had predicted they had nine firsts sewed up. His forecast suddenly seemed hollow, and many were left wondering what was wrong with the American Olympic Team.
The Americans bucked up a little when sixteen-year-old Elizabeth Robinson qualified for the final in the 100 meters. The Illinois schoolgirl finished second to Rosenfeld in the first round, but amazed everyone by winning her semifinal heat, defeating the world record holder, Myrtle Cook, in doing it. Robinson’s qualification was a surprise as she wasn’t the team’s best runner and wasn’t expected to do well. Moreover, the Olympic Games were only her fourth track competition. Reporters had taken to calling her “Smiling Betty” because she always finished her race with a grin. She had now given her downhearted countrymen reason to smile. Hopefully, she would prevail in the sprint final and restore some respectability to the U.S. track team.
With three of the final six in the 100 meters wearing the Maple Leaf, a clean sweep of the event by Canada was a possibility. Yet Bobby Robinson believed that Myrtle, Bobbie, and the German, Helene “Leni” Schmidt, would fight it out for first place. The American, Elizabeth Robinson, the other German, Erna Steinberg, and Ethel Smith would come somewhere behind. Unlike the day before, the Canadian women had no problem finding a dressing room. Alex Gibb noted wryly that they could choose any one they wished as they had eliminated most of the other nations. She was in good spirits, pleased with the results of the team. “Our showing to date has made the Maple Leaf the outstanding emblem in Amsterdam,” she boasted. “We can have everything except the crown jewels.” Now, thirty minutes before the first women’s track final at a modern Olympiad, the Canadians got ready.
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The pressure of competing at an Olympic Games affected Myrtle Cook and her running suffered. Her results in the preliminaries of the 100 meters, while satisfactory, were below expectations. Here, Bobby Robinson stands next to Myrtle.
For Myrtle Cook, it was a routine she knew well. It began at lunch at the Pension Regina, with a customary poached egg on toast and a large glass of water. Experience had taught her that a small quantity of food before a race was beneficial. Huge steaks were fine for rowers, but not for the average female athlete. In her room, she pulled out her equipment bag to check its contents. She believed in preparing for competition systematically, and began the ritual of checking off each part of her uniform to insure that nothing was missing.
Consulting the list pasted inside the lid of her bag, she verified that everything was at hand. Her two pairs of spiked shoes were there and, importantly, an extra pair of laces. Her uniform and sweat suit were packed inside, as were a pair of short running socks. Myrtle avoided high stockings because they required uncomfortable elastics to hold them up. She located the trowel for digging her starting holes and a vacuum flask. The latter was normally filled with hot tea or cocoa when she faced a long afternoon of running. But today it was unnecessary as only one race would be held. She usually put some sugar cubes in her bag as a source of energy, taking one a half hour before her event. Instead she would eat a square of Jersey Milk chocolate that was given the girls before their events. The stocktaking completed, Myrtle closed the bag and joined the others for the journey to the stadium.
The skies cleared at noon and the bright day augured well. The enthusiastic group of Canadian athletes was in good form as the bus drove through the streets of Amsterdam, past the canals, streetcars, and cyclists. The results of yesterday and the possibility of further triumphs, particularly in the women’s 100 meters, heartened the team considerably. They sang and cheered wildly during the ride to the stadium, confident of a happy outcome to the day’s events.
In the dressing room, everything was quiet as the women prepared. Myrtle said nothing to the others as she changed into her jersey and shorts. Following the example of some of the American girl athletes, she and Ethel Smith had cut off the sleeves of their tops for freer arm movement. As she dressed, she was pensive, her mind turning to the race ahead. She felt she must come through. It weighed on her as she struggled to master her fears and self-doubts. “It is not a good thing to make a world record just before competing in the Games,” she admitted. “You become a target.” As the world’s record holder, she knew she was the fastest, and, if she ran as she did in Halifax, no one would catch her. Yet Amsterdam wasn’t Halifax and the Olympic Stadium was much different than the Wanderers Grounds.
As the hour for the race approached, Alex Gibb and Marie Parkes tended to last-minute details. They fastened the competitors’ numbers to the jerseys of the women. Gibb spoke some final words of advice as she and Parkes applied liniment and massaged the girls’ legs. The rubdowns finished, the women pulled on their sweatpants and tops.
In silence they accompanied their manager down the long dark tunnel beneath the stands. The sounds of the stadium, at first a distant cacophony of noise, became increasingly louder and more distinct as they drew nearer to the entranceway to the field. Upon reaching the gate, Gibb wished them luck and departed.
Dazzled by the light, the girls emerged from the dark passageway into the stadium. As their eyes adapted to the brightness, they beheld a number of vibrant scenes: the German spectators waving hundreds of tiny tricolored flags of black, gold, and red; the distinctive larger banners of the various nations encircling the stadium; the massive scoreboard looming over it; the press section, conspicuous by its distinctive yellow hue, with dozens of reporters sitting behind tables pounding their typewriters; the competitors’ section in red, where the other members of the girls’ team were brandishing the Canadian Red Ensign; the emerald green infield surrounded by the red cinder track; and, at one end, the sight of women athletes competing in the discus throw.
The din created by the cheering and singing from those in the stands swelled about them as they walked to the infield. Removing their soft shoes, they put on their spikes and limbered up. In their previous races, an American had been the starter. For the final, a German was in charge. Two commands would precede the gun — auf die Plätze! meaning “on your marks,” followed by fertig, indicating “set.” Two false starts would result in disqualification.
Grabbing their trowels, the six athletes went to their lanes and began digging their holes behind the starting line. It would be twenty years before starting blocks appeared at the Olympics. Until then, runners would dig holes for their feet to push against and launch themselves forward when the gun sounded. On this afternoon of July 31, the contestants in the women’s 100 meters final did the same. After trying the holes for depth and angle by practising a few starts, they removed their sweat suits and took their places on the track.
The Canadians were easily identifiable by their red shorts and white jerseys emblazoned with a red maple leaf and the word “Canada” on the front. Their outfits caused a mild sensation when the girls first appeared because their shorts rested a few inches above their knees, higher than those of the other female contestants. Not too high, though, as the length of women’s track shorts was prescribed by a rule. Their jerseys, however, were another matter. They were so large that they billowed out over their shorts, like sails in a breeze. Whenever photographers wished to take a picture, the girls were forced to hike up their tops to show the Maple Leaf. Myrtle thought their costumes were awful.
The German starter gave the command, “auf die Plätze!” and the runners took their marks. The stadium fell silent as attention focused on the women crouched on the track. From where she was sitting, Jane thought Myrtle looked nervous. “Fertig.” Then, as the crowd waited for the gun, one of six bolted and two shots were heard, signaling a false start. It was Myrtle Cook. She returned to the starting line and was warned by the starter. Again the women were commanded, “auf die Plätze!” then, “fertig.” This time two runners left too soon and charged up the track until recalled by the gun. The spectators sagged in disappointment and the stadium buzzed over the second false start. The German Schmidt in lane two was one of the offenders and, to the consternation of the Canadians, the other in lane four was Myrtle.
The starter walked over, tapped her on the shoulder, and said, “Second break.” She stood unbelieving for a moment, and then, realizing what it meant, burst into tears. As the crowd looked on in amazement, Myrtle slowly walked off the track.
“We were in shock,” Jane said, for the Canadians never anticipated this outcome. They were still numb as the starter failed a third time to get the runners away. Schmidt had committed her second false start. When informed of her disqualification, the German athlete, instead of breaking into tears, shook her fist under the starter’s nose, and the spectators feared they were about to witness a scene of face-scratching and hair-pulling. The perplexed official retreated a step and motioned Schmidt off the track. He then turned to Myrtle, who was sitting too near the starting line, sobbing uncontrollably. Afraid of the effect her crying would have on those remaining in the race, he persuaded the despondent Canadian to move behind the runners before he attempted to begin the race once more.
For Ethel Smith, Myrtle’s disqualification was heartbreaking. “We were there to compete and win. That was the main thing,” she said. For Myrtle, that opportunity was gone and Ethel knew what it meant to her teammate. “I looked back at Myrtle, she was standing behind and the tears were streaming down her face, and I thought, ‘Oh my God, she’s my friend and she’s out of it.’ ” The distress caused by Myrtle’s misfortune added to Smith’s physical woes. She had been ill that morning, suffering severe cramps in her side. The false starts, disqualifications, and delays had rattled her. When she took her mark for the fourth time, her back leg was “shaking like crazy.”
In lane six, Bobbie watched sadly as Myrtle left the track. She also realized they were at the Olympics to win. “Being first, second, or third is all that counts with the athlete,” she said. “He doesn’t know anything about him being a goodwill ambassador at all. That’s a political thing.” Unlike Myrtle, whose desire to win made her anxious before the start of every race, Bobbie thrived on high-pressured situations. “The one and only Bobby [Bobbie] Rosenfeld does her best in pinches,” Phyllis Griffiths said, as one who watched and played against her, “and it is a cinch she won’t let nervous tension get the better of her.”
With the elimination of Schmidt and Cook, Bobbie was now clearly the favorite. She had beaten Ethel in the semifinal and Robinson in the first round. Steinberg, the other German, wasn’t a threat and her times confirmed this. Nevertheless, Bobbie knew it was foolish to predict the outcome of a race. “I’ve seen girls come along who seemed to know every trick of the trade,” she said, “girls who had dazzling speed and looked like invincibles. But tested in a gruelling contest, a lot of them would crack wide open.” A slow starter, Bobbie didn’t hit her stride until the 20 meters mark. She realized a good break at the beginning was essential. If trailing the leaders at the halfway mark, it must be by less than half a meter because she knew she had the power to drive for the last fifty and to challenge those in front. But in the “white-hot event” of the 100 meters, everything had to be perfect. Bobbie understood “the slightest mistake from start to finish … [meant] frustration.” The command, “auf die Plätze!”, was given and she took her mark. Focusing on a spot eight inches in front of her, she waited. Then, “fertig.”
The gun sounded and the fourth attempt to begin the race was a success. Ethel, in lane one, and Elizabeth Robinson, in lane five, broke quickly, followed by Bobbie and Erna Steinberg. The crowd rose to its feet with a roar and the stadium became a boiling cauldron of noise. For the first twenty-five meters, Ethel matched Robinson in speed and it was difficult to tell who was in front. By the halfway point, however, the American was ahead, Ethel was third, and Steinberg was fourth. But in the outside lane, in second place, Bobbie was flying and closing rapidly on the leader. Canadian and American supporters in the stands were frantically urging their athletes on as the gap between the two narrowed. By the three-quarters mark they appeared even, running stride for stride, and the arena was in a frenzy. Over the final twenty-five meters, it was impossible to tell who was leading and, when both runners hit the string at the finish line, it seemed the race was a dead heat. Less than a yard behind, Ethel was third, followed by Steinberg.
The finish of the women’s 100 meters final shows (left to right) Rosenfeld (Canada), Robinson (United States), Steinberg (Germany), and Smith (Canada).
“Was I first or second?” Bobbie asked, at the end of the race. The officials picking the order of the finishers couldn’t say. The close contest forced them to huddle in an effort to agree upon the placement of the first two. The German judge, calling first, named Elizabeth Robinson as the winner. But the French judge, responsible for second, also picked the American, which meant he felt Bobbie was first. The English judge agreed. The chief judge, who was American, resolved the conflict by placing Robinson first and Bobbie second. When the results were announced, Jane and the other Canadians were surprised. They thought that either Bobbie or Ethel was first, not the American. They weren’t alone.
Alice Milliat, president of the Fédération Sportive Féminine Internationale, was on the field for the women’s 100 meters, looking after the interests of the competitors. She watched the finish and was sure Bobbie was the winner. She agreed with the French and English judges that Robinson broke the tape with her arms and not with her body, as required by the rules. It happened that Bobby Kerr was also a judge for the race, calling fifth place. But when the contestants were reduced to four because of disqualifications, he reckoned his role as an official had ended. For this reason, he refused to become involved in the discussion. Yet Kerr felt the Canadian officials should know about the judges’ disagreement, especially as the English official and Milliat strongly believed the dispute was one for an impartial jury to consider.
Meanwhile, unaware of the difference among the judges over first place, Bobbie and Ethel returned to Myrtle, who was sitting near the starting line, her head buried in her arms and her body shaking with sobs. They sat with their arms about her, but she was inconsolable. Her dream of personal glory gone, nothing they could say or do would soothe her. Afterwards, a shakened Myrtle walked out of the stadium dressed in her tracksuit, found a bench by a canal, sat down, and cried some more. Returning to the arena sometime later, she made her lonely trek through the dark passageway under the stands to the dressing room. “It is at the door of the tunnel,” Myrde said, “that your coach, manager, chaperone, or best friend pats you on the back and whispers, ‘Go to it, kid, you can do it!’ Sometimes you do and [you] come back through the tunnel treading on air. If you fail, well you still have to come back, and the journey seems blacker than ever.”
Jane and the others tried to soften the blow of her disqualification by telling her that perhaps it was for the best. “We told her, and we all felt the same,” Jane said, “ ‘maybe you were lucky that you had the false breaks. What if you had run and hadn’t come first? You would have felt a whole lot worse than not being able to have competed.’ ” It made little difference to Myrtle. She still wanted to be the winner, but it would never be. Her hopes of Olympic glory had been forever dashed by the second false start. “Myrtle didn’t want to talk to anybody or have anything to do with anybody,” Jane said. She was devastated.
Myrtle blamed her elimination on extreme nervousness and commands given in a foreign language. Her friend and teammate, Ethel Smith, also attributed the disqualification to the German starter, but for a different reason. Myrtle was used to the man who started the races at most of the Toronto meets, Ethel said. He would give them lots of time to get on their marks and, after he commanded, “Get set,” he would wait two seconds and then fire the gun. Myrtle was used to this pattern and knew when to break. In Amsterdam, however, it was different. Unaccustomed to other starters, she was breaking too soon. Bobby Robinson had warned her that if she did it twice in competition, they would disqualify her. His warning proved prophetic. Alex Gibb, who knew how badly Myrtle wanted an Olympic title, said, “She saw ahead of her down a lane of a hundred yards and a little more, a world’s championship glittering on that slender woollen tape blowing idly in the wind.” She was too eager and it cost her. The sight of Myrtle standing behind the starting line, an amazed look on her face and tears welling up in her eyes, was one Gibb never forgot.
As the premier track event for women, the 100 meters final provided an unfamiliar aspect to the Games and was watched with interest. The appearance of female competitors in an Olympic track final for the first time, the unexpected disqualifications, and the reactions of Cook and Schmidt were almost as compelling as the race itself. The correspondent for the New York Times described them as “scenes entirely feminine, and never before witnessed in any Olympic Stadium.” But a dissimilar and unpleasant exhibition involving Canadian officials was soon to follow. It provoked such a row that one newspaper was moved to recommend a shipment of muzzles and a crew of highly trained muzzlers be sent the next time the Canadian Olympic Committee went abroad.
Once the American was declared the winner of the women’s 100 meters, Bobby Kerr went to Bobby Robinson and told him about the judges’ disagreement. Kerr also repeated Alice Milliat’s comments that the disputed finish was one for the jury to consider. After listening to Kerr, and convinced that Rosenfeld was first, Robinson hurriedly wrote out a protest. Then he, Dr. A.S. Lamb, P.J. Mulqueen, and Alex Gibb proceeded across the field to the jury stand to make it official. Neither Mulqueen nor Gibb was hopeful the action would succeed. It was done more to show that the Canadian officials were on their toes and would fight for the rights of their athletes. The morale of the women’s team was at stake, Mulqueen was convinced, and the protest was necessary to uphold it. Alex Gibb agreed. “What would have been said if I had come back to Canada and had not fought for their rights?” she asked.
After the American was announced as the winner of the women’s 100 meters, Bobby Robinson wrote out a protest. He was still fuming over the flag-raising ceremony for Percy Williams’ victory the day before. It had taken some time before a Canadian flag could be found and, when it went up on the center flagpole, it was a small banner instead of a customary large one.
Reaching the officials’ stand, Gibb informed them, as manager of the Canadian women’s team, she wished to file a protest. She presented the paper and paid the necessary fee. At that point, Dr. Lamb turned to Mulqueen and indicated he disagreed with the action. For Lamb, the protest violated his sense of sportsmanship. Nevertheless, Mulqueen insisted that it should be lodged. Lamb then told the others he was disassociating himself from them and their protest.
Stunned by Lamb’s announcement, and embarrassed by the show of disunity before the jury men, Gibb believed all was lost. She felt they should have presented a solid Canadian front. The fiery Mulqueen was beside himself. He accused Lamb of “pussyfooting, playing to the gallery, and playing politics.” The protest was the right thing to do, the president of the COC maintained. “I stood behind the team that I had associated myself with,” he said. “I stood behind the team and for the morale of the team, rather than for any silly idea that it was a crime to protest.”
But Lamb felt it was an unhappy episode that reflected badly on all Canadians. A month before, he said that if Canada’s contribution to the Olympics was raising the standard of the Games, then winning was only incidental. To his sorrow, he discovered that not everyone agreed. He regretted lacking the courage to insist the protest not be filed. Yet he felt a heated discussion between himself and Mulqueen before the International Jury would have been even more shameful. “May we always be able to accept defeat with grace and fortitude,” he said, “to respect the final decision of the judges and to confine our winning to the cinder path and not the committee room.” In Canada, the newspapers gave special prominence to the controversy. “CANADA PROTESTS DEFEAT OF FANNY ROSENFELD” proclaimed the headline in the Toronto Daily Star. The Vancouver Sun’s front page declared, “CANADA PROTESTS WOMEN’S RACE.” The Canadian action touched a nerve, and debate among sportswriters, editorial writers, and the public was heated. Mike Rodden of the Globe observed it was sad the Canadian officials saw fit to protest, particularly as protests weren’t popular in Canada, where athletes knew how to win and also how to lose. Phyllis Griffiths agreed. “I think protests have very little place in sport,” she said. “The attitude of Dr. Lamb, president of the Amateur Athletic Union of Canada, in refusing to support the protest is significant to say the least.” In Montreal, Lamb’s hometown, Elmer Ferguson of the Herald deplored the protest, and complimented Lamb for his fine sense of dignity and sportsmanship. Yet the Toronto Evening Telegram’s Ted Reeve cautioned his readers not to be too hard on the Canadians for protesting. “It’s nice to be a ‘good sport,’ ” he said. “But the fighting spirit necessary to produce good athletes will let out an occasional yelp when it is being tramped on too crudely.”
Dr. A. S. Lamb, manager of the Canadian Olympic Team, accompanied Robinson, Mulqueen, and Gibb to the jury stand, believing they were there on another matter. Upon learning they were protesting the result of the women’s 100 meters race, he disassociated himself.
Disappointed they didn’t win the 100 meters, the women’s team sadly accepted the result and agreed with Dr. Lamb’s actions. “Mr. Lamb who was the manager of the team felt it wasn’t in Olympic tradition to protest,” Bobbie said. “I guess he was right.” Jane was more outspoken: “I thought the protest was unsportsmanlike and was against the Olympic oath.” Myrtle Cook felt the same. “I think if every athlete will repeat it [the Olympic oath] to herself on every occasion of competition, it will help materially in forming a clearer idea of sportsmanship.”
At the Pension Regina that evening, thoughts of Olympic oaths, sportsmanship, playing the game, and all the rest were cold comfort to a miserable Myrtle Cook and the others. “We began to wonder,” Jane said, “are we so great?” A pall hung over the Canadian women’s team and Alex Gibb admitted that things weren’t as bright at their hotel as they had hoped. Let down by the second- and third-place finishes in an event she was certain they would win, shocked by Cook’s disqualification, and unhappy with Lamb’s refusal to support the protest, Alex Gibb was in a somber mood. There was comfort of sorts in the fact that Canada had placed three of its four runners in the final and Bobbie had pushed winner Elizabeth Robinson to a world’s record. “It is difficult for those in Canada to realize the different conditions under which the girls have to compete here,” Gibb said. “The strain is a terrific one, the starters speak in a foreign language — German today — all sorts of imaginary ills and pains crop up with the high tension.” Nevertheless, she commended the women for their team spirit and good sportsmanship, which had made them favorites with the Dutch.
In spite of losing a close race, Bobbie Rosenfeld was feeling better because of what Joe Wright Sr., coach of the Canadian rowing team, said to her afterwards. He came out of his seat in the stands to meet her as she was making her way to the competitors’ section. Putting his arm around her in a fatherly fashion, he told her that he was right on the finish line of the race and, in his opinion, she had won it. “I don’t care what the judges think,” he said, “I’ll always think of you as the winner of the 100 meters.” His words removed the sting she felt from the defeat and lifted her spirits.
But for another, the memory burned. That night, after what Bobby Robinson called the most heartbreaking day in Olympic history, alone in her room, Myrtle Cook cried herself to sleep.
