Alma Richards : Olympian [1 ed.] 9781607814924, 9781607814917

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ALMA RICHARDS

OLYMPIAN L A R RY R . G E R L A C H

ALMA RICHARDS

ALMA RICHARDS

OLYMPIAN Larry R. Gerlach

THE UNIVERSITY OF UTAH PRESS Salt Lake City

Copyright © 2016 by The University of Utah Press. All rights reserved. The Defiance House Man colophon is a registered trademark of the University of Utah Press. It is based on a four-­foot-­tall Ancient Puebloan pictograph (late PIII) near Glen Canyon, Utah. 20 19 18 17 16    1 2 3 4 5 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Gerlach, Larry R. Title: Alma Richards : Olympian / Larry R. Gerlach. Description: Salt Lake City : The University of Utah Press, [2016] | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2015048161| ISBN 9781607814917 (pbk. : alk. paper) ISBN 9781607814924 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Richards, Alma, 1890-1963. | Track and field athletes— United States—Biography. | Track and field athletes—Utah—Biography. | Mormons—Utah—Biography. Classification: LCC GV1061.15.R54 G47 2016 | DDC 796.42092 [B]—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2015048161 Frontispiece: The first official Olympic poster, the 1912 Stockholm poster designed by Olle Hjortzberg, depicts both the Ancient Greek Olympics with nude athletes joyously waving banners and the international nature of the modern Games with a collage of flags. It bears English and French, the official languages of the Olympic Games. International Olympic Committee. Printed and bound by Sheridan Books, Inc., Ann Arbor, Michigan.

For Bob Barney and Rusty Wilson and in memory of Gail Brooks Gerlach

Does anyone mean Olympics more than Alma Richards? —Carrie Shurtleff, Parowan, 2002

What a wee little part of a person’s life are his acts and his words! His real life is led in his head, and is known to none but himself. . . . ­Biographies are but the clothes and buttons of the man—the biography of the man himself cannot be written. —Mark Twain, The Autobiography of Mark Twain

Nobody knows you. You don’t know yourself. —D. H. Lawrence

CONTENTS

Acknowledgments  ix Introduction  1 PART I: SAGEBRUSH TO STARDOM



1. 2. 3. 4.

Formative Years  17 From Parowan to Provo   31 Making the American Team   40 Going for Gold   47

PART II: COMING OF AGE

5. 6. 7.

The Hero Returns   67 The Big Cornellian   81 Military Interlude  113

PART III: CHASING DREAMS

8. 9.

To the Track   125 On the Home Front   144

PART IV: TAKING STOCK



10. 11. 12. 13. 14.

Alma Remembering  165 Remembering Alma  175 God, Gold, and Glory?   185 Crossing the Bar   205 Alma Richards Redivivus   219

Appendix A: Martha Ward, “Tribute to Alma Richards”  227 Appendix B: Alma Richards Track and Field Records  231 Notes  233 Bibliography  273 Index  281

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

For this project, a merger of my interests in Utah, sport, and Olympic history, I am indebted to numerous friends and scholars. I’ll forego trying to mention everyone for fear of overlooking someone, but they know who they are and understand why and how much I appreciate their assistance. But two people deserve particular mention. Robert K. Barney, preeminent Olympic scholar, founder of the International Centre for Olympic Studies (ICOS) and Olympika: The International Journal of Olympic Studies at the University of Western Ontario, mentor throughout the sport history phase of my career, introduced me to Olympic studies and both personally and professionally facilitated my work in countless ways. Since our first meeting at an IOCS symposium, Harold W. “Rusty” Wilson Jr., from the example of his biographical research on Olympians to his infectious enthusiasm for Olympic history, has provided both motivation and encouragement for my effort to give a neglected Olympian his just due. And a special thanks to Lee Benson, whose suggestive essay introduced me to Alma Richards and thus inspired this project. Histories are not cut from whole cloth but benefit from the previous writings of others. The bibliography will attest partially to the extent of my debt. It is not customary to single out an individual contribution, but I would be remiss to not to mention Luella Adams Dalton’s History of Iron County Mission and Parowan: The Mother Town. The self-­published antiquarian account—and I most emphatically do not use that term pejoratively—faithfully creates from institutional records, letters and diaries, and oral remembrances an extraordinarily valuable empirical chronicle of the author’s hometown from settlement in 1851 through the 1920s. Dalton was born in Parowan in 1889, a year before Alma Richards, and without such a detailed and comprehensive community portrait it would have been impossible to understand so well the people and place that influenced her cousin’s youth. ix

x  Acknowledgments

Historical research also depends fundamentally on assistance from librarians and archivists. A study of this type, which relies so heavily on newspapers and fugitive publications, necessitated inordinate demands on interlibrary loans. Susan Brusik, Rose-­Marie Walton, and the ILL staff at the University of Utah’s Marriott Library processed well over one hundred requests with unfailing efficiency and good cheer, enabling me to spend countless exploratory hours at time machines (aka microfilm readers). At the Harold B. Lee Library of the Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah, Gordon Daines III, University Archivist, and the staff of the L. Tom Perry Special Collections Department—Anne, “Bekah,” Heather, Mathew, Noah, and Riley—provided exemplary and enthusiastic support for my research, while two magnificent research facilities operated by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-­day Saints in Salt Lake City—the Family History Library, the world’s premier genealogical repository, and the Church History Library, keeper of institutional records—graciously facilitated use of their materials. Brandon Metcalf of the Church History Library offered important leads to membership, ward, and stake records. Kudos also to Ken Stewart, Research Administrator of the South Dakota State Archives, and David Bolingbroke of the Merrill-­Cazier Library at Utah State University, who assisted with a survey of the Leonard J. Arrington Papers. I am deeply appreciative to Alma’s descendants in California for sharing information as well as for affording a sense of vicarious contact with him through his family. John Arthur Youngberg, eldest grandson from Alma’s first marriage, graciously invited me into his home in Yountville, California, to chat about his grandfather and examine the collection of papers, photo­ graphs, and medals assembled by his mother, Alma’s daughter, Joanne; he also generously gifted a lovely piece of her artwork as a family remembrance. Mary Margaret Schraeger, eldest daughter and lone surviving member of Alma’s second marriage, declined to discuss her father; but her son, Shawn Schraeger, candidly explained her reasons, thereby providing perspective about their family. Family members in Utah—Alma’s niece, Roselyn Tanner Christensen, and her son, Dan, and his wife, Jan—provided treasured photographs of Alma and the entire Morgan Richards family taken in Parowan. For help along the way, I am grateful to several Utah historians. Thomas G. Alexander and F. Ross Peterson provided information and understandings of aspects of Mormon history and practice. Brian Cannon, Jessie Embry,

Acknowledgments  xi

Craig Fuller, and Kent Powell read a preliminary draft of the manuscript and offered much-­needed encouragement to expand the project to a full-­ length biography. This is a better book because John Sillito offered expert critiques of two versions of the manuscript, and David Lunt, who shares my interest in Alma, offered valuable suggestions for improvement as well as contributed, as only a classical Greek scholar can, perceptive insights regarding how athletes revered in their day are later remembered. I hope the final product justifies the support and confidence of these fine scholars. In Alma’s hometown, Liz Zaleski and Jet Smith of the Parowan Visitors Center provided vital contact information, while Marlene Burton kindly took time from her busy schedule to open the Old Rock Church Museum for access to Parowan literature and reference books to an unscheduled visitor. Thanks, too, to the Utah State Historical Society for granting permission to reprint in revised form portions of my “Alma Richards’s Olympic Leap of Faith Revisited,” Utah Historical Quarterly (Spring 2014). Assistance from others has made this a better book, but for any erroneous analyses, misinterpretations, misunderstandings, oversights, or factual errors, I am responsible. Research and writing are solitary pursuits. My sons, TJ and Jonathan, had nothing to do with the preparation of this book other than, as always, providing me with the love, inspiration, and pride derived from being their father. My wife, Gail, for forty-­one years supported my obsession with historical research by accepting with unqualified love and understanding incessant retreats to the basement sanctum sanctorum, there to spend untold hours with people and places past. This project, and the others that found their way into print, in no sense makes up for my obsessive behavior and self-­indulgent neglect of marital and familial responsibilities. She witnessed Alma’s life slowly coming into focus; she did not live to see it in print, but without her it would not have been completed.

INTRODUCTION

For seventeen days every two years, America’s attention is riveted via television and mobile devices on the ceremonies, competitors, and competitions of the Winter or Summer Olympics. But the Games have a short shelf life. Fascination with the Olympics as a chauvinistic, media-­hyped sports festival is transient as both athletes and their accomplishments are quickly forgotten. The abbreviated attention span is due partly to competitions that occur biennially, to unfamiliarity with the preponderance of international athletes who compete, to a general lack of interest in winter sports, but primarily because of a national preference for team sports—especially baseball, basketball, and football—instead of the individual sports that largely comprise the Olympic Programme. A few Olympians like gymnast Mary Lou Retton and swimmer Michael Phelps have become athletic icons owing significantly to media exposure and commercial advertisements, but most of the great American Olympians are largely or wholly unknown. To cite two conspicuous examples, few people have heard of Ray Ewry or Eddie Eagan. Ray Ewry, confined to a wheelchair by polio as a child, is perhaps the most remarkable U.S. Olympian of all. That he competed in the now-­discontinued trio of standing jumping events—high jump, broad jump, and triple jump—is beside the point. The point is that during four consecutive Olympic Games, 1900–1908, he won a gold medal in each of the ten events he entered. Astonishingly, in 1900 he swept all three events—in the same day! Ewry ranks second all-­time to Phelps in the number of gold medals won in individual events.1 Eddie Eagan remains the only person in Olympic history to win a gold medal in both the Summer and Winter Games—as a light-­heavyweight boxer in 1920 and on a four-­man bobsleigh in 1932.2 And only slightly diminished by the virtually all-­American competition in the 1904 Games is George Eyser’s astounding achievement—in a single day he won six medals, three gold and two silver,

1

2  Introduction

including gold in the vault, then contested without a springboard. Oh, yes: George Eyser had a wooden left leg.3 Perhaps most illustrative of America’s lack of interest in Olympic history is our lack of institutional memory. While it has become de rigueur for sports fans to make pilgrimages to numerous sports halls of fame, the United States Olympic Hall of Fame, founded belatedly in 1979, is a paper institution, an honor roll bereft of a physical place in which to enshrine inductees or display Games artifacts and memorabilia. 4 Correspondingly, bookshelves groan with biographies superficial and substantive of athletes in professional sports, but precious few chronicle the lives of Olympians. Former students in my Olympics history classes at the University of Utah constitute a barometer of local, and by extension national, awareness. Despite the massive publicity generated by the 2002 Winter Olympics, memory of the Salt Lake City Games faded quickly. Two years later only eight of ninety-­seven students could name an athlete—figure skater Sarah Hughes, speed skater Apolo Anton Ohno, and skeleton racer Jim Shea alone came to mind—who earned a gold medal in 2002, although several vaguely recalled the pairs skating scandal that resulted in awarding dual gold medals to Canadian and Russian skaters. No one remembered the truly remarkable performances of non-­U.S. Olympians: Croatia’s Janica Kostelic’s ´ three gold medals in downhill skiing, Norway’s Ole Einar Bjørndalen’s record-­setting four gold in biathlon, or Switzerland’s Simon Ammann’s stunning sweep in ski jumping. (Chauvinism rules in interest in the Games; the good Baron would be mortified.) On the eve of the 2006 Winter Games the skating controversy was lost to memory, and not a single student could recall a 2002 gold medalist other than Ohno, the subject of extensive pre-­Torino media commentary. Public memory of the Salt Lake Olympics also faded quickly. Despite the determined efforts of then-­mayor Rocky Anderson, Salt Lake City failed to create an enduring legacy memorial to the 2002 Games. A last-­minute, makeshift Olympic Cauldron Park at the University of Utah, site of the opening ceremony, was dismantled in 2014, portions relocated some distance away at the site of ski jumping and sledding competitions. As a result, the state capital is without tangible Olympic representation and the community with only scant collective memory of the most important event in Utah’s history since the coming of the Mormons in 1847.5 And if Salt Lake City has dominated television ratings for the Winter Olympics since 2002,6 the local sense of those Games is meager, and knowledge of even the more publicized

Introduction  3

champions of the Summer Games after more than four years is almost nonexistent. That is perhaps not too surprising as contemporary national and international events are inherently fleeting, of-­the-­moment fascinations. More distressing to a historian is the deficient sense of local history, the people and events that form the fabric of community memory and thus tradition. Utahns collectively are an unusually historically conscious people thanks largely to the influence of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-­day Saints (LDS or Mormon), but my students were unable to identify a single Beehive State Olympian. Despite Lee Benson and Doug Robinson’s Trials & Triumphs: Mormons in the Olympic Games (1992), even LDS students drew a blank concerning prominent Olympic coreligionists L. Jay Silvester, former discus world record holder who competed in four Olympics (1964– 1976), earning silver in 1972; gymnast Peter Vidmar, winner of two gold and one silver medal in 1984; and steeplechase champion Henry Marsh, who competed in three Olympics, 1976–1988. Cael Sanderson, gold medal wrestler, came to some minds immediately after the Athens 2004 Games. Most disconcerting, no student had ever heard of Utah’s greatest Olympic champion, Alma Wilford Richards, the state’s first and only gold medalist in the twentieth century. Technically, Richards was not the first native Utahn to participate in the Games nor the lone gold medalist in the twentieth century. With a nod to quibbling and niggling, five other Olympians can lay claim to the distinction of 1900s Beehive State Olympians, albeit with questionable validity. While the following athletes in no way detract from Richards’s unique historical status, herewith for the record is the comprehensive honor roll. Springville’s Cyrus Dallin, one of America’s most famous sculptors, creator of the equestrian Paul Revere in Boston and the noble Massasoit in Plymouth, was living in Boston when he won a bronze medal in team archery in the disastrous St. Louis Olympics. Only ten nations besides the United States and Canada bothered to participate; only 52 of the 651 athletes were from outside North America. The leading authority on the 1904 Games correctly considers the archery competition of “marginal Olympic caliber,” essentially a national championship since there were no international competitors in the event. Dallin’s biographer notes archery was Dallin’s favorite hobby and a major design interest but says nothing about the Olympics.7 The second gold medalist was Mahonri Young, grandson of Brigham Young. Born in Salt Lake City, Utah Territory, in 1877, he moved to New York

4  Introduction

City where he gained fame as a sculptor and painter. Reflecting Olympic founder Pierre de Coubertin’s belief that sport involves body and mind, the Games from 1912 to 1948 featured formal arts competitions in architecture, literature, music, painting, and sculpture. In the 1932 Los Angeles Games, Young—best known locally for his This Is The Place Monument overlooking the Salt Lake Valley and the Seagull Monument in Salt Lake City’s Temple Square—won a gold medal for The Knockdown, a bronze sculpture of two boxers, one felled by a right hook.8 There were also three twentieth-­century gold medalists connected with Utah by accident of birth or brief residence, not lifelong experiences, religion, or even personal identification. Lee Stratford Barnes Jr., pole vault winner in Paris 1924, and Dorothy Poynton-­Hill, platform diving champion in Los Angeles 1932 and Berlin 1936, were both born in Salt Lake City. But at an early age they moved with their families to another state where they were raised and developed their athletic skills. Barnes was a seventeen-­year-­old Hollywood High School student in 1924 when he won gold. Poynton-­Hill, who also won her first gold medal at age seventeen, was seven years old attending elementary school in Portland, Oregon, when her family relocated to Los Angeles. Natalie Williams has a stronger claim to Utah identification. A native Californian, she was raised in Taylorsville, Utah; after graduating from high school she enrolled at UCLA, ultimately winning a gold medal in Sydney 2000 as a member of the U.S. women’s basketball team.9 The twenty-­first century produced several Beehive State Olympic champions. In Athens 2004 Cael Sanderson, freestyle wrestler, became the second native gold medalist. And the state’s commitment to Winter Olympics training launched prior to Salt Lake 2002 produced Utah’s first Winter Games champions, Ted Ligety, downhill combined skiing in Torino 2006; Steve Holcomb, four-­man bobsleigh in Vancouver 2010; and Joss Christensen, slopestyle skiing in Sochi 2014. Qualifications aside, Alma Richards remains the first twentieth-­century Olympic champion as a native-­born resident of the state, a member of the Mormon Church, and a participant in Brigham Young University athletics. He was also the first high school student to win an Olympic gold medal. He subsequently went on to hold five national titles in different track and field events. As such, he was a foundational figure in Utah and Mormon sport history, the first in both categories to gain preeminent national and international acclaim. Attention should be paid. Recognition should be accorded.

Introduction  5

The epic story of Utah’s foremost Olympian has aptly been described as “equal parts Rocky, The Natural, and Chariots of Fire.”10 It is indeed a tale of Olympic proportions, of how in 1912 a high school student made the improbable leap from rural Parowan, Utah, to Stockholm, Sweden, there to achieve Olympic glory by unexpectedly winning the gold medal in the high jump. Alma Richards instantly became a local athletic hero, his fame enhanced because of the circumstances that made his achievement the more remarkable. But in time Utah’s first Olympic champion and greatest all-­around track and field athlete passed into historical oblivion, today virtually unknown in his home state except among Mormons especially interested in BYU athletics, and then only with regard to the fabled prayer before his gold medal leap. Actually, this is not surprising. Since World War II the public’s awareness and appreciation of athletes has been largely determined by the amount of attention accorded them by the burgeoning national sports media. In 2011 an online edition of the Deseret News, the daily Salt Lake City paper owned by the Mormon Church and directed primarily to its members, published an article by a freelance writer listing the accomplishments of the top ten “extraordinary homegrown athletes and coaches.” When it prompted criticism, partly because of a BYU bias, a veteran sports reporter for the same paper, admitting they had “missed a few extraordinary athletes,” listed ten more.11 The careers of the great majority of the twenty athletes date from the 1980s. Alma was not on either list. Neither were two contemporary Utah track stars, both world record holders: sprinter Creed Haymond and high jumper Clinton Larson. The trio was as fine a group of tracksters to emerge together from any locale at any time. Their omission demonstrates once again that historical myopia increases as generations pass and points to the importance of sport history as necessary corrective. Even Olympic historians have overlooked Alma’s stunning performance in Stockholm. For example, Bill Henry’s An Approved History of the Olympic Games correctly emphasizes that “the Stockholm games will always be noted for the sensational results of some of its events,” particularly the track and field competition where “there were a number of really remarkable performances from the standpoint of unexpected competition, with new nations and new individuals springing suddenly into the front rank of performers.” Henry appropriately lauds surprising victories by Ted Meredith in the 800

6  Introduction

meters and Fred Kelly in the 110 meter hurdles, but he does not mention Alma, who may have produced the biggest upset of the Games.12 Only two general histories include his achievement. Bill Mallon and Ian Buchanan’s Quest for Gold mentions Alma’s victory but fails to note that he set an Olympic record and incorrectly states that aside from “the 1913 AAU title” [i.e., the decathlon in 1915?], the gold medal was “his only major championship honor.” Alexander Weyand, a heavyweight Greco-­Roman wrestler on the 1920 American Olympic team, alone provides a descriptive account of the “dramatic moment” wherein Alma won the high jump, but Weyand calls him “Alva,” a common mistake. David Wallechinsky’s magisterial encyclopedia of the Summer Olympics offers the most detailed report of the event, but it is derivative and thus includes misinformation.13 After an initial flurry of celebratory attention in Utah, Richards was generally ignored until regaining attention in conjunction with Salt Lake City’s quest to host the 2002 Winter Olympics. Previous biographical profiles of his career, directed narrowly to an LDS audience, are slight in coverage, want documentation, lack extensive research, and are sprinkled with errors, exaggerations, and creativity. Indeed, the writings and oral traditions about Richards during his lifetime, not to mention well beyond, are filled with mistakes or outright false statements. He won the high jump in the 1912 Olympics, but he did not win the decathlon in Stockholm. Nor did he receive the 1912 bronze medal in the 56-­pound weight event, an event contested only twice in the history of the Olympics, 1904 and 1920. Alma did not win the gold medal while a student at Murdock Academy. And he most assuredly did not, as local folklore and hagiographic sports writing would have it, compete against legendary Jim Thorpe “in numerous events” including the decathlon, beating him “every single time.”14 Alma’s only victory over Thorpe in formal or informal competition was the 1912 Olympic high jump, the day after the multitalented Carlisle athlete had won the pentathlon. Even prominent Utah sports reporters misrepresented Richards’s story. For example, the Deseret News sports editor on April 2, 1947, wrote, Little was known of Alma until the Olympic selection committee wrote him to pack his duds, come to the big city and prepare for the trip across. In the western eliminations Richards had jumped 6 ft., the best in the nation that year, and so AAU people and Eugene

Introduction  7

L. Roberts the BYU athletic coach in particular, persuaded Olympic Chairman James E. Sullivan that the gaunt, gawky farm boy would be a good guy to take along. All wrong. Alma was not invited in writing to “pack his duds” and come to New York to join the Olympic team; he competed in the Central, not Western trials and jumped 6 feet 3 inches; 6 feet was far from the best jump in the country that year as George Horine of Stanford set a world record by leaping 6 feet, 7 inches; “AAU people” and Coach Roberts did not persuade Sullivan, who was the commissioner, not “chairman,” to add Richards to the American team; and the 6-­foot, 2 ½-­inch, 210-­pound BYU athlete was hardly “gaunt,” “gawky,” or a “green farm boy.” It’s bad enough that the account, taken verbatim without attribution from a much earlier fictionalized story about Richards, is absolutely false in every particular. Worse is that the sports editor of one of the state’s most prominent newspapers was utterly uninformed about the premier achievement of Utah’s most famous Olympian. After Richards’s death in 1963, John Mooney of the Salt Lake Tribune thought that Alma had died “without the honor his athletic feats warranted.”15 He was right, as the scant notices in other Utah papers of Alma’s passing testified. Alma Richards deserves due historical recognition as one of the greatest athletes in Utah and Mormon history as well as arguably the most accomplished all-­around track and field athlete of his generation. That assessment is based not only on his specific achievements, but also on a sustained record of accomplishments over two decades of high-­ level championship competition. That Alma Richards and Jim Thorpe rose to track and field preeminence in the same Olympics have made comparisons inevitable, if unfair. Both men competed in multiple events in college prior to Stockholm—Thorpe in the low and high hurdles, the high and long jumps, and the shot put; Richards in the high and long jumps, shot put, discus, and pole vault. There the comparison ends. Thorpe’s exalted track and field reputation rests on extraordinary performances in winning the sport’s two most demanding events, the pentathlon and the decathlon, in a single meet. Although unsubstantiated and perhaps apocryphal, King Gustav V’s alleged comment upon presenting Jim Thorpe with the Olympic decathlon gold medal in 1912—“You, sir, are the greatest [most wonderful] athlete in the world”—has resonated

8  Introduction

through the years as the ultimate athletic accolade. Justly praised for his Olympic triumphs, the Native American athlete abandoned his brief track and field career after being judged guilty in 1913 of violating amateurism rules, moving on to play professional baseball, football, and basketball.16 Richards was not a multisport athlete like Thorpe, who also starred in baseball and football, but over the course of twenty years after 1912 became the most decorated American track and field competitor, contesting as a decathlete against other all-­around athletes, but mostly competing against specialists in multiple individual events, the far more difficult challenge as it required different training procedures, diverse physical abilities, and a remarkable endurance of body and mind. It may be difficult in an age of extensively televised professional, mostly team, sports to appreciate that until World War II track and field not only ranked among the most popular and publicized American sports but was also the most celebrated Olympic sport. Indeed, the sport was the foundation of the modern Games. In lists of great U.S. Olympians, thinclads dominate with such luminaries as Bob Beamon, Dick Fosbury, Jackie Joyner-­Kersee, Carl Lewis, Bob Mathias, Billy Mills, Edwin Moses, Al Oerter, Jesse Owens, Bob Richards, and Wilma Rudolph. Alma Richards does not rank among the greatest American Olympians. He won a single gold medal, albeit in record fashion, in a single Olympiad. He might have earned such distinction had not circumstances intervened. The onset of World War I led to the cancellation of the 1916 Games, thereby precluding the possibility of repeating his high jump victory, a benchmark for Olympic immortality, and perhaps even winning the decathlon, a distinct possibility as he was the defending American all-­around champion. Actually, compared with the public awareness of modern athletes, Richards’s fame was severely limited in 1912 and remained so thereafter, known mainly in Utah and to track and field aficionados across the country. Athletes with few exceptions, notably major league baseball players and prizefighters, performed on a local, at best regional stage. Sports pages, few in number, one page the norm most weekdays in Salt Lake newspapers, published a few wire service reports along with concise, matter-­of-­fact accounts of local events; the expansive coverage and commentaries inaugurated by specialized sportswriters like Grantland Rice didn’t come until the 1920s, the so-­called Golden Age of sport. Even then the explosion of professional sports—baseball, football, and boxing—pushed trackmen to the sporting

Introduction  9

sidelines save for Amateur Athletic Union national championships, prestigious meets like the Penn Relays, and the quadrennial Olympics. Moreover, Alma labored in relative obscurity as a competitor in unglamorous, workmanlike field events, overshadowed by the attention accorded sprinters and distance runners. Reports of field events often consisted of nothing more than a listing of the top three finishers. Not much has changed: today the showcase Olympiad event is still the 100 meter sprint to determine “the Fastest Man in the World.” Given the inadequate press coverage and inattention from sport historians, Alma has come down over the years known almost exclusively as an Olympic gold medalist. His post-­Olympic career in collegiate and AAU competitions, carried out in numerous locales across the country, is virtually unknown locally, let alone nationally. In 1999 Sports Illustrated devoted an entire issue to the fifty greatest sports figures—athletes, administrators, coaches—in each of the fifty states during the twentieth century. For Utah Alma ranked sixteenth, the sole comment being that he “cleared 6’ 4” to win gold medal in high jump at 1912 Olympics.”17 No small accomplishment at that, an Olympic record no less, but it is only one part of an illustrious career that included national championships in five different events. Hopefully documentation of his entire athletic career will bring about an appreciation of the duration and variety of his achievements. It is impressive. Alma’s life story is also important. If Richards was in some ways ordinary in terms of religion, education, and profession, he had a very special physical ability that set him apart from other elite athletes. Even more than the accomplishments of a historically significant athlete in Olympic, Utah, and Mormon history, his is the inspirational story about the fundamental relationship between man and sport—the competitive drive to excel, victory as validation of hard work, the quest for public recognition, and, ultimately, the achievement of self-­identity and self-­satisfaction. If more than a century has passed since Alma Richards won an Olympic gold medal, the essential qualities of his life and times still resonate. Alma Richards is also important because his life illustrates time and place. His story provides a window into selected aspects of America from the late-­nineteenth to the mid-­t wentieth century and into the human condition. Early Mormon history—missionary work, immigration, rural settlement, polygamy— as well as education at secular and sectarian schools, an evolving Olympics and intercollegiate sport, military service, the primacy

10  Introduction

of amateur athletics, the education profession, family relationships, marital tranquility and turmoil, memory personal and public, and death: these and more are Alma’s experiences and interests. They occurred in places as diverse as Parowan, Utah; Ithaca, New York; Stockholm, Sweden; and Los Angeles, California. It should go without saying, but in this age of near-­ deification of sports celebrities, it seems worthwhile to remember that athletes are people, too. At the outset my knowledge of Alma Richards was severely limited, my research interest restricted to examining the question of whether he had prayed before his gold medal leap in Stockholm. I soon found that question to be less about Alma than what Mormons and their church made of him, but in the process I came to appreciate both the importance of his lengthy and varied athletic career as well as the interesting quirks and qualities of his life, especially the psychological impact of the Olympic experience. Surprised that no substantial biography had yet been undertaken, I decided to recount as full and fair an account of his life as possible. The result is a far more extensive and detailed portrait of the man than I had intended. The historical Alma posed a formidable research problem. Alma’s world and many of his life experiences differed markedly from mine, but thanks to the previous research efforts of dedicated historians context emerged clearly enough. It was the search for information that proved unusually troublesome and time-­consuming. Without an existing general profile for guidance, Alma’s life had to be constructed piecemeal as aspects became known. Fragments of his historical remains are scattered hither, thither, and yon over the documentary landscape. There is but a small corpus of Richards papers, two archival boxes, mostly photocopies of newspaper clippings and ephemera. The family epistolary album is virtually empty, fewer than a dozen letters. There are no extant letters to or from Alma and his parents, nine siblings, three wives and four children, or numerous relatives. Likewise, the papers of prominent individuals with whom he came into contact—notably Avery Brundage, 1912 teammate and later president of the International Olympic Committee; Eugene Roberts, his coach and confidant at Brigham Young University (BYU); and Clinton Larson, contemporary world champion high jumper from BYU—contain nothing about Alma. Alma’s eldest daughter, Joanne Youngberg, maintained a valuable file of family information and photographs as well as correspondence with his third wife.

Introduction  11

Most of what we know about Alma and his doings derive from a vast array of periodicals, primarily newspapers, supplemented by public and institutional records. Analysis was the more complicated because various reports of the same activity are routinely incomplete, often contradictory, and occasionally dead wrong. The task was rather akin to assembling a jigsaw puzzle, interlocking bits and pieces from scattered sources, to create a literary picture of Alma and his seventy–three-­year odyssey. It was exasperating to find in the end that many pieces were missing, others malformed so as not to fit exactly. Still, if some portions of the portrait are incomplete or absent, in other places the detail is sharp, the coloration vivid. Given the disparate and fragmentary nature of the record, documentation is necessarily unusually extensive. What follows is a life of Alma Richards, not a comprehensive biography. It is a birth-­to-­death chronicle of the notable experiences of the man and the times in which he lived. History is, after all, the story of human endeavors. Looking back on his life, it may appear that we know the man. We don’t. Not really. We know only certain things that he did, primarily in public arenas, and a few things he said. He did not leave much of a documentary footprint. We rarely hear his voice. The muscle and bones of his athletic activities emerge from newspaper reports, frustratingly fragmentary though they are. If we do not know as much as we would like, we still know a lot. Having regrettably little history beyond the athletic events in which Alma participated makes the biographer’s task much easier—no analysis of thoughts and intentions, no deterministic psychological probing, no unraveling of interpersonal relationships with family and friends or foes. Yet a biography of such an “unperson” has limitations. The “inner man” is a shadowy specter, dimly revealed at times, darkly obscured at others. To pursue Alma into private life is to lose sight of him save for a few life-­changing events. It is difficult to apply flesh and blood to his personal historical skeleton, as scant information survives. Alas, the lacunae are many: his personal likes and dislikes, habits and hobbies, courtships and divorces, relationships with family, friends, and fellow athletes—all unknown. One can only wonder about his thoughts on major issues of the day: the massive influx of Mexicans into Los Angeles in the 1920s that eventually transformed his Lincoln High from an Anglo to a Latino school, the Great Depression of the 1930s, World War II and the Holocaust of the 1940s, the Civil Rights movements of the 1950s—all lost. He

12  Introduction

married three times and had four children, but virtually nothing is known about the personalities or interests of those women, let alone husband-­ wife and father-­child interactions. There is, of course, nothing particularly unusual in this as it is precisely the sort of biographical void left by most of us a generation after our passing. This is, to be sure, by design. As Poor Richard admonished 250 years ago, “Let all men know thee, but no one know thee thoroughly.” Perhaps that is just as well, as the risk of misrepresentation is considerable given that we are better at describing than understanding behavior. For all its limitations, Alma Richards appears as a typical biographical study. Lives past are inevitably retrieved in imprecise and incomplete fashion. The inner person, almost universally a casualty of time, emerges occasionally as a vibrant figure thanks to fulsome documentation, while at other times appears a shadowy image due to partial or nonexistent information. Would that we had more, but there is enough evidence to give a reasonably complete and compelling account of the major aspects of his private life, to know what made Alma run—rather, jump. If posterity has an incomplete memory of Alma Richards, there is more recall about him than will be the case for most of us. And, truth be known, we are at a loss to understand completely the lives of others, especially those long since deceased, as we invariably fail to comprehend fully ourselves. My aim is not to valorize Alma Richards, but to humanize him by providing the best possible portrait of the athlete, the man, and his times. It is tempting to dramatize the story by engaging in exposition and extraneous embellishment, but I attempt to hew closely to the source material despite the temptation to “read” into things. Biographical suppositions and speculative attributions must be made, but they are kept to a minimum and logically reflective of context and documentation. He was first and foremost a track and field immortal. However lauded and venerated by media and society, athletes, with few exceptions, Jackie Robinson chief among them, have a negligible impact on the course of history. Still, Alma’s remarkable achievements make him a significant figure in Utah and LDS sport history as well as in the annals of U.S. and Olympic track and field. Perhaps most important, the unfolding circumstances of his life provide empathetic insights into the vagaries and values of the human condition. He is a man well worth knowing. Still, it is the biographer’s conceit to think that perusing documents will reveal the essence of a person. Daunting in this case is

Introduction  13

trying to compile a fair accounting of the life of a man who was an inveterate and exacting keeper of ledgers. During more than four years of uncovering evermore documentary remnants of Alma’s life, I found myself looking at his back, not his face. The private person is hard to locate behind the public persona absent private correspondence. So I went to the Parowan City Cemetery, there to visit Alma’s gravesite. A pilgrimage of sorts, it served as psychological affirmation that I was indeed researching and writing about a human being, not an impersonal name imprinted in newspapers and public documents. Confronting interred remains reinforces the commitment to be scrupulously fair in recording and assessing a person’s life; I left with a mental pledge to do just that. I had great difficulty locating Alma’s grave, finally stumbling across the small, flat marker, hidden behind a tall bush. That symbolized my responsibility: to resurrect his historical life and times with special attention to his place in athletic history.

PART I

SAGEBRUSH TO STARDOM

1

FORMATIVE YEARS

Born on February 20, 1890, in Parowan, Iron County, Utah, Alma Wilford Richards quickly discovered that place and religion were the dominant influences in the world of his youth. Parowan—pronounced “Pear-­a-­won,” not “Pear-­a-­wan”—derived from “Pah-­ruan,” the Paiute Indian word for “evil water,” a reference either from tribal folklore or to the presence of a saltwater lake in the area, was founded in 1851 at the behest of Brigham Young, president of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-­day Saints (LDS or Mormon). The town was located at the mouth of Parowan Canyon at the eastern edge of an isolated, sparsely populated twenty-­five-­by-­seven-­mile valley in the far southwestern section of the territory. To the east lay the heavily forested red soil of the mountainous Markagunt Plateau; to the west, the arid Escalante Desert stretched to Nevada. The oldest non-­Native settlement in southern Utah, Parowan initially served as the “Mother Town of Southern Utah,” as many residents departed to establish additional LDS communities in Utah and what became Arizona and Nevada territories. Designated the county seat, it functioned as the commercial and political center of a region given to farming and ranching, but its salient characteristic was a homogenous religious community marked by a sense of historical mission, social cohesion, and reverence for the Mormon Church. Life revolved around the Old Rock Church. Completed in 1867, the red sandstone structure, symbolically located in the center of the town square, replete with twin doors, one for males and the other for females, was a multipurpose facility used as a house of worship, a school, a social hall, and government council meeting room. 1 Lineage as well as place was fundamental as Alma’s character took root. 17

18  Chapter 1

Descended from hardy Mormon pioneer stock, Alma’s spiritual core was formed years before he was born. His paternal grandparents, Morgan Richards Sr. (1821–1903) and Harriet Evans Richards (1820–1898), converts to the Mormon Church, and their two sons immigrated from Merthyr Tydfil, Glamorganshire, Wales, to the United States in 1854 aboard the Golcanda with the assistance of the LDS Church’s Perpetual Emigration Fund. Landing in New Orleans, they made their way by boat upriver to Westport, Missouri, where on June 17 they departed for the arduous three-­month trek across the plains to Utah with the Darwin Richardson Company of some two hundred individuals and forty wagons. Ten days after arriving in Salt Lake City on September 30, the family joined a convoy of covered wagons ordered by Brigham Young to the “Iron mission,” there to settle the remote outpost called Parowan. An expert plasterer and concrete manufacturer, proclaimed the “purtiest man on the scaffold for to andle ’is bruth,” Morgan built many a home in town and each year whitewashed the walls of residences.2 Alma Richards’s maternal grandparents, William Adams (1822–1901) and Mary Ann Leech Adams (1821–1902), LDS converts from Hillsborough, Down, Ireland, arrived in Nauvoo, Illinois, seat of the Mormon Church, in April 1844, having made their way up the Mississippi River on The Maid of Iowa. There they met Joseph Smith, thereby establishing a direct familial connection with the Mormon prophet. William, a stonemason, went to work on various edifices including the temple and tithing office. Called to Utah by Brigham Young, they left early in 1849 with their two young sons and headed to Council Bluffs, Iowa, where on July 5 they joined the Allen Taylor Company of 359 Saints and 100 wagons for the overland journey west. Shortly after arriving in Salt Lake City on October 10, the family joined the convoy of Mormons instructed to build the Kingdom in southern Utah, thereby becoming pioneer settlers of Parowan.3 Pioneer ancestry was an important lifelong component of Alma’s psyche. The stories of hardship involved in transoceanic and overland travel told and retold had an indelible impact on the youngster. In due time, he would exhibit the same willful determination and zealous devotion that led his grandparents to break with the past and forge a new life. The most conspicuous aspect of Alma’s youth was religion. Alma’s parents—Morgan Richards Jr., who came with his parents to America at age nine, and Margaret Adams Richards, born in Parowan in 1853—imbued with the

Formative Years  19

zeal of converts and colonizers, established an unwaveringly devout Mormon household. Their marriage ceremony on October 3, 1870, he twenty-­ five, she seventeen, manifested an unusual aura of religious authority. They went to Salt Lake City as members of the Parowan Ward choir to sing during the semiannual LDS conference and at a special performance for the visiting General William Tecumseh Sherman, but they had planned ahead for a more personal engagement. Before returning to Parowan, the couple was sealed in marriage for time and eternity by Wilford Woodruff, president of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, the church’s second-­highest governing body. The rites, witnessed by an array of prominent church figures, took place in the Endowment House, wherein sacred temple ordinances were administered before the dedication of the Salt Lake Temple in 1893. (The St. George Temple, announced in 1871 and dedicated in 1877, would later become the marrying place of choice for members in southern Utah.) Morgan brought along savings of some $200 in gold to buy the initial furnishings for their home at the church’s co-­op store, Zion’s Cooperative Mercantile Institute (ZCMI), including a stove, dishes, lamps, a Seth Thomas clock, artwork to adorn the walls, and especially for Margaret, a lovely wool shawl, later used to wrap their children. As suggested by the circumstances attendant to their marriage, Alma’s parents, together and individually, were dedicated to exerting a profound religious influence on their children and community. 4 Alma’s father, Morgan, subsequently held numerous important positions in the local LDS Church, and through his personification and preaching of the gospel ranked as the foremost ecclesiastical figure in Parowan and beyond. Named a Seventy in the Sixty-­Ninth Quorum at the young age of twenty in 1865, he was ordained a high priest in 1880 and set apart as counselor to the bishop of Parowan’s First Ward; in 1881 he was appointed second counselor to the president of the Parowan Stake, then first counselor from 1887 to 1897. A leader of youth activities, he was the first stake president of the Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Association (YMMIA), an auxiliary to the Aaronic priesthood for boys ages twelve to eighteen; founder of Parowan’s LDS Seminary, a time-­released religious education program held in conjunction with public schooling; and longtime superintendent of the ward Sunday school. He was released from church calling in 1897 to serve as Utah’s first state auditor, but after four years he left government service to return to “the quietude of his country home.” Parowan

20  Chapter 1

was a peaceful place, but his life was anything but tranquil. No sooner had he returned in November 1901 than he was sustained as bishop.5 From 1901 to 1909, a tenure coinciding with Alma’s adolescent years, Morgan presided over the Parowan ward, comprised of some one thousand members. His appointment as bishop entailed performing numerous varied and demanding duties. For the family, it brought an element of social and religious prestige as well as pressures and obligations. Margaret took on increased social responsibilities, including cooking, for home visitors and church functions. For the children, a father as bishop increased the pressure to attend church functions and behave as offspring of a spiritual leader. Morgan’s performance was by all accounts exemplary, his esteem such that the decision by church officials in Salt Lake City to release him and appoint a new bishop was met with unprecedented “popular dissatisfaction.” One of his supporters, who understood the hierarchical workings of the church, tried to calm the dissent by rationalizing the decision on the grounds that it was “good” for him to be released from the “arduous duties” of the position as he was “getting along in years” (sixty-­four). More satisfying to the well-­w ishers who jammed the Opera House on October 29 to celebrate his retirement was the announced recognition that “title nor his influence can ever be taken away so that Brother Richards is bishop still” in the hearts of the people. After leaving the bishopric he remained a prominent voice at church services, and no resident of Parowan or nearby towns passed away without his oratory at their funeral. Perhaps his greatest recognition was the announcement during the 1918 stake conference that he had been called to the office of stake patriarch, charged with authority to administer patriarchal blessings of inspiration and guidance, typically to teenagers. It was a lifetime appointment, the same as enjoyed by LDS apostles.6 When Morgan died in 1928 at age eighty-­t wo, townsfolk and a “score of out-­of-­town people” filled the Parowan tabernacle on Friday, February 24, for the funeral services, an outpouring that prompted a remark in the Parowan Times: “Probably no citizen in this community had a wider circle of friends or was more esteemed than Brother Richards, as he was always referred to.” His influence and reputation extended well beyond Parowan. For his lifelong “absolute honesty, conscientious attention to duty [and] intense devotion to his religion,” the “esteemed citizen” was “known and loved by practically everyone in this end of the State.”7

Formative Years  21

Actually, his influence extended far beyond southern Utah. When Morgan died, church president Heber J. Grant wrote a personal letter of condolence to his children and an individual letter to Alma. Morgan’s prominence, indeed veneration, within Mormondom was highlighted at a funeral service in Salt Lake City the previous Wednesday. The speakers were a veritable Who’s Who of LDS church leadership. Headed by President Grant, they included three members of the Quorum of the Twelve, the presiding bishop of Salt Lake City, and J. Golden Kimball, president of the Seventies, who offered the invocation.8 An impressive farewell indeed for a man whose numerous religious activities were more than church callings; they constituted a way of life. Morgan Richards, his massive white beard signaling patriarchal authority, was a formidable father figure to emulate. Under Morgan’s roof ruled a behavioral trinity: righteousness, sobriety, and godliness of the Mormon variety. By dint of his powerful personality and influential service to his church and community, he had a lifelong influence on his youngest son, providing examples and expectations for beliefs and behaviors. It was from and through his father that young Alma received instruction in the scriptural canons of the LDS Church as well as parental admonitions of how to conduct himself according to church teachings and expectations. Alma would later recall with emotion the instructions received from his father in the Old Rock Church, and he would bestow the paternal name on his only son. Not to be overlooked was Morgan’s sense of community illustrated by extensive service by example. Alma also inherited from his father the personal qualities that would become so evident as an adult—discipline, determination (stubbornness), and a driving ambition for recognition and distinction. And a sense of respect and honor due. When in response to the national economic depression of the 1890s, Morgan’s daily salary was cut in 1894 from $3.50 to $2.50, he promptly resigned at the affront.9 Alma’s mother Margaret shared Morgan’s all-­consuming religiosity. Affectionately called “Aunt Maggie” by family and friends, she was the religious and social doyenne of the community. According to the U.S. Federal Census of 1880, she could neither read nor write but took it upon herself to learn to do both well before the 1900 Census acknowledged her accomplishment. A quiet and unassuming woman “who everyone delights to call a friend,” she was a leader in the Relief Society, the LDS women’s auxiliary charged with attending to the spiritual welfare of the sisterhood,

22  Chapter 1

strengthening family life, and helping the needy. When in 1900 it was decided to construct a separate meetinghouse for the Relief Society, Margaret was a key member of the building committee. At a surprise party celebrating her sixty-­third birthday, “numerous” members of the community in attendance “spoke of her charity, untiring visits to the sick, aged and distressed.” She inculcated by example a dedication to church service to her daughters, most notably her eldest, Margaret Anna, also dubbed “Maggie,” who at age sixteen became president of the Parowan Young Ladies’ Mutual Improvement Association (YLMIA) and performed as the Sunday school and ward organist.10 The elder Margaret’s primary calling was that of mother. Her daughter Catherine recalled that she “always had a baby in her arms and several children tugging at her skirts.” Heeding the church’s admonition to go forth and multiply, she gave birth to her first child at age eighteen, in all delivering ten children, five boys and five girls, in twenty-­two years.11 It was no easy task to provide for the daily needs of a large and growing household, especially as she suffered from periodic illnesses; the burden of housekeeping and childcare fell solely on Margaret. The boys helped with the farm chores, but Morgan drafted their five daughters to help out in the co-­op as soon as they were able. (He did, however, hire help to assist with chores after each childbirth.) As was typical in rural farming communities, Margaret and Morgan had to provide for most of their wants, their handiwork on occasion winning blue ribbons at the Iron County fair—she for a braided rug, he for plums and apricots.12 Husband and wife were one in making education a priority for their children. But their foremost concern was nurturing the spiritual upbringing of their youthful flock, a dedication underscored by regularly making the time-­consuming and difficult trek to attend semiannual church conferences in Salt Lake City to receive firsthand instruction from the prophet and general authorities. Initially the trips, which entailed several days of travel by wagon over 250 miles of rough, rutted, dirt roads, combined conference attendance with picking up supplies from ZCMI for the Parowan store. But the trips became an integral part of the family’s religious commitment, attending faithfully even after Morgan’s term as bishop. Margaret wanted to travel farther than Salt Lake City, her head filled with tales of the Emerald Isle told by her Irish immigrant mother. She would never get to her ancestral homeland, but in 1912 her youngest son would return from the Olympics with a present for his mother: a white shawl made in Ireland.13

Formative Years  23

Coincidentally or not, Morgan had recently been appointed first counselor in the Parowan Stake presidency, the second-­most prestigious local ecclesiastical calling, when he and Margaret symbolically bestowed their religiosity on their ninth child. They named their son Alma Wilford: “Alma” for Alma the Younger, a prophet of the Nephite nation whose founding of the church in the ancient Americas is told in the Book of Alma, the ninth and longest book in the Book of Mormon; and “Wilford” in honor of a latter-­ day prophet, Wilford Woodruff, who had married them in 1870 and in 1889 had become the fourth president of the LDS church.14 The lone Richards child to bear a name of religious significance, he was in a prophetic sense the chosen one.15 Alma grew up in a prominent family of above-­average means, living in a commodious two-­story frame house with a long porch on Main Street across from the town square. Education, as well as religion, was a point of parental emphasis. Morgan started teaching school in 1864 and at age twenty-­one took on the additional duties of principal. The classroom was more than pedagogically rewarding as he there met a student, Margaret Adams, who would later become his wife. Morgan was “an exacting teacher and a strict disciplinarian.” A “very proud” man who “always walked with his head held high,” he was referred to by Margaret and the other students as “King Morgan.”16 He left teaching after ten years to engage for a time in farming and the lumber business, then for eighteen years successively as salesman, secretary, treasurer, and manager of the Parowan Cooperative Mercantile & Manufacturing Institution, the town’s principal retail establishment. The co-­op was the community gathering place, for in addition to stocking a wide range of merchandise—food, clothing, and equipment of all kinds— it housed a shoe shop, grist mill, and cabinet shop. After leaving the store, Morgan devoted his time to running the family farm, which Alma came to know well through countless chores. Morgan’s performance in the Co-­Op and church established for him an esteemed reputation in the community that resulted in election to numerous civil government offices including town clerk, treasurer, selectman, school board trustee, and superintendent for Parowan as well as clerk, treasurer, and superintendent of schools for Iron County.17 Family prominence aside, Alma’s boyhood activities and experiences were typical of youngsters growing up in sparsely populated rural towns

24  Chapter 1

severely circumscribed by geography and demographics. If few specifics of his childhood in Parowan are known, the framework is more certain. Traditional childhood games, outdoor recreation, hunting and shooting matches, dances, and a variety of working bees were pleasurable but routine. More anticipated and enjoyable were the theatrical performances staged by the Parowan Dramatic Association and the Young People’s Dramatic Club, including the play Brother Joe during the winter as well as the gala community festivities to celebrate Christmas, May Day, the Fourth of July, and, especially, Pioneer Day on July 24 commemorating the Mormon arrival in Utah. Mischiefs and pranks, notably at Halloween, abounded, as when older brother Gomer helped hoist a wagon astride the peak of a barn roof, much to the bewilderment of a neighbor.18 Under the strict supervision of Morgan, the family patriarch, life proceeded according to a rigorous observance of Mormon teachings and practices. Thrift, hard work, and familial loyalty were guiding principles. Chores around the house and on the farm were aplenty. A crowded household of upwards of ten people encouraged, even necessitated, outdoor activities available in a farming community that bordered on canyons and mountainous plateaus. A lifelong joy was exploring Parowan Canyon just east of town. Alma enjoyed good health, fortunately escaping the epidemic of diphtheria that swept through the town in 1893, which was fatal to many three year olds like Alma.19 As the name Alma carried inordinate ecclesiastical import, even in an exclusively LDS community, he was generally called “Pat” in recognition of his maternal Irish heritage. Ethnicity was important to the Adams side of the family, heralded by the strong Irish brogue of his maternal grandparents. Four of his cousins formed a basketball team simply dubbed the Irish Basket Ball Team. Led by Morgan Adams, later star center for BYU, the I.B.B.T. soundly defeated quintets from other southern Utah towns; Alma’s brother Charles was the lone Richards on the team. If we lack accounts of Alma’s youthful athleticism, his sister Catherine recalled an act that reflected his character. As a young boy, Alma had worked very hard to earn enough money to buy a pair of “good shoes.” One day, after the new shoes had been soaked during a rainstorm, he put them on the open oven door to dry. Catherine, hoping to speed up the process, put them in the oven and added more wood. The inevitable result was burned leather. Before going to bed that night, Alma tried to console his distraught younger sister by

Formative Years  25

dropping a package of her favorite treat, Fig Newtons, in her lap, a sign of forgiveness and an end to the incident.20 Small-­town familiarity and insularity were the governing social characteristics of Alma’s youth. Parowan’s population grew slowly during his formative years, increasing from 937 in 1890, to 1039 in 1900, and 1156 by 1910.21 Life in the small town progressed according to the cycle of the seasons, daily routines reflecting the cultural and religious clannishness typical of close-­knit, self-­sufficient, workaday Mormon pioneer communities and associations with folks, primarily LDS, involved in agricultural and ranching enterprises. The homogeneity extended to race as well as religion. There is no evidence that Alma interacted with the indigenous Paiute Tribe, composed of five constituent yet independent bands—Cedar, Indian Peaks, Kanosh, Koosharem, and Shivwits—that inhabited the area for centuries, although there might have been an occasional encounter. If the absence of African Americans in town did little to curb the racist attitudes that afflicted the country, the outlook of Parowanians was more cultural and scriptural than overtly racist. The LDS Church’s denial of the priesthood to blacks and discriminatory legislation similar to proscriptions on other states inevitably fostered among Mormons a sense of racial superiority expressed by insensitivity if not prejudicial beliefs. Consequently, when the theater company performed the antislavery play Uncle Tom’s Cabin and other dramas, performers donned blackface, while a store clerk told a child Brazil nuts were “nigger heels.”22 Suddenly, and irreversibly, Alma’s world underwent a dramatic transformation. The coming of statehood in 1896 brought profound changes to Utah. On November 5, 1895, Utahns went to the polls to ratify a constitution and elect state officials pursuant to Congress converting Utah Territory into the forty-­fifth state; admission to the Union had been delayed in relation to neighboring states over federal concerns about the Mormon Church’s practice of polygamy.23 At the Republican party convention on August 28 Morgan Richards was elected “in the interests of the cow counties” as the nominee for state auditor. He went on to defeat eight nominees for the office, including future U.S. Senator Reed Smoot, after “a lively contest” on three ballots. He was also selected as the Iron County representative on the administrative Territorial Committee. During the campaign he was touted for his status as a [Mormon] “pioneer” and experience as accountant and manager of the Parowan Mercantile. Despite a Democratic landslide that saw only

26  Chapter 1

two Republicans elected to the state legislature, Morgan on November 5 defeated the Democrat opponent, Guy C. Wilson, with 53 percent of the vote, 21,372 to 18,907. The GOP gubernatorial candidate Heber M. Wells also won in the first state election, as did Martha Hughes Cannon who became the first woman state senator in the United States. The election brought to the fore the one area in which Margaret and Morgan clashed. He was a lifelong rock-­ribbed GOP activist, while she was a dyed-­in-­the-­wool Democrat—their political philosophies no doubt reflecting their life’s work.24 At age six Alma got his first glimpse of the outside world when the family moved to Salt Lake City following Morgan’s assumption of duties as the first auditor of the new state of Utah on January 6, two days after President Grover Cleveland proclaimed Utah the forty-­fifth state. Morgan and his eldest son, Gomer, who assisted him as clerk, moved to the capital city in early January, temporarily boarding at 123 N. West Temple until finding suitable housing for the two families and their collective seven children. The Morgan Richards clan lived first at 1116 E. Brigham Street (aka South Temple) then moved to 80 Second Avenue, a few blocks from the Salt Lake City and County building, site of state government offices pending construction of a state capitol.25 Daughter Harriett and her husband, William B. Dougall Jr., an insurance agent, lived across the street. Morgan was not averse to nepotism: his daughter Mary Isabelle “Belle” and son Joseph were also employed as clerks in the auditor’s office.26 Life in the Beehive State capital, the largest city between Denver and San Francisco with a population of 53,531 in 1900, brought the impressionable youngster “big city” adventures and excitements unimaginable in Parowan. Located hard against the towering Wasatch Mountains, Salt Lake had changed dramatically since Mormon pioneers arrived in 1847. It was no longer a small, self-­contained religious outpost. Coaches, carriages, and wagons clogged the unusually wide, unpaved streets. Saloons abounded. Prostitutes plied their trade in the regulated Stockade. Overland trail immigrants, soldiers from Fort Douglas, Chinese from Plum Alley, African Americans, and numerous nationalities from Europe drawn to the mines filled the sidewalks and spilled into the streets. Gentiles were aplenty.27 The social, religious, political, and economic diversity, not to mention the sheer size of the place and plethora of free-­time activities, was astonishing to a youngster accustomed to the cozy, conforming homogeneity of Parowan. The sights and sounds were such as he had never known before. No doubt the

Formative Years  27

ubiquitous presence of alcohol, tobacco, and personal pleasures unknown back home was a bit disconcerting. This was heady stuff for a boy during the heightened self-­awareness years of ages six to ten. That the city was the headquarters of his church, its spiritual and administrative authority, was evident in the imposing façades visible a few blocks from his home: the majestic temple, with its 210-­foot spire topped by a golden angel Moroni; the Tabernacle, the principal meetinghouse that hosted the semiannual church conferences; ZCMI, the large and well-­stocked department store; and Brigham Young’s impressive Beehive House, the spiritual, social, and political center of Utah in the founding years. But Salt Lake City had undergone a profound transformation in the past quarter century in all facets of life, including the LDS Church’s abandonment of the practice of polygamy in a headlong “Americanization” rush toward statehood and ongoing effort to promote assimilation while retaining distinctive doctrinal attributes that would accelerate after World War II.28 The Richards lived across the street from Horace G. “Bud” Whitney, general manager and music and drama critic of the Deseret News. Morgan and Margaret enjoyed the association as both were active patrons of music and theater. Whitney’s sons, Horace and Frank, respectively five and two years older than Alma, became his favorite pals. Horace, “Hoddy,” a high school track sprint champion, became his first sports idol.29 Salt Lake was also where Alma began his formal elementary school education, grades one to four. Alma said he attended Lawrence Elementary, but as there was no school by that name, he may have meant Longfellow on the corner of J Street and First Avenue, the closest to his home. Margaret, noting the schools were “excellent in this city,” was pleased her children, Alma included, were “making nice headway” in their studies.30 Of his boyhood activities in Salt Lake, little is known. Alma apparently was an active lad, for his older sister Columbia recalled an amusing and somewhat frightening experience. One day, when a man with a horse-­drawn wagon was selling vegetables in the neighborhood, Alma climbed onto the wagon. Suddenly, the wagon took off down the street with Alma hanging on for dear life. Frightened for her brother’s safety, Columbia grabbed hold of the back of the wagon and ran, screaming, after it. A block later the driver finally stopped and let Alma go. Columbia said she never knew what Alma did “to annoy the man.”31 Snitching produce comes to mind.

28  Chapter 1

It being unlawful for the state auditor to stand for consecutive terms, the family returned to Parowan in January 1901 after Morgan’s term in office concluded. (When he subsequently returned to Salt Lake City in January 1903 to serve one year as the representative from District 24 in the GOP-­dominated state House of Representatives and again in 1911 to serve as chaplain for the lower assembly during the legislative session, Margaret joined him in the capital city but the rest of the family remained in Parowan.)32 Alma’s experiential world had changed dramatically. How he reacted to returning to life in Parowan is unknown, but future events suggest the time spent in Salt Lake had left an indelible impression on him. Once again called “Pat” by friends, he continued his schooling in the basement of the Old Rock Church. Like his older brothers and sisters, he also attended Seminary, the school-­day religious education program also held in the Old Rock Church. And being large for his age, sinewy and well built, he took on his share of farm work, splitting firewood, cutting hay, harvesting crops, and feeding livestock.33 After finishing the eighth grade in May 1904, Alma left school. His departure at age fourteen was not a matter of an indifferent or marginal student dropping out of school, as he had received good grades in all subjects. While the Richards family took education seriously—his father was the teacher and principal of the school before serving as trustee on the town school board and two terms as county superintendent of schools—it was common for boys in rural areas to abandon formal schooling after the eighth grade.34 There was no high school in Parowan, so continuing his studies would have meant expensive boarding in a distant town. Besides, further formal education held little practical value given the lifestyle and economic opportunities in the remote, agricultural community. A tall, muscular lad, Alma was capable of doing a man’s work. He had shown no interest in working in the co-­op like his sisters or apprenticing with his grandfather Richards to learn the concrete and plastering trade. Instead, he was attracted to the freedom and independence of the open range, probably signing on to herd for his cousins, the Adams family, who owned a large cattle and sheep ranch.35 Metaphorically and literally, it was the wide-­open spaces that expanded Alma’s life. He enjoyed the self-­reliance and independence that came from riding the rangelands of southwestern Utah. The splendid isolation was an escape from small town life, a time to think of what was and what might be. But the initial excitement and adventure soon proved routine. He chafed at

Formative Years  29

the tedious monotony and drudgery of herding livestock through the sagebrush and greasewood of the arid Escalante Desert, alone for long stretches of time with his horse. Besides, he was not resigned to life in Parowan or on the range. His hometown was comfortable and familiar, filled with family and friends. But even the once-­expansive environment became confining. Having lived in the big city of Salt Lake, Alma knew what lay beyond the isolated, provincial setting, and while transitioning from teenager to young adulthood he increasingly yearned for new experiences, landscapes, people, places, and possibilities. Such thoughts also came not from literature or books of adventure, but from his mother’s frequent tales of life in her beloved Ould Sod. Alma had connections with the most influential families in the area but was without educational qualifications or definite career prospects. Unlike the example of his older brothers—Gomer, a businessman; Charles, a salesman; and Joe, a lawyer—he seemed destined to an agrarian life like his brother William, a lifelong farmer in Utah and later Idaho. The appeal of young women was strong, but a ranch hand was in no position to think about a serious relationship. Alma lacked sufficient desire or motivation to strike out on his own. He was proud of and generally satisfied with his lot in life, without further pretention. Besides, it is hard to break away from family and familiarity absent strong, specific motivation. Destiny called in December 1908. Caught in a sudden snowstorm while tending sheep, Alma sought refuge in a “shack of a hotel” called Younger’s at the tiny, remote railroad outpost of Lund, located in the Escalante Valley in the northwest section of Iron County. There he fortuitously met Thomas Clarkson Trueblood, professor of elocution and oratory at the University of Michigan, who was curled up under a blanket awaiting the next train on the lone rail line between Los Angeles and Salt Lake City. Trueblood, who has been incorrectly described as a professor at Michigan State University and as a Native American (his ancestry is English), frequently travelled across the country on the Chautauqua circuit giving dramatic readings. Telling Alma he was on a “trip around the world that year,” Trueblood enthusiastically regaled the impressionable young wrangler with tales of his many travels made possible, he emphasized, by educational opportunities. The encounter made a lasting impact on both men. In correspondence two decades later, Trueblood said he “never shall forget the snow that brought us together,” how they huddled under “those dirty buffalo robes” that helped “thaw my frozen head and how I got you interested in going to

30  Chapter 1

college.” Impressed that Alma “deeply desired” to see “something of the world,” the professor confessed: “I couldn’t quit thinking of you as always remaining a cowpuncher, much as I honor such men, but you were built for something with wider influence.” Richards, too, recalled the evening being “a turning point” in his life, because Trueblood’s “influence as a big, strong, well educated he man [sic] gave me my first desire to attend high school.”36

2

FROM PAROWAN TO PROVO

For Alma, meeting Trueblood was nothing less than a life-­changing epiphany. Many a lad thought of leaving the hard and isolated rural life, but opportunity and motivation were lacking. Professorial inspiration prompted the nineteen-­year-­old range rider forthwith to saddle his horse, pack a few belongings, and ride north through the cold of winter some forty miles to Beaver, there to enroll in the Murdock Academy in January 1909. Owned and operated by the LDS Church, Murdock, the first secondary school in southern Utah, provided four-­year college preparatory instruction for the region until a public high school opened in Beaver in 1922.1 It took gumption to abandon a chosen lifestyle, and the more so to return to a ninth-­grade classroom. But spurred by dreams of new people and places, the time was ripe to leave. A month shy of nineteen, he was still single and unencumbered by confining family or occupational responsibilities. It was a calculated decision, not an impetuous move. His sister, Margaret Anna, and her husband, Alfred Morton Durham, lived in Beaver, the latter a musician and composer who taught music at the school in addition to serving as the president (aka bishop) of the local LDS branch as the community was too small to constitute a ward. Judging from the lone extant transcript from the school, Alma was a good student, handling well the curriculum in keeping with LDS church teachings. Monthly grade reports from February through May 1910 show that he received all As in theology, woodworking, physical geography, and algebra, while progressively improving with a C, B, A-­, and A-­in English.2 But he stood out primarily because at nineteen he was much older and far more physically mature than the other students. Not surprisingly, that 31

32  Chapter 2

spring Murdock coaches invited the strapping ninth grader, who stood six-­ feet two-­inches tall and weighed 190 pounds, to try his hand at track and field, the only sport other than basketball sponsored at the school. Athletically, Alma was a novice. There is no evidence of his prior participation in sports. He probably had played some basketball, as did his brother Charles, as a member of the Parowan town team, but he certainly had not participated in track and field and likely had minimal exposure to the sport as Parowan, without a high school, lacked track facilities. Years later he frequently said, partly in jest, that his boyhood athletic activity consisted of chasing jackrabbits and jumping over fences barbed and wooden. But he likely was introduced to the sport in Salt Lake City when he was “about eight or ten.” Later in life he claimed his “idol and inspiration” was Hoddy Whitney, the leading sprinter in the state, who lived across the street.3 Like most people, Alma did not begin to recognize his potential until presented with an animating opportunity. For him it was track and field. As it turned out, Alma was a natural athlete. With a tall and heavy physique ill-­suited for sprints or distance racing, Alma concentrated on field events, not as a specialist but as a participant in multiple contests. Alma did not simply join the Murdock track team; he soon became the track team. In the May 1909 state high school track meet tiny Murdock finished twenty-­ first of twenty-­t wo teams; Richards, despite limited coaching and practice, relied on innate strength to score one of the team’s two points by taking third in the shot put.4 But a year later on May 14, 1910, after more extensive and focused practice, Alma led Murdock’s “big, husky farmer boys” to the state track championship. He physically was a man among boys, receiving the gold medal as the meet’s outstanding performer after setting state records in the high jump and shot put while finishing second in the broad jump and pole vault. As the Murdock school newspaper announced, it was “a great surprise” when the team won the title as “our Pat” scored the most points, sixteen of the school’s thirty-­t wo tallies.5 The victory was a great source of pride for Murdock and all of Southern Utah as it marked the first time an “outside” (i.e., nonurban) school had won the title. For Alma Richards the state meet catapulted him from an unknown wrangler to a statewide athletic sensation, providing for the first time a profound sense of personal accomplishment and public acclaim. More impressive than his individual marks was how rapidly he rose in a single year from an untrained novice to the pinnacle of Utah high school track

From Parowan to Provo  33

and field. Alma was no work in progress. More than an exceptional athlete, he was a phenom, gifted with rare physical abilities. His remarkable versatility and success despite meager experience and training pointed to even greater achievement in the future with proper coaching. For Alma the significance of the decision to attend Murdock cannot be overstated. By interacting with a new group of people he grew socially, and judging from the number of dances attended he was not shy about it. And there was a growing sense of independence; whatever the relationship with his sister’s family, he boarded with a Mrs. Woodhouse in 1909 and “Sister Hutchens” in 1910.6 More important, returning to school sparked lifelong educational interests and ambitions that eventually led to a career as an educator. The crucial exposure was track and field. He did not come to the sport; it came to him. Almost by chance he had stumbled upon his greatest talent. He could jump. High. And far. And he could throw heavy objects a great distance. A single point earned in the 1909 state meet marked the making of Alma Richards. But the path from Parowan to prominence was achieved by the strength of his personality as well as physical prowess. The satisfaction from his subsequent achievements in track—enhanced by the cheers of spectators, the accolades of fellow students, and praise from the press—gave him a sense of self-­assurance, pride, and ambition. Murdock was the genesis of this ascension to preeminence in the world of American track and field and the wellspring for basic features of his adult life. In the fall of 1910 Alma transferred to Brigham Young High School in Provo, Utah, located in the same building as Brigham Young University. The circumstances of the move are unclear. A man among boys at Murdock, he may have sought a higher standard of high school athletic competition. Perhaps he had heard that BYU—unlike the state’s other two major universities, the University of Utah in Salt Lake City and the Utah Agricultural College (later Utah State) in Logan—took advantage of the lack of standardized intercollegiate eligibility rules to allow high school students to compete in varsity sports, thereby enabling Alma to compete against athletes his own age and physical maturity. (Brigham Young Academy had been divided in 1903 into a university and high school, thus the close integration of students from both units resulted in the state allowing BYU’s high school students to participate in intercollegiate athletics.) Alma may have been taken with the aura and facilities in Provo when the Murdock team stopped en route to the state track championship in May to watch the BYU-­Utah track meet.

34  Chapter 2

Perhaps he was following in the footsteps of his brother Gomer and sisters Harriett and Mary Isabel who had attended Brigham Young Academy in Provo.7 Or maybe he just desired to expand his newfound sense of independence and adventure by moving away from family and living on his own. Whatever the reason(s) for the relocation, the move brought another pivotal change in Alma’s life. Provo, Utah’s third largest city with a population of some nine thousand residents, afforded greatly expanded social and cultural opportunities within a comfortable Mormon environment for a young man bent upon expanding his personal horizons. It also brought increased financial obligations. In a day before athletic grants-­in-­aid, Alma borrowed money from his family, took on odd jobs including firefighting, and secured a loan in 1912 from the Provo Student Loan Association to pay for tuition, room and board with various families, as well as sundry personal expenses.8 The most important consequence of transferring to Provo was meeting Eugene L. Roberts, whom Alma later acknowledged as having “had a tremendous influence on my athletic life and achievements, as well as on my character during my formative years.”9 A Provo native and BYU graduate, Roberts had also newly arrived in Provo after working a year as a gym assistant at Yale University. The first director of physical education at BYU, also assigned to coach basketball and track, Roberts became famously known by the nicknames “Timp” and “Timpanogos” after establishing in 1912 an annual hike up Mount Timpanogos which bordered the city. It was later intimated that Roberts had recruited Richards, having “sized him up as a wonder” after observing Alma’s performance at Murdock. But Roberts was in New Haven, Connecticut, during the 1909–1910 academic year, so he could not have witnessed Alma’s athletic breakout in spring 1910. And Alma staunchly maintained: “I did not know coach Roberts until after I had registered in the Provo school.”10 In any event, shortly after classes began Alma asked if he could try out for the BYU track team.11 Roberts, who had probably heard about Alma’s performance in the state high school championships, provisionally agreed provided he furnish his own clothing and shoes. At an exhibition track meet held in conjunction with BYU’s annual Founder’s Day celebration on October 17, 1910, Alma, out of competitive shape, finished second to fellow BY high school freshman Spafford Daniels in the high jump, failing to clear 5 feet 7 inches. Roberts, who had worked with high jumpers at Yale, was apparently impressed by something about the subpar performance. He later came

From Parowan to Provo  35

upon Richards playing basketball in the gymnasium and asked him to try an indoor jump. Alma, wearing gym togs and shoes, easily jumped 5 feet 11 ½ inches.12 Word of his remarkable jumping ability quickly spread. Students normally paid little attention to the weekly physical education class exhibitions, but in February a packed gym watched Alma twice barely dislodge the bar after he had cleared 6 feet 1 inch.13 During indoor practices that winter, Roberts realized Richards was “a wonderful natural athlete.” He was raw, yes, but obviously physically gifted as he consistently raised his body about a foot higher than the other competitors. Roberts promised Alma that if he trained faithfully for a year and a half he could make the 1912 United States Olympic team and had a “good chance” of winning the gold medal in Stockholm, Sweden. Richards, who “appeared to know nothing” about the Games, thought Roberts was joking. He was not. (Alma later admitted that he had heard about the Olympics while growing up, but the Games were an abstraction in a community without a newspaper and where church and local issues were the talk of the town.)14 That Alma was an exceptional, if inexperienced, talent was evident in his first intercollegiate season, 1911. Roberts thought the “alluring goal” of the Olympics increased Alma’s commitment to the sport such that he was “soon able to defeat all of his Utah competitors with ease and without practice.” Alma had not been fully tested at Murdock, where his superior size and strength had handily dominated the competition. Now, competing against men of similar age and athletic ability, he quickly began to truly reach his potential. He quickly emerged as the star performer on BYU’s varsity team, displaying unheard of versatility by competing in every field event—the high jump, shot put, broad jump, pole vault, and discus. In his second collegiate competition, against the Utah Agricultural College on May 6, the Aggies won easily, but Alma was the premier performer as he won all five field events. Ten days later, in his initial Utah state intercollegiate championship meet, the high school sophomore was the high point winner, finishing second in pole vault and broad jump while winning the shot put and smashing the state high jump record by four inches. The press proclaimed his record-­setting leap, 6 feet 2 5/8 inches, was “by far the most remarkable athletic feat seen in a Utah meet,” and that the ease with which he cleared the bar convinced everyone that he would become “a world-­beater.”15

36  Chapter 2

Alma initially had been less than assiduous in his training habits, but given his successes that spring he returned to BYU in the fall of 1911 motivated by the “alluring goal” of the Olympics. Determined to make the American team, he kept himself in excellent condition and trained relentlessly, but only slightly refined his markedly unorthodox jumping style. Instead of the traditional “scissors” technique where the jumper approached the pit at an angle and jumped off the outside foot, legs clearing the bar before the head, Richards, without benefit of early technical instruction, had intuitively developed a unique method in which he approached the bar straight on like a broad jumper, leaped with his body erect, and cleared it almost vertically with little of the usual full-­body horizontal layout, his legs crossed in a squatting, fetal-­like position under him. Roberts admitted that Alma was “about as awkward looking an athlete as he had ever seen,” for his “takeoff was too long and his form was generally bad.” R. L. “Dink” Templeton, Stanford University track coach and high jump expert, later noted that Alma early in his career “depended almost entirely on his native ability” and that his jumping style required him to clear the bar “by an additional—and wasteful—margin” and land on his back instead of his feet.16 Especially remarkable in an event that emphasized technique, Alma was a self-­made high jumper. It was later claimed that Richards literally rose to new heights after Roberts “taught him a new form entirely,” but the coach always insisted, “I simply called his attention to two or three minor faults in his style, which were making it impossible for him to reach the height he should have reached with his phenomenal spring.” This involved suggestions about timing on his spring and encouraging him to lean more when passing over the bar in order to increase height. (At some point, probably during Alma’s college career at Cornell, he began to approach the bar from an angle instead of straight on.) Roberts, who earned great acclaim for developing champion high jumpers—including Clinton Larson, world record holder 1917–1934—understood that it might be counterproductive to tamper with Alma’s phenomenal natural leaping ability or, not less important, his independent mindset. Most important in the long run, Roberts simply urged Alma to develop a more intense competitive spirit. On the other hand, perhaps Alma was right in thinking his success was due to the “worn out cap” he started wearing for good luck when jumping in meets.17 By spring 1912 Richards, now dubbed “the Mormon Giant” in the press, prepared in earnest to make the American Olympic team. He had come to

From Parowan to Provo  37

realize that sport provided an opportunity to realize his desire for personal recognition and expanded opportunities. And as he obtained more training and realized more success, his prowess increased. After only a year of collegiate competition, Coach Roberts ranked Alma, who “works with ease,” as one of the seven best high jumpers in the United States and among the fifteen best in the world. Indeed, Roberts thought his prize pupil not only able to make the Olympic squad, but also capable of setting “a world’s record or two.”18 Alma’s Olympic prospects seemingly dimmed, however, when George Horine of Stanford University, inventor of the new “western roll,” raised the world high jump record to 6 feet 7 inches, and Samuel Lawrence of Harvard cleared 6 feet 4 ½ inches, both substantially higher than Alma’s best to date. But Alma, bristling with confidence bordering on cockiness from his newfound celebrity, said he was “not discouraged by the reports of these extraordinary jumps,” vowing he would “get Horine’s goat” and defeat him.19 Indeed Alma had improved steadily that spring not only in the high jump but, incredibly, in four other events as well. On April 27 against the University of Utah he won all five field competitions, making his opponents “look like children in their events.” In a dual meet against the Aggies on May 4 he again swept the five events, setting a state record in the broad jump in the process. And at the state intercollegiate championships on May 18 he continued to demonstrate his remarkable athleticism by earning twenty-­ three of BYU’s thirty-­t wo points, winning the high jump, shot put, broad jump, and pole vault while placing second in discus.20 Alma’s parents, who had little exposure to competitive sports, were proud of their son’s accomplishments, but they were also concerned about the impact of his athletics and Olympic ambitions on his educational achievement and lifestyle. Alma was aware of their concerns and feared that after receiving his second term grade reports and seeing some “newspaper notoriety that embarrassed him,” they would think he was “not doing well in his regular work.” Consequently, a worried Alma sought counseling from BYU president George H. Brimhall. Brimhall, after a “nice interview” with Alma, wrote a long letter to the Richards assuring them that their son “is making good as a student” as well as “a gentleman and as a Latter-­day Saint.” He assured them that school administrators “set our faces as flint” against allowing students to participate in athletics without having “a good record scholastically.” To assuage concerns about moral consequences of

38  Chapter 2

athletic overemphasis, Brimhall assured them he personally had “little more than contempt for athletic professionalism” and wanted “no gladiators in our school.” Morgan and Margaret were “much pleased” with the “good things” and assurances President Brimhall provided.21 At the end of Alma’s first year of competing with collegians, the high school sophomore had stunned the world of Utah track and field by exhibiting an unprecedented display of athletic versatility and stamina. Athletes rarely competed in both jumping and weight events as they require very different physical abilities, and participation in multiple contrasting competitions hampered performance by sapping strength of body and mind. Alma proudly attended the BYU spring sports banquet at the Roberts Hotel, where he was given a coveted letterman’s sweater, blue emblazoned with a white Y.22 He had no idea of the bigger award and recognition soon to come. Convinced of the world-­class ability of his protégé, Roberts arranged for Alma to compete in the Western Olympic trials at Stanford University in Palo Alto, California, on May 18. But because of a conflict with the Utah collegiate championships, Roberts received permission for Alma to compete instead in the Central trials at Northwestern University in Evanston, Illinois, on June 8, the same date as the Eastern trials at Harvard University in Cambridge, Massachusetts.23 Roberts tried to raise funds from the community to cover the expenses related to the tryout, but his efforts came to naught. Alma later humorously described it: “Coach Roberts called at dozens of business places in Provo trying to collect enough money to send me to the Olympic tryouts at Evanston, Illinois. He went to the banks—‘no interest’; then to the barber shops—‘no soap’; on to the dry goods stores— ‘no sale.’”24 With an inability to raise private contributions, a clear indication of the modest prestige of the Olympics at the time, Roberts finally convinced BYU administrators to donate $150 for the trip. On May 31, 1912, essentially only two years after seriously taking up the sport, Alma Richards left Provo by train for Chicago to compete for a place on the U.S. Olympic track team.25 Roberts had hoped to accompany his prize pupil, but for want of funds remained behind. Consequently, he made arrangements for a Coach Grier to supervise the twenty-­t wo year old, who had never before been outside the state. Prior to Alma’s boarding the train, Roberts gave him a copy of Rudyard Kipling’s famous inspirational poem, “If,” which he hoped might provide “strength and faith when the going seemed tough.”26 As the train clattered for two long days through Wyoming,

From Parowan to Provo  39

Nebraska, Iowa, and into Illinois, Alma memorized the four-­stanza poem, the most resonant first and last portions of which read: If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too; If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run, Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it, And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son! Roberts’s thoughtfulness was prescient as Alma admitted to being “very anxious and lonesome” during the trials.27 More than an emotional elixir for the moment, the poem remained for the rest of Alma’s lifetime the core for a philosophy of a life built upon courage, composure, honor, humility, and integrity.

3

MAKING THE AMERICAN TEAM

Upon arriving in Chicago, Richards made his way north to neighboring Evanston, site of the trials. He went straight to Northwestern University’s Marshall Field, anxious to work out the muscle kinks after sitting and sleeping for two days on wooden benches on the train. He stepped onto the field without reputation or respect. His credentials were not well known as he had not competed outside of Utah. Since he had not contested against major intercollegiate let alone international class athletes, and since Utah was not regarded as a hotbed of track and field competition, the West Coast and national newspapers paid little attention to Beehive State thinclads. Additionally, the other eight entrants in high jumping were established figures, members of either major collegiate programs or prominent amateur athletic clubs. Among the few no-­name competitors, an unheralded nobody in the tight-­knit circle of track and field elites, Alma was not taken seriously by some of the other jumpers. When the white letter Y on his blue shirt was mistaken for the Yale University emblem and then for Yazoo, Mississippi, Alma indignantly replied, “Never heard of the best U. in Utah?” They regarded the big, raw-­boned lad whose knees were wrapped in rubber bandages as a provincial novice, and they thought he would be easily defeated after viewing his awkward jumping form which showed little of the technique of the experienced competitor. Some were even heard to say, “Who let him in?”1 Alma’s best event was the high jump, but Coach Roberts wanted him to also enter the broad jump competition to increase his chances of qualifying for the team. That was also Alma’s intention when he left Provo, but

40

Making the American Team  41

on site he decided to focus just on the high jump.2 This proved a wise decision, for he would have had to compete in both events in the one-­day trials. If some athletes did not take him seriously, Alma’s ability and attitude caught the attention of coaches during the several days of pretrials practices.3 Initial skepticism aside, it was soon evident that Alma not only possessed exceptional physical ability but also supreme confidence despite his inexperience in top-­f light competition. The legendary University of Chicago football and track coach, Amos Alonzo Stagg, for one was impressed with Alma’s amazing leaping ability when he cleared 6 feet 2 inches within hours after getting off the train.4 Coach Boyd Comstock, in town with a team from California competing in the annual A. Stagg national interscholastic championships, was also impressed, as much with Alma’s attitude as ability after observing him in workouts.5 One afternoon, after spending the morning sleeping and “taking it easy,” Alma asked Comstock for “a few pointers.” The coach, who had never heard of Richards before, was not initially impressed with his free-­spirited behavior. Alma showed little interest in participating in preliminary workouts and had the quirky habit of sprinting around the quarter-­mile track before jumping—“to limber up my muscles,” he said. Comstock’s attitude changed once the Utahn began practice jumps with Earl Palmer, former intercollegiate champion from Dartmouth College. Comstock was struck by the ease with which Alma, after setting the crossbar initially at an unusually high six feet, “just loped up to it and hopped over, straight-­up; all he did was to tuck his legs under him.” He was even more taken with Alma’s confident, even boastful, assertions that he would beat everyone else at the trials and in the Olympics. Alma never lacked for confidence. But perhaps to compensate for feelings of uneasiness associated with the unprecedented trip and experience, the Utahn rode into Evanston high in the saddle. His characteristic self-­ assurance became a shameless boastful swagger, as he contemptuously dismissed his competitors in the trials. “None of them are any good. I been following their jumps. I read all the papers.” As for his past Utah competition, they were “just a bunch of dubs” [unskilled persons]. When Comstock told Alma he ought to win the high jump trial, Alma replied, “That’s why I came back here, over here first and then the Olympics.” When the two men parted, Comstock said to himself, “He’s the next Olympic champ.”6

42  Chapter 3

On Saturday, June 8, Alma Richards did not fall off his high horse, making good on his first boast. He bested eight competitors in the high jump at the Central Olympic trials. He cleared 6 feet 3 inches, the highest he had ever jumped, easily defeating the next two jumpers, both representing the prestigious Chicago Athletic Association, Earl Palmer and E. W. Nixon, who jumped 5 feet 11 inches and 5 feet 10 inches, respectively. The victory by a virtually unknown competitor was a stunning surprise, the unusual circumstance accentuated by his refusal to obey the officials’ request to remove his old floppy cap before competing, saying he could not win without his “mascot.” At the end of the competition, Alma punctuated his victory with a grin and a quip: “Fudge, I thought you guys could jump?”7 On June 9, the day after the trials, Richards, regarded “among the leaders of the team,” boarded a train headed to New York City, there to embark for Stockholm. In May James Sullivan, secretary of the American Olympic Committee (AOC), submitted a preliminary roster with 460 names of every potential American competitor to the Swedish Olympic Committee. Now, with the results of the three trials at hand, the AOC selection committee met on July 10 at the Waldorf Astoria Hotel to finalize the team. It is not known if Richards had been included on the preliminary list of twenty-­one possible high jump entries, but on the morning of June 11 while en route to New York, Alma wired Coach Roberts that he had been chosen for the team.8 Only three years after first taking up the sport, Alma W. Richards, a twenty-­t wo-­ year-­old high school junior, was an Olympian. Alma’s successful attempt to earn a place on the American Olympic team generated surprisingly little comment in Utah. None of the newspapers, most notably Salt Lake City’s four dailies, reported on Alma’s arrival in Evanston or on the Central trials. On July 10 the Deseret News published a wire service report on the results of the three Olympic trials without mentioning the BYU athlete. The next day the News and Salt Lake Tribune reprinted an International News Service article datelined New York City that listed the official team members by event, to which the News affixed a school picture of Alma in suit and tie, while the Tribune ran a headline identifying Alma as member of the team and a brief article identifying him as a local high school and collegiate athlete. The reaction in his hometown Provo Post was similarly restrained. Upon learning of Alma’s telegram to Roberts, the paper simply commented that Utahns could “look forward to

Making the American Team  43

a great surprise in the local athlete” as he “is in excellent condition and may succeed in capturing first place against all comers.”9 Announcements of his making the team were muted for several reasons. Local newspapers were dependent on wire service reports, which offered little coverage of what were considered local events. Then, too, little was known about Alma, even among sportswriters. A brief notice in the Salt Lake Tribune erroneously claimed Alma was from Beaver, not Parowan or even Provo, while another paper falsely said he was from Vernal in the Uintah Basin, that his coach was Jean Roberts, and that he first gained notoriety in the 1908 state meet.10 Most important, perhaps, the failure of the local press to comment extensively on Alma’s unprecedented achievement as Utah’s first Olympian or reflect upon his accomplishment as a source of pride to the state spoke to the level of public interest in the sport of track and field and to a vague, general sense of the Olympics as primarily a nationalistic event of scant local import. If making the American team generated little comment in the Utah press, Alma’s selection was not without controversy in AOC circles. On June 12 the Provo Post reported that although he had defeated Palmer for first place in the high jump, the meet director had recommended Palmer instead for the team, but James E. Sullivan chose Richards “as the better athlete of the two.” The next day the Salt Lake Evening Telegram reported that Alma’s jump was “measured in three places” as 6 feet 3 inches, but that it was announced at 6 feet 1 inch “because the Chicago Athletic Association official[s] hoped to get their men in the team and did not take favorably to the Utah boy.” Upon Alma’s return home from the Olympics, the Salt Lake Herald-­Republican on August 20 expanded on the report. “It is thought by some of his friends, who were at the trials, that he would not have made the trip had it not been for Coach A. A. Stagg,” who “worked hard to send him to New York.”11 Apparently, the manager of the Olympic trials, Everett C. Brown, track coach and president of the prestigious Chicago Athletic Association, unaware of Alma’s performances in Utah, thought the surprising victory by a virtually unknown competitor was a fluke and thus urged that the second-­place finisher, collegiate champion Earl Palmer of Dartmouth, be chosen instead of Richards. But with input from Stagg and James Sullivan, the AOC secretary recommended the Utahn as the superior athlete. After the Olympics,

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Alma simply said, “I was chosen among the rest that won at Evanston.”12 Some forty years later he would say that Central trial officials had sent a report to the selection committee in New York City contending he should not be a member of the U.S. team because his winning leap was a “freak jump,” and that he might not have been selected had not Stagg, a member of the committee, recognized that Richards, “with a little training, would make a wonderful jumper” and “worked hard to send him to New York.” The Evening Telegram agreed that Stagg should be “credited with having given the Utah boy a square deal, as he urged his selection at the committee meeting in New York.”13 The exact nature of the challenge and when and how it was resolved are uncertain, but four things are known. First, newspapers in Chicago, which covered the Central trials, and New York City, which reported the work of the selection committee, contain no mention of Brown’s objection or Stagg’s response; there are only after-­the-­fact speculations by the Utah press and a general, self-­serving post-­Games comment by Sullivan. However, since Stagg was in Chicago while Sullivan was in New York, the issue was likely resolved before Alma left Evanston and prior to the AOC selection committee meeting. Second, while at the time team selections were often biased in favor of athletes from eastern elite athletic clubs and universities, it is likely that Brown, who later became president of the Amateur Athletic Union, challenged Alma’s place on the team not for political reasons as has been alleged, but simply because he was untested in elite track circles. Still, that Alma, wearing the colors of the Illinois Athletic Club, the Chicago AA’s archrival, defeated two CAA entries must have rankled Brown. (Did he affiliate with the IAC because of the mysterious Coach Greer’s influence?) Third, Richards was a regular member of the team, not a supplementary selection as has been previously claimed. After choosing the team, the selection committee in New York identified twenty-­four supplemental members, stipulating that they could go to Stockholm if they personally paid their expenses, some $350. Alma was always on the official team roster, never the supplemental list.14 Fourth, he was very much an unknown to the New York sporting press, identified variously as “Almond W. Richards, University of Utah;” “Alma Richards of Utah University;” “Richards of Brigham Young College, Utah;” and “A. W. Richards of BYU, Povost [sic] Utah.”15 Controversy aside, Alma was no one-­meet wonder. He was unknown and unsung outside Utah, but not unaccomplished. His extraordinary success

Making the American Team  45

in high school, immediate and without substantive training, followed by multi-­event domination for BYU in intercollegiate competitions, demonstrated exceptional, even rare athletic talent. In terms of jumping ability, he was nothing short of a phenomenon. Alma’s leg strength was so great that coaches dared not deign to try to impose a more conventional jumping style even though his strikingly unorthodox form technically worked against maximizing performance. Already confident in his ability, Alma had received a major psychological boost just before leaving for the Olympic trials from a performance at BYU that portended the future: he almost cleared 6 feet 4 inches, the tip of spikes on one shoe just nicking the bar.16 Utah’s first Olympian arrived in New York City on Wednesday, July 12, to prepare for the trip to Sweden. If Chicago had been the biggest city Alma had encountered, he was surely astounded by the sights, sounds, and multitudes of America’s largest metropolis of nearly five million people. But he had no time for sightseeing or to reflect upon the reality of his Olympic status. Just two hours after his arrival, he headed to American League Park, aka Hilltop Park, home of baseball’s New York Highlanders, later Yankees. The AOC had arranged an exhibition meet to showcase the American team and raise money for both the Olympic Fund and the city’s Newsboys Home charity, which provided food and shelter for the young “newsies,” many of whom were orphans. Prior to the competition each athlete was introduced individually to the crowd of five thousand. Interest focused on the high jump duel between Richards and the nation’s most heralded amateur athlete, Jim Thorpe, track star and football All-­American from the Carlisle Indian School. Amazingly, given the heavy rain and the wearying effects of travel, both cleared 6 feet 5 inches; but since Alma took two tries to clear the mark, he was accorded second place with 6 feet 4 inches. The favorite, Stanford’s George Horine, finished third.17 On hand was a small contingent of Mormons led by Bishop Thomas R. Cutler. The LDS group was proud of their coreligionist’s performance, noting in a telegram to BYU president George H. Brimhall that Alma was “gratified to do so well in a field of six of Americas best men.”18 Alma was surely more than gratified, as his personal best leap had tied the heralded Thorpe. It increased his confidence and determination to succeed, and he no doubt viewed the square diamond-­stuffed gold medal inscribed “Stockholm 1912” as an omen of things to come.

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Alma was no longer an unknown. The New York press was now well aware of the “fine natural jumper” with “very poor form.” The New York Times reported that Richards “has a most wonderful natural spring, with absolutely no layout, his knees being drawn up almost to his chin as he goes over the bar.” The New York Herald noted, “We have been bragging about George Horine’s phenomenal jumping recently, but apparently no one sighted Alma W. Richards, of Brigham Young University, of Utah.” The Evening Mail presciently concluded that “though he’s a bit awkward” in leaping “in a sitting position, his feet close together,” still, “a little training will offset this bad feature and when he’s going right again the foreigners had better beware.”19 The next evening, June 13, the athletes attended an orientation meeting. Colonel Robert M. Thompson, president of the New York Athletic Club and president of the AOC, reviewed competitive expectations and team rules. Each athlete was called to the podium, introduced, assigned to staterooms aboard ship, and issued an official U.S. Olympic dress uniform consisting of a navy blue flannel blazer with the American national shield over the left breast, white trousers, shoes, and cap with the national shield on the visor. They were also given a flag with “Bring Home the Bacon” emblazoned on streamers. Early the next morning, Friday, June 14, Pat from Parowan, his just-­issued first passport in hand, joined teammates, Olympic administrators, and “a number of enthusiastic adherents” in boarding the Red Star Line’s SS Finland. Some five thousand well-­w ishers and a band playing patriotic tunes had gathered at Pier 61 at the foot of Twenty-­First Street for the 9:00 a.m. departure to Stockholm. Alma later recalled, “We were showered with flowers and cheer after cheer as we steamed out of the harbor.”20 As the Finland warped from her wharf and steamed down the Hudson River through New York Harbor into the Atlantic Ocean, Alma’s thoughts undoubtedly turned to the upcoming Olympic Games in Sweden, an experience that would shape the rest of his life.

4

GOING FOR GOLD

Iron County lay far behind as Alma began the most exciting adventure of his life, a trip filled with new people and experiences at every turn that began with his first time aboard an ocean-­going ship. Instead of booking passage on a commercial liner as had been done for previous Games, the AOC chartered the 12,700-­ton steamship Finland, turning one of the few American-­ flagged transatlantic passenger vessels into a floating athletic facility. The athletes could continue training while crossing the Atlantic thanks to a fully equipped gymnasium, a 100-­yard cork track along the deck, jumping and weight pits, and even a canvas swimming tank. Alone at sea, the Olympic team prepared without distractions. During the voyage, U.S. presidential nomination battles raged, first in the Republican convention that chose incumbent William Howard Taft over challenger Theodore Roosevelt, and then in the Democratic conclave that selected Woodrow Wilson. The ship may have received radio communication about the conventions and other domestic news, but aboard the Finland all attention turned on preparation for the Olympic competitions. Supervision of the team fell to head trainer Michael C. Murphy, legendary track coach at the University of Pennsylvania. Known as “the father of American track athletes” for his innovative techniques and scientific approach to training, the fifty-­one-­year-­old Murphy was deaf and suffering from tuberculosis. Afflictions aside, the coach of the 1900 and 1908 Olympic teams was determined to direct another American Olympic triumph.1 He immediately imposed a rigorous daily workout schedule and strictly enforced dietary restrictions during meals, frequently confiscating puddings, pastries, and other unauthorized desserts. The athletes were divided 47

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into groups according to their event and assigned specific times each day for workouts. According to James Sullivan: “All the men took to their work and stuck to it religiously. Work—it was work, day in and day out.”2 Pleasant weather and calm seas facilitated training, but ill winds swept through the team. Discipline was lacking. There were several cases of insubordination, prompting the Finland’s officers to reprimand formally three of the athletes for bad behavior. Not everyone embraced the strict regimen. There was “some kicking on the quiet,” especially among the veteran athletes who looked forward to a leisurely trip before undergoing pre-­Olympics training. Murphy even threatened to send home several athletes who resisted his training rules, but a hearing headed by Sullivan decided in favor of reprimands instead of banishment.3 Folks back in Parowan thought “when Mike Murphy the world’s greatest athletic trainer, gets Richards under his charge, as he will have from now on, he should make him jump as high as any man in the world.” But Alma said he was “not coached on his form from the time that he left New York until the games were over, but that he trained and took care of himself.”4 In fact, he hardly practiced at all. The high jumpers, scheduled to work out daily at 11:00 a.m. and limited to jumping no higher than 5 feet 10 inches, found the “meager” arrangements made it difficult to practice effectively. Alma was notably lax in training, whether by inclination or illness. James S. Mitchell, a 1904 Olympian hired by the New York Herald to write about the trip and Games, wrote, “Richards, the Mormon high jumper from Utah, suffered from dizziness and tried jumping only a few times.”5 Alma apparently felt good enough one day to try the standing high jump for the first time. It was a lark, but he jumped “something like 4 feet 9 inches” to the amazement of the world’s leading specialists in the event, Platt Adams, who would win gold in Stockholm with a leap of 5 feet 3 inches, and his brother, Benjamin, who took the silver medal. Whatever the extent of his preparation, Alma’s confidence did not diminish. After a week’s training aboard ship, he boasted to Coach Roberts that “he wouldn’t trade his chances for those of any other high jumper.”6 Physical unsteadiness aside, Alma was surely reeling emotionally. A great deal had happened to him in just two weeks after leaving Provo on May 31. He had never before been out of Utah, ridden on a train, competed in Olympic trials, participated in celebratory festivities in America’s largest city, negotiated the staterooms and decks of a steamship, or sailed across

Going for Gold  49

an ocean. Ahead lay an encounter with the cultural and linguistic unfamiliarity of a foreign country. He had on his own adjusted to a series of totally new encounters without the initial support Coach Roberts had intended to provide. It was all exciting—and unsettling, as his experiences aboard ship demonstrated. Alma was well aware that his greatest challenge was social, stressing it was “the first time I had ever had to make entirely new acquaintances.”7 His parents had worried about the prospect of his going to Sweden but took comfort knowing that he “will be in the care of coach Roberts, who has had experience abroad.”8 Roberts, of course, did not make the trip; Alma was on his own. Alma initially was virtually unknown aboard ship. The top two jumpers he competed against in Evanston, Palmer and Nixon, had not made the team. John P. “Nick” Nicholson, a hurdler from the University of Missouri, with whom he shared a small stateroom on the voyage to Stockholm and during the Olympics, was his closest companion. U.S. media coverage emphasized the democratic, heterogeneous nature of the American team, its inclusiveness in class, race, ethnicity, national origin, occupation, and religion.9 Hawaiian Duke Kahanamoku, Native American Jim Thorpe, and African American Howard Drew personified racial diversity. Alma represented religious distinctiveness. Having lived his entire life almost exclusively among Mormons, he now found himself a peculiar “oddity,” the lone Saint and Utahn among some two hundred gentiles, most of whom had infrequently, if ever, encountered a member of the small religion located overwhelmingly in the geographically remote Intermountain West. Richards was also a geographical oddity as the lone member of the team from the vast extent of America from Nebraska to the Pacific Coast.10 Latter-­day Saints and others in the know would readily recognize the religious significance and identification of the name Alma, but his shipmates were confused by it. He was listed on the passenger manifest as “Almer,” and his teammates, taken aback by a traditionally female name, took to calling him “Dick,” a play on his surname. He took no offense at the new moniker; indeed, while relatives and close friends in Parowan would always know him as “Pat,” he henceforth would be “Dick” to family and intimate associates outside Utah. The ingratiating nickname notwithstanding, Alma was not “taken seriously” by some of his fellow athletes on the trip to Stockholm. His demeanor, alternately appearing innocent or cocky, and “farmer boy” appearance led

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some teammates to call him a “boob” and “chump” behind his back. Others, finding him “quite gullible,” played good-­natured practical “country boob jokes” on him. The second day at sea a few “poker sharps” invited him to join a card game. His inexperience was immediately evident when he tossed a couple of $5 gold pieces on the table after joining a penny ante poker game. He rarely said anything while playing, merely repeating what others said—“three cards,” “I pass,” and the like. But he was a quick learner and developed a liking for the game, playing it often and never fearing to be “branded a first-­class piker.” And he looked the more like a “rube” after the onset of pinkeye prompted him to don his floppy “good luck” felt cap for protection from the sun.11 But in reflecting upon the voyage after the Games, in what likely was a generous goodwill gesture, Richards said his teammates had treated him well, that he “appreciated the true American spirit” and “the friendship that they showed.” Indeed, he said there had been no “appearance of slight or discrimination against him by reason of his being from Utah” [i.e., Mormon?] and thought that perhaps he was “treated even with more consideration on that account than he otherwise would have been.”12 Whatever the attitude of some teammates, Richards tended to keep to himself. A report from on board the ship noting that during the trip Alma was “too bashful to mingle with the crowds,” and that he “strolled the ship alone all the way over” because “nobody seemed to desire his company,” was surely an exaggeration. He was not antisocial but was reserved by nature and enjoyed being by himself a good deal of the time, frequently playing shuffleboard and quoits, the favored deck sports, and “battling with Dickens” in the library. If he forged any meaningful friendships with fellow athletes en route to Stockholm, he never mentioned them. Upon hearing someone “knocking” Alma, Secretary Sullivan said, “Well, Richards, I would not have known you were on the boat if I had not heard some of the fellows talking about you. You seem to be the quietest man with the bunch.” Mike Murphy also laughingly told him no one would have known he was on board were it not for the occasional jibes from the New Yorkers.13 While it is not known specifically what his teammates were saying about him, Alma was clearly a topic of conversation, some of it not kind. If not keen at social interaction with teammates, Richards was exuberantly confident about his ability. When Wesley Oler, fellow high jumper from Yale University, encountered Alma in the barbershop, Alma pointedly

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said: “I do know that I’ll win the high jump.” One evening Max Francis of the New York Evening Mail, seeking to befriend Alma because he “seemed so much alone and so much picked-­on,” asked him if he planned to win the gold medal in Stockholm. Alma shot back: “I sure do.” When Francis looked askance, Alma replied, “You don’t think so, do you? Well, I have $24 that I’ll not only win the event, but jump higher than 6 feet 3 inches.” Francis passed on the wager. In fact, he kept declaring that 6 feet 4 inches would win the gold medal. One day, during a poker game, an annoyed teammate finally challenged him: “Well, where do you come in . . . you never did the height.” Alma retorted: “No, smarty, I never jumped 6 feet 4, but I will.”14 Several teammates “scoffed” at his boasts of winning the high jump. But Alma’s posturing was not simple arrogance. The confident bearing that was part of his personality had been augmented by experience; having always won, and by substantial margins, he did not know defeat and thus couldn’t imagine it. Besides, as Roberts observed, Alma was ever the competitor. During the voyage, he boldly challenged Colonel Thompson to a game of darts. The AOC president was a champion dart tosser, but Alma, after losing the first game, beat him three straight.15 After ten days at sea the Finland docked in Antwerp, Belgium, midmorning on June 24. The trip had taken longer than usual as the vessel had detoured three hundred miles south to avoid the icebergs that sank the RMS Titanic two months earlier on April 15. Richards welcomed the opportunity to practice on land. But not all his teammates did. One of the team’s supporters said that “at least forty of the men practically broke training during the short stay at Antwerp, and that subsequent performances of some of the men reflected the fact.”16 The facilities at the Beershot Athletic Club grounds were less than ideal, but the team worked out that afternoon and then followed the next day with “hard sessions” morning and afternoon before a final practice the morning of June 26 prior to leaving at noon for Sweden.17 Four days later, June 30, the Finland arrived in Stockholm, anchoring in Riddarfjärden Bay across from the Royal Palace. It was the largest ship ever to dock in Sweden. A large crowd was on hand to extend a welcoming serenade of popular Swedish and American songs. There being no Olympic Village until the 1932 Los Angeles Games, athletes from most countries were lodged in military facilities, hotels, pensions, and boarding schools, but the Russians, like the Americans, remained aboard ship. (Sullivan stayed on the Finland with the athletes, but the other U.S. team officials left for

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more commodious quarters in town.) There was no training the first day, only long walks to loosen muscles after confinement on the ship. Eventually they would have practice sessions like all other countries in the suburb of Rasunde at the Östermalm Athletic Grounds. In an interesting development that spoke to the Olympic ideal, American and British athletes worked out together, a far cry from the bitter animosity between the two countries during the 1908 London Games.18 The decision to remain midstream aboard ship was controversial. Confinement was an effective way to maintain supervision of the athletes, but it caused “much dissatisfaction” because of the cramped quarters and reduced opportunities to fraternize with competitors from other countries. Murphy admitted the men were “caged up too much” and that getting to and from shore was “a task no one relished” because the trip took fifteen minutes with upwards of an hour’s wait for a launch.19 The athletes were not supposed to go ashore until after their competitions except to train. Some, however, left during the day to tour Sweden’s capital city, population 370,000. Richards also abandoned ship early each day, not to sightsee, but to attend various Olympic competitions. A July 4 reception aboard the Finland both celebrated the quintessential American holiday and promoted a sense of nationalism for the competitions about to begin.20 Expectations were high: Uncle Sam’s boys had been the most consistently successful entry in the first four Olympics, winning the most gold medals in 1896 and 1904 while finishing second in 1900 and 1908. Sullivan now proclaimed, “The present aggregation surpasses them in almost every department.”21 There was more to Sullivan’s boasting than a quest for athletic supremacy. The athletes were on a mission. Sport, the Olympics in particular, was seen as a means of demonstrating not only America’s place as an economic and military world power, but also its status as an exemplar of social and political democracy.22 At 11:00 a.m. on July 6 trumpets heralded the start of the V Olympiad.23 The Opening Ceremony began with a parade of 2,407 athletes from twenty-­ eight nations and six continents proudly marching into Stockholm’s Olympiastadion, the brick and undressed granite stadium built especially for the 1912 Games, the oldest modern Olympic stadium still in use.24 They entered according to the Swedish alphabet: Belgium was first, the United States (Forenta Staterna) fifth. Women’s swimming and diving were included for the first time as official Olympic competitions, but because Sullivan was

Going for Gold  53

opposed to females participating in the Games, Alma Richards was among the 174 exclusively male American athletes, the fifth largest national contingent. Greeted with shouts of “USA, USA,” from the American spectators and resplendent in navy blue jackets and white trousers, they placed their straw hats over their hearts and gave a “smart eyes right” when passing the royal box as a sign of respect to King Gustav V. Only 13,653 spectators were on hand in the 22,000-­seat stadium, but Alma was impressed by their resounding cheers and fanfares by trumpeters in medieval costume as well as the sight of the columns of parading athletes in colorful national uniforms and the flags of participating countries fluttering around the roof of the horseshoe-­shaped structure.25 Then there was the uncertain reaction to the unaccustomed presence of royalty and musical and prayerful offerings in the unfamiliar Swedish. As for King Gustav V’s welcoming speech, Alma, betraying his parochialism, found it “a little tiresome as he spoke in Swedish,” but nonetheless “took it for granted from his gestures that he was pleased to have us meet in his dominion.”26 It is doubtful that Alma Richards or any of the other athletes appreciated just how historic would be the Games of the V Olympiad.27 The modern Olympics had begun only sixteen years before in Athens, Greece, and the subsequent three official Games—Paris 1900, St. Louis 1904, and London 1908—had been plagued by poor participation, severe organizational problems, and competitive controversies. Stockholm was dubbed “the Sunshine Games,” officially for the bright sun that shone throughout the competitions, but metaphorically for being the first to exhibit the attendance, facilities, and administrative efficiency envisioned for the modern Olympics. In addition, there were numerous “firsts” that heralded the future success of the Games.28 No less important, the 1912 Games generated unprecedented publicity by producing the most extraordinary athletic competitions and achievements to date, especially in the featured sport of track and field. Reporters and spectators focused on the sport still known in the Olympics officially, and simply, as “Athletics.” The core of the Games since ancient times, track and field would see even heightened interest with the advent of electronic timing and photo finishes in some running events. In recognition of the primacy of track and field, the United States entered 109 of its 174 athletes in the competition. Americans dominated as expected, winning sixteen gold medals in the thirty events, sweeping three contests and scoring only two points fewer than the other countries combined. American

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sprinters swept three events: the 100 meters, the first time a country won all medals in an event; the 800 meters, in which the first four runners, all Americans, broke the world record; and the 110-­meter hurdles. The most celebrated athlete of the Games was Finland’s distance runner Johan “Hannes” Kolehmainen, who won three gold medals and set two world records.29 But the press focused on two American ethnics, Hawaiian swimmer Duke Kahanamoku, who won the 100 meter freestyle, and especially Native American Jim Thorpe, whose victories in the pentathlon and decathlon, the first time both events appeared on the Olympic program, captured worldwide attention. Overlooked was the remarkable achievement of another American exotic, an unsung Mormon lad from Parowan, Utah. In the high jump America’s “heavily favored leapers” were expected to set an Olympic, perhaps world, record. The New York Times thought the U.S. contingent so “outclasses the field, with the result that our team should be one-­t wo-­three.” The eleven-­man contingent was headed by the winners of the regional Olympic trials—Egon Erickson of the New York Athletic Club, who cleared 6 feet 2 ½ inches to win the East; George Horine, who won the West with a then world record 6-­foot-­7-­inch leap; and Alma Richards, who officially jumped 6 feet 1 inch and unofficially 6 feet 3 inches in the Central. Horine, the world record holder, whose controversial “western roll” was approved by Swedish authorities, was the clear favorite, having reached an astonishing 6 feet 8 ½ inches, fully nine inches above his height, before leaving California for New York. (Horine was the first to jump off his inside leg and acrobatically roll across the bar.) Should the trials champions falter, Jim Thorpe of Carlisle, Harry Grumpelt of the New York Athletic Club, Yale’s Wesley Oler, and Harvard’s John Johnstone and Dartmouth’s Harold Enright—who both cleared 6 feet 1 ½ inches in the Eastern trials—were seen as potential medalists.30 Horine thought Americans would win all three medals and that Erickson and Richards would “show to advantage.”31 It would be a challenge for Alma, whose coaches and teammates gave him little hope of winning a medal despite his victory at the Central trials. His potential was downgraded less because of inexperience in top-­f light competition than his physical stature and technique. Foremost was his unconventional form. Alma used an utterly unorthodox style, approaching the bar straight on like a broad jumper, leaping with his legs fetal-­like against his chest to clear the bar. The coaches agreed he was “as awkward looking an athlete as [was] ever seen.”32 On the trip to Sweden some of the

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coaches suggested that if he changed his style he might do even better, but he flatly refused: “No, I won’t try anything new.” The second factor was Alma’s physical stature, 6 feet 2 ½ inches and 210 pounds. Murphy, who had coached numerous high jumpers at Penn, marveled at Richards’s ability to exceed six feet. After carefully examining Alma’s body, Murphy thought his performance was “phenomenal” because his “huge frame” made high jumping an event for which he was “the least fitted naturally.” The U.S. team coach expected Egon Erickson to win the high jump gold medal. Alma’s shipmate pal, Nick Nicholson, “had a lot of respect for the big one,” but did not think he could cope with Horine, Erickson, and Grumpelt. Even Alma’s father could “hardly indulge the hope” that he would be victorious “among so many athletes, especially in a world contest.”33 A month after winning the Evanston trials and having survived a formidable challenge of even making the Olympic team, the former wrangler from Parowan donned his white jersey with the AOC shield on the front, pulled on a pair of knee-­length white leggings, and prepared to challenge the finest high jumpers in the world. The leading non-­American jumpers were Karl-­A xel Kullerstrand from host country Sweden and Hans Liesche of Germany.34 Liesche, an apprentice ship builder from Hamburg, was an all-­ around track and field athlete who had also competed in swimming, soccer, and cycling for the ETV Hamburg sports club before focusing on high jumping. The 1911 German national champion had won his Olympic trials with a modest leap of 5 feet 10 ¾ inches. Reports that he had jumped over 6 feet 6 inches during recent practice sessions after adopting Horine’s revolutionary “western roll” were unfounded, but led to some speculation that he might “prove the biggest surprise of the Olympiad.” Still, as the replacement for Germany’s top jumper, Robert Pasemann, who “broke down” and couldn’t compete, Liesche was regarded as a long shot to win a medal.35 The high jumpers had little time to recover from the Opening Ceremony festivities as preliminaries in the event were held the next day, Sunday, July 7. To avoid the heat and humidity that was already plaguing the Games, the trials began at 9:00 a.m. The twenty-­three entrants, nearly half from the United States, were divided into three groups. To ensure that all competitors would jump during the same time frame, they used three separate cinder tracks running longitudinally in the stadium with jumping pits in front of the royal box. The Swedish Olympic Committee, headed by

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Viktor Balck, a member of the original 1896 International Olympic Committee, were sticklers about uniforms—quarter-­sleeve shirts and running trunks that came to the knees. But Richards, also wearing white leggings, won the admiration of the crowd with his jumping style and caused “considerable amusement” by wearing his ragged old hat. Several members of the Swedish committee bemusedly asked him to remove it, but he “firmly declined” as the lingering effects of pinkeye necessitated wearing the hat when not jumping to shade his eyes from the bright sun.36 At the end of the first round, six Americans were among the eleven finalists.37 A trio from Group Three—Richards, Thorpe, and Kullerstrand— advanced, each reportedly clearing the qualifying height of 1.83 meters or 6 feet “with unwavering confidence.” But fellow American jumper, Wesley Oler, doubted Alma’s chances after watching him miss twice at “an inconsequential preliminary height before laboriously clearing the bar,” then continue to “fail twice at every height before sailing over on his third try.” In all, Richards faced elimination five times by missing twice before clearing the bar on his final attempt. It was an uncharacteristic performance, perhaps reflecting a general nervousness compounded by the absence of his mentor, Eugene Roberts. At the final qualifying height, 6 feet 2 inches, he managed to clear the bar “by the width of a mosquito’s whisker.” Good enough. Also qualifying were Erickson, Grumpelt, Johnstone, and Horine, though the latter, still suffering from a stomach ailment, was “very clearly not in his finest form.”38 The finals were held at three o’clock on Monday, July 8, one month to the day since the Olympic trials in Evanston. Repetitive jumping now became a contest of stamina as well as strength. By the time the bar again reached the qualifying height of 1.83 meters or 6 feet, four Europeans including Kullerstrand were eliminated. Six of the remaining seven jumpers were American, two of whom were sure to be medalists. Grumpelt and Johnstone went out at 1.85 meters; Thorpe, undoubtedly tired after winning the pentathlon the day before, and Erickson tied for fourth at 1.87. Horine, Liesche, and Richards would receive a medal; which one was still to be determined. Horine, the premeet favorite and current world record holder, could not exceed 1.89 meters (6 feet 2 ½ inches), a respectable height but far lower than his pre-­Games jumps. Two long shots, Hamburg’s Hans Liesche and Parowan’s Alma Richards, now unexpectedly found themselves competing for the gold medal.

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They were similar in age—Liesche, twenty-­one, and Richards, twenty-­two— and each stood 6 feet 2 inches. But the physical contrast was stark. The slender German looked like a high jumper, weighing 148 pounds, considerably less than the 210-­pound American. Their jumping styles were also markedly different—Hans’s traditional scissors style and Alma’s utterly unconventional form. Liesche, despite an unimpressive performance prior to the Games in the German championships, looked like the winner as he had sailed over the first twelve heights “with wonderful litheness” on the first attempt. He cleared 1.89 with “the greatest confidence” and then soared over 1.91, a new Olympic record, “with room to spare” on his second jump. Richards, who admitted he “had much difficulty that day,” struggled noticeably as the competition progressed through ten heights, needing all three tries to clear 1.83 (6 feet), 1.87, and 1.89. When he again failed at 1.91 (6 feet 3 inches) on the first two attempts, “everybody looked for a win for Germany.” But desperation sometimes spurs results. On his third and final try, Alma “lifted his heavy body with enormous power across the bar.” Despite the prodigious effort, which was the talk of the high jump pit, it appeared that Alma had reached his limit with an unorthodox style in a sport where technique is as important as leaping ability. However, in the case of relatively slight height differentials, psychological attitude can be as important as physical ability. The bar was now raised to a new Olympic record height of 1.93 meters (6 feet 4 inches). Richards wanted Liesche to jump first, but the German deferred, as was his right for having fewer misses. In contrast to his earlier struggles, Richards surprised everyone by unhesitatingly sprinting to the bar and clearing it “with a couple of inches to spare.” Jaws dropped. With the gold medal on the line, Alma just jumped. It was his career best leap in competition, done with determination and ease. Suddenly, and unexpectedly, Liesche now faced the greatest challenge of his career. The German champion had jumped all morning confidently and easily despite not sleeping well the night before due to “unbearable” street noise in front of the Savoy Hotel where the German team stayed. But sport performance is emotional as well as physical, and he now became “visibly nervous.” Perhaps he was shocked by the effortlessness of Richards’s astounding leap. Or perhaps Alma’s unsportsmanlike behavior had succeeded in “getting his goat.” As Liesche prepared “some running starts,” Alma paced back and forth several

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times in front of the pit between the posts, finally ceasing when the German asked officials to make him stop. Although the bar was set only three-­quarters of an inch above a height Liesche had cleared easily, he missed twice trying to match the Olympic record. Then, as he began the run-­up to his third and final attempt, the starter’s gun went off for the 800 meter final on the adjacent track. Liesche stopped and waited for the race to end before composing himself for another attempt. Just as he was about to begin his second approach, a nearby band suddenly began to play. He again stepped back, changed his shoes, and tried to compose himself. After several minutes a Swedish official came up and pointedly urged him to “hurry up.” Utterly frustrated, his concentration gone, Leische missed badly on his final jump.39 With another stunning upset, the unheralded, unorthodox, but supremely confident country lad, who until recently had “but a vague idea of the importance of such an event,” was now an Olympic gold medalist. 40 In keeping with his assertion to Coach Comstock in Chicago that he always jumped just high enough to win, Alma, content with the gold medal, did not try for a higher mark, perhaps the world record. While he proudly basked in the euphoric realization of being the premier high jumper in the world, a bitterly disappointed Hans Liesche came over, shook his hand, extended “hearty congratulations,” and kissed him on the cheek. Richards was surprised and impressed by the generous display of sportsmanship, later wondering if he “could have taken the defeat so graciously.”41 As much, perhaps even more, than his winning leap, for Alma a defining memory of the Games would remain Liesche’s act of honor in defeat. What was Alma’s reaction, his thoughts, his feelings, upon realizing that he had won the Olympic gold medal, that he reigned as the best high jumper on earth? We don’t really know. His only postjump comments in a telegram to Coach Roberts are brief and matter of fact, no emotion shared. Revealing, however, and in keeping with his competitive braggadocio, Alma responded to congratulations from his teammates with an “I told you so” grin. 42 The unforeseen triumph came as “a big surprise to the athletic experts,” his coaches, teammates, and Alma himself. Alma was well aware that trainer Mike Murphy and “the rest of the fellows thought that I was a good second rater, but they expected some of the other fellows to make a better showing than I did.” Public boasting aboard the Finland notwithstanding, he had

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had misgivings about his chances, candidly admitting that at the beginning of the journey to Stockholm it “looked to me as if I was taking a 12,000 mile trip just for the pleasure of sightseeing and gaining a few points that I wish to use in the future as a coach, but as it happened the good jumpers did not do as well as they had formerly and through some power new to me I was able to do better. I squeezed out the winner.”43 Alma’s gold medal leap was thought to be a marvelous improbability, even miraculous. But it wasn’t. Unexpected, maybe. But given his high school and college performances despite an atypical style that worked against optimum performance, it should have been apparent that Richards was an unusually gifted athlete with phenomenal leg strength so rare as to produce both exceptional vertical and horizontal jumping ability. But perhaps the operative element was determination, evidenced in Stockholm by his overcoming numerous misses at successive heights during the competition, a pattern that seemingly portended failure. As Coach Roberts was well aware, mind can be as important as muscle in sports competition. Admitting that Alma’s “confidence has been interpreted by many people in Utah as conceit,” he stressed, “it is the athletic nerve that wins,” adding that Richards “goes in to win, and wins.”44 Mike Murphy, who had coached numerous collegiate champions at Penn, was of a like mind in explaining Alma’s victory as “just plain old American grit, that’s all.” James Sullivan, consummate self-­promoter, disingenuously and incorrectly claimed credit for Richards’s victory. “And to think that this man came over here on the supplementary list, and only then because I insisted on it. After watching him perform I was convinced that he was one of the greatest jumpers in the world.” Tellingly, Sullivan, who had not seen Alma jump before making the team, did not include the high jump in his summary of American competitions in Stockholm. 45 The Utahn’s jaw-­dropping victory received little publicity beyond Stockholm. The national and international press ignored or only briefly noted his achievement, in part because track, not field events, were the favored Olympic competitions. Moreover, Alma’s feat was overshadowed because it happened the same day U.S. athletes won fifteen of twenty-­four possible points and Ted Meredith’s world record performance led the American sweep of the 800 meters. The New York Times simply noted: “A. A. Richards of Salt Lake City . . . jumped superbly.”46 The exception was Charles W. Williams of the New York American, whose dispatch from Stockholm on July

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8 asserted that other than the sensational U.S. triumph in the 800, “the greatest event of the day was Richards winning the running high jump [and] breaking the Olympic record.”47 The press, then as now, focused on the exploits of star or glamorous performers. During and after the high jump competitions newspapers frequently speculated as to why George Horine was “not in his usual good form.” That Horine was out of sync was apparent to everyone; it was later revealed that he had taken ill in Antwerp and had “only partly recovered” at the time of the Olympics. 48 San Francisco’s Call downgraded Richards’s victory as “a surprise to many,” noting that Horine, “certainly the most spectacular of the men who competed, had “finished third behind Almen W. Richards, the ‘Mormon miracle,’ whose winning jump was way under what Horine has done, both in California and in New York and on New England soil.”49 The reaction was predictably different back home. The state’s newly minted gold medalist became an instant celebrity. The day after his winning leap, “the Mormon Giant” wrote to Coach Roberts. “When I made my jump, a gentleman came up to me and said, ‘Richards, we have just received a cablegram from Utah saying that you were elected Governor for life,’ and a second congratulatory message enthused: ‘You have put Utah on the map and particularly Provo.’ ”50 The local newspapers proudly announced the record-­breaking victory of one who had been “heretofore practically unknown in athletics beyond the boundaries of Utah” with bold headlines: “Richards of Utah Wins the High Jump at Stockholm;” “Utah Boy wins First and Breaks Olympic Record in Running High Jump;” ”Utah Boy Breaks Olympic Record;” “Native Son of Utah Wins High Jump;” “Utah Boy is Days Star at Olympic Games;” “Richards World Champion;” and “Alma Richards beat the Olympic record.”51 News of Alma’s achievement was trumpeted in the urban press, but other than in his home county newspaper, it received no notice in the rural sections of the state. That was to be expected, as small-­town papers were geared almost exclusively to local happenings. While the Olympics afforded major international competition, it was nothing like the mega-­event it would become after World War II. Besides, interest in track and field, the core events of the Games, was by far heaviest along the two coasts and the upper Midwest. Alma’s triumph was a big deal, but not one to energize Utahns en masse, most of whom likely had never heard of him.

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Wholly dependent on summary wire service reports, the Utah press could provide only few details about the actual event. But surprisingly, they offered virtually no commentary, editorial or otherwise, about the importance of his achievement for the state. The exception was the Provo Post, which declared: “Richards is without question the greatest athlete ever turned out from the state of Utah.”52 While Utahns were justly proud of their “native son,” he was not a well-­k nown local athlete. Newspapers repeatedly referred to him as a “Utah boy,” when he was an adult of twenty-­t wo years. And a cable from Provo to the New York Herald on July 9, 1912, provided incorrect biographical information on all points, saying Alma had been a BYU student for four years, failed to win a track event in 1910, and then won every event he entered in 1911. While the folks back home were heralding their Olympic champion, Alma had a week before the conclusion of the Games to savor his thrilling upset victory. He declined to accompany teammates on sightseeing tours of Stockholm in favor of daily visits to competition venues, but he did join a team outing to the Skansen open-­air museum, the first historical village in Sweden, and a farewell celebration at the stadium before the Games concluded with an awards ceremony on July 15. At 5:00 p.m. the athletes, resplendent in team uniforms, entered the stadium in three columns arranged according to sport, event, and type of medal to be received, facing three platforms in front of the royal box. When heralds in scarlet and gold medieval uniforms in stadium watchtowers announced their names, the three medalists in each event simultaneously went forward to receive their awards—gold from King Gustav V, silver from Crown Prince Gustav Adolf, and bronze from Prince Carl. First in line were the track and field winners.53 Fifty years later Richards recalled with emotion his feelings at the medal ceremony. “Nothing ever will erase that memory, when King Gustav stepped forward to place the gold medal around my neck while the Stars and Stripes rose to the top of the highest flag pole and the band played the Star Spangled Banner.”54 It surely was an extraordinarily proud and moving moment, but Alma didn’t remember it quite right. King Gustav did not go to a victory podium and drape the gold medal around Richards’s neck.55 As he did with other gold medalists, the monarch stood behind a table, placed a laurel wreath on Alma’s head, and gave him a tan leather case containing the last solid gold medal Olympians would ever receive as well as a diploma of achievement.

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Unable to pronounce “Parowan” properly despite prompting, the king shook Alma’s hand and offered congratulations. The U.S. national anthem was played, but not to accompany raising the flag on an elevated center pole; as the three medalists came forward, their national flags were raised simultaneously in order of place on three poles in the middle of the northern arcade of the stadium.56 Richards’s recollection at age seventy-­two, a year before his death, confused his medals ceremony with what later evolved as standard Olympic awards procedure. The Lake Placid 1932 Winter Games was the first Olympics to use a podium, Berlin 1932 marked the initial playing of the national anthem as the winner’s national flag was raised, and Rome 1960 was the first time medals were placed around athletes’ necks.57 Nor is it likely as has been claimed that when the king gave Richards the medal he invited Alma to the palace to give Crown Prince Gustav Adolf, an “aspiring” high jumper, some pointers (and that subsequently Alma and the prince corresponded for years).58 That seems especially unlikely inasmuch as the king and queen hosted a dinner for dignitaries at the palace on July 16 and the American team headed home on July 17.59 Besides, the H.R.H. Crown Prince was thirty years old, rather old to be an aspiring jumper. While there is no evidence of any correspondence between them, Gustaf Adolf may have visited Alma in California during a tour of the United States in 1926.60 Alma’s excellent Olympic adventure was not yet over. He was among the majority of American athletes and officials who left Stockholm on July 17 aboard the Finland headed for Dover, England, there to transfer to the Red Star’s Vaderland bound for New York City.61 The Utah press, based on a wire service report from New York, heralded Alma’s much-­anticipated return to the United States on July 31. When the Vaderland docked in New York, a huge crowed welcomed home only thirty-­six Olympians; a dozen more arrived the next day aboard the Majestic; several more returned on August 3 aboard the Cedric. Alma was not among any of them.62 After reaching England, many athletes chose to embark upon competition and tourism ventures in Great Britain or on the continent. Alma decided to go to France with fourteen teammates including Jim Thorpe; Fred Kelley, the 110-­hurdles gold medalist; Platt Adams, standing high jump winner; and Abel Kiviat, silver medalist in the 1500. They went on a three-­meet exhibition tour arranged by Paul Pilgrim of the New York Athletic Club to Paris and Reims, home of the famous Cathedral of Reims, France’s counterpart

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to Westminster Abbey, and center of champagne production. Alma won the shot put in Reims and in Paris finished first in the high jump and second in the shot. American officials, concerned about the amateur status of the athletes, said the Olympians could not keep the prize bottles of champagne—twelve for first place, six for second, and three for third. But Kiviat said they were allowed to “help ourselves to the punch bowl after the competition, and we did.” Alma may have done so, as a photo taken during the tour of France shows him in his BYU shirt with Jim Thorpe and Platt Adams holding traditional champagne flutes in front of a table laden with food and drink. The content of the glasses is unknown, but the boys look like they are having a celebratory time.63 The Americans later staged an impromptu competition in their Parisian hotel. Eying the elaborate chandelier hanging at least ten feet above the lobby floor, the sporting comrades each contributed a dollar to a pool to see who could first touch the fixture. Richards couldn’t do it, but Thorpe, some three inches shorter, reached it and pocketed the money.64 Alma was having the time of his life. He telegraphed his parents to say he was lingering in Paris and so would not be home by August 1 as anticipated.65 Throughout August, American athletes and Olympic officials trickled back to the United States. Alma, along with Thorpe and Kelley, left Cherbourg, France, on July 31 aboard the S.S. Oceanic. Reportedly “all the big fellows were modest, quiet chaps aboard ship and man and woman shy.” The trio returned to New York City on August 7. After disembarking, Thorpe, who wrestled with “about 200 pounds of luggage,” and Richards, who had but three pieces, immediately headed to the Hermitage Hotel, located “at the Cross Roads of America” in the heart of Times Square at Forty-­Second and Seventh Avenue, and promptly booked a room for three with “stress on the bath.”66 The last, largest group of sixty-­t wo Olympians returned to New York on August 23 and received a lavish homecoming celebration. That night they attended a party at the Globe Theatre; the next day New York City honored “the greatest American team that ever left these shores” with a motorcade down crowd-­lined Fifth Avenue from Forty-­First Street to the city hall where Mayor William J. Gaynor offered a laudatory greeting. A sumptuous banquet at the Terrace Garden that evening concluded the festivities.67 Alma Richards did not, as has been claimed, participate in the ticker tape parade or any other of the welcoming activities.68 Like most Olympians, he did not wait around for the official homecoming celebration.

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In anticipation of the returning Olympians, civic and sports groups in cities along the east coast staged track and field meets to showcase the athletic stars. It was thought after Alma arrived in New York that he would stop first in Chicago to visit Coach Grier before returning to Utah, but instead he headed to Boston with pals Thorpe and Kelley to participate in the inaugural Elks Lodge Athletic Carnival at Fenway Park, the newly opened ballpark of the Boston Red Stockings. Despite Alma’s Olympic fame, the Boston press was puzzled by his name, referring to him as “Alvah,” “Almer,” and then “A. W.” The newfound celebrity was given “a royal welcome” on August 9, shown around town by members of the Elks Lodge, introduced to Boston’s legendary mayor John “Honey Fitz” Fitzgerald, and feted at a banquet. He also went to the South End Grounds where he saw his first major league baseball game, the Chicago Cubs defeating Boston 9–7 in their inaugural year as the “Braves.” Everywhere he went people mused: “How could a man of Richards’ height and weight jump six feet?”69 At the meet on August 10 Alma finished second to Thorpe in both the high jump and the shot put. Each cleared 6 feet ¾ inch, but Thorpe received first prize on the basis of a one-­inch handicap. Because of his unorthodox style, Alma was watched “very closely, not only by the crowd generally, but by some of the best known athletic experts in the country” as well as by the local sportswriters, who provided a detailed description of the Olympic champion: He is tall and rangy with a style unlike those of the other jumpers who made records in the event. He takes his run, which is a very short one, from the side, and instead of throwing one leg over the bar first he brings both over together. He has a great spring and according to the experts he would better his jumping if he could master the style used by the other crack jumpers. The Daily Globe was so taken with his jumping style that it printed a picture of him going over the bar.70

PART II

COMING OF AGE

5

THE HERO RETURNS

After the Boston meet, Alma headed home. The past three months had been filled with wondrous experiences, far beyond what he could possibly have imagined—the Olympic trials, the Games in Stockholm, the meanderings in France. The high jump championship brought Olympic immortality, but it would be only one chapter in a lengthy, serialized saga of athletic achievement yet to be realized. Despite his cockiness among teammates, Alma was not a seeker of publicity. He wanted to return to Provo unannounced to avoid an elaborate homecoming reception, so he did not notify family or friends of his estimated arrival date. But while en route by train, a traveling companion, Tom Smith of Preston, Idaho, a former BYU athlete, telegraphed Coach Roberts that Alma would arrive in Provo aboard the Denver & Rio Grande Western No. 1 on Monday, August 19. With the welcoming committee caught unawares, Roberts met the train that morning at Thistle junction in Spanish Fork Canyon some twenty miles from Provo, advising Richards to go through to Salt Lake City and stay with his sister until celebratory plans were completed.1 Alma expressed hopes for a modest celebration but agreed to continue on to Salt Lake, arriving that afternoon. His unexpected arrival in the capital city precluded a triumphant welcoming reception. No one was on hand at the depot to greet the conquering hero. The Deseret Evening News headline proclaimed, “Richards returns from Olympic games: Utah high jumper who won first place in Sweden will be banqueted.” Simply noting he had returned to Utah with a suitcase full of clippings about the high jump, the accompanying story offered no details about his Olympic experience, achievement, or fete, other than that he was 67

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“in the best of health” and “enjoyed the trip immensely.”2 The next day the two morning Salt Lake papers heralded the local and national hero, praising the record-­breaking performance of one who was “heretofore practically unknown in athletics beyond the boundaries of Utah,” his achievement the more remarkable for “a giant in stature” who was “so apparently ill-­fitted for high jumping.” Walter Bratz, sports editor of the Salt Lake Telegram, bluntly said Richards had “put Provo on the map.” But only Paul Ray of the Tribune spoke to the significance of Alma’s achievement for local sport, saying “The importance of Richards’ victory upon the athletics of Utah can best be estimated when one sees the advertising it has given the state and college activities here.”3 Alma was indeed an ambassador for a state that had previously received little sports recognition in the national press. Alma Richards was more than an Olympic hero. He was a public relations ambassador for his state and church. His gold medal victory came less than two decades after Utah had become a state and met the sundry secular challenges of statehood, a time marked by continuing negative publicity for the LDS Church over the persistence of polygamy and the contentious hearings from 1903 to 1907 over the seating of U.S. Senator Reed Smoot, an LDS apostle. 4 The acclaim accorded to an Olympic champion who was clearly identified in the national and international press as a Utah Mormon constituted a conspicuous example of boosterism, of pride and recognition to both church and state. On Wednesday evening, August 21, Richards returned to Provo, where townspeople, city officials, and BYU students and administrators staged a “monster celebration” for their local hero. Over one thousand people and the Provo city band gathered at the new Union Train Station to cheer his 6:30 arrival. There followed a parade of some fifty lavishly decorated automobiles—the first “of its kind ever held in this city,” led through the downtown business district by a detachment of mounted police—and an elaborate banquet at the Hotel Roberts. The banquet and formal program had originally been scheduled for the hotel lawn to accommodate two hundred seatings, but because of weather concerns they were moved indoors, limiting attendance to ninety to one hundred.5 It was the man, not the meal, that attracted the large audience. The festivities, with toastmaster R. R. Irvine Jr. of the Provo Commercial Club presiding, began with a nationalistic flair, the singing of “America,” and A. N. Merrill offering a prayer. BYU president George H. Brimhall toasted

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“Our World’s Champion,” then J. William Knight, first counselor in the Utah Stake of the LDS Church, extolled the “Value of a Clean Life in Athletics.” Charles L. Schwencke, the “silver-­tongued orator” of BYU’s “Y” Men’s Association, provided a historical exposition on “The Olympic Games, Ancient and Modern.” Eugene Roberts presented a commemorative gold watch to Alma, who in turn told the rapt audience “How It All Happened.” Richards then generously but appropriately dedicated his gold medal to his coach, who eighteen months earlier first discovered then nurtured Alma’s jumping talent which launched his Olympic ambition. The thoughtful gesture was well deserved. The counterintuitive belief that a man of Richards’s size and weight could become a world-­class jumper was testimony to Roberts’s skill in evaluating athletic potential. Alma then concluded by thanking Provoans and his schools for their support, pledging that his next goal was to finish high school.6 The celebration, noted in newspapers around the state, was well deserved, but Southern Utahns felt slighted. The Iron County Record noted that while residents of Parowan and environs were justly proud of Alma’s achievements, they were sorely offended by aspects of the Provo festivities. The paper agreed Alma deserved a “right royal reception,” but objected to the Provo Post’s reference to Provo as his “home town,” not to mention “the absence from the program of any reference to the fact that he is a product of Iron county, and that the particular place in this country from which he comes is Parowan.” If the failure to note Alma’s lineage was inadvertent, it was also hurtful to rural communities rarely able to enjoy the spotlight of public acclaim. The depth of the disappointment was reflected in the paper’s attribution of such “singular” statements and omissions to the belief that “more crazy people to Provo go than to any other town in the state.”7 Shortly after his return, “Big Alma” provided extensive accounts of his Olympic experiences to the three Salt Lake daily newspapers. Most of his remarks were mundane descriptions of various events in which he condescendingly voiced the strident chauvinism and ethnocentricity trumpeted by AOC officials and the national press before and during the Games. “The American athlete,” Alma stated, “not only stands above the average representative of other nations in physical strength, but is cleaner morally and enters the contests with more enthusiasm than those of other nations. Cleanliness, determination and love of country are all point factors in winning the great national athletic conferences.”8 (While U.S. athletes won the

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most gold medals, twenty-­five to Sweden’s twenty-­three, the host country took the most medals overall, sixty-­five to America’s sixty-­three. Eight other nations earned the other 178 medals.)9 Richards had performed splendidly in Stockholm but now behaved poorly in Salt Lake City. Whether due to inexperience with the press, a flush of excitement, or his customary blunt demeanor, he nastily denigrated his principal opponents. Alma said George Horine was “far from the most wonderful jumper in the world.” He dismissed the current world record holder as “a good circus performer” who essentially cheated by skillfully bending the bar down and steadying it with his hand to keep it from falling off the support pegs. Alma claimed Horine, commonly known to have been ill in Stockholm, didn’t do well in the Olympics because the bar was not a slim bamboo cane as used in the United States but a 1 ½-­inch-­thick wooden rod held by “very short pegs” that fell off “at the least brush against it.” Since Horine was not accustomed to “an absolutely clean jump,” he “fell down in his work.” As for Hans Liesche, Richards claimed the German was “the greatest high jumper in the world” but suffered from “a lack of courage.” If Liesche “had some American blood in him he could have won.” But lacking “American spirit,” when Liesche “saw me clear the bar at such a height, he lost heart and could not win.”10 The biting comments were uncharacteristic of Alma. Perhaps the mean-­ spirited insult to a competitor who, as Alma had admitted, showed exceptional sportsmanship in defeat was an early indication of misgivings about his victory that would haunt him for years to come. Still, while reporters assuredly took liberties in embellishing Richards’s comments and vocabulary, the arrogant, unsportsmanlike statements, even if offered in a moment of patriotic intoxication, unfairly and inexcusably disparaged his dedicated, talented opponents. There was no possibility of damage control, even if warranted; Alma’s comments were reported in newspapers across the state and country. The San Francisco press took special exception to his remarks about Horine. In an article headlined “Athletes resent Richards’ Slurs,” the Call pointedly declared that Alma’s “foolish and unsportsmanlike assertions” about Horine in Stockholm “do not ring true.” Despite berating him for a “ridiculous” claim that Horine did not jump “fairly,” the paper conceded that Richards was “the most remarkable natural high jumper in this country today” and that Horine expected him to break the world record “at any

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time.”11 Alma’s regrettable comments stand as a testimonial to poor sportsmanship and the dangers of unrehearsed comments to the press. For Alma Richards, winning an Olympic gold medal was a rare life-­ changing event. It was as if he had jumped over a bar into a world of previously unimaginable possibilities. The Stockholm Olympics not only opened a new chapter in Alma’s life, it also became the core experience around which the rest of his life would wind. He was a superb athlete, no doubt. But despite his twenty-­t wo years, he was something of a man-­child with still a great deal to learn intellectually and socially about the new and vastly different world in which the local, national, and even international celebrity found himself. He was an anomaly, having reached the pinnacle of Olympic achievement before having gained national recognition in track or even graduating from high school. No doubt Richards recalled from time to time the critical meeting with Thomas Trueblood and the emphatic emphasis the professor placed on the importance of education. For Alma the road ahead would be two lanes, athletics alongside schooling, resulting in a career unlike anything he could have remotely imagined as a lad in Parowan. The previously unknown rustic was now a much-­sought-­after celebrity. He was in great demand locally for public events, as when he was asked to put on an exhibition of high jumping during an open house for the Deseret Gymnasium in Salt Lake City. Alma also quickly learned the commercial cachet attached to the Olympics, receiving an offer of one thousand dollars from a tobacco company to use his picture in commercial advertisements. Given the inconsistent and fluid rules about amateurism at the time, accepting payment for his athletic reputation may have had eligibility implications. Nonetheless, it was easy for him to reject the offer, a decision in keeping with the anti-­tobacco directive in the Word of Wisdom, the LDS Church’s dietary code as outlined in Section 89:5–17 of the Doctrine and Covenants faithfully promulgated by his parents. (The prescription is most famously known for its prohibition of wine and “strong drink” [alcohol], “hot drinks” [coffee and tea], and tobacco and the directive to eat grains, fruits, and vegetables but only “sparingly” of animal flesh.) As Alma later explained, the money was “no temptation whatever. Many times I had needed money badly—yet not that much.” Asking a practicing Mormon to endorse tobacco may have indicated corporate unfamiliarity with the church’s dietary guidelines, or perhaps recognition that the

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proscriptions regarding tobacco, food, and drink were considered preferences instead of principles until 1921.12 An Olympic champion was also an enticing prospect for prominent track and field programs. Invitations to enroll from several “notable eastern” universities, that may not have known he was still in high school, were tempting, but Richards decided to remain in Provo and keep his promise to complete his senior year in high school while competing in intercollegiate athletics. “Many people” thought it “peculiar” for him to reject the opportunity to attend more prestigious institutions and thus speculated that BYU had “offered him some incentive for remaining,” but Alma denied “any inducement or encouragement to compete for BYU.”13 Loyalty to the institution and Coach Roberts aside, Richards was a bona fide campus celebrity. The White and Blue BYU student newspaper lauded his Olympic victory, reprinting James Sullivan’s “A Champion of the World” account of gold medal contest, to which the editor appended, “No prophet needs to predict his place in the next Olympiad.” As if to put a tangible point on Alma’s achievements, the publication also ran a picture of the medals and awards he had earned since 1910.14 There would be no intercollegiate track competition until spring, but the national AAU championships in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, on September 20–21 beckoned. Scheduled at Forbes Field, home of the Pirates and the legendary Honus Wagner, “the Flying Dutchman,” the meet was hailed as the “Olympic Games to be Re-­Fought” as “practically all” members of the 1912 American team were registered to compete. The Olympic champion was viewed in some quarters with skepticism despite his victory, one scribe asserting that several high jumpers were “equal to or better than Alma Richards of Utah” and “may defeat him.” Horine and Thorpe did not participate in the high jump “showdown,” but five of their teammates—Nick Nicholson, Platt Adams, Jervis Burdick, Jim Johnstone, and Harry Grumpelt—showed up, the latter two tying for first at 6 feet 3 inches with Johnstone winning the jump off.15 Richards, whether due to campus commitments, inadequate training, a lack of funds, or a combination of all three decided not to compete in the championships. Alma’s attachment to BYU went beyond athletics. As a high school student physically talented enough to compete for the university track team, he became enmeshed in campus life, associating with collegians far more experienced in life. In short, BYU fast-­forwarded his social maturation.

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His pleasure with campus life in Provo was underscored when for the first time he became involved in something other than athletics, assuming in the fall of 1912 the position of business manager for the White and Blue, issued every Tuesday. Alma’s plans wavered in November when W. C. Kelly, the president of the San Francisco Olympic Club, the oldest athletic club in the United States, invited him to participate in a track and field exhibition tour of Australia. A December 11 departure would permit completing the fall semester, but an unspecified return “sometime” in February 1913 would preclude spring semester enrollment. Drawn by the prospect of another transoceanic trip to a far-­f lung portion of the globe, Alma promptly wired his acceptance, agreeing to participate on condition that Eugene Roberts went along as “his experience has taught him that to be without a coach is a great disadvantage.” More than the potential of personal recognition, the trip was enticing because it would also “bring again before the attention of the world, his school, his town and his state. The mere fact, furthermore, of his being called the ‘Mormon boy’ arouses a curiosity which in time will lead to a sane investigation of that much falsely accused and maligned people.”16 The trip never materialized. Student body efforts to raise funds to defray Roberts’s expenses were unsuccessful, but in any case it would have been virtually impossible for him to abandon for six or more weeks his duties as athletics director and varsity basketball coach. Kelly’s plans may have fizzled for want of funds. Or Alma may simply have reconsidered a rash decision based on initial enthusiasm for an exotic trip to a faraway place. In any event, Alma remained in school for the second semester. He expanded his athletic experiences, joining the BYU basketball team. He had not played varsity basketball before, no doubt due to his track training. But since the team had only one returning starter from the 1912 squad, Alma volunteered to play, he said, to help his school win games. Basketball was his second favorite sport, but he readily admitted it was not his “long suit.” Playing center, the position most suitable to the tallest and bulkiest player on the team, Alma’s lack of experience was evident at first, but he steadily improved. In a victory over Weber Academy in December, the student newspaper reported that Alma “rather surprised the crowd with his basket shooting, but he is still slow on the floor.” In reporting on a January alumni-­varsity exhibition game, the White and Blue noted “the giant will prove a valuable addition to the quintette”

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because “passing and teamwork was a feature of the game” and his “basket shooting is becoming better every day.” By the end of the month, Alma had reportedly “mastered the center position,” his “jumping ability very handy.” His inexperience showed in a February loss to the University of Utah’s championship squad as he “seemed bewildered at times but did some good defensive work.” While the absence of statistics for games precludes a precise assessment of Alma’s basketball performance, it is likely his formidable physical presence and improved field-­goal shooting were significant contributions to the team’s success. Indeed, the school yearbook noted that with “giant Richards at center” the 1913 BYU starting quintet was “almost a perfect machine,” winning seven and losing only three games, two to archrival University of Utah. (Football, the sport most suited to Alma’s size and strength, was not an option as BYU discontinued the sport from 1903 to 1922.)17 Come spring, Richards returned to track and field. The Olympic champion was still primarily a local sports celebrity, his personality and ability little known beyond the Beehive State. So while continuing to compete for BYU, his competition arena now extended far beyond Utah. Coach Roberts, seeking greater exposure and experience for his protégé, in March solicited an invitation for Alma to compete in the prestigious Penn Relay at the University of Pennsylvania’s Franklin Field on April 25–27. The meet was a track event with thirty-­eight races divided into grammar school, high school, and “championship” divisions; there were only six field events. Roberts audaciously urged Alma be entered in an unheard-­of four field events. In addition to his specialty, the high jump, Roberts was “confident” Alma would “make a phenomenal records” in the broad jump, shot put, and discus. The meet director was “delighted,” if no doubt taken aback, to include Alma in each of the proposed events. On April 18 coach and athlete left Provo by train for Philadelphia. They stopped first in Chicago three days later, spending the afternoon “wheeling around” town in Coach Greer’s car. The next day, despite “freezing weather,” Alma worked out at the University of Chicago, probably under Stagg’s supervision, while Roberts continued on to Philadelphia. Alma arrived in Philadelphia the morning of April 25, the day before the meet.18 Known as an Olympic champion, he was otherwise an unknown quantity to the eastern press. But an exaggerated reputation preceded him. The University of Pennsylvania’s Daily Pennsylvanian said he was “a giant in size

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and is good in all the eight events, besides the hurdles and broad jump.” More reasonable was the assertion that he “not only hoped to place in the high jump but also contend for honors in the shot put and broad jump.”19 Utah track aficionados proudly decreed Richards the favorite in the high jump as he had been regularly achieving 6 feet 4 inches in practices at BYU. Alma, too, was brimming with confidence. The Philadelphia Inquirer noted somewhat incredulously that upon arriving at Franklin Field he “did no jumping, merely limbering up a bit on the field.” As was invariably the case upon first meeting Alma, the paper reported, “He is a giant in size and not at all the build of what is generally regarded as the ideal high jumper.”20 Contrary to expectations, Alma did not compete in multiple events in the prestigious meet. Whether Roberts withdrew him in advance or Alma simply chose not to participate is unknown. No matter, the press predicted that his work in the high jump would “attract the attention of all.” And it did. “Richards, Brigham Young University” won the high jump with a leap of 6 feet 2 inches. The impressive victory at historic Franklin Field prompted the Daily Pennsylvanian to hail him as “one of the most remarkable athletes of the age.”21 To emerge victorious at the oldest and largest track and field event in the United States, held annually since 1895, greatly enhanced Alma’s reputation as one of the premier athletes in the nation. And it also increased public visibility for BYU. Gene Roberts, who accompanied Alma as a quasi-chaperone while gaining insights into physical education practices from east coast specialists, penned an account of his protégé’s experience to President Brimhall. It is worth recounting at length.22 Our boy Richards has certainly made good, and from all indications he will make still “better.” I was astonished at the notice and consideration he received at the ends of the most prominent athletic men both here and at Chicago. Even though there were athletes in the big affair here in Philadelphia who won more points than Alma, he attracted more notice than any of them. He must have made good in more than athletics on his trip to Stockholm judging from the confidence shown in him by President Sullivan and Mr. Kirby of the Amateur Athletic Ass’n, and I am inclined to believe that it was his clean life and temperate habits while going to and from Stockholm which have had a lot to do with making him

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the prominent athlete he is before those Eastern people. He has been treated royally everywhere and is highly respected among all the athletes. Richards has advertised our school considerably. His picture has appeared in nearly all the eastern papers, and every leading sporting goods store in the country has a large photo of him in its show window. People have no trouble remembering the name of his university. Alma’s successes did more than confirm his status as the foremost multi-­ event competitor and high jumper in the country. Although he refrained from speaking directly about it, Alma knew well that his athletic prowess and attendant publicity not only brought unprecedented national recognition to his school but also constituted a kind of unofficial missionary service for the church. BYU officials recognized as much. Upon his return to campus from Philadelphia, the traditional Monday morning devotional period on May 5 was “devoted to a demonstration in honor of the champion just arrived from his Eastern trip.” The student newspaper pointed with pride to “the impression which the Mormon boy made.” His modesty and “total abstinence from the luxuries and enjoyments incident to athletic life,” indeed “his mode of life, his ideals and aspirations, struck those who came in contact with him as something unusual in the career of a great athlete.” Richards, the paper concluded, had made a profound impression “not only as an athlete, but also as a [Mormon] man.” The devotional program began with Amos N. Merrill, instructor of education and agriculture, offering a prayer. Earl Glade, professor of commerce and penmanship in the high school, then led a “rousing cheer” for the conquering hero. Edwin S. Hinckley, professor of geology and counselor to the president of BYU, gave a talk on “The Meaning of Richards’s Victory to the B. Y. University.” After Alma extended “remarks of appreciation,” the festivities ended with the audience singing the Star-­Spangled Banner.23 In addition to competing successfully in meets away from campus, Richards remained the dominant performer for BYU at in-­state competitions. On May 3 prominent Provoans furnished automobiles to convey an enthusiastic contingent of students “to the metropolis,” there to cheer on BYU against “the State dispensary of learning.” The University of Utah won the dual meet on May 4, but Alma “made the Utah fellows look rather sick,”

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earning twenty-­three points as he “pretty well corralled” the field events by winning the high jump, pole vault, shot put, and once again breaking the broad jump record with a leap of 22 feet 10 inches. “The Olympic Hero” also finished second in the discus.24 On May 19 he concluded his collegiate career in the state intercollegiate championships before a record-­sized crowd gathered on a cold, blustery, rainy day at the BYU athletic field to bid him farewell. BYU tied with the Agricultural College for second place behind the University of Utah, but Alma put on a championship performance, entering all six field events and winning the usual five “with very little trouble” while taking third in the optional hammer throw for a total of twenty-­five points. That the New York Times reported the Provo meet clearly illustrated that Richards enjoyed a national reputation.25 Notwithstanding an intensive training regimen and an expanding national competition schedule, Alma’s academic performance remained that of a solid, if unexceptional student. In 1910–11 he received an A in gym and Bs in theology, English, math, and history; in 1911–12 he earned As in theology and gym with Bs in English, history, psychology, and agriculture; and in 1912–13 he received an A in gym, a C in astronomy, and Bs in theology, English, and physiology. Most important, Alma fulfilled his promise by receiving a high school academic diploma in May 1913 but did not graduate with honors as has been claimed.26 As a bonus, Alma learned in May, ten months after the fact, that the height of his gold medal leap in Stockholm had increased. Official Olympic records then and now list his winning leap precisely as 1.93 meters. That translates in the United States, the only major country not using the metric system, as 6.333 feet. However, the American press consistently reported the height as 6 feet 4 inches (1.951 meters). To settle the matter, the Amateur Athletic Union board of managers, believing the “difference is too slight to rob the Utah jumper of honors to which is rightly entitled,” ruled the official mark in U.S. track and field record books as 6 feet 4 inches.”27 So Alma made good on his boast to win the gold medal with a leap of 6–4, even if he really didn’t. Whatever his personal achievements, Richards’s contribution to his alma mater was incalculable. That he left holding BYU records in four field events—high jump, 6 feet 2 3/8 inches; broad jump, 22 feet 10 inches; shot put, 41 feet 9 inches; and discus, 124 feet 11 inches—was the more remarkable in that he was not enrolled in the university but was still a

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high school student. His yearbook described him as “an Olympic champion, and the most accomplished athlete in the history of Brigham Young High School.” He was that, ending his high school career holding the state collegiate record in three events—the high jump, broad jump, and discus. The Provo Daily Herald was more expansive: “Richards has done more to give publicity to the Brigham Young University and Provo than any other man in this city.”28 At the end of May Richards once again left Provo by train heading for Chicago. This time he intended to compete in invitational track meets in the summer as a member of the Illinois Athletic Club (IAC), a social and athletic organization located in Chicago, and then in fall enroll at the University of Chicago.29 His reason for affiliating with the IAC is unknown— perhaps because of the mysterious Coach Greer—but joining an athletic club made up primarily of current and former college stars had decided advantages. Club officials arranged for top-­f light competition during the summer and covered travel and participation expenses related to the meets. The Illinois Athletic Club was the perfect choice. The IAC afforded an opportunity for Alma to show up its rival, the Chicago Athletic Association (CAA), whose manager had challenged his place on the Olympic team. And it enabled him to become familiar with Chicago before school started. Success in athletics led him to contemplate a career in coaching, but he had been undecided about college enrollment, torn between Chicago with Amos Alonzo Stagg, the multisport coach whom he had met at the Olympic trials, and the University of Pennsylvania with Mike Murphy, his likeable Olympic trainer.30 It is not known whether the decision to join the IAC and enroll in Chicago was due to Stagg’s influence or because Murphy, whose tuberculosis was worsened by the trip to Stockholm, died on June 4, 1913. In any case, Alma’s plans would soon change. Upon arriving in Chicago he made living arrangements for the summer, probably renting a room in the IAC facility at 112 South Michigan Avenue, and began workouts. Acclaimed for his victory in the prestigious Penn Relays, Alma lost no time in adding to his growing reputation at his first summer competition, an exhibition dual meet between the IAC and the University of Notre Dame in South Bend, Indiana, on May 17. The top performer in the meet, he demonstrated his unusual prowess in jumping and weights by winning the high jump and discus while finishing second in the broad jump and shot put.31

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Although his given name occasionally caused confusion in the press, “Alva Richards, world’s champion high jumper” had become quite the celebrity. The Chicago Daily News sports page on June 3 featured a huge picture of “A. W. Richards, Jumper,” who had become a member of the IAC. There was no accompanying story, his reputation being widely known. The famous Olympic champion participated in the House of Good Shepherd Field Day at Comiskey Park, home of the Chicago White Sox, on June 8 to benefit needy women and children. And the “king of the high jumpers” was also invited to compete on June 28 in a field day at DePaul University sponsored by the Sisters of Mercy to raise money to build a new high school for girls.32 Alma’s reputation soared on June 21 when he set a new meet high jump record at the Central track and field championships sponsored by the Amateur Athletic Union (AAU), the principal governing body for amateur sport in the United States. Then, in the International Invitational Games meet at Grant Park on June 28, he scored eleven points by winning the high jump and finishing second in the broad jump and discus. Although he wore the colors of the IAC, Alma’s points were credited to BYU—sufficient for the school, which was not a formal entry, to finish second.33 As Alma was enjoying peak performances, an eligibility issue prematurely ended his summer competition. After the AAU championships, the Chicago Athletic Association, which had won the team title, challenged Richards’s eligibility because he had listed as his home the summer address in Chicago instead of Provo on the registration form. Alma, interpreting “residence” as a current domicile instead of a legal address, made an innocent and inadvertent mistake, but the technical challenge spoke to a larger issue. The CAA and IAC had vied with each other for years for track and field supremacy in the Midwest. Both clubs recruited star collegians, the CAA holding the upper hand until the IAC’s recent successes had narrowed the competitive gap. Prior to winning the team title at the Central AAU championships, the CAA had successfully prevented five athletes from competing for its rival. Alma, who had thwarted CAA efforts to keep him off the Olympic team, was a prominent target for inter-­athletic club contentions. In any event, Alma left for Provo on July 13, intending to forego athletics for the rest of the summer to “prepare himself for the course which he will take beginning next fall in the University of Chicago.”34 Instead, he went to Parowan to spend time with his father. It might have been a time of indecision about his collegiate future. He planned to leave

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mid-August for New York City, there to participate in an international track and field meet on August 21–23.35 He would then go to the Windy City to compete for Stagg’s University of Chicago Maroons. But plans had changed.

6

THE BIG CORNELLIAN

Instead of enrolling at the University of Chicago, Alma decided to attend Cornell University in Ithaca, New York. Perhaps he had negative feelings about Chicago track authorities after the technical eligibility challenge that ended his summer competition. Maybe Stagg’s coaching emphasis on football and baseball was a concern. In any case, Eugene Roberts suggested Cornell, where John Francis “Jack” Moakley had built the premier intercollegiate track and field program in the country.1 During his own stint at Yale, Roberts, who always looked out for the best interests of his protégé, had become familiar with Moakley and his success in developing champion trackmen. Moakley’s arrival in Ithaca in 1899 to establish Cornell’s first track and field program promptly ended the domination of Harvard, Columbia, and Pennsylvania in the sport; by Alma’s senior year, 1917, Ithacan thinclads had won nineteen national championships, five in track and field, fourteen in cross country. At the end of his fifty-­ year tenure, Moakley produced more individual and team champions than any other coach in track and field history. 2 Alma Richards would be his most decorated. There was an added inducement. Lucien Lucius “L.  L.” Nunn, entrepreneur-­philanthropist whose hydroelectric companies included the Olmsted Powerhouse in Provo Canyon—later Utah Power and Light—knew of Alma’s exploits at BYU. In August 1913 Nunn selected Alma as a member of his Telluride Association, an educational trust established at Cornell University that offered board and room at the Telluride House.3 Whether the residential scholarship offer came before or after Alma’s decision to attend Cornell is not known. Whatever the circumstances, Alma’s decision to attend 81

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Cornell was symbolically apropos: his Stockholm leap broke the previous Olympic high jump record set in 1908 by Harry Porter, Cornell class of 1905. The decision was also abrupt; Richards enrolled in Cornell on September 25, 1913, the first day of classes, without advance notice. The $55 he paid to travel across country by train with James R. Tucker, a Cornell graduate who was returning to Ithaca to study law, was the first of burgeoning collegiate expenses he would entail. Before leaving Provo, Alma participated in an experimental attempt to capture body movement on film by giving an exhibition of high jumping on the lawn of the Provo Tabernacle. He had not trained for a couple of months, but without any special effort he cleared the bar at 6 feet 3 inches. 4 The incredible leap was both an appropriate farewell to BYU and an omen of things to come at Cornell. Alma’s arrival at Cornell produced both great joy and astonishment, as no one in athletics knew he was coming. In reporting the arrival of the Olympic champion, the Ithaca newspaper betrayed unfamiliarity with “Elmer W. Richards,” who “out in Utah” had attended Brigham Young College, “which corresponds to an eastern academy or preparatory school.” When Alma arrived on campus, a couple of students immediately escorted him to Perry Field to meet Coach Moakley, who was “as much astonished as he was pleased.” Richards promptly donned a track suit, stretched, and “without any apparent effort” cleared six feet. Moakley, recognizing Alma’s multi-­event potential, asked him to try the shot put and also showed him a new event, hammer throwing. It was obvious that “the great western athlete” would be “a great point winner” for the Big Red track team.5 If Alma went to Cornell with an ego swollen by athletic success, he had an imperfect sense of his inner self. Life in Parowan and BYU was long on prescribed values and narrow associations but short on diverse life experiences. Thus the first year at Cornell entailed major adjustments in virtually every aspect of his life. Geographically and climatically, Ithaca—located on the southern shore of Cayuga Lake, the largest of the Finger Lakes, in the heavily forested, rolling hills of north-­central New York—was a dramatic environmental change from his accustomed semiarid, mountainous Utah landscape. And winters were much colder and snowier than he had experienced. Most challenging of all, Ithaca was a very different place from what he had known. Demographically its population of some fifteen thousand was one-­third larger and much more diverse than Provo. Accustomed to being part of a cohesive, homogenous cadre of Mormons, Alma was now

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alone in an unfamiliar environment—a strange place with strange people.6 But it was here, literally a new world, where his destiny would unfold. Academics represented Alma’s major challenge. As New York state’s land grant institution, Cornell alone among the schools later known as the “Ivy League” offered agricultural studies. Alma had intended to follow his mentor, Eugene Roberts, into the coaching profession, but instead enrolled in the College of Agriculture, hoping to learn how to manage better his 160-­acre farm in Utah.7 (It was rumored that he studied civil engineering, probably because the original group of Telluride scholarship awardees had worked in one of Nunn’s industrial operations and were currently studying that subject at Cornell.) Alma had not graduated from high school with honors, as has been claimed, and did not meet Cornell’s normal entrance requirements, which included three units of a foreign language. But as a “person of considerable maturity” who was “at least twenty-­one years of age” with “two full years of recent farm experience,” he was admitted conditionally in the largest of Cornell’s nine colleges. That required him during his freshman year to prove his ability by passing several specified “special studies” courses. Although his athletic reputation preceded him, he did not receive preferential treatment on that account. Of the 1,552 students in the College of Agriculture, 100 were special admissions like Alma, most of whom came from a farming background.8 (His major was listed in Cornell catalogs for all four years as “Special Agriculture.”) Although the school’s charter required that all male students undergo at least one year of military training, not everyone enrolled as a cadet, and there is no evidence that Alma did so; perhaps he was excused because of athletic training.9 Cornell was expensive. Some forty years prior to the awarding of athletic grants-­in-­aid (scholarships) and before “under the table” payments had become widespread, Alma faced a formidable task to pay for his education. Tuition was $150 a year ($3,548 in 2014 dollars) when the average earned annual income of Americans was $740. The Telluride scholarship, perhaps processed through an Ithaca power company, provided partial room and board for his freshman year, but he still paid $419.80 to the Telluride Association. And there were other expenses of books and supplies, clothing, and personal items. In all, his first year expenditure at Cornell was $938.50.10 To cover his educational expenses over four years, Alma borrowed money from the Deseret National and Beaver State banks as well as his parents

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and three times—1913, 1914, and 1916—obtained loans totaling $500 from the LDS Church School Loan Association, which provided funds primarily for aspiring teachers. The loans and modest income from land investment with his brother, Joseph, were insufficient to finance his studies at the prestigious educational institution. So from the beginning he worked as a waiter in one of the school’s big dining halls in addition to “such other jobs as he could find,” ranging from selling newspapers and tickets to carpentry work and mowing lawns. Nothing was unusual here. Nearly one-­third of the Ag College students worked to pay for their education, but as an athlete working so assiduously to support himself Alma earned the admiration of fellow students. In addition, as a star athlete he received additional “outside” assistance from local businesses that were school boosters. In particular, Alden Crippen Buttrick, Cornell class of 1916, whose father was co-­owner of Buttrick & Frawley, Ithaca’s premier clothier “for men and boys,” on at least two occasions gave Alma several hundred dollars that were recorded in his ledger book as “gift not necessary to repay.” One may assume he also received apparel at a discount.11 Socially, Alma was for the first time without the immediate support of family, friends, or church. He found himself not in a religiously oriented educational environment, but in a secular enclave promoting diversity of thought. Most leading American colleges were associated with a religious denomination, but Cornell had been nonsectarian from its founding in 1865. Sage Chapel, the campus house of worship, was proudly nondenominational. With an enrollment of 6,496—the twelfth largest in the country and second only to Columbia among the so-­called Ivies—the school dwarfed BYU’s student body of 241 in 1913. So did the sixteen hundred students enrolled in the College of Agriculture.12 Although women were admitted to Cornell in 1870, making it the first coeducational institution among the eastern elite schools, females were segregated in several ways, including separate entrances in the student union building and a distant dormitory off-­limits to men. Alma’s athletic prominence certainly facilitated social contacts and recognition. Indeed, it immediately earned the tall, physically imposing newcomer celebrity status on campus. Gregarious, congenial, and likeable, he made friends easily. When college elections were held in mid-­October, a large turnout of College of Agriculture freshman elected him class president.13 While Alma made many friends among his largely socioeconomically

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privileged classmates, he frequently responded psychologically to the new surroundings by clinging to familiarity, being persistently “full of praise for Utah” in conversations. Taken by some as an indication of homesickness, it led to unfounded rumors in January 1914 that he would return to BYU to finish his collegiate career with the goal of becoming a coach at the school.14 Homesickness, a common malady for out-­of-­state students, was especially acute for the Mormon “outlander” from far-­off Utah. Religion had been the dominant influence in Alma’s life. It was less his experience with a strict religious household, weekly sacrament meetings, and Sunday school classes, than having lived in nearly exclusive Mormon communities where virtually everyone else believed and behaved similarly. Mormons then as now, like Jews, constituted a self-­conscious socioreligious subculture, an institutionally driven cohesive people set apart by tradition and covenant theology.15 Up to now Alma’s religiosity had been an everyday experience, but for the first time he found himself without a formal religious support structure. If the sociological dimensions of his faith were gone, its historical roots were not. For the first time, Alma found himself in the midst of an area steeped in LDS church history. Ithaca was located in the so-­called “Burned-­over district,” site of the religious revivals of the Second Great Awakening that included the founding of the Mormon Church. Within sixty miles from Cornell was Palmyra, home of the prophet Joseph Smith; the Hill Cumorah, where Mormons believe Smith discovered golden plates he eventually translated as the Book of Mormon; and Fayette, where he formally organized the LDS Church. It is not known if Alma visited any of the sites related to the founding of his church, but he certainly did not attend Mormon church services. There weren’t any. There were no LDS wards among the churches in Ithaca or in the nearby historic Mormon towns, the Saints having relocated westward to Ohio in the early 1830s in the face of hostility. Because of the small number of Mormons in New York at the time, the few congregations scattered throughout the state were under the auspices of the Eastern States Mission headquartered in New York City, which served the entire region from Massachusetts to Washington, D.C. Although the student body included twenty-­ three from Utah, most of whom were presumably LDS, Alma for the first time lived, worked, and socialized in non-­Mormon social circles.16 And his esteemed coach was an Irish Catholic from Boston. But Alma would learn that it was possible to be a believing Mormon, if not a practicing one.

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While Alma’s unusual religious affiliation was common knowledge, geography—not religion—signified his distinctive presence on campus. There are numerous descriptions of him as a “westerner” and “from Utah” but no mention of Mormonism other than what was implied in a few newspaper references to BYU. Consequently, during four years at Cornell amid an extensive circle of non-­Mormon friends, his faithfulness became a matter of private profession rather than communal practice, a mode of religious practice and social association that would become the norm for the rest of his life. Athletically, Alma’s high hopes of competing with athletes from the eastern schools that dominated American track and field were put on hold for a year. It was understood from the beginning that he was ineligible for varsity competition and would participate as a member of the freshman track squad.17 Since Moakley’s arrival, track and field, including cross country, had surpassed football as the dominant sport at Cornell both in success and interest. The Cornell Daily Sun, the daily student newspaper, not only ran lengthy, headlined articles about the sport on the front page, but it also provided the statistical results of the top three performers in every event in interclass and intrasquad practice meets as well as official collegiate competitions. Moakley’s success earned him distinction as the nation’s leading track coach and elevated him to the status of revered campus legend. If BYU had provided an arena for Alma Richards to develop his athletic skills, Cornell offered a national stage for him to demonstrate his prowess as one of the great track competitors of the day. Tryouts had begun the week before Alma arrived, so his first appearance was on September 27 when eighty freshman hopefuls assembled for practice at Percy Field after the Cornell-­Colgate football game. Word of his presence on campus spread quickly, and despite a cold wind a large group of students was on hand to witness the Olympic champion’s debut. The “center of interest,” Alma reported late to practice and worked out in his street clothes. Nonetheless, “with little effort” he cleared the bar at 5 feet 7 inches, a modest beginning indeed. The next day the Daily Sun ran a long article headlined “Freshman Athletes to be the Best in History?” that featured a lengthy piece on “Alva Richards, who easily heads the lists of stars that Mr. Moakley has attracted.” The other heralded newcomer, who would be Alma’s counterpart in dominating track events, was another westerner, Linus “Vere” Wendnagle, a transfer student from the University of Oregon.18

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Throughout the fall Alma participated irregularly in weekly freshman “board track meets,” essentially intrasquad tryouts for freshman and varsity candidates contested on temporary flooring installed to create a running track. Except for the annual freshman-­sophomore meet where he won the high jump, Alma did not take part in high jump or broad jump contests, his ability in those events already well established. Instead he concentrated on developing greater proficiency in the shot put, which Moakley envisioned as his third entry in formal competition. Even there his exceptional ability was obvious. In a December freshman competition he won the shot put with a toss of 40 feet 11 inches, some 5 feet 6 inches beyond the runner-­up’s heave.19 Mid-­November brought an unusual sporting experience: the freshman-­ sophomore pushball contest. Alma had never before heard of, let alone seen, pushball, a curious game in which two teams try to push a heavy six-­foot-­ diameter ball across goal posts on a football field. The players, fifteen to a side, wore “football clothes” but not shoes with spikes. That the ball could not be kicked, but instead moved along only by being lifted and passed over the heads of the players, gave rise to numerous injuries major and minor. Monitored by two umpires, the game was mercifully short with five-­minute halves. Alma’s reaction to pushball is unknown, but it must have been an unpleasant experience as the freshmen lost 12–0.20 Come winter, Richards began workouts in the gymnasium. He had never liked indoor training but embraced with enthusiasm the regimen consisting of practicing specific track events as well as general gymnastics routines. His demeanor and obvious talent made him popular with the athletes and a decided favorite with the athletic instructors. In short order his “phenomenal” agility and outstanding performance in every kind of gymnastic activity made him the “wonder” of the coaching staff. He made such an impression that campus observers acclaimed him the nation’s “most promising bit of timber” for the upcoming 1916 Olympics. In fact, the local newspaper enthused, “Cornell has an athlete who may make as great an athletic record as Jim Thorpe.” It was no idle speculation as Alma had decided to try his hand at the decathlon, now paying special attention to the hurdles and javelin, events in which he was less accomplished. Moakley, elated with his newest recruit, affirmed that “Richards is a wonderful all-­around man, and it is generally agreed that he would be a thorn in the side of any man he might take issue with in any event he elected to compete in.”21

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As the indoor track season approached, Alma, reportedly “in rare form,” received “many invitations” from private athletic clubs and associations to participate unattached instead of officially representing Cornell. With firm commitments to compete in the Boston Athletic Association meet on February 7 and the New York Athletic Club invitational at Madison Square Garden on February 11, “Alman,” as he was still often called in the press, eagerly looked forward to competing in indoor track events for the first time in his career.22 However, just prior to the initial Boston meet, someone advised the New York Times that Alma was ineligible because intercollegiate rules required a student who had competed for another school in intercollegiate athletics and finished first or second in an event to sit out a calendar year before competing in any competition. Moreover, it was asserted that Richards should be disqualified from the entire 1914 track season for competing as a high school student for BYU and for winning the national high jump championship in 1913. Despite the unusual circumstance of his participation for BYU while still in high school, the presumed rationale for his ineligibility—the transfer of a collegiate athlete—was not germane. That he was a special admission student was also not an issue. Cornell had a one-­year eligibility rule that barred freshmen from varsity athletic competition in order to facilitate academic and social adjustment to college life. In light of his invitations to compete unattached, the Cornell faculty on February 4 voted to enforce the institution’s freshman rule, thereby limiting him to meets in which the freshman “as a body” took part, that is, in team meets.23 Alma was unaware of Cornell’s stringent freshman eligibility rule when accepting invitations to compete unattached, thinking the absence of institutional identification was acceptable. News of his ineligibility traveled slowly. Thus it was announced that he would compete in the Missouri Athletic Club (MAC) indoor relay carnival at the Coliseum in St. Louis on March 14 and the Penn Relays in Philadelphia in April. In both meets, his appearance was greatly anticipated as the advertised featured performer. A St. Louis Globe-­Democrat sportswriter proclaimed him “one of the greatest natural athletes that ever lived.” The eligibility issue aside, the St. Louis meet was cancelled when the MAC building burned to the ground during the early morning hours of March 8, destroying all financial and administrative records and tragically killing thirty people.24

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For both the indoor and outdoor seasons Alma participated with the freshman team. But instead of contests against squads from other schools, they engaged primarily in intrasquad meets. The Olympic champion must have chafed at the lack of challenging competition. In the first frosh meet on February 28, he won the broad jump and 16-­pound shot put along with a second place finish in the pole vault. Richards did not enter his specialty, the high jump, since there was no point to that. On March 16 instead of competing in his usual three events, he entered the two-­handed shot put exhibition. In the unique event, contested only once, in the 1912 Olympics, competitors threw the shot three times with each hand, the results determined by the sum of the best toss from each side. Alma easily won with both arms, his right besting the left by some margin, 42 feet 7 inches to 33 feet 1 ½ inches.25 After five months of indoor training, the Red and White trackmen headed outdoors to prepare for spring meets. It was a breath of attitudinal fresh air, freeing Alma from the confining environment of indoor practice and competition. His anticipation of the upcoming track season was such that he had given in to his superstitions as a way of connecting with past successes. In January he had asked Eugene Roberts to send along the floppy hat and jumping shoes he had worn at BYU and in Stockholm. The coach reluctantly agreed to retrieve the well-­worn artifacts from BYU’s trophy room on condition that Alma return both items when he retired from competition. Anticipating the day when used athletic gear would become valuable collectibles, Roberts said he would take “great pains” in shipping them “as though they were priceless relics.”26 Unfortunately, springtime weather in upstate New York hampered outdoor training. Despite persistent rain, runners were able to work out on the cinder track, but muddy field conditions confined the jumpers to the basketball court. Because of poor conditions, Alma passed on competing in several freshman meets. He did participate in the April 22 contest, but only enough to win the high jump with a modest 5 feet 11 inches. He must have watched wistfully a week later as the varsity departed for the Penn Relays, especially as competing in the prestigious meet were several Olympic teammates including Ted Meredith, current national champion in the 400 and 800, representing the University of Pennsylvania, and his pal Fred Kelly of southern California, who came all the way from Los Angeles, ultimately repeating his Stockholm victory in the 120-­yard hurdles.27

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A frustrated Alma Richards endured a disappointing first outdoor track season at Cornell. During May he was not mentioned in reports of freshman intrasquad contests and was not included on the travel roster for the lone intercollegiate meet, the annual encounter with the University of Pennsylvania freshmen. While his teammates headed to Philadelphia, Alma led the College of Agriculture to the intracollege intramural track and field championship. The “star performer” was the largest point winner, earning thirty-­three points, a point and a half more than total accumulated by runner-­up Sibley College of Mechanical Engineering. After the meet, Alma joined the “peerade” of first-­year students across the library lawn to toss their freshman caps into a bonfire, thereby marking their arrival as full-­ fledged underclassmen.28 The reason for Alma’s absence from the Philadelphia meet is not known. Perhaps discouraged by the persistent cold and drizzling rain or frustrated by the tedium of uncompetitive weekly freshman meets, he left the team in early May. Or since Vere Wendnagle, the other first-­year heralded freshman, also competed in the intracollege meet, winning the 800 and mile “in a walk-­away,” Moakley may have excused his two stars from formal team activities. Whatever the case, the next day the Big Red freshmen lost to the Quakers for the first time since 1909, Alma’s absence figuring large in the 64–53 loss as none of the winners in his usual three events came close to his marks.29 He stood on the sidelines as the Cornell varsity won its fifth intercollegiate outdoor title. Dispiriting on the athletic front, Alma’s freshman year nonetheless had been an unqualified success. He had adjusted well to life at Cornell, even emerging as a campus celebrity. No doubt he enjoyed the steady stream of national and international scholars and entertainers whose appearances added to the intellectual and social life of the campus. The Chicago Symphony Orchestra, political orator William Jennings Bryan, and opera diva Madame Ernestine Schumann-­Heink were among the illustrious visitors to Ithaca. Academically, Alma achieved sophomore status after completing his “special studies in the agricultural department,” and he was described by the Ithaca Daily News as “a good student” who “has improved in every way since he came here.”30 Privacy laws prevent access to Alma’s transcripts, but the Cornell catalog illustrates the rigor of his educational program for the next three years. Required courses were English, agricultural chemistry, inorganic chemistry,

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biology, physiology, geology, physics, political economy, and either botany or zoology. Students also had to complete fifteen hours of electives in one of five categories and at least three hours in three of the other four groups: farm crops, animal husbandry, agricultural chemistry, rural economy, and forestry. The standards were high; Agricultural College instructors were required to allocate grades according to strict percentages with no more than five percent of the students receiving As. Each year some thirty-­four Ag students were among the nearly two hundred fifty “busted” after mid-­year exams.31 Summer brought emotional and athletic renewal. After the end of the school year Alma returned to Utah, “flitting from town to town,” relishing the much-­needed reacquainting with family, friends, and familiar terrain.32 His sister Catherine recalled that during a summer visit, it might have been in 1913 or 1914, the hometown hero gave a couple of passersby from southern Nevada their comeuppance. Claiming to be an outstanding high jumper, one of the lads challenged anyone in Parowan to a contest. Parowan boys chose Alma, who easily cleared the bar several inches higher than the challenger’s jump. At that point the local men advised the astonished visitors that they had been bested by “the World’s Champion.”33 The homecoming finished, Alma headed to Chicago, there to train and compete with the Illinois Athletic Club for the remainder of the summer. In addition to the first-­class competition he had sorely missed during the past academic year, Alma had zeroed in on a specific target: the all-­around event at the national AAU championships in Birmingham, Alabama in September. There was no easing into the competitive arena. His first meet of the summer was the Central Association AAU championships in Dayton, Ohio on July 4. Alma’s reputation preceded him. Prior to the meet the local newspaper included him in a front-­page article about “the world famous athletes” on hand for “the biggest athletic event ever held in Dayton” and even printed a full-­length picture of him in the IAC uniform on the sports page. As predicted Alma won the high jump, the paper accompanying a report of his victory with a photograph of him clearing the bar.34 Later that month in an invitational meet in Chicago he won the usual trio—high jump, broad jump, and shot put. Summer competition proved his mettle and ability, but Alma’s focus was on the upcoming season of intercollegiate competition where success would solidify his status as America’s premier high jumper, if not the nation’s finest all-­around athlete.

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Alma returned to Cornell that fall burdened with frustrations. He was short of money so immediately resumed waiting tables in campus dining facilities and doing such “manual labor” as he could find.35 He was disappointed because the resumption of classes in September prevented him from the summerlong goal of competing in the AAU national championships in Birmingham, Alabama. His spirits picked up once fall practice began, but he again did not participate in the early sophomore track tryouts or the initial freshman-­sophomore meet, whether by his initiative or Moakley’s decision that Alma didn’t have to prove himself worthy of a place on the varsity squad. Richards’s first competitive appearance, in the second freshman-­sophomore meet on October 17, again demonstrated he was in a class by himself. As the Daily Sun reported, “The story of the field events is summarized in the single word, Richards.” He entered all five field events, winning the usual three—the high and broad jumps and shot put— while finishing second in his initial efforts at the hammer throw and pole vault. The second annual freshman-­sophomore pushball contest, designed to break the tedium of practice, held no interest for Alma as he declined to participate, no doubt with vivid negative memories of his first experience with the unusual sport.36 That fall Moakley, bent on winning the first annual indoor Intercollegiate Association of Amateur Athletes of America (ICAAAA) games scheduled for the following March, put his charges through the most extensive and concentrated training regimen of his coaching career. He expected the track candidates to make extensive use of the new state-­of-­the-­art gymnastics equipment that occupied the entire top floor of the Schoellkopf Memorial Training House. And equipping both the Bacon Practice Hall and the board track with electric lights not only prevented snow and cold from interfering with workouts but also extended them from noon to 6 p.m. Alma quickly adjusted mentally to indoor practice, while training table meals, lunch and dinner only, in the home economics cafeteria provided energy and proper nutrition. Once formal practice for the upcoming season commenced in November, Alma frequently skipped the weekly board meets, competing occasionally only in the shot put against varsity teammates. The decision he and Moakley made for him to concentrate on the shot paid off as he steadily increased his distance to 45 feet 3 ½ inches, up nearly five feet from the previous year. Besides, there was a lack of competition in the high jump,

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the best of the winning leaps in the varsity meets being a meager 5 feet 6 inches. In the intrasquad meet on December 19, Alma celebrated the onset of Christmas break with a triple victory, taking the high jump, broad jump, and shot put with a personal best 45 feet 9 inches.37 Alma entered the much-­anticipated 1915 varsity track season in a fine frame of mind. He had passed midyear examinations in January with scores “among the highest at Cornell,” much to the delight of friends in Provo who had considered him “somewhat of an ‘ivory’ [i.e., dense] when it came to text books at the B. Y. U.” Determined to compensate for a year lost, he was the acknowledged star of the powerful Cornell thinclads, the only member of the team to participate in three events. Competing in both the high and broad jumps was common, but it was unusual for a dual-­event leaper to also compete in the shot put. The Ithaca Daily News declared that competitors in those three events “must now reckon with the performances of Alma Richards the Utah farmer,” heralding the “great western jumper” as “the greatest find for the coming season.” As if additional incentive were needed, Yale’s Wesley Oler, Alma’s Olympic teammate who failed to place in Stockholm, had been designated the high jumper on the AAU’s 1914 All-­ American track team.38 Moakley, too, was “optimistic” about Alma’s impact on the team’s championship prospects. The legendary coach conceded that during preseason workouts he “had done little to improve Richards’ style in high jumping, which was admittedly all wrong for a man of his wonderful ability,” saying “I am taking no chances in trying to materially alter the style of a man such as Richards. He does well enough as it is and might be spoiled.” Still, Moakley observed some improved technique, Alma now having “a lay over in clearing the bar he did not possess when he won the Olympics.”39 Enthusiasm for the upcoming season also spread throughout the campus and the community. Track and field was the premier sport at Cornell, and Moakley was the most revered, even beloved athletic coach. The trackmen called him “Jack” in private, but owing to feelings of affection and deference publicly addressed him formally as “Mr. Moakley,” never familiarly as “coach.” His widespread popularity was due in part to his loyalty to his charges whatever their level of ability; all might not compete in meets, but all would be part of the squad. He never dropped anyone from the squad, thereby creating the largest track team in the country. In January 1915 some 310 men had turned out for indoor tryouts, with nearly 500

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expected by spring for outdoor practice. The annual track dinner—a combination of team-­bonding, fan celebration, and fundraiser that featured a variety of speakers and Moakley’s history of Cornell track illustrated with slides—was originally scheduled for the informal Dutch Kitchen in the Hotel Ithaca. But as some 230 tickets were quickly sold at $1 each, the most to date, the January 15 dinner was moved to the hotel’s main dining room. 40 Alma’s optimism soon succumbed to physical realities. In addition to adjusting mentally to the new experience of competing indoors, he found himself battling injuries, something that would plague the rest of his collegiate career. In addition to sharing the “cage” with the basketball team, the track squad enjoyed improved offseason training facilities in the new Schoellkopf Field clubhouse. But Alma’s “weak ankles” limited high jumping on the hard flooring, so he concentrated instead on broad jumping into a pit and shot putting. 41 Supremely confident in Alma’s ability, Moakley decided his star performer would be able to reach his usual standard of excellence in the upcoming spring meets without concentrated training in his specialty, high jumping. Besides, Moakley thought Alma possessed untapped potential in putting the shot. As a result, Alma devoted practice sessions exclusively to tossing the iron ball. He improved rapidly, winning easily the shot put event in an early January board meet and thereafter never failing to reach at least 45 feet in subsequent intrasquad meets. 42 All indications were that by spring he would rank among the finest collegiate shot putters. By early February Alma had recovered sufficiently for Moakley to enter him in three competitions in the Boston Athletic Association invitational games on February 6. It was the first time for the highly touted performer to represent Cornell in a meet. The BAA invitational was primarily a handicapped relay meet for all-­comers, so Alma’s appearance in what amounted to special exhibitions represented a coming out intended to foreshadow performances in future sanctioned meets. The heralded Olympian was among the few athletes whose competition number, 303, appeared in premeet press publicity so that spectators could more easily follow his performance. But it was noted the day before the meet that because Richards had “a bad ankle,” probably injured in premeet practice, he might not be able to compete in the high jump. Whatever the extent of his injury, things did not turn out well. Because performances were handicapped, Alma wound up finishing fourth in all three events—the high jump, shot

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put, and the three standing jumps (hop, skip, and jump). Even without giving up a one-­inch handicap, his leap of six feet on a sore ankle would have him finish second to ex-­Olympic teammate, John Johnstone of Harvard, in the high jump. 43 The ankle continued to bother him in subsequent meets. Still suffering from a “weak left ankle” in the New York Athletic Club meet at Madison Square Garden on February 10, he failed to win the high jump competition. He was “not in good condition” at the inaugural Intercollegiate Association of Amateur Athletes of America collegiate championship indoor meet at the same site on March 6. (The ICAAAA sponsored national collegiate track and field championships from 1873 to 1921, when the National Collegiate Athletic Association—the NCAA—assumed sponsorship of the event.) Alma was not expected to reach six feet, but he pulled off a “distinct surprise” by setting a new college indoor high jump record of 6 feet 4 inches in addition to placing second in the shot put. Having returned to form, a week later he easily took the high jump title with a 6-­foot-­3-­inch leap at the Meadow Brook Athletic Association games in Philadelphia. 44 Alma must have been relieved at the beginning of the outdoor season featuring the accustomed earthen approaches and jumping pits. First up was the famous Penn Relay Carnival at Franklin Field in Philadelphia on April 24. In addition to the traditional event program, the meet included for the first time a pentathlon competition to prepare American athletes for the 1916 Olympics. The New York Times projected Alma—“a fair sprinter, a very good broad jumper, and first-­class with the weights”—as the early favorite. 45 But “the Cornell marvel” eschewed the pentathlon in favor of competing in an unprecedented four events. He defeated Wes Oler to win the high jump with a leap of 6 feet 4 inches. Then, as if to prove a point, he uncharacteristically engaged in a postevent exhibition, “easily” clearing 6 feet 5 inches to increase the collegiate outdoor record by nearly two inches. It was the highest he had—and ever would—jump. Spent physically and emotionally from the stunning performance, he did not perform well in the other three events that day, taking third in the shot but not placing in either the broad jump or discus. 46 Now performing as well as he ever had, Alma was ready for the two dual meets that comprised the customary outdoor schedule. The Big Red traveled to Cambridge, defeating the Crimson of Harvard on May 9 by less than two points, 59 1/3 to 57 2/3. The difference was Alma Richards. “A

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tower of strength in field events,” the only multi-­event winner of the day performed brilliantly in winning his usual three events. When the two traditional track and field powers, Pennsylvania and Cornell, met in a dual meet in Ithaca on May 15, the “big Utah giant” thrilled the thirty-­five hundred spectators who filled Schellkopf Field stands with the “most sensational performance” of the day. In a remarkable display of athleticism and “take that” attitude, he set a meet record of 23 feet 4 ½ inches in the broad jump on his first leap, then walked away from the competition. He also took the shot put “without trouble,” but now troubled by “severe strains of both groin muscles,” finished in a three-­way tie for first in the high jump with a decidedly subpar leap of 5 feet 9 ½ inches. 47 Alma and his teammates certainly appreciated that some three hundred students and the Cadet Band paraded to the train station on May 26 to give the team a rousing sendoff to the ICAAAA outdoor championships in Philadelphia. Alma and Cornell were heavily favored to return with national individual and team titles in hand. But three days later in the intercollegiate outdoor championships Alma had a poor performance. Despite facing the biggest and best field he had yet encountered, he confidently entered his usual trio of events. He qualified for the finals in all three, but the strain of having to go continually from event to event took its toll. He failed to place in the shot, came in fourth in the broad jump, and, despite looking like “a sure winner,” finished second in the high jump to his Olympic teammate turned nemesis, Wesley Oler of Yale. The Daily Sun correctly surmised that had Alma reserved himself for the high jump he would have won the event, but “in an effort to pick up all the points he could for the team” he wound up “sacrificing his chances.”48 Despite inconsistent performances due to nagging injuries that would continue to hamper him throughout his career, Alma overall dominated intercollegiate track and field in his first season. He had won eight titles in multiple events, set indoor and outdoor high jump records, and was the leading scorer and only collegiate triple-­event competitor in leading the Big Red to victories in every dual meet as well as both the indoor and outdoor ICAAAA championships. Taken by his unusual proficiency in both the high and broad jumps, the New York Times raved, “Richards of Cornell is the marvel of the athletic world. He is the best natural jumper in the country, despite his weight, and with a little less built to carry in his jumps he would have no equal.”49

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Alma once again competed unattached in track meets in the summer of 1915, and he once again experienced eligibility problems. In June the registration committee of the Middle Atlantic Association of the AAU suspended him for receiving more expense money than was allowed for traveling from Ithaca to Philadelphia to participate in the Hale and Kilburn Athletic Association games on June 12. His requested reimbursement of $50.50 included café and taxi expenses subsequently paid for by Hale and Kilburn board member G. J. O’Connor. Alma contended the board had agreed to “a generous expense account” to help defray the postmeet cost of his representing Cornell at the student conference, June 15–23, at the Eagles Mere resort in the Pocono Mountains in northeastern Pennsylvania before heading to competitions in Chicago. (Founded in 1888, the Eagles Mere conference was a Christian-­based forum for discussing issues of personal religion and social service.) Alma’s letter of apology for the “misunderstanding” and a refund of $20.79, of which $20 was for the Eagles Mere trip, resulted in reinstatement on July 8. Determined to avoid future expense account problems, he wrote Robert A. Denny, chairman of the registration committee: “I will always compete for sports’ sake and never again will I accept money for expenses.” (The registration committee subsequently reprimanded O’Connor for being “liberal with expense money,” presumably for authorizing Eagles Mere compensation.)50 If Alma’s request for excessive expense money, by all indications inadvertent or the result of a misunderstanding, signaled any carelessness on his part, it also illustrated the financial confusion for sponsors as well as athletes resulting from the AAU’s evolving and often confusing concepts of amateurism and professionalism in sport.51 A second eligibility problem arose soon after Alma returned to Chicago in July to compete for the Illinois Athletic Club. He won the high jump and finished second in the shot in the Scotch Games, then turned to the Central AAU championships on July 3. After Alma placed first in the 56-­pound weight event, second in the high jump, and third in both the discus and javelin, the Chicago Athletic Association, which won the team title in the meet, once again challenged his eligibility because he had again incorrectly listed Chicago as his legal residence instead of Provo on his entry form. It was a technicality, but on December 2 the Central AAU board of managers finally ruled on the matter, taking a hard line, perhaps because he had made the same mistake the previous summer, declaring him ineligible to

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compete in the Central District track meets and ordering him to return the four medals he had won.52 The Chicago athletic clubs’ feud continued with Alma as the pawn. The eligibility issue carried over into the national AAU championships in August in San Francisco, held in conjunction with the Panama-­Pacific Exposition World’s Fair. On July 17, Richards, wearing the colors of the Illinois AC, qualified for the Central AAU team in the high jump and weights, but Martin Delaney, coach of the Chicago AA team, again challenged his eligibility. With Alma’s eligibility in question, Illinois AC officials subsequently agreed to not let him compete under its auspices. No doubt exasperated by the continuing technical challenges to his eligibility, a determined Alma Richards registered to compete unattached and paid his way to San Francisco. On August 7, the day before the championship meet opened, the national AAU committee ruled he could compete under protest while the July eligibility case was being reviewed. The next day Richards turned in subpar performances, finishing fourth in both the high jump and the discus throw.53 He was undoubtedly distracted by the uncertainties surrounding the Chicago protest, but the lackluster effort was deliberate. He cared not one whit that rivals George Horine and Clinton Larson would place first and second in his specialty event, so he withdrew from the high jump when the bar got to six feet. Why? To avoid unduly exerting himself, because he was set upon winning the all-­around event.54 The high jump was Alma’s specialty, but his exceptional success in multiple field events at Murdock and at BYU led him to contemplate even before the Stockholm Olympics seeking the national All-­Around championship. Some background is in order. The AAU had sponsored a multi-­event competition, usually contested in a single day, called “All-­Around” since the 1880s; the two-­day, ten-­event modern “decathlon,” invented by the Swedes, first appeared in the Olympics in 1912.55 The ten events were chosen not just for the sake of variety, but primarily because they contrast fundamentally in the physical demands on the competitors. Alma was proud of his prowess in multiple events, running races excepted, and no doubt his friendship with Jim Thorpe during and after Stockholm reinforced the multi-­event idea. Coach Roberts thought Alma’s “next goal” after winning Olympic gold would be to “work for the American all around championship, which is the highest honor he can win in America,” and, moreover,

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that he had “great possibilities for winning it.” Even Mike Murphy, coach of the American Olympic team, who thought Alma ill-­suited for high jumping, was impressed by his all-­around ability, believing that with “two years of special training he could make Richards defeat any man on the Finland in any event.” Timing was everything. Roberts thought it would be “backward” for Alma to try to win the all-­around championship as long as Thorpe was competing, but now “with the [Sac and] Fox out” Alma looked like the most eligible candidate.56 On August 10 Alma Richards entered the all-­around (aka decathlon) competition for the first time. Among the sixteen contestants the principal challenger was, ironically, the Chicago Athletic Association’s Avery Brundage. Touted by the San Francisco press as “one of the best all around athletes in the world,” Brundage, the defending national decathlon champion, had competed in both the pentathlon and decathlon without winning a medal in the 1912 Olympics. Brundage finished sixteenth in the Stockholm decathlon after not competing in the final two events. (Only twelve of the twenty-­ nine entrants finished all of the events.) But he was a formidable athlete. Like Alma, more adept in field than track events, Brundage finished seventh to tenth in six of the other eight competitions in 1912. Alma’s association with his Olympic teammate is unknown, but he was determined to demonstrate his multiple talents, and he did.57 After the completion of five events on the first day, Richards comfortably led Brundage by 500 points, having taken first in the high jump and second in the shot put and broad jump. Alma cleared 6 feet 1 1/8 inches in the high jump, and it was believed he “could have gone higher” had coaches not “pulled him away” in order to conserve his strength for other events. The next day he finished the final five events in fine form with second place finishes in the pole vault and discus, only failing to do well in the javelin and 1500 meter run. It was an eye-­popping performance. Decathlons are normally won by athletes who show consistency throughout the event schedule. Although Brundage never finished below sixth place in any event, Alma’s four second places combined with a single first place easily won the title with 6,859 points to Brundage’s 6,460.58 The San Francisco press enthusiastically praised Richards’s “remarkable performances,” proclaiming him the “Best Athlete in the United States,” but they still had difficulty with his name, calling him “Alva” and “Alvah.” Even though the San Francisco newspapers denigrated the decathlon as

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“an event to be avoided by spectators” because the two-­day competitions “dragged,” Alma still gained national attention for his “amazing versatility, doing really first-­class work in every sort of track and field contest.” The Associated Press named him a decathlete on the 1915 All-­American track and field team, and his impressive achievement even led to an unsuccessful attempt to add the decathlon to the intercollegiate track and field program.59 (It is still only an Olympic event, never a collegiate competition.) Even more so than winning an Olympic gold medal, the publicity resulting from victory in the decathlon established Alma Richards as a bona fide national sports superstar. He left San Francisco and headed home to Parowan, there to spend a few days with family and friends. But it was more than a pleasure visit. There was an important issue to discuss, one that would substantially shape his future. Earlier in February Eugene Roberts had offered Alma the position of assistant coach at Brigham Young University. It was a confidential proposal, not for dissemination in Ithaca or even the Utah press, but Alma’s father, Morgan, proud of the possibility of his son joining the LDS institution, leaked word of the proffer. Whether encouraged by Alma’s response or just optimistic about him accepting a calling from his church school, Roberts was “greatly enthused” at the prospect of his star athlete joining his staff. But by late summer, as the beginning of the school year drew close, Alma had not yet decided whether to accept the post or return to Cornell to compete in track and, more importantly, obtain a college degree.60 What was going through Alma’s mind? The initial report of Roberts’s offer incorrectly said Alma’s athletic eligibility would expire in spring 1916; in fact, he had two more years of competition available. But Alma was fed up with the persistent challenges to his AAU eligibility. And there were financial pressures. Schooling at Cornell was expensive, and he had competed in San Francisco without financial support from the Illinois AC. In August Alma wrote to Lyman Hickok Gallagher, an attorney in Slaterville, New York, near Ithaca, announcing that he would not be returning to Cornell for “lack of funds” to continue his education. Who was Gallagher and what was his relationship with Alma? We don’t know. A Cornell graduate, class of 1895, Gallagher may have been a school booster who provided support to track and field athletes. Whatever the case, their association must have been close for Alma to so baldly inform him of the decision to not return for want of money.61

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The news must have been as great a surprise to Gallagher as it was in Utah. Alma had recently been in Salt Lake City, making it generally known that he would register at Cornell in the fall. His relatives in Salt Lake were also under the impression that he would return to Ithaca. Something seemingly had happened to make Alma suddenly change his mind about resuming his studies and athletic career. Regardless of whether Gallagher responded with an offer of financial assistance, or if he replied at all, Alma left for Ithaca on September 20, a week before classes resumed.62 The tipping point may have been philosophical. Alma was embarrassed and deeply hurt by the three eligibility controversies that had plagued his summer competition schedule and questioned his integrity. It may have temporarily soured him on ever again participating in track. If so, he hit upon a solution that addressed both his anger at the way he was treated and future competition in a sport that brought him recognition. Because the Chicago Athletic Association had gone so far as to protest his participation in San Francisco under the banner of the Illinois Athletic Club, Alma vowed “never again to compete for an athletic club,” believing that the sport of track and field was “injured” by college athletes competing for clubs during their summer vacation. He was not the least bit reticent in making his position clear. I am sorry that my residence in Chicago was protested, and it only goes to show that being a club member and also a college athlete does not always work in harmony. From my point of view the club competition has not been a success, and the knocks have been more than the game is worth. The college athlete shows the proper sporting spirit, and why the same spirit is not manifested in club circles is beyond me. It appears to me as if clubs are too anxious to win, and try for success at a cost of this spirit. I intend to devote all my future athletic ability to college competition, and after my college course, if I decide to continue in athletics, I will compete unattached. All this squabbling over my residence does not do athletics any good.63 Alma’s views on club organizations were sincere and well taken, but ultimately he could not do otherwise than return to Cornell in the fall of

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1915 for his junior year. A college degree was in sight, he was a campus hero, and he was at the peak of his athletic prowess, universally regarded as the premier track and field athlete in the United States. Sporting Life, the country’s leading all-­sports publication, impressed by the national high jump champion’s versatility, called him “one of the greatest specialists as well as all-­around athletes in the country today . . . a broad jumper, hurdler, pole vaulter and weight thrower as well.”64 Academic preparation and track practice were not Alma’s only concerns fall semester. Widely recognized on campus for his character as well as his athleticism, in October he was the runaway winner as the unopposed candidate for the sole independent (i.e., non-­fraternity) position in the student council elections.65 With “the big Cornellian” performing at the peak of his ability, Alma’s junior year promised even greater athletic achievements. Instead, it was marked by a series of disappointments. The first, a dream destroyed, came early in 1916. America’s finest high jumper and decathlete had looked forward with great anticipation—and realistic expectations—to defending his high jump title and competing for gold in the decathlon at the 1916 Olympics scheduled in Berlin, Germany, now Hans Liesche’s hometown. But because the fighting that had broken out in Europe following the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria in 1914 had expanded into a full-­blown conflict known as World War I, the Games were not officially cancelled, just never held.66 Alma’s primary competitive venue would be collegiate, where, alas, more disappointments awaited. No doubt with an eye to improve his all-­around tallies, Alma decided to concentrate on pole vaulting during winter practice sessions. He was significantly taller, and at 205 pounds substantially heavier, than the typical vaulter who, given the rigid bamboo poles then in use, had to lift his body vertically up and over the bar. Moakley was not particularly “keen” on his star performer taking on the new event for fear Alma would injure himself falling into the pit. But there was no dissuading Alma from his new obsession, so Moakley imposed a height limit of 11 feet 6 inches. Convinced he could win a championship in the event, Alma quickly met that standard and was eager to try 12 feet if his coach would give the okay.67 Moakley never did, and in fact did not enter Alma in pole events at all that year. Dubbed the “Jess Willard of Cornell” by the press in reference to the reigning world heavyweight boxing champion, Alma started intercollegiate competition in fine fashion on March 5 at the second national collegiate

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indoor championships at Madison Square Garden in New York City. Cornell again won the team title, led by the “individual bright star” of the meet who won both the broad jump and the high jump, displaying his self-­confidence bordering on arrogance by declining in the latter event to remove his sweater and leggings until the bar reached six feet. He also took second in the shot put, “far ahead” of the competition, until unexpectedly bested by three inches on an opponent’s final toss. Alma pleaded to enter the pole vault competition, but Coach Moakley “called him off” to save his energy for the jumping events. A week later, on March 11, Richards repeated as the high jump champion at Philadelphia’s Meadow Brook Games.68 The outdoor season usually brought out the best in Alma, but by spring injuries caught up with him. The annual Penn Relay Carnival, the traditional start of the outdoor season, saw Alma head in a new competitive direction by entering three weight events along with the high jump. He failed to place in the discus but finished second in his first attempt at the 56-­pound weight competition to the national champion, Horace White of Syracuse, who bested the old collegiate record by more than four inches. Alma was also the runner-­up to the national champion in shot put, Arlie Mucks of Wisconsin. Whatever the impact of participating in three strength events, and it must have been substantial, Richards tied for first in the high jump with Wes Oler with a surprisingly good leap of 6 feet 3 inches. Alma left with the title “on the toss,” although both competitors received a gold watch signifying first place.69 Whether due initially to stress caused by his weight or awkward landings, Alma, over the past few years in the off-­season, had injured his left leg during high jumping practices. During the Penn Relay meet he suffered a strained tendon that would hamper him for rest of the season. Although he won the shot put in the dual meet with Harvard in Ithaca on May 6, his leaping ability was clearly compromised as he won the high jump with a substandard effort of 5 feet 11 ¾ inches and finished third in the broad jump. A week later against Penn in Philadelphia Alma again finished third in the broad jump, but he was distraught by failing to qualify in the high jump. A tie for first in the shot did little to counter the most disappointing performance of his entire athletic career.70 The Penn meet revealed to Alma and Moakley the seriousness of his injuries. By May, Richards was a physical wreck. His right knee, “wrenched a long time ago while high jumping,” had for months been “incased in a

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rubber bandage.” Another knee injury, muscle strains in both groins, and a ruptured tendon threatened his participation in the ICAAAA outdoor championships at Harvard in May. A disabled Alma Richards seriously compromised Cornell’s chances of winning the intercollegiate title. There was “much gloom” on campus at what appeared “a rather hopeless undertaking” without the star athlete. While Moakley had not “given up all hope of getting his crack performer back,” he admitted there was “doubt of a favorable outcome.” The New York Times was more optimistic, noting “a few days’ rest always puts Richards in tip-­top condition.”71 Others were not so confident. Even his Olympic teammate, Ted Meredith, who was competing for Penn, thought Alma possibly might win the high jump but would not even place in the broad jump or shot put. An enthusiastic send-­off to the train station by a parade of cheering students led by the Cornell fife and drum corps and a premeet excursion to Nantasket Beach outside Hull, Massachusetts, could not ease Alma’s foreboding. He was concerned the injury would hamper his ability to help win the team title, but he was also bitterly disappointed that it would preclude a personal objective. In this rare instance, Alma’s ego was at stake: since February his “greatest ambition” was to avenge his loss to Yale’s Wesley Oler in the previous May’s championships. On May 29 the Red and White as expected won the 1916 collegiate outdoor track championship, comfortably defeating Penn for the team title. Alma, however, for the first time in his track career was not a factor in a meet. Obviously “not up to snuff,” Alma was still hailed by the Daily Sun as a “star” performer who deserved “much credit” for competing “in defiance of the hoodoo that has pursued him for many years.” Despite “a very bad leg,” he qualified in the high jump and shot put but could do no better than third in each event.72 Alma’s increasingly frequent—and serious—injuries raises a question: Why was he injury prone? His bulk, unusual for a high jumper, must have put stress on his lower extremities. But an article in the Ithaca Daily News containing a candid interview with Richards suggests a more fundamental physical problem. Alma said as a youngster he “sprained” his left leg four times, his right leg twice, and an accident that dislocated his wrists also “broke some of the small bones” in his right leg. Alma told of an incident that apparently happened at Murdock. “The first time I tried a high jump, I broke my left leg above the knee, I was on crutches four months. The doctor told me then that I ought to quit athletics—that my bones were

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too brittle.” Predictably, he ignored the doctor’s advice, thereby risking permanent injury. The paper, noting that the bone broken in the initial high jump effort healed at an angle instead of cleanly, concluded that “the most remarkable nature of Richards’ achievement is that he has become a star despite the handicap of a left leg that is partially crippled.”73 No verification of the early injuries has been found, but direct testimony from Alma lends credence to the stories. Injuries precluded a full schedule of summer competition. Whatever the extent of his injuries, Alma was resting up for his paramount objective: the AAU national championships at Weequahic Park in Newark, New Jersey in September. Given his performance record, he was entered in the high jump, discus, and shot events in addition to the decathlon. Realizing it would be impossible to excel in all four competitions, Richards focused on his new athletic amore, the decathlon, as it spoke to his varied talents and extensive competitive drive. So determined to defend his decathlon title, “the big Cornellian” went to Camp Wigwam in Waterford, Maine, in July to train for weight throws, then to Ithaca in August to work out for the jumping events with Jack Moakley, and finally, just prior to the meet, to Travers Island, New York, to prepare for the race walking, his weakest event.74 On September 4 the New York Athletic Club hosted a private exhibition at Travers Island as a “tune up” for the AAU championships. Alma delivered a lackluster performance. He seemed to make his best effort in the shot put but placed third. He “did not appear to make a serious effort” in the high jump, finishing second.75 The Newark event, billed as compensatory track competition for the ill-­ fated Berlin Olympics, drew a much larger and stronger field than the 1915 championships in San Francisco. Some 230 athletes from the United States and Canada were on hand for the September 8–9 competitions. The Newark Star-­Eagle, under a subheadline “Richards Is Busy,” noted that Alma, incorrectly identified as attending the University of Michigan, attracted “considerable interest” from spectators as he competed in three events—high jump, shot put, and discus. That he finished second in the shot put, but failed to place in the discus and dropped out of the high jump at 6 feet, was disappointing but understandable given the exhaustive competition schedule in which all three events were conducted simultaneously.76 No matter. Alma’s goal was the all-­around title, contested the following Saturday, September 16, along with the marathon and relay races. The

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second encounter with Avery Brundage was seen as a showdown between athletes from the east and west; ironically the Utah-­born Cornell star was depicted as representing the eastern part of the country. Brundage, the 1914 national all-­around champion, had been surprised by Alma’s victory in 1915 and was bent upon reclaiming the title. Alma, in turn, was determined to solidify his claim as the nation’s finest all-­around athlete. Richards had been “generally expected to finish in first place,” but extensive, dedicated, even obsessive preparation was for naught. The Newark Star-­Eagle’s lead report of the event summed up the most dramatic aspect of the competition, headlining “A startling upset was the defeat of the giant, Richards, favorite for first place.” The New York Times reporter was equally stunned: “The giant Cornell student from Salt Lake City” who was “favored to capture the all-­around title went down to defeat more because of an unfortunate draw in the hurdles than through his own failure to excel.”77 What happened? Avery and Alma put on a “ding-­dong battle” for much of the contest, alternating one-­t wo in the standings before Richards with a remarkable display of athleticism established a commanding lead after eight events with four firsts (high jump, shot put, pole vault, and 56-­pound weight), a second in the hammer, fourth in the broad jump, and fifth in the 100-­yard dash and 880-­yard walk. It was a sensational performance, unsurpassed in past competitions in terms of his personal results in the individual events. He heaved the sixteen pound “over forty-­t wo feet,” easily surpassing the 35 feet 3 ½ inches that had earlier won the individual event competition.78 Then disaster struck. With victory in his grasp, something unexpectedly went terribly wrong. In the finals of the 110 meter hurdles, where he was sure to win points having finished second in his preliminary heat, Alma knocked down four hurdles, then tripped over another barrier causing him to be thrown off the course. The result was automatic disqualification and no points in the event. Alma subsequently won the next event, the 56-­pound weight, but then “fell below his usual form” in the broad jump. Conceding defeat, he withdrew before the final event, the one mile run. Alma and Roy Bagnard of the Los Angeles Athletic Club were the only two runners who failed to toe the mark in the event.79 It was a crushing defeat. Despite earning no points in two events, Richards still finished fourth with 5,672 points, well behind the 6,469 posted by winner Avery Brundage. The New York Times declared Brundage, who

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won but two events, the hammer throw and the half mile walk, superior to any of his rivals “except Richards.” Later that month, before returning to Ithaca, Alma participated in the New York Athletic Club invitational in New York City. Lingering leg problems prevented him from entering the jumping events, but he took second in the shot and 56-­pound weight. It was a disappointing conclusion to a frustrating year of competition.80 Back at Cornell for his senior year, Alma Richards looked forward to a successful academic and athletic conclusion to his intercollegiate career (technically his second athletic collegiate career given his competing for BYU while in high school). An unusual sense of foreboding from the outside world intruded on Ithaca as city and campus newspapers were increasingly filled with news of the war in Europe and the increased prospect of America’s entry into the conflict. Fall track practice proceeded as usual, but Alma’s time and attention were directed elsewhere. He had been elected in May both to Heb-­Sa, the Ag College honorary society, and Quill and Dagger, the prestigious senior honorary. And in October he was again elected to the student council. There were limits to his popularity, however, perhaps as a reflection of time devoted to athletics. When the senior class voted for president of the organization, Alma finished last in the balloting. However, subsequently the “C” lettermen elected him as their representative on the Major Sports Council, the governing body for intercollegiate athletics at Cornell, and he was promptly appointed chairman of the insignia committee.81 His involvement in campus service activities included serving on both the student council and Quill and Dagger committees charged with collecting funds for the relief of prisoners of war in Europe.82 The annual track banquet in January was the kickoff for Alma’s final collegiate track season. Optimism reigned as more than three hundred supporters paid thirty-­five cents to join the celebratory evening which included motion pictures of Big Red trackmen in action.83 Cornell again was predicted to take indoor and outdoor honors, and two performers, Alma in the high jump and George A. Bronder, javelin, were named to the All-­American team. The New York Times thought Alma would “in all probability be the star” of the indoor intercollegiate championship in March and might even compete in an unprecedented fourth event, the pole vault, should Moakley defer to the wishes of his senior headliner.84 However, growing concerns about American entry into the European conflict soon took a toll on all intercollegiate sports. Whether and where the

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ICAAAA indoor championship meet would be held was eventually decided in favor of Philadelphia on March 3. Cornell won the abbreviated competition schedule with Richards alone vying in three events, tying for first in the high jump and placing second in the shot put and broad jump.85 On March 15 the team traveled by train to Ann Arbor, there handily defeating the University of Michigan two days later as Richards took the high jump and finished second in the shot put.86 He had registered to compete in the national AAU championships in New York City on March 27, but the intercollegiate meet in Ann Arbor precluded his participation. As a result, Alma never competed in an indoor AAU championship. Upon returning to Cornell, Richards found himself involved in two ancillary matters. On March 19 William A. “Billy” Sunday, major league baseball star turned evangelical preacher, arrived from Buffalo in a special train car “to convert Cornell to his ways and beliefs,” opined the Cornell Countryman. He gave three addresses—strident proselytizing sermons, really—on campus, two sessions for men in Bailey Hall, in the school’s largest auditorium, and a separate talk to women in the Sibley Dome auditorium. The Reverend Sunday appeared under the auspices of the Cornell University Christian Association, noted for its aggressive promotion of its brand of religion. There was nothing unusual about Sunday’s appearance except that one of the ushers for his talks was Alma W. Richards, whose faith the evangelist had disdain (if not contempt) for. Whether Alma volunteered because of interest in Sunday’s fervent Christian oratory or fame as a baseball player, or whether it was simply a campus service obligation, is unknown.87 Almost predictably, once again rumors circulated that Alma might be disqualified from competing for violating the rule limiting intercollegiate competition to three years since he had competed for Brigham Young University. The same charges were levied against Vere Wendnagle who had participated in track for a year at the University of Oregon. Alma’s competing for BYU while in high school was well known, as was Wendnagle’s enrollment at Oregon, and both issues had been addressed during their freshman year. After investigating the charges the Cornell Committee on Student Affairs again found no infraction in either case.88 The point was moot anyway given the fate of the outdoor track season. The United States’ declaration of war on Germany on April 6 brought an end to track competition. Cornell subsequently cancelled all intramural

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and intercollegiate outdoor track meets. The announcement from the Major Sports Council, of which Alma was a member, declared termination of track a “duty to the country” because continuing the competition would be “at cross purposes” with the needs of the nation, which has “first call on all its people for service in various fields such as military, agricultural, and manufacturing.” The cancellation was soon applied to other sports, an action replicated by other schools. And after considerable discussion on the matter, the outdoor intercollegiate championships scheduled for May was cancelled for the first time in its forty-­one-­year history “by reason of the state of war now existing” and the growing participation of athletes in military training.89 Alma Richards’s sterling collegiate career was over. During six years of college competition, three for BYU as a high school student and three for Cornell as a varsity collegian, he was consistently the highest scorer on his team, usually winning the high jump and always placing, frequently winning, the broad jump and shot put competitions. At Cornell Alma was a member of four national intercollegiate championship teams, likely more had championships been held in 1917, and had set Cornell records in the high jump, broad jump, and shot put as well as intercollegiate records in both the indoor and outdoor high jump and made national AAU marks in the decathlon and high jump. In so doing he earned the admiration of his coach not only for his athletic accomplishments, but also for courageously battling recurring injuries. The feeling was mutual. Alma retained lifelong feelings of admiration and affection for the two coaches who shaped his athletic career—Eugene Roberts of BYU, who provided initial instruction and inspiration, and Jack Moakley, who refined his techniques and expanded his achievements. Alma happily took part in the tradition of track seniors throwing a “surprise” birthday party for their coach each December 11 at the Moakley residence. Mrs. Moakley always provided ample food and drink while her husband feigned astonishment when the boys showed up with gifts. When Moakley published his autobiography in 1939, he sent a copy to Alma, inscribed to “Dick Richards for Auld Lang Syne.”90 The Cornell superstar, America’s finest all-­around athlete, had but one nemesis, Wesley Oler Jr. of Yale, whom he consistently defeated in the high jump in indoor intercollegiate championships and the Penn Relays but never for the outdoor ICAAAA title. (Alma was injured in 1915; the two

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tied in 1916, Alma winning the “toss off.”) The “two giants” of high jumping were closely matched in ability but contrasted markedly in style. Oler, who leaped 6 feet 5 ½ inches in 1915, was considered “a finished specialist in the art of jumping” while Richards was viewed as “a great athlete who depends on brute strength to clear the bar.” It was generally acknowledged that Alma, the “more versatile” of the two leapers, sometimes “fell off” in outdoor meets because instead of concentrating his energy on a single event, he “tried to be the whole Cornell track for all-­around competition.”91 Despite the rivalry, good sportsmanship ruled the competition, even to the point of jeopardizing victory. During the 1916 indoor championships, Oler apparently had won the competition but asked the judge to give Richards another third attempt after noting a loosened floorboard where the Cornellian had taken off. Alma won the event after clearing the height while Oler then missed three times. (Given Alma’s Olympic victory as well as his subsequent collegiate domination of Oler in indoor meets and their effective draw in outdoor ICAAAA contests, Ted Meredith’s selection in 1922 of the Yale man as the high jumper on his “greatest” track and field team of “all-­time” seems blatantly personal.)92 Alma W. Richards of Parowan, Utah, graduated from prestigious Cornell University in 1917 with a bachelor’s degree in Agriculture and Life Sciences as well as a sterling record of athletic achievement. Although he had always been listed as a “special” student in official university publications, he had subsequently satisfied the entrance requirements and graduated under standard regulations. It was no small achievement given the time and effort he devoted to athletic training and competitions. Alma’s preparation for his intended future in farming extended beyond classroom study; The Cornell Countryman, a monthly publication of the Agricultural College, contained numerous applied, scientific, and business articles on all aspects of agronomy and animal husbandry including “The Value of Animal Manure.”93 Perhaps more important for the future, Alma’s social life and worldview expanded greatly while in Ithaca. Four years at Cornell afforded numerous opportunities to attend lectures and concerts performed by the steady stream of distinguished visitors to campus as well as myriad student social activities. He attended many campus dances, fraternity parties, and ad hoc student merriments. But he likely avoided the excessive partying and drinking typical of college life due partly to concerns about

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athletic conditioning buttressed by religious proscriptions. (Entries in his account book show no indication of a serious female companion.) He frequently took advantage of holiday opportunities to travel around the east coast, especially to New York City and Washington, D.C., to see sites and visit friends. And absent LDS institutional and member activities, the Cornell experience was crucial in helping Alma develop a more secular lifestyle while retaining a faith now more personal than public. Once ridiculed as a “hayseed” and “boob,” Parochial Pat from Parowan, now admired as an Olympic champion and star of the Cornell track team, became a Big Man On Campus, known formally as Alma but informally as “Dick.” Athletic prowess plus a congenial demeanor purchased social preeminence. He became a member of Sigma Phi Epsilon social fraternity and Heb-­Sa (Egyptian for “plowman”), the senior honorary Agricultural Society. That the college monthly magazine never made special note of his athletic achievements points to Alma’s popularity as a reflection of his personality, not his prominence. The erstwhile Utah rustic had found campus-­wide acceptance with Cornell’s social and academic elite. His esteem among fellow students resulted in his election to the student council for the 1915–16 and 1916–17 academic years as well as being the lone undergraduate representative on the Cornell Athletic Association which controlled the intercollegiate sports program, one of the highest honors to be conferred on a student. Alma’s reputation for outstanding character and leadership qualities brought membership on prestigious campus-­w ide service organizations, the Aleph Samach junior honor society for “emerging leaders on campus of distinct character,” whose anti-­drinking policy and efforts to halt the spread of drinking clubs on campus fit Alma’s personal values, and the Quill and Dagger, the “highest non-­ scholastic honor” for students “who have shown leadership, character, and dedication to service,” which ranked with Skull and Bones of Yale as one of the most prominent senior honorary societies in the country.94 There were two pivotal events in Alma Richards’s life that shaped both his identity and worldview: winning the gold medal in Stockholm and enrolling at Cornell. He achieved athletic fame from the Olympics, but in Ithaca he matured intellectually and socially as well as athletically. Alma left Cornell as the finest all-­around athlete in the nation, but more so, he had grown to maturity having acquired the habits and lineaments of an educated man. No doubt the final refrain of The Evening Song that ended the

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annual Ag banquet brought a rush of emotion: “Joy to all we love the best, Love to thee, our fair Cornell.” It is perhaps metaphorically appropriate that it was in Ithaca, home of Homer’s Odysseus (Ulysses), that Alma began his personal odyssey to manhood and athletic achievement. His athletic and academic success at a prestigious university had not altered his basic personality or ambition. By personal inclination and academic preparation, he intended to return to Utah to embark on a life as a farmer in Parowan. World War I would change that.

7

MILITARY INTERLUDE

Alma did not hang around in Ithaca to attend commencement ceremonies on June 27, 1917, but instead returned to Utah in mid-­May. He stopped in Provo, meeting with Coach Roberts and friends as well as speaking at a BYU devotional on May 22. He spoke in “high terms” of the school and had “very complimentary” things to say about BYU’s Clinton Larson, who the month before had set the world record in the high jump. Alma then went to San Juan County where he was involved with one of his brothers, probably William, in a sheep ranching operation before heading to Parowan, where he planned to take up farming.1 Life as a farmer in his hometown never materialized. Alma had received a draft exemption while working on his bachelor’s degree, but now military service loomed after the U.S. declaration of war against Germany in early April assured sending American troops to Europe. Whether from a sense of patriotic duty or the inevitability of conscription following the Selective Service Act passed in May, he registered for the draft on June 5 while in San Juan and volunteered for induction into the army in August.2 If Alma looked forward to military service as an honorable, patriotic commitment, he also regarded it as detrimental to his personal ambitions. He was a track and field man not yet ready to put away his spikes. A stint of indeterminable length in the army would preclude athletic training and competition, thus diminishing his potential track and field accomplishments. He needed a fix before trading track togs for an army uniform. It came on July 4 in the invitational athletic carnival in Provo, the featured event of the daylong Fourth of July celebrations. Meet organizers had “big expectations” after arranging a head-­to-­head competition between 113

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Alma and Clint Larson at BYU’s Athletic Park. Four years earlier Alma had seen Larson, then a high school student, at a Chicago scholastic meet, promptly declaring him “the greatest jumper he ever saw.”3 He was right. Larson, the first to excel with the modified scissors technique in which the jumper’s back lays over the bar, was the current world record holder with a leap of 6 feet 5 3/8 inches (2.02 meters). Fully expecting a new world record to be established in the “greatest” contest in Utah athletic history, event organizers obtained official AAU sanction for the contest. The Provo community was abuzz with anticipation. The normally staid Daily Herald featured full-­length pictures of Richards and Larson on the front page and ran a lengthy article detailing their accomplishments. The titanic confrontation did not materialize as planned. Alma as usual entered multiple events, living up to expectations by setting two new state and intermountain region records by putting the sixteen-­pound shot 44 feet 6 inches and hurling the discus 126 feet 9 inches. In the high jump competition he and Larson matched height for height until the bar reached 6 feet 2 inches. In clearing that height, Alma landed awkwardly outside the sawdust pit. The result was a badly sprained ankle that left him unable to continue. Uncontested, Larson won at 6 feet 4 inches. 4 The Provo meet only increased Alma’s competitive urges. With so many thinclads heading to military service, an invitational dubbed “the farewell track and field meet” was scheduled at Liberty Park in Salt Lake City on August 18. Local tracksters along with enlisted men from Fort Douglas and other local military units would strut their stuff before departing. Alma registered, and he was also “decidedly anxious” to take another crack at the all-­around title at the upcoming national AAU championships in St. Louis. Neither panned out. Other army-­bound Utahns participated in both events, but Alma, after taking care of some “business matters” in Salt Lake City, headed in August to San Francisco to report for induction into the army.5 Sent to the Presidio of San Francisco as a member of the Sixth Company, Officers Training Corps, Alma was commissioned first lieutenant on August 29. His reputation preceded him as he was promptly recognized in San Francisco as one of the “leading athletes” now in military service. After two months of training culminating in a farewell banquet, he was commissioned a second lieutenant on November 23, 1917. Upon receiving a three-­week furlough, Alma promptly headed by train to Utah. The bulk of his time was spent visiting with family and friends in Salt Lake City and Parowan; emotions ran

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high in his hometown as his siblings all gathered to see him off and to pose for a family portrait. Alma wore his winter wool dress uniform ornamented with the lieutenant’s bar pinned on the epaulettes and the light blue piping of the infantry, the others attired in their Sunday best.6 He also stopped by Provo for what proved to be a momentous visit. At a Provo Commercial Club luncheon on December 6, Lieutenant Richards, in full dress uniform, accompanied by Eugene Roberts, announced that he had decided to give his collection of more than sixty awards, one of the largest ever assembled by a single athlete, to Brigham Young University. Cornell had reportedly made “a special effort” to obtain the collection as most items were won wearing the colors of their institution, but Alma seemingly decided to honor the place that had launched his athletic career. The next morning “amid the cheers of his former schoolmates and teachers” who packed College Hall, Alma formally announced that his medals, cups, trophies, and statuettes, worth an estimated two thousand dollars, would be coming to BYU to be maintained “for all time.” His intention was for the awards to “stimulate the ambition of some future athlete” and encourage “a sense of loyalty to the school.” To that end they would be displayed in a cabinet in the library so students could see them “up close.” Two days later the BYU faculty and President George H. Brimhall symbolically bestowed sainthood on Alma for his generosity by presenting him with a signed copy of Samuel Bagster’s narrow edition of The New Testament of Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.7 Alma’s first leave was emotionally significant, something not unusual for a new member of the armed forces. Ahead lay an indeterminate regimented lifestyle, prolonged absence from loved ones, and, at the moment, the distinct possibility of confronting the uncertainties of combat. But what to make of the announcement that his athletic awards would be going to BYU? It was Roberts’s idea for Alma to relinquish control of his sizable collection of awards. Did the coach, and his star pupil, believe that in some way military service would mean the end of his athletic career? Did it reflect a sudden surge of patriotic fervor from the newly minted army officer that included the institution where he had launched his sports career? Whatever the underlying emotional factors, there is no reason to doubt the sincerity of Alma’s motivation. But as his future decision about the awards would illustrate, it was a spur of the moment decision he would later not honor.

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His leave over, Alma returned to California, reporting on December 17 for duty as an officer in Company K, 8th Infantry Division based at newly established Camp Fremont. Both the unit and the installation were new World War I creations. Organized on August 3 just prior to Alma’s induction, the 8th Infantry Division was a mechanized unit known as “Golden Arrow” or “Pathfinder” owing to its insignia, a gold arrow passing vertically through the figure eight. Construction of the base, named in honor of John C. Frémont, began in late July 1917, but less than six months later the enormous 7,200-­acre installation drawn from Menlo Park and Palo Alto hosted 27,000 men in 1,125 buildings.8 Army life involved more than soldiering. While stationed at Camp Fremont, Alma, twenty-­eight, met and married Marion Gardner, a nineteen-­ year-­old Stanford University student from Los Angeles. How, when, and where they met is not known, although a pass for an excursion to the nearby college town of Palo Alto could explain things. Stanford, although eager to lease land to the federal government, became alarmed by the proximity of the camp to the campus so imposed strict evening curfews on female students. But, as a soldier noted, there were few sentries so it was “not hard to slip through the line on a dark night.”9 However they met, it was a brief courtship. Their interfaith marriage—he Mormon, she Protestant—took place on March 30, 1918. One wonders how Alma’s staunchly LDS parents reacted to news of the unexpected marriage, not to mention to a non-­Mormon bride. Morgan simply announced in the Parowan newspaper that Alma “has taken himself a wife.” After the wedding Alma promptly secured leave in early April, taking his wife to Salt Lake City to meet his siblings and parents. He again dropped by BYU where he delivered an impromptu talk to students about “army life.”10 After the couple returned to California, Marion, who had entered Stanford in 1917, continued to live in nearby Palo Alto for a few months until finishing coursework in May.11 Marion’s immediate lineage was markedly different from Alma’s. She was born in Ventura, California, on November 13, 1898, the fifth and final child of Leo Benjamin and Narcissa Gardner. (Her given name was “Narcissus,” but she altered it slightly because of the negative association with the narcissistic character of Greek mythology who fatefully became obsessed with his own image.) Marion’s father, born the son of German immigrants in Ohio, had changed his name from Johannes Conrad Hageman after deserting from the 1st Regiment of Infantry at Fort Grant, Arizona, in May

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1882. (He was released from military service in 1891 pursuant to a general amnesty issued in 1890.) In 1885 Leo and Narcissa Mockabee from Mountain View, California, married in the Evangelical Reform (German Lutheran) church. They eventually moved to Ventura where Leo worked as a butcher to support his wife and four children. Shortly before he died of appendicitis in 1901, Leo, who suffered from a mental breakdown, was declared insane by the courts. Narcissa, known informally as “Essie” or “Nissie,” and her four young children moved to Los Angeles. To support the family she became the first female contractor in Los Angeles, building and selling six houses, one of which served as the family home. Signs in front of houses for sale identified her as N. M. Gardner to avoid possible gender bias. She later operated a dance studio in downtown Los Angeles. Nissie, an inveterate world traveler into her eighties, must have been a formidable personality as she remarried three times in nine years—1902, 1906, and 1911—all soon ending in divorce.12 Military duties and marriage responsibilities did not curtail Alma’s athletic training. Indeed, he liked to show off by jumping over the barbed wire fences the others had to crawl through, a stunt no doubt quickly halted by the camp commandant.13 Once again Alma had to combat injuries, this time a dislocated knee suffered during training exercises on February 20, 1918. In September he obtained permission to participate in the national AAU track and field championships at the Great Lakes Naval Training Station outside Chicago. Alma won the national shot put title but, still hampered by a dislocated knee, placed only third in the discus and the high jump. The latter performance, a leap of 5 feet 5 inches, was surely embarrassing for an Olympic and collegiate champion in the event, but he earned widespread respect for showing grit and determination by competing despite the injury.14 No doubt Alma wanted to compete in the decathlon, won by rival Avery Brundage, but he was in no physical condition to attempt the grueling multi-­event contest. While disappointed in the results, Alma surely savored the experience, as it was his last athletic competition until after the war. Athletics aside, Richards got two breaks that fall. First, he escaped the influenza pandemic that ravaged the crowded military installations across the country from September through November, Camp Fremont being hit hard in early October. Second, promoted to first lieutenant on September 12, he left a month later, on October 28, to join the boys “over there” in Europe. Some five thousand members of the 8th Infantry were sent to

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Siberia in response to the upheavals of the Russian Civil War; they would endure frigid winters until 1920.15 Alma was one of ten thousand troops shipped out each day in October to France and an uncertain future. Ahead lay a continent devastated by four years of warfare that claimed over thirty-­seven million casualties, more than sixteen million fatalities. The predictable anxiety of heading to war was compounded by leaving behind a pregnant wife. For the duration of Alma’s military service Marion lived with her mother, Narcissa, in Los Angeles where their daughter, Joanne, was born on February 21, 1919. This crossing of the Atlantic Ocean was not nearly as exhilarating as Alma’s Finland voyage. We can only wonder what went through his mind as the transport plied its way to France. The Salt Lake Telegram had predicted tongue-­in-­cheek that Alma “will go over the top of any German trench.”16 Leaving that feasibility to army engineers, Alma was unquestionably eager to discharge battlefield duties with his customary vigor and commitment. Fortunately, wartime heroics were specters of things not to come as he escaped the bloodshed, death, and destruction of war by arriving in France on November 18, a week after Germany agreed to an armistice ending hostilities. The European conflict over, Richards’s outfit was sent to Camp Pontanezen at Brest. With a commodious harbor on the western tip of the Breton peninsula, it was the army’s major embarkation and debarkation center in France. Alma’s specific duties are unknown, but the unit was incorporated into Base Section No. 5 of Services of Supply (SOS), the command charged with the major task of supporting the repatriation of the more than one million men of the American Expeditionary Forces (AEF) and shipping their equipment back to the United States.17 If Alma saw no combat action on the battlefield, he soon entered competitive struggles in the athletic arena. To maintain the morale and physical fitness of troops waiting to be sent home as well as to generate goodwill among French civilians, the Army in January 1919 announced three-­tiered sports competitions among the principal combat and administrative units in France in baseball, basketball, boxing, soccer, tennis, track and field, and wrestling. The initial mass competitions in regimental contests would proceed upwards through divisions and culminate in a grand three-­day AEF championship event in Paris. The winners in the AEF championships would then represent the U.S. Army in athletic competitions with soldiers

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from eighteen other countries and dominions in the Inter-­Allied Games, a quasi-­Olympic athletic festival in Paris, June 22 to July 6.18 Richards, whose athletics reputation was widely known, received a letter from the headquarters of General John J. Pershing, AEF commander, asking him to compete in the upcoming AEF championships. Alma eagerly accepted, joining the men from the nine SOS units who would train for the sectional championships as a prelude to the divisional competition in late May at Colombes Stadium located on the outskirts of Paris. It was welcome duty, a break from his usual army duties, and, housed with other officers in the Clignancourt Barracks, an opportunity to explore Parisian night life. Initially it was thought that Richards would be among those training for the pentathlon, but he apparently did not do so.19 Because of an unexpectedly large turnout of competitors, 621 in all, the sectional meet was switched from Colombes to the city of Le Mans. Now age twenty-­nine and out of practice, Alma did poorly in the three-­day SOS championships on May 29, finishing second in the discus, fourth in the shot put, and failing to place in the high jump. But as his training progressed, his timing and technique returned. At an invitational meet in Paris hosted by the University Sporting Club of France, Richards beat all previous French shot put records as well as the discus mark.20 Then at the divisional AEF championships at Colombes Stadium, future site of the 1924 Olympics, Alma entered six events. Remarkably, he qualified in each of them. On May 30 Richards won the standing broad jump with a leap of 10 feet 1 inch, the first time he had ever competed in the event, and in the trials for the shot put and discus qualified for the finals in both events by finishing third and fifth, respectively. The next day he placed first in his specialty, the running high jump, and second in his first ever attempt in the running hop, step, and jump. Then, on June 1, he finished third in the broad jump final. The high scorer in the AEF championships with fourteen points, he likely would have earned tallies in the shot and discus but had to scratch from those finals “due to having too many events in one day.” General John J. “Black Jack” Pershing, AEF commander, on hand for the festival, personally congratulated the winners and pinned medals on their shirts. When Alma came forward to receive his fourth medal, Pershing reportedly asked, “Whose medal are you coming for now, Richards?” When Alma replied, “Mine, Sir,” the commander declared: “Lieutenant Richards, you are the greatest athlete in the Armed Forces.”21 Because

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Alma’s impressive performance was “not equaled by any of the athletes in the A.E.F.” and his “honors are the pride of the 8th Infantry,” Colonel Morris M. Teck asked Wilfred “Harry” Maloney, coach of the AEF track team in Paris, for a picture of Pershing presenting Richards with medals to be placed in the Regimental Record.22 The accolade was apt. Alma Richards was the finest all-­around athlete in the U.S. Army. Interestingly, the sole source for the quote is Alma himself, and the words are strikingly similar to King Gustav’s purported comment in the 1912 Olympics to Jim Thorpe. To Alma, Thorpe was the personification of athletic excellence as illustrated by Alma’s purchasing a personal copy of the Native American’s gold medal–winning decathlon statistics. The striking similarity between the statements raises questions about the authenticity of the Pershing accolade. But since Alma first mentioned the laudatory comment six years before the Thorpe quote initially appeared in print, it may validate both statements.23 Although there is no contemporary corroborating evidence for either quote, it is entirely possible the general would have made some appreciative comment about Lt. Richards’s outstanding performance, Pershing’s legendary no-­nonsense, aloof personality notwithstanding. Alma did not participate in the subsequent Inter-­A llied Games. Having left France on June 19, he was aboard a troop carrier crossing the Atlantic when the championships were held. Thinking of America’s competitive posture, Colonel Teck regretted Richards’s “departure from the Service” prior to the Games. Alma could have requested delayed departure to participate in the competition but was no doubt anxious to return home to see his wife and infant daughter. His military experience, while abbreviated and without combat exposure, was nonetheless commendable for reasons other than athletic achievement. His commanding officer wrote of Richards: “A very good officer. A man of excellent character and habits, can control men, of good military bearing and appearance, good drill master; and one who always had the interest of the Regiment at heart.”24 Richards, like many other soldiers, returned with a souvenir, a XII Bavarian Regiment helmet taken during a battle on November 5, 1918. Ever precise, Alma thought it “very important” to have it authenticated by Private Clarence C. Spencer, Company I of the 61st Infantry, possibly the person from whom he obtained it.25

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As the tour of duty wound down, Alma’s thoughts increasingly turned homeward. Foremost in his mind were his wife and a daughter he had not yet seen. And given his penchant for financial bookkeeping, the student loans he acquired at BYU and, especially, Cornell, loomed large. In March 1919 he wrote a letter to George Brimhall, advising the BYU president of his longing to see his daughter for the first time and enclosing $75 toward payment of the Provo Student Loan Association obligation incurred on February 7, 1912. Brimhall was glad to hear of “the arrival of little Joanne” and thanked him for sending the money. He then added that Alma might be “somewhat surprised” that he was adding $42.50 as interest on the seven-­year-­old note, making the balance due $442.50.26 The reaction of the army officer, Olympic champion, and athlete who brought BYU widespread fame is unknown. Service in the military completed Alma’s journey to adulthood. During a brief but momentous time in the army he had acquired a family and developed leadership qualities as a commissioned officer. And he had a chance to expand his cultural horizons, taking leave to visit Switzerland and spend some time in Paris before heading home. The voyage across the Atlantic provided ample time to contemplate his future. Winning an Olympic gold medal was a rare, life-­changing event. It was as if he had jumped not only over a bar, but also into a world of previously unimaginable possibilities. Until now he had been free to pursue a series of experiences related to personal growth and pleasure—leaving Parowan, finishing high school, obtaining a college education, competing in elite national and international athletics, and serving in the military. The competitive flame still burned brightly, but Alma now needed to provide an comfortable lifestyle and economic security for his family. Discharged from military service on July 7, 1919, at Camp Dix, New Jersey, Alma set out to realize the dual dreams of athletic success and personal fulfillment he would pursue for the rest of his life.

PART III

CHASING DREAMS

8

TO THE TRACK

Upon enlisting in the army Alma had listed his profession as “Agricultural Expert,” but now, married and the father of a daughter born while he was overseas, he contemplated a different career. He headed to Parowan, joined by his wife and five-­month-­old daughter, Joanne, from Los Angeles. No doubt he was delighted that Joanne’s first words were “Da Da.” Alma took the family to Utah to visit relatives in Salt Lake and Parowan. But instead of returning to Los Angeles to seek employment and establish a residence as anticipated, he decided, probably for convenience and immediate financial advantage, to follow in his father’s footsteps as an educator by joining Parowan’s high school faculty of fourteen. A high school curriculum had been established only three years earlier in 1916, and classes met in the new elementary school building completed in 1918 until a separate high school opened in 1929.1 Apropos his Cornell experience, Richards was assigned to teach science and agriculture courses in addition to being placed “in charge of the athletic affairs.” During the school’s Armistice Day celebration in November, he drew on his recent military service to captivate the audience with an impassioned speech about “The World War Seen in Europe,” a topic he had heard more about than experienced.2 In early November he and Morgan were simultaneously laid up several days due to an illness, but both recovered enough to serve later that month as the principal speakers at the funeral for Nina Jones, a freshman whose sudden death from pneumonia shocked the entire school. In December Alma put his athleticism and erstwhile skill as a cager to good effect in a five-­against-­five “championship” basketball game between married and single men of Parowan. Alma’s team 125

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emerged victorious in the “exciting if not artistic” game in which “it was hard to tell whether the players were playing football or tobogganing.”3 Alma enjoyed the interaction with students, but teaching in Parowan was a short-­term, not a career, commitment. He was back with family on familiar turf, but while emotionally tied to his faith and roots, the experiences of Cornell and the war had left him well aware of career opportunities and life beyond southern Utah. Living in a small, almost exclusively Mormon rural town—population 1,641 in 1920—with his parents and two sisters was difficult for his Angeleno wife, infant child, and Alma, too. Narcissa and cousin Margaret came from California to spend Christmas with the Richards family, a festive, welcome diversion. Weather, too, was a factor. To escape “a cold spell,” Marion and Joanne left Parowan in early January for the Mediterranean climes of Los Angeles, returning in late February. 4 The couple’s desire to permanently leave was soon apparent. So was the need to find better paying employment to support the family. In early April 1920 Alma decided to apply for a position with the intelligence section of the U.S. Department of Justice, which would have entailed relocating to Washington, D.C. He was willing to work in either the secret service or educational branch of the department and be located preferably in Utah, likely Salt Lake, or California. He had “talked things over” with Marion, who was “very pleased over the prospect.” To bolster his chances, Alma went to Provo seeking a letter of recommendation from BYU president George Brimhall. Brimhall agreed, subsequently sending a letter of support to Utah’s senior U.S. senator, Reed Smoot, in support of “the man who has brought world wide honor” to BYU. Although Brimhall as president from 1904 to 1921 knew Alma well, his bland, impersonal endorsement said only that Richards was “a man of College Training, patriotic, and true to the core, possessed of good judgment, and is inclined to do more than his prescribed duty.” Smoot, who had heard of Alma but knew nothing personal about him, in turn wrote on his behalf to the U.S. attorney general A. Mitchell Palmer. The application was turned down in May.5 The failure to land a position that would have provided economic security to the Richards family was disappointing, but there was an upside for Alma. A government job in the nation’s capital would surely have compromised, if not ended, his still simmering athletic ambitions. Despite the demands of his first full-­time job as teacher and coach, Alma remained driven by the athletic success that had brought him such

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great public recognition and personal pride. Disappointed by the cancellation of the 1916 Games, he had turned his sights on the 1920 Games scheduled for Antwerp in war-­ravaged Belgium. Alma was well aware that the hurried transition from trenches to track left American athletes just over a year to prepare from the conclusion of the Inter-­Allied championships in June 1919 to the beginning of the Seventh Olympiad on August 14, 1920.6 Time, as well as timing, was a factor. His peak ability from 1912 to 1917 having passed, Alma was now approaching thirty years, well beyond the physical proficiency of all but the rarest of track athletes. What was an Olympic champion past his prime trying to prove? The cancellation of the 1916 Games stuck in his craw, but Alma’s singular determination in the face of pressing family responsibilities went beyond hoping to compensate for missed opportunities. The competitive instinct and desire to achieve, accelerated at a primal level in sport, especially in individual competitions, are positive attributes. But they burned hotter and longer in Alma Richards than in most athletes. While teaching in Parowan, Alma continued working out in hopes of making the American team. Classroom duties prevented him from competing as expected in the national AAU championships in Philadelphia in early September, but he was able to participate in a servicemen-­only meet at the state fairgrounds in Salt Lake City in October 1919. The dominant meet performer, Alma picked up three watches as prizes for winning the high jump, pole vault, and grenade throwing. Jumping “with the agility of a cat,” he defeated Clint Larson, the world champion and recent high jump winner in the Inter-­Allied Games in Paris, with a leap of 6 feet 3 inches. He also bested Larson in pole vaulting and grenade throwing to complete a sweep of his rival.7 Of Alma’s athletic supremacy, there was still no doubt. Flushed with success and further steeled in his resolve to compete in the 1920 Olympics, Alma changed his mind about not joining athletic clubs. In November 1919 five Utah track stars—Alma Richards, Clint Larson, Springville’s Creed Haymond who at Penn had just won the national 100-­and 200-­yard sprint championships, distance runner Ted Johnson, and miler Al Warden—had received letters of invitation to join the Denver Athletic Club.8 The idea to recruit the premier Beehive State athletes, all LDS, probably came from Johnson and Warden, both of whom had formerly competed for the DAC. Alma, whose antipathy toward athletic clubs was well known, along with Haymond and Larson did not respond to the solicitation.

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Things suddenly changed in late February 1920. The lack of a favorable response to the DAC invitation underscored for Warden, an inveterate track enthusiast and sportswriter for the Ogden Standard-­Examiner, the logistical problems that discouraged Utahns from affiliating with out-­of-­state athletic clubs. Determined to promote elite track and field in the state, he assumed a leading role in creating the Ogden Athletic Association, a local organization whose mission would be to provide financial support for Utah thinclads and facilitate their development by sponsoring competitive meets. While teaching in Parowan, Alma learned of the plans to establish an OAA. Determined to participate in Antwerp, he immediately recognized the fortuitous opportunity. He did not know the particulars of the proposed organization, but he knew well that the financial costs involved in trying to qualify for the Games would be a significant drain on the family’s purse. Without hesitation, he wrote a letter to Warden affirming he was “anxious” to represent the OAA in Antwerp.9 On February 23 the Deseret Gym in Salt Lake City hosted the AAU Intermountain Championships, billed as “the greatest indoor track and field meet ever held in the west.” Alma, who won the high jump and shot put, as well as Creed Haymond and Clint Larson were entered as the “All Star College” team; distance runner Bob Martin represented the BPO Elks Lodge No. 55. Scarcely had the cheering stopped before the four Utah track stars agreed to compete in upcoming pre-­Olympic qualifying meets sporting the colors of the new Ogden Athletic Association. Haymond, Larson, and Richards formed as accomplished a trio of track stars as ever emerged together from a single locale. But Alma’s reputation as well as his accomplishments made him the prime attraction. The Standard-­Examiner proclaimed with some exaggeration that ever since 1912 he had been “on the tongue of thousands in America.”10 Why did Alma and the others affiliate with a nascent, unproven athletic club? Simple. Money. Training for the Olympics, not to mention competing in qualifying trials, was expensive, and the club would provide much-­needed financial support. Richards had planned on competing unattached, paying his own expenses despite the impact on family finances. Haymond was trying to use his contacts at Penn to hook up with the Medical Club of Philadelphia. Martin would rely on meager Elks Lodge support. The Ogden Chamber of Commerce, certain “some or all” of the quartet would earn a place on the American Olympic team, appointed a three-­member committee—which

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included the veritable voice of the community, Abe Glasmann, owner and publisher of the Ogden Standard-­Examiner—to raise $1,200 to defray the expenses of the four athletes to train, compete in western Olympic trials, and participate in the national finals in Boston.11 The motivation of the athletes is clear, but why did movers and shakers in Ogden decide to support an athletic club? Simple. Boosterism. Sports enthusiasm had always loomed large in Utah’s second-­largest city, population 32,804 in 1920. Anticipating a visit from Alma shortly after he returned home from the Olympics, the Evening Standard declared, “This city should not be behind other places in making known that we too have one of the world’s athletes of first rank, and that he obtained his sinew and muscle in the health-­giving land of the Mormons.”12 Moreover, the Junction City, so-­ called because of its historic role as a major railroad hub, chafed at playing second fiddle to Salt Lake City. Denver, Los Angeles, and San Francisco had athletic clubs. Salt Lake did not. The Ogden Standard-­Examiner boasted that with the four men “of physical strength and quickness of motion” wearing OAA colors from Pasadena and Boston to Antwerp, “Ogden should loom large on the athletic map of the world between now and the day of the Olympic games and, after that date, Ogden should become the world center of athletic fame.”13 It was heady ambition. Now ensured of financial backing, Alma launched systematic workouts in earnest. The OAA had intended to put their prized thinclads, now proprietarily christened “Ogden athletes” by the press, on display in late April, but persistent rains brought repeated cancellations of meets. To test their mettle, Richards and Haymond accepted an invitation to compete unofficially in a scholastic invitational meet at BYU later that month. Haymond finished first as expected in both sprints while Alma, benefitting from the lighter high school weights, heaved the discus 128 feet and tossed the shot almost 50 feet. Aside from getting a good workout in competitive circumstances, the duo gave the meet “a big league tone.”14 The OAA’s inaugural meet finally took place on Monday, May 10, at Lorin Farr Park. It was an opportunity for the association to exhibit its recruits in competition with athletes from the University of Utah, the Utah Agricultural College, and top high school programs. That morning the four OAA headliners spoke to students at Ogden High School and Weber Normal College (now Weber State University); both schools dismissed afternoon classes so students could attend the track meet. Premeet publicity, and there was

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plenty, pointed to a “battle royal” between Richards and Larson, high jump rivals. But Alma, by far the oldest competitor in the meet, completely dominated the field with a stunning display of versatility and prowess. Entering an astounding five events, he left with three first and two second place awards, the most points, seventeen, and two new state records. He won the broad jump despite quitting the competition after one leap, tied for second in the javelin, tied with Larson in the high jump at 6 feet 2 inches, and broke the state record in winning the discus by nearly four feet and shot put by two and a half feet. Mission accomplished as the Ogden Standard-­ Examiner proclaimed, “Ogden A.A. Easily Wins Track and Field Honors.”15 At the end of the school year in Parowan, the Richards family moved to Salt Lake City, home to five of Alma’s siblings, where at age thirty Alma prepared in earnest to make the U.S. Olympic squad. Although his superlative performances at the OAA invitational came against local university and high school athletes, they did nothing but greatly increase his determination and optimism about making the 1920 Games. He began a systematic regimen of workouts at the LDS Church’s Deseret Gym, but soon left for Los Angeles. His objective was the Western Olympic trials on June 27, 1920, in Pasadena, California, hoping there to qualify for the final team trials in Cambridge, Massachusetts, on July 16.16 To avoid distractions, Alma trained solo at the University of Southern California’s Bovard Field, the all-­ purpose outdoor athletic facility named after then–USC president George F. Bovard. Just prior to the start of the Western trials, Haymond, Larson, and Martin, all of whom had stayed in Utah to participate in a June meet, arrived in Pasadena.17 On the eve of the trials, all four Utahns were “conceded excellent chances to qualify.” His teammates competed in their individual special events, but Richards, proudly wearing the colors of the Ogden Athletic Association, entered an astounding six of the nine scheduled field events— high jump, shot put, discus, 56-­pound weight, broad jump, and hop-­step-­ and-­jump (triple jump). He was now too heavy for the pole vault, disdained the javelin, and preferred the 56-­pound toss to the hammer throw. Utah sportswriters thought that Alma, “in the pink of condition,” looked to be the meet’s big point winner. He appeared “the favorite” in the 56-­pound weight and the hop-­step-­and-­jump, should “place with ease” in the high jump, and “look[ed] good” in the shot put and discus. The Pasadena Star-­ News, noting there “never was such a promising crop of jumpers as grace

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America today,” thought Alma might place “in the high stick” in the trials but that his chances of making the team were in other events. It was true. Alma’s embrace of six events seemed almost a desperate attempt to qualify in something in order to get to Antwerp. The meet was an utter disaster for the OAA quartet. Larson did not compete due to an undisclosed injury. Neither did Haymond due to a strained tendon. At day’s end Alma Richards was the lone Utahn to score points, a total of five, finishing second in the 56-­pound weight and fourth in both the high jump and the hop-­step-­and-­jump. He failed to place in the other three events. The performance was far below his personal expectations and the public’s predictions. However, sports scribes thought the disappointing results were understandable inasmuch as the schedule required “the old timer” to compete in all six events within two hours, an exhausting demand even for younger athletes in their prime.18 If Alma was disappointed with his showing, he was nonetheless delighted with the outcome. Because of an impressive overall performance despite an event schedule that penalized multidiscipline competitors, Western AAU officials named him to the forty-­t wo-­man Pacific Coast squad. So, too, based on past performances, were Haymond and Larson, their injuries having sufficient time to heal before the national trials. OAA backers had hoped for a much stronger outing in Pasadena, but the fact that Ogden would have three contenders in the national finals produced “rejoicing throughout the athletic belt of this city.”19 Alma returned to Utah after a month’s absence, reunited first with his wife and daughter in Salt Lake and then going with them to Parowan for a visit. He did not stay long—only a few days, in fact—before he left on July 5 to prepare for the national team trials. Family responsibilities were obviously a secondary concern against Alma’s Olympic ambitions. When the OAA quartet stopped briefly in Ogden to catch a train headed east, they expressed high hopes for success, the Ogden Standard-­Examiner ensuring that they were “confident and expect to go overseas.”20 Alma faced a much more difficult task than his three compatriots. He had been given a Herculean assignment based more on his reputation than his present ability. Western trials officials entered him in three competitions—the 56-­pound weight, high jump, and hop-­step-­and-­jump—in the final Olympic team trials in Boston. And since he also “showed well” in the discus as well as high and broad jump, he was registered for the decathlon

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trials at Travers Island, New York, a week before the general trials in Boston. Speculation that Richards might also compete in pentathlon trials was surely ill-founded given his weakness in three of the five events—the javelin as well as the 200 meter and 1500 meter runs.21 Qualifying in disparate individual events against specialists in their prime was virtually impossible for one thirty years of age, and it had been almost four years since he had last competed in the decathlon in 1916. Yet Alma, driven by a desire to compete again in the Olympics, eagerly embraced the opportunity. The decathlon trials began on July 9 with nineteen athletes vying for a place on the six-­man Olympic squad. It had been impossible for Alma to hone his skills in ten events in less than two weeks, yet with dogged determination he went to Ithaca to train under the tutelage of his former mentor, Jack Moakley, the current coach of the 1920 American Olympic team. Surprisingly, after the first day’s competition the New York Times called “the tall Westerner” the “stellar performer” for winning the 16-­pound shot in his first-­ever attempt at the heavier shot event and for taking first in the high jump with a leap of 6 feet 2 inches, a dramatic six inches ahead of second place. Third in the broad jump was impressive, but his shortcomings on the track were exposed. Unusually tall and heavy for a sprinter, he finished fifteenth in the 100 meter dash and sixteenth in the 400 meter run. At day’s end Richards ranked fifth among the nineteen decathletes, good enough, barely, to make the team. “Ogden Wins in Olympic Event,” proudly announced the Standard-­Examiner in reporting Alma’s two victories and first-­day point totals. Indeed, it looked like the Antwerp Olympics were in sight. However, in the first event of the second day, the 110 meter hurdles, Alma automatically disqualified himself by deliberately walking around the last barrier. He then won the next event, the discus, before abruptly quitting the competition with three events remaining.22 With no points in four events, his total score put him fifteenth, ninety-­six points above the trio who tied for last place. Alma’s reasons for the deliberate disqualification in the hurdles and subsequent retirement from the field after winning the discus event are not known. Quitting is not an athletic virtue and certainly atypical behavior for Alma. Having led throughout in the 1915 decathlon competition, perhaps he realized he would not qualify for the team because the final three events—the pole vault, javelin, and 1500 meter run—were his least competitive competitions. He had invested so much emotional energy, indeed

Richards family in 1898, Alma age 8, when his father became the first state auditor. Standing L to R: Columbia Tanner, William, Gomer, Mary Isabel Tanner, Joseph, Charles, Alma. Seated L to R: Harriett Dougall, Morgan (father), Margaret (mother), Margaret. Standing front, Catherine Durham. Roselyn Tanner Christensen.

Brigham Young High School Class of 1913. Alma, arms folded, fourth row center, physically dominates his classmates. Edwin Butterworth Collection, L. Tom Perry Special Collections, Harold B. Lee Library, Brigham Young University.

Alma high jumping at BYU with his distinctive style and trademark hat. L. Tom Perry Special Collections, Harold B. Lee Library, Brigham Young University.

Alma broad jumping 22 feet 10 inches at a BYU track meet. Alma Richards Papers, L. Tom Perry Special Collections, Harold B. Lee Library, Brigham Young University.

Alma stands tall in the 1913 BYU basketball team. To his right is Coach E. L. Roberts. L. Tom Perry Special Collections, Harold B. Lee Library, Brigham Young University.

BYU display of Alma’s medals won for the school, 1910– 1912. Alma Richards Papers, L. Tom Perry Special Collections, Harold B. Lee Library, Brigham Young University.

Certificate attesting to Alma’s victory at the Central tryouts that earned him a place on the American Olympic team. Alma Richards Papers, L. Tom Perry Special Collections, Harold B. Lee Library, Brigham Young University.

James E. Sullivan, secretary of the American Olympic Committee (front left), and Gustavus T. Kirby, president of the Amateur Athletic Union, lead the American team, Alma wearing his BYU “Y” shirt, into New York’s American League Park for the predeparture exhibition on July 12, 1912. Heading the parade of athletes are Ralph Rose (left) and Matt McGrath, who would win gold in the two-handed shot put and hammer throw, respectively. Library of Congress.

U.S. Olympic team’s patriotic departure for Sweden. Library of Congress.

The USS Finland leaving New York harbor for Stockholm on July 14, 1912. Library of Congress.

Athletes from twenty-eight nations, the U.S. contingent at the far right, assemble at the Opening Ceremony in Stockholm’s Olympiastadion on July 6, 1912. Note the relatively sparse attendance. Library of Congress.

A determined-looking Alma poses in his official Olympic uniform wearing optional leggings. L. Tom Perry Special Collections, Harold B. Lee Library, Brigham Young University.

above: Alma clearing the bar without a hat but in his characteristic fetal position during the Olympic high jump competition, July 7–8. Few spectators were on hand as track events were the featured attractions. Alma Richards Papers, L. Tom Perry Special Collections, Harold B. Lee Library, Brigham Young University. right: The obverse of the 1912 Olympic gold medal, the one made of pure gold (18.4 grams), evokes the Ancient Greek Olympics with two female figures crowning a victorious nude athlete with an olive wreath (kotinos). International Olympic Committee.

A trio of 1912 American Olympic gold medalists, Alma in his BYU jersey; Jim Thorpe, Decathlon and Pentathlon; and Platt Adams, Standing High Jump, in a celebratory mood during their post-Stockholm exhibition tour in France. Caroline Adams Miller.

Upon returning home to Provo after his Olympic victory, Alma rides in the lead car during a celebratory parade on August 21, 1912. L. Tom Perry Special Collections, Harold B. Lee Library, Brigham Young University.

The 1916 Cornell varsity track team again won the national collegiate championship despite injuries that hampered Alma’s performance. Second row: Coach Jack Moakley at the far left; Alma, fifth, towers over his teammates. Division of Rare and Manuscript Collections, Cornell University Library.

Richards family in 1917 when Alma returned to Parowan on leave from military training in California. Standing L to R: Joseph, Columbia Tanner, Margaret (mother), Margaret Durham, Harriett Dougall, Mary Isabel Tanner, Catherine, William. Seated L to R: Morgan (father), Charles, Alma, Gomer. Roselyn Tanner Christensen.

left: Second Lieutenant Alma W. Richards, Company K, 8th Infantry. L. Tom Perry Special Collections, Harold B. Lee Library, Brigham Young University. below: General John J. Pershing presents Alma with the four medals he won during the American Expeditionary Forces track and field championships on June 7, 1919. L. Tom Perry Special Collections, Harold B. Lee Library, Brigham Young University.

Alma in a weight-throwing pose sporting the Los Angeles Athletic Club jersey that he wore as a 1920s AAU competitor. Alma Richards Papers, L. Tom Perry Special Collections, Harold B. Lee Library, Brigham Young University.

Alma’s lengthy career as an all-around athlete prompted a sports section visual commentary on his career in the Los Angeles Times, January 23, 1923.

Heroic illustration, NIKHTHE [Victor] 1912, commemorating Alma’s gold medal victory by Algot Nordstrom, a Swedish artist, who taught with Alma at Venice High School. Alma Richards Papers, L. Tom Perry Special Collections, Harold B. Lee Library, Brigham Young University.

Olympic competitors and lifelong friends, Alma (left) and Jim Thorpe (center) in Los Angeles. Alma Richards Papers, L. Tom Perry Special Collections, Harold B. Lee Library, Brigham Young University. Alma Richards, age fifty, a high school teacher in Los Angeles. Alma Richards Papers, L. Tom Perry Special Collections, Harold B. Lee Library, Brigham Young University.

above: Alma and Lenore Griffin Richards. Roselyn Tanner Christensen. right: Alma’s government-issued brass grave marker in the Parowan, Utah, cemetery notes his military service but not the Olympic achievement that so shaped his life. The presence of a cross on a Mormon’s headstone is an anomaly. Larry R. Gerlach.

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a sense of self-­esteem, into qualifying for Paris that maybe the prospect of failure was simply intolerable, hence he walked away instead of finishing poorly. But if the realization that the goal of winning an Olympic gold medal in the decathlon, an impassioned objective frustrated by cancellation of the 1916 Games, was beyond reach and proved emotionally devastating, why did Alma bother to begin the second day’s competition? Did he then, after the hurdles fiasco, compete in the discus simply to put an exclamation point on his ability before walking away? Despite the decathlon fiasco, Alma remained optimistic about making the American team in his specialty, the high jump. He returned to Ithaca for more training under Moakley’s supervision, and on July 12 he obtained a passport to participate in “Olympic athletic contests” in Belgium as well as to visit England and France.23 Ever optimistic, the OAA boosters in Ogden thought that in the high jump Alma would make the team “hands down.” But at the U.S. Olympic national trials in Cambridge, Massachusetts, July 16-­17, Alma finished in a six-­way tie for fourth in the high jump. At 6 feet 2 ½ inches, he came within an inch of qualifying for the team.24 As Haymond and Larson also did not make the squad, the OAA’s hope of achieving Olympic track and field notoriety came to naught. It was a valiant effort. Alma was the only athlete in the trials, perhaps the only athlete in Olympic history, to take on three individual events and the decathlon. Besides, only two American 1912 Olympians had even tried to qualify for the 1920 Games. Ted Meredith, two years younger than Alma, who won a gold medal in the 800 meters and the 4x400 meter relay in Stockholm, did compete in Antwerp but failed to win a medal. Alma’s disappointment in just falling short of making the American squad was especially great not only because the coach was his beloved Cornell mentor, Jack Moakley, but also because he knew 1920 was his last reasonable chance to return to the Olympics. Nonetheless, Alma remained enthusiastic about the Games. After returning to Salt Lake City he took up the pen, writing a series of ten lengthy Olympic preview articles for the Deseret News from July 31 to August 13, two weeks prior to the start of the Antwerp Games. The detail and depth he provided about abilities and prospects of American entrants in each track and field event revealed extensive, intimate knowledge of the U.S. program and its personnel.25 And in December, as if to signal the end of his Olympic quest, Alma arranged to exhibit the gold medal from Stockholm along with other

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medals, ribbons, and trophies won in national competitions in windows of the Deseret National Bank on the corner of Main Street and First South. Over the years he had temporarily deposited his awards in various parts of the country but now wanted to collect them as a unit; the initial display featured seventy-­five items, with more to be added as they arrived.26 The display was not a prelude to sending the awards to BYU as promised in 1917. Alma would retain possession of the icons for the foreseeable future. The Olympic quest over, it was time for Alma to think about providing for his family, who had been badly neglected during his quixotic Olympic quest. Agriculture and ranching were out, as the couple preferred the varied experiences of urban living to the familiarities of rural small-­town life. They were both drawn to California, so they set their sites on the Golden State. There were two potentially high profile, socially esteemed, and financially lucrative options: medicine and the law. The Richards family moved first to Palo Alto, where Alma took advantage of army financing to study at Stanford University during the 1921 spring and summer terms. As funding was intended for trainees in the Rehabilitation Division of the U.S. Veterans Bureau, Alma was apparently still contemplating some kind of employment in government service. He listed chemistry as his major but instead of concentrating only on science enrolled in an eclectic assortment of courses—nineteenth century French philosophy, physical education, elementary logic, elementary geology, modern social problems, childhood education, and education theory. He had studied a good deal of science at Cornell, but the selection of courses at Stanford shows a substantial broadening of intellectual interests in the humanities. Despite Alma’s lack of focus and receiving B grades in every course except an A in physical education, Elmer L. Shirrell, division chief of the U.S. Veterans Bureau, thought “the confidence which the government bestowed on you is well accounted for.”27 Unlike Ted Meredith, who retired his track togs after the 1920 Olympics, Alma could not ignore the siren call of the track despite taking on college studies pursuant to a new career. He, along with Haymond and Larson, again wore OAA colors during the 1921 track season. Classwork took time from training, so he was far too out of shape to compete in the national AAU championships in Pasadena on July 4. But on July 9 the lone competitor from the 1912 Olympics left Stanford, heading across San Francisco Bay to Berkeley to compete in the Pacific Athletic Association Invitational

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meet on the University of California oval. It was a prestigious meet with entries from fifteen of the most outstanding club and university programs in the country, most of whom had waited around for five days after the AAU championships. Among those participating were the Boston, Chicago, Illinois, and New York athletic clubs as well as Harvard, Yale, and the University of Pennsylvania. Despite having devoted scant time to training, Alma entered four events. The return to the competitive arena was exhilarating, but the results were not. It was one of the rare instances in which he did not win an event, finishing second in the discus, third in the 56-­pound weight, and fourth in the shot put.28 He did not place in his former specialty, the high jump. Alma may have had a bad jumping day or perhaps decided not to compete in an event that required more refined technique than the strength events. Whatever the case, more noteworthy than Alma’s disappointing showing was that the San Francisco newspapers, six years earlier proclaiming him the “Best Athlete in the United States” after winning the national decathlon title, now did not mention him in either premeet publicity or postmeet write-­ups even though he placed in more events than any other competitor. Sports reporters no longer regarded him as a top-­f light performer, his reputation diminished by advancing age coupled with several years’ absence from major competitions. Whether or not Alma noticed the omission, he would soon rectify the perception. In late summer 1921 the Richards family moved again, this time to Los Angeles. The City of Angels offered the friendship of his Olympic pal, Fred Kelley, now a student at USC, as well as family support from Marion’s mother, Narcissa, and brothers, Glenn and Clinton. Besides, his wife’s hometown was a burgeoning metropolis. Fueled by a boom in the motion picture and oil industries, the city more than doubled in population in the 1920s, reaching 1.2 million in 1929, affording a place of rapidly expanding professional and economic opportunities. The vibrant cosmopolitan city, offering diverse entertainment and recreational opportunities along with a salubrious climate and commodious suburban sprawl, presented an ideal environment in which to raise a family.29 Alma had decided to study law. Whether he had actually intended to study medicine at Stanford as rumored, an ambition perhaps precluded by a 2.0 grade point average, the more powerful career pull was to follow his brother Joseph and friend Lyman Gallagher in becoming a lawyer. Since

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it was too late to be admitted for the 1921 school year, Richards decided to refocus his athletic training. He had won the high jump and discus in the Pacific Coast championships in Sacramento in September, but it was obvious that at age thirty-­one his leg strength and agility had diminished. Still strong of arm and shoulder, he decided to concentrate on “heavy athletic” events. By January 1922 he was hailed “the latest sensation among discus throwers.” Bent upon winning the event in the 1924 Olympics, he reached 150 feet in training, a distance that would have won the event at all previous Games and earned a silver medal in 1924.30 The Ogden Athletic Association was history, but the support of an athletic club was still needed. Alma joined the venerable Los Angeles Athletic Club, which in addition to hosting social functions for local business elites sponsored competitive athletic teams and events.31 He quickly proved his worth, in April constituting “a whole track team in himself” in leading the LAAC to second place in the Southern Pacific AAU championships. Matched against much younger athletes from USC, UCLA, and other area colleges, Alma earned eighteen points by finishing first in the high jump, discus, and 56-­pound weights, third in the shot put, and fourth in the hammer throw. And in July he won the high jump and discus throw while finishing second in the 56 pounder in the Santa Barbara Relays.32 Dubbed by the New York Times “one of the classiest athletes that ever donned the spikes and the abbreviated togs,” Alma was confident he could earn points in his second Olympic comeback at the national AAU championships at Weequahic Park in Newark, New Jersey, September 8–10, although others thought his chances “appear[ed] to be mighty slim” given his age.33 The Newark Star-­Eagle announced he would compete in the high jump as well as all three strength events—the shot, discus, and 56-­pound weight. Forty of the two hundred athletes had competed two years before in the 1920 Antwerp Olympics; Alma alone had appeared a decade ago in the 1912 Games. His recent performances in the various events would indeed have been good enough to place in Newark, but there is no record of him competing in the meet. Perhaps he did not place during the trials. Or more likely, he was unable to participate having just started law school. It was small solace, but he did compete in the annual Pacific Coast championships in Sacramento later that month. However, a lack of preparation doubtlessly led to finishing second in the high jump and third in the 56-­ pound weight.34

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In fall 1922 Alma enrolled in the University of Southern California law school located at First and Broadway in downtown Los Angeles. Established officially in 1904, it was the oldest school of law in the southwestern United States, quickly rising to national prominence for its interdisciplinary approach to legal study. To finance his law school studies, Alma parlayed his coursework in education at Stanford into a position on the faculty of Abraham Lincoln High School in the Lincoln Heights section of East Los Angeles teaching science, notably physiology. Whatever field of law may have been his primary interest is unknown, but Alma received the juris doctor degree in May 1924. After graduation he passed the exam for admission to the California Bar Association and joined Delta Theta Phi, the professional law fraternity. But he never practiced as an attorney. Litigations, contracts, counseling, and the nature and process of the law itself had given way to a new calling.35 Earning a law degree marked not only the end of extensive demands and distractions imposed by legal studies and teaching on Alma and the family, but also the beginning of a path to financial prosperity and familial stability. Why did Alma decide to alter his career path to a less well-­paid and prestigious profession as a public school teacher? He simply may have enjoyed the sense of accomplishment and commanding instructional presence of the classroom. The choice of education as a career consciously or subconsciously called to mind the pedagogic example of his father and the fortuitous encounter with Thomas Trueblood that changed his life. He now would follow their example by providing inspiration, encouragement, and support to youngsters at a pivotal time in their lives. A perspective on life’s work oriented to doing good instead of well was underscored by a family tragedy. Three months after Alma left law school, a second child, a daughter named Marion after her mother, was born on August 22, 1924. Two weeks later, the child died on September 5. The indescribable sadness from the infant’s death undoubtedly recalled for Marion her older sister, Lita Bell, age twenty-­one, committing suicide by ingesting chloroform in 1913, a year after the birth of Lita Bell’s first child, a daughter, and perhaps her parents’ loss of their firstborn, a boy at childbirth in 1887.36 Whether due to the painful loss of a child in infancy, there would be no more children for the Richards family. Alma decided to remain at Lincoln, class preparations and involvement with students helping to assuage the death of his newborn. In addition to

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teaching science, his military service record led to appointment in 1924 as commandant of the school’s Reserve Officers’ Training Corps (ROTC) program founded in 1919. Alma’s primary duties included instructing the school’s largest all-­male organization in close order drill, the manual of arms, first aid and sanitation, and military courtesy. That he took great pride in the assignment was evident in a lengthy article written for the school newspaper about the opportunities and responsibilities of ROTC membership. The results of his leadership were impressive as the school’s award-­ winning units were chosen to participate in a number of local ceremonial events. Alma also taught the military science class, wherein future officer prospects learned military history and leadership skills pursuant to postgraduation enlistment in the army.37 After two years of directing the ROTC program at Lincoln, Alma transferred in 1926 to Venice High School in west Los Angeles. Supervising ROTC was an important assignment, but it fell short of his educational ambitions and academic interests. At Venice he reached the entire student body, teaching science, especially physiology, and math for thirty-­two years before retiring in 1953. The claim that Richards also served as school superintendent is unfounded.38 When an earthquake damaged the building beyond repair in 1933, Alma and the other teachers held classes for two years in makeshift tents. The school’s new art deco building, completed in 1935, became a cultural icon featured in several movies, including Grease.39 Alma’s classroom instruction turned to science, primarily physiology and biology, but his intellectual interests were more far ranging. He was not a great thinker, far from an intellectual, but he had an inquisitive mind and a thirst for knowledge. Richards likely did not have a substantial personal library as he systematically copied in longhand excerpts from histories, especially commentaries on peace and the avoidance of war, as well as scientific treatises on water and minerals. The progressive thinking of eighteenth-­century French Enlightenment philosophers, with their emphasis on order and precise procedures, fascinated him, notably quotations from Jean-­Jacques Rousseau and François-­Marie Arouet (aka Voltaire). And he was fond of poetry. While meticulously transcribing Alfred Lord Tennyson’s “Crossing the Bar” (1889), which metaphorically uses a sandbar as the marker between life and death, Alma no doubt attached another meaning to the final line, “When I have crossed the bar.” That in addition to academic and philosophical writings he copied jokes, however lame, points to a lively sense of humor.40

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Although Alma’s initial professional objective was coaching, he did not become involved in interscholastic athletics because he thought science and math were “a lot more important than sports.” He did, however, occasionally work informally with young athletes “as a hobby.” He took great satisfaction in “molding young men and women in the sports ideals.” This was a major commitment as a former student recalled him being “out on the field watching and helping kids almost daily.”41 In contrast to his belief as a teacher about the relative importance of sport, for Alma personally athletics remained exceedingly important, indeed an obsession. It is not to diminish his commitment to educating impressionable adolescents to note that teaching school, much more than practicing law, gave him ample time to pursue his first love—track and field. The 1920 Olympic trials should have been a clear indication that his Olympic career was over, but Alma could not extinguish the competitive flame ignited in Stockholm. The gold medal had not only brought athletic fame, but the entire experience had generated newfound confidence and self-­awareness for the erstwhile southern Utah cowboy. Henceforth his prevailing persona was that of an Olympian. Forty-­t wo years later he still thought of the Games as “a battle” with competition “keen and severe” where losers retained “a strong ambition to go again and win.”42 Elite athletes typically forego athletics once they are unable to participate at the highest competitive levels. Not Alma, who continued to demonstrate not only his remarkable versatility but also his extraordinary athleticism. Track and field controlled Alma more than he was drawn to it. The motto of Alma’s 8th Infantry army unit—“These Are My Credentials”—had become his athletic credo. Past his prime, he was nonetheless determined to continue competing at high levels. “Youth must be served,” says the old adage, and one by one his contemporary track stalwarts became has-­beens, their popularity fading as they no longer performed in the public spotlight. Not Alma Richards. He was driven to test the limits of what desire can do to prolong the career of a middle-­aged athlete. He certainly appreciated, enjoyed actually, the recognition and adulation derived from years of successful competition, but continuing to perform was less a matter of self-­importance than self-­satisfaction. It was a passion, yes, but a yearning as well. He understood that the key to continued success in track was to switch emphasis, away from jumping high to tossing far. Weights would be his calling from now on.

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The demands of law school greatly reduced Alma’s ability to participate in organized track meets. But he took time to participate in a few AAU sanctioned meets in the area. He competed again in the high jump in February 1923 in a relay carnival at Occidental College in Los Angeles, and in April he demonstrated his remarkable versatility and the success of his emphasis on “heavy athletics” at the Southern Pacific championships in Redlands. He finished first in the 56-­pound weight, second in the discus, and third in his former specialty, the high jump. What was most unusual was his performance in a trio of shot put competitions—eight, twelve, and sixteen pounds. Alma amazingly won all three events despite the different tossing techniques for each weight and the repeated stress on his right arm and shoulder. 43 After graduating from law school, track and field continued to be a driving force in his life. Family obligations aside, Alma’s time and energy were extensively consumed by mental preparation, physical training, travel to and from meets, and event competition. By spring 1924 his Olympic chances were virtually nonexistent at the athletically advanced age of thirty-­four. His golden years of elite competition were well behind him. Nonetheless, Alma boldly announced his intention to try out for the 1924 U.S. Olympic team, hoping to return to Colombe Stadium in Paris, where he had dominated the AEF championships in 1919. Charley Paddock, the 1920 Olympic gold medal sprinter who had competed with Alma in several 1923 meets, thought it a possibility, listing Alma among the twenty-­five athletes in southern California who might make the American team. It was a thoughtful gesture by a friend who appreciated that in reality there were fewer reasons for Alma’s optimism for the 1924 Games than there had been for 1920. 44 The old floppy hat was long gone, but now “easily recognized by the huge sombrero he always wears while in competition,” he had become a legendary figure for younger athletes who “marveled at this remarkable athlete’s record.” The Los Angeles Examiner termed the performance of “the true ‘iron man’ of track and field for more than 12 years something almost without precedent.” In May Richards participated in the Western Olympic tryouts at the Los Angeles Coliseum but failed to place in the top three in any event. 45 Finally realizing his international competitive days were over, Alma now focused on regional and national athletic challenges. As decreased flexibility and increased bulk accompanying advancing age made competitive jumping impossible, Richards concentrated on weight

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events. In February 1926 he joined the LAAC’s famous “team of forgotten men” coached by Boyd Comstock, whom he first encountered at the Evanston trials. Acknowledged as the oldest track athlete in the country still engaged in top-­f light competition, Alma, elected team captain, promptly made his presence felt. In the last event of a meet against Stanford University’s varsity, he “bagged an unexpected second place in the discus,” thereby earning three points to win the meet. 46 Despite his age, Richards was still noted for exceptional physical strength, so much so that legendary University of Southern California track coach Dean Cromwell often cited him as an example for his athletes, saying facetiously that Richards “learned that hard work made for greatness when as a youth he lifted his Dad’s 56 lb. anvil in the blacksmith’s shop at Parowan.”47 From 1925 to 1932 Alma, now weighing 215 pounds, placed primarily in the 56-­pound weight toss competition, an AAU championship staple contested only twice in the Olympics, first in 1904 and for the last time in 1920 when it was replaced by the hammer throw, which stresses technique versus strength. 48 Alma set 56-­pound weight records in Southern California AAU championships every year from 1922 to 1928 (except for 1924 when he did not compete, undoubtedly due to the emotional impact of his infant daughter’s death) then upped the record in 1930 and set a new mark in 1932. 49 In the 1929 Southern California Olympic trials the “grand old man of track” hurled the 56 pounder 35 feet ½ inch. It was the best he had ever done, giving him false hopes of winning the national title as it also surpassed the previous year’s championship throw of 34 feet 10 inches. Five times, from 1925 to 1927 and 1929 to 1930, Richards competed in the national AAU championships in the event, finishing third thrice and second twice “for height.” (There were separate weight contests for distance and height over a bar.)50 Just as he had refused altering his unorthodox jumping style, Richards stubbornly resisted coaching advice even as his weights performances declined. After winning the Southern California AAU 56-­pound weight title in May 1926, he struggled at the national AAU championships in Philadelphia until finally heeding USC coach Boyd Comstock’s suggestions, which resulted in winning third place. He was also favored to place in the discus but failed to do so.51 If Alma personally resisted coaching advice, he was quick to provide technical suggestions to aspiring contestants in the event. Leo Sexton, for one, was deeply appreciative for Alma’s “tips” that “most certainly aided” him in becoming the national AAU 56-­pound titlist in 1932.52

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In 1927 Alma returned to the scene of his athletic debut. He arranged with the Salt Lake Tribune for west coast athletes returning from the national AAU track and field championships in Lincoln, Nebraska, to stop over in Salt Lake for an exhibition meet with local athletes, mostly collegians, at the University of Utah’s Cummings Field. The athletes were delighted with the respite from travel and enjoyed the welcoming hospitality, which included a tour of the city and banquet at the Hotel Utah. On the other hand, the five thousand spectators at the meet were undoubtedly disappointed that Alma, who had finished second in the 56-­pound event for height in the national finals, did not put on a “weight exhibition” as had been advertised.53 During those eight years of regional and national championship competition, Richards finished first nine times, second twice, and third three times. As he told Thomas Trueblood that year, “Still competing in athletics and keep in very good condition. Do not smoke or drink and am trying to live a useful life in this good old world.”54 On July 19, reverently called “Grandpa Alma” by athletes half his age, he finished fourth in the 56-­pound event in a Palo Alto meet. The end was near. Fittingly, at his last championship competition, the August 1932 Southern Pacific AAU championships in Taft, California, Alma won the 56-­pound weight title with a personal best, record-­setting toss of 36 feet 9 inches.55 Well into middle age at forty-­t wo, old enough to be the father of many of his competitors, Alma Richards finally deferred to Father Time, put away his spikes, and retreated to the athletic sidelines. Why did he retire? As the 56-­pound championship proved, he could still compete with the best of them. He left the track knowing he was widely admired, even revered in some quarters, and he had proved his mettle time and again by besting upstarts. Did he decide to walk away with the title with an exclamation point to his ability? Did the motivation come from outside the track, perhaps recognition of the responsibilities of a second marriage that would occur in two months? What were his thoughts about the life-­changing decision to leave the track? It had been a remarkable athletic career in terms of achievement, versatility, and, especially, longevity. In twenty-­t wo years of competition, Richards amassed some 245 medals, trophies, and ribbons testifying to his place as the finest multi-­event track and field athlete of his generation. In fifty-­five championship competitions—excluding club, college, and invitational meets in which he dominated the field—Alma astonishingly finished

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first 64 times, second 30 times, third 17 times, and fourth twice. In total, he earned over two thousand points, believed to be the most ever accumulated by a track and field athlete.56 (Were if not for forfeiture due to the clerical technicality in 1915, he would have had two more first and two more second place finishes.) True, some of Alma’s championships came in regional or local competitions, but in those cases he defeated much younger athletes, mostly collegians, in the prime of their careers. If his public recognition faded with the end of competition, he remained a national icon among track aficionados as with the New Jersey high school sophomore who in 1939, after reading about Alma’s career, requested an autograph for his collection of Olympic champions. Alma promptly complied with a personal reply, stating the request was “a signal honor.”57 He was a track man. Track and field, especially in the Olympics, remained his lifelong sport enthusiasm. There is no indication that he participated in golf or tennis or any other of the usual adult sporting activities. Alma was interested in competition, not recreation.

9

ON THE HOME FRONT

Athletic achievement was only part of the dream Alma pursued after Stockholm; the corollary was personal fulfillment. Unfortunately, his private life was not so unremittingly successful as his athletics career as he suffered a series of domestic setbacks. His 1918 marriage to Marion Gardner ended in divorce in 1928. The cause of the separation is unknown. Marriages fail for layered reasons, but one cannot help but speculate as to whether Alma’s obsessive preoccupation with training, trips to the gym, and the frequent travel to meets, upwards of a month at times, might have been an issue. Time spent away from home surely took a toll on his wife and young daughter, but we can only imagine how they dealt with or even thought about his Homeric quest that led to the disruption of family life. Perhaps Marion and Alma, one or both, simply grew apart, or perhaps there were fundamental marital disagreements. If the Richards family was not a model, few are. We do know the estrangement ended the marriage several years before he finally put away his spikes and togs. (Coincidentally or not, Alma retired his track gear two months before he remarried in 1932.) Whatever the reasons for the divorce, it apparently was amicable as Alma reported after two years of separation that he and Marion remained “the best of friends and have each others respect and interest,” a relationship surely enhanced by mutual love for their daughter, Joanne.1 Their postdivorce relationship eventually became distant, but Alma maintained a close association with his daughter, often challenging the long-­legged youngster to footraces. But he also conceded that the divorce “brought some stress and strain.”

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That certainly was true for Marion and Joanne. Financial realities caused them to move in with her mother, Narcissa, and sister, Margaret, at 156 South Johnston Street, Los Angeles. Hard economic times during the Depression prompted Narcissa to open the home as a boarding house for an international contingent of five male laborers. Marion went back to school, earning credentials as a probation officer for Los Angeles County, in the process reestablishing her maiden name. After Joanne left for college, Marion moved to Yuma, Arizona. There she met John Dwight Neale, a land and water developer in Paradise Valley, Arizona, in the 1920s who later became a prominent San Francisco financier. They married in September 1945 and moved in 1951 to Scottsdale, residing on a sixty-­acre ranch at 7501 East Neale Drive on the outskirts of town. Neale, a devout Methodist, who regularly taught Sunday school at the First United Methodist Church in Mesa, was also a Mason. In addition to continuing to work as a probation officer, Marion, a rather large woman at 6 foot 1 inch and well over 200 pounds, was influenced by Neale’s Masonry to become an active member of the Scottsdale Masonic Ladies Club, on occasion hosting meetings of Eastern Star and Masonic Ladies at their home. She, like her mother, was an inveterate traveler, taking in 1953 a six-­month Holland-­America line trip around the world. Her husband died in January 1965, and she eventually resided at the Beatitudes Campus in Glendale, a retirement and assisted living center operated by the Church of the Beatitudes. She passed away on April 8, 1988. A memorial service was held under the auspices of the Moore-­Grimshaw mortuary at the Everett Luther Life Center on the Beatitudes Campus. The newspaper obituary for Marion G. Neale contained no mention of a previous marriage to Alma Richards.2 Joanne, too, eventually moved from Los Angeles, but she remained a Californian at heart. She attended the University of Southern California, where she joined Beta Sigma Omicron sorority and was crowned Miss USC, leaving school a nongraduating senior in 1941. After working as a hostess and fashion model on the Catalina Island ferry, she went to Chicago, looking for work, taking up residence at the Chicago Girls Club. There she met Arthur Carl Youngberg, marrying in 1953 in Wilmette, Illinois. The couple initially resided in New York state, purchased the Clinton Courier, then five years later relocated to California, first to Paso Robles as owners of another newspaper, the Paso Robles Press, then to Napa, having acquired the radio

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station KVON. The return to California enabled Alma to make several trips to see Joanne and her family. “Mama J,” mother of four, was renown for her oil paintings, bridge playing, and participation in community activities. On May 30, 2014, Alma’s eldest daughter died at age ninety-­four. While the extent of the father-­daughter relationship is not known, Joanne’s obituary identified her father as “Alma Richards, U.S. Olympic Gold Medal winner at the 1912 Stockholm Games.”3 Alma, too, apparently suffered emotionally as well as economically after the breakup. In July 1929 in a letter to his cousin in Parowan he went far beyond support for refurbishing the Old Stone Church as he wrote passionately about the noble pioneers of his hometown and receiving the religious instructions that formed his moral compass. Employment as a teacher cushioned the economic shock waves of the 1929 stock market crash as he avoided unemployment during the ensuing Great Depression. But financial problems prompted “Alman”—who was identified as “female” in the 1930 Federal Census—to take a room at the Los Angeles Athletic Club at Seventh and Olive in downtown Los Angeles for several years before being able in early 1932 to rent an apartment in a five-­unit building at 2709 Edgehill Drive.4 Alma’s financial difficulties surely stemmed in part from the divorce settlement, at the least child support payments, but also from a long-­ overdue debt of $500 from the Church School Loan Association incurred while attending Cornell. While paying off the remaining school loan with $250 in fall 1930 and another $100 in spring 1931, Richards assumed another obligation in the form of a personal loan of $300 from the LDS Church Education Fund on April 1, 1930. By regularly making $25 monthly payments, he repaid the debt in May 1931. In acknowledging payment, Joseph F. Merrill, manager of the church fund, remarked that Alma’s financial obligation had been “outlawed” and that renewing and paying it exhibited “personal honor of the highest type.”5 In 1930 Alma wrote to Thomas Trueblood, the first contact since Richards had briefly visited him when in Ann Arbor for the Michigan meet in 1917. Why? Did psychological distress prompt Alma to reconnect with an emotional touchstone? In any case, Alma’s lengthy letter relating the course of his life since their last meeting, the professional and athletic successes, as well as the divorce, constituted hoped-­for validation and approval. Trueblood’s response was gratifying. He was pleased that Alma had “lived a strenuous and useful life” and that his “national, yes international reputation as

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an athlete” had permitted him to “see something of the world, a thing which you deeply desired when I first met you.” The “only unpleasant note” was “the fact that you and Mrs. Richards have to live apart.” Trueblood’s concern for Alma was genuine, and he subsequently took advantage of trips to Los Angeles to see him and his second wife.6 Whatever the specific nature of the “stress and strain,” the personal impact was indelible as those exact words were included in a tribute poem read by a fellow teacher at Alma’s retirement luncheon twenty-­t wo years later.7 While dealing with his financial situation, Alma tried to center himself emotionally during the summer of 1930 by leaving the toil and tribulations of Los Angeles. He drove north up the coast on an ambitious automobile trip of nearly two months that included stops at almost “all the scenic attractions” in the western United States and Canada. Traveling alone on a trip that covered some six thousand miles was taxing at times, but “except for the lonesomeness” he found the excursion “wonderful.” En route back to California, Alma stopped off in Parowan, where after visiting with family and friends, he met up with sisters Harriett and Catherine, visiting from Salt Lake, for a tour of Zion and Bryce Canyon national parks.8 The summers of 1931 and 1932 again found Alma visiting Salt Lake City and Parowan, trips to familiar haunts that undoubtedly further improved his spirits. During the 1932 trip to his hometown, he and a boyhood chum, Eugene Ray Lyman, were “very interesting” speakers at the East Ward’s Sunday evening sacrament meeting in June. The nature of Alma’s remarks and the reason for participating in the service are unknown, although it would not have been surprising for him to have talked about keeping true to the Word of Wisdom.9 Parowan, unlike Los Angeles, provided a comfortable religious haven, but this is the only known instance of him speaking in church during numerous visits to his hometown, which were always noted in the local newspapers. His church appearance is the more remarkable as within four months he again married outside the Mormon faith. The failed marriage to Marion Gardner did not dissuade him from seeking domestic companionship. On October 18, 1932, Alma married Anita Gertrude Huntimer from Colton, South Dakota. Thirteen years his junior, Gertrude, as she was commonly called, and a twin brother, Lester, were born September 26, 1902, the third and fourth of nine children born to George Valentine Hundermer and Rose Ann Darrah of Potosi, Wisconsin. (According to unverified family legend, Rose Ann was Native American,

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tribe undisclosed, adopted as a child by an Anglo family after her parents died of smallpox.) Soon after marrying in 1884, the newlyweds joined eight of George’s brothers in moving to southeastern Dakota Territory, there to homestead in Buffalo Township, northwest Minnehaha County, near Colton and some thirty miles north of Sioux Falls, the county seat. The family’s German surname, Hundermer, was eventually spelled Huntemer by some and then widely anglicized as Huntimer. In 1909 the local hamlet was christened “Huntimer” in recognition of the family’s influence, the staunch German Catholics being the principal founders and benefactors of St. Joseph’s Catholic Church.10 While her siblings remained in South Dakota, Gertrude moved to Los Angeles, where she met Alma. That she was a Catholic made for an interesting match given the LDS Church’s negative attitude toward the Roman Catholic Church at the time. The reaction of their respective families to the unusual matrimonial mix is unknown, but if Alma’s previous marriage outside the faith gave pause, wedding a practicing Roman Catholic surely raised eyebrows.11 Huntimer family eyebrows were also raised if they knew that an LDS high priest had performed the marriage ceremony witnessed by a local physician.12 Given Alma’s religious status, a priest could not have conducted a Catholic wedding ceremony with or without Mass. The circumstances of the wedding were matters of convenience. Still, choosing to be married by a church representative instead of a government official showed they vested wedlock with religious significance. The newlyweds bought a home at 2803 Bedford in Los Angeles, where they raised three children who arrived in quick succession: Mary Margaret in 1933, Anita Ann in 1934, and Paul Morgan in 1937. The rapid arrival of three children seemed to signal a solid relationship. In 1936 the family undertook the long, arduous drive through Parowan to see Gertrude’s relatives in South Dakota. The trip was especially meaningful as her parents had not before seen their two granddaughters, Mary and Anita, three and two years old, respectively.13 Alma’s earning power as a teacher was modest but enough to provide a comfortable middle-­class living for the rapidly growing family. His annual salary in 1939 was $2,940 ($49,122 in 2014 dollars), plus he had income from unspecified “other sources.” (He probably had a financial stake with his siblings in the Morgan Richards Investment Company, which owned real estate in and around Parowan.)14 Despite their religious differences, there

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was obviously deep affection, attachment, and devotion in the marriage— at least for a time until the fire eventually turned to ice. Like Alma’s previous marriage, this relationship also ended in divorce after a decade in 1942. That was an especially difficult time for Gertrude as her father also died that same year. The reasons for domestic failure are not known, but this time Alma’s athletic pursuits could not have been a factor. Mary Margaret, the eldest child, believes he abandoned the family without specifying his reasons, a conviction that has remained firm over the years. Whatever the circumstances, the separation must have been the more difficult financially and, especially, emotionally for all concerned, especially Gertrude, left to care for three children under the age of ten years. And the separation left Alma at a parental distance from his family. In 1945 Gertrude, nicknamed “Bamber,” and the children were residing in Madison, South Dakota, close to several brothers and sisters including her twin, Lester, farming in the family tradition. Whether they had relocated there or were on vacation, the family eventually returned to California. Later in life Gertrude suffered from ill health for some time, requiring attention from daughter Anita; Gertrude died in Whittier, California, on March 16, 1992.15 Doggedly determined to pursue domestic bliss, Alma married a third time to Lenore Catherine Griffin. She, too, was his junior, this time by twenty-­one years, but unlike his previous wives was LDS. Born in Fort Madison, Iowa, in 1911, Lenore later moved with her mother and four siblings to rural Lake Andes, South Dakota. She eventually took employment as a bookkeeper in Omaha, Nebraska, then returned to South Dakota as secretary to the state superintendent of schools. Single, she visited her older sister in Los Angeles in 1940, decided the climate was appealing, and moved there in 1941, accepting the position of assistant personnel director for the National Life Insurance Company of Montpelier, Vermont. She and Alma both liked dancing and met at a formal ballroom dance class in early 1948. They married on her birthday, June 25, in Palo Alto, then resided in Los Angeles at 1190 Crenshaw, Apartment 2, before moving in 1954 to 2303 Bedford Street, five blocks from Alma’s previous home.16 While his previous two marriages each had lasted ten years, the third matrimonial venture lasted until his death fifteen years later. Alma’s domestic life now appeared settled, peaceful and content. Lenore, a practicing member of the LDS Church, was deeply devoted to his

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past and present. She painstakingly compiled genealogical information about his two previous wives and their children and took great interest in publicizing his Olympic career. Yet the reality of two divorces surely must have occupied a major part of Alma’s private life. Divorce is by definition a stressful event filled with conflict, unhappiness, and alienation, producing future emotional strain for everyone whatever the circumstances and intentions. If the causes of Alma’s divorces are unknown, so, too, the consequences uncertain. What were his subsequent interactions with his ex-­w ives, four children, and seventeen grandchildren?17 What was the extent of his parenting and involvement in his children’s education? How did he react when daughter Anita Ann, age eighteen, married Fortunato Philip Ricciardi, age nineteen? (Only Ricciardi’s parents signed the marriage license.) Mary Margaret also married at nineteen to Robert Schraeger, age twenty-­one.18 If Alma had indeed left Gertrude and the children as they believe, he was likely not a significant influence in their lives, his image limited to that of an Olympic champion. That Lenore took it upon herself in 1952 to seek genealogical and personal information from the children of his previous marriages suggests distance on Alma’s part. The family of daughter Joanne had little or no contact with the children of the second marriage; Alma’s obituary in the Long Beach newspaper mentioned Marion but not Gertrude. Joanne was among the Richards family members who attended his memorial service in Los Angeles; it is not known if Gertrude or her family attended. Indeed, two divorces and three marriages at a time when divorce was far less frequent than today perhaps indicates that Alma initially had a problem with religious-­based interpersonal relationships, although statistically Mormon interfaith marriages are more likely than other mixed relationships to fail.19 Tortured family estrangements result from immediate alienations but have long-­term personal consequences. No letters to or from his previous two family members are in the Alma Richards Papers. However, Lenore corresponded regularly with Joanne but apparently not with Gertrude or any of her children. Catherine and Columbia also wrote occasionally to Joanne and Lenore, but there is no evidence of correspondence with members of the second marriage. Personal correspondence may have been culled after his death, but the epistolary absence leaves a major void in our understanding of forty-­five profoundly personal years of Alma’s life.

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Richards’s spiritual world was also unsettled. Raised in a devout LDS family, his father a prominent patriarch in Parowan church affairs, Alma remained true to the faith of his fathers throughout his life. But his religiosity in time became more a matter of personal conviction than institutionalized practice. While two of his brothers served LDS church missions—Gomer to “Eastern states” and Joseph to Switzerland—Alma, like Charles and William, did not serve a proselytizing Mormon mission.20 There was nothing unusual about varying missionary service among siblings, but it is an indicator of commitment. Gomer and Joseph both eventually took on important leadership positions in the church. Gomer, a high priest, for many years was president of his LDS quorum of the Seventy; Joseph was a seminary teacher, bishop, member of the Salt Lake Stake Council, and representative on the Church Anti-­Liquor and Tobacco Committee.21 On February 8, 1898, at the prescribed age of eight, Alma became an official member of the LDS Church through the rite of baptism by immersion. It is not known if he subsequently received the customary spiritual guidance from a patriarchal blessing, which in his case logically would have occurred following the epiphanic meeting with Trueblood. And he only received his endowment by proxy in the Salt Lake Temple six years after his death.22 His failure to undergo the sacred spiritual blessing in an LDS temple during his life, essentially an adult initiation ritual, did not necessarily mean diminished commitment to the LDS Church’s covenant-­ based teachings. Nor was it unusual. Normally endowments were received in conjunction with missionary service or a temple marriage; that Alma did not serve a mission and his first two marriages were to nonmembers, not to mention that fewer Mormons felt compelled to receive endowments prior to the 1950s, explains the lack of endowment. Because of this, Alma never wore a sacred garment like most practicing Latter-­day Saints, and thus his Mormonism was not noticeably evident to acquaintances or athletic competitors.23 Not that it mattered. Friends, associates, and fellow athletes knew Alma was LDS, but his religious orientation was not a matter for comment. At BYU he was portrayed as a quasi-­missionary for the LDS Church, an exemplary representative of the faith through sport. But not later. In covering his athletic achievements, the press never mentioned his religion. Until Jackie Robinson broke baseball’s color line in 1947, the sporting press persistently

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and overtly commented on the ethnicity and religiosity of non-­Anglo Christians, but they rarely, if ever, mentioned the religious affiliation of the few prominent Mormons in “secondary” sports like Creed Haymond, Clint Larson, or even automobile land speed racer “Ab” Jenkins. (That would come later with the prominence in mainstream sports of LDS athletes like Dale Murphy, Danny Ainge, Johnny Miller, and Steve Young.)24 While Alma pointedly, even proudly, professed adhering to the dietary proscriptions of the Word of Wisdom, there is no indication that he was a churchgoing, testimony-­bearing, tithe-­paying active member. He is listed as living in the Wilshire Ward, Hollywood Stake, in 1932, but that is an indication of residence, not necessarily evidence of church attendance. In contrast to his father’s ecclesiastical office holdings and involvement in church meetings, the available Los Angeles area stake and ward records do not show that Alma held any administrative positions, participated in sacrament or priesthood meetings, or served in any other capacity in church affairs.25 Nonetheless, as evidenced by receiving a monetary loan from the LDS Church in 1930, he was considered a member in good standing, lax participation notwithstanding. Whatever the meaning of being inscribed on membership rolls, Alma’s reputation as a track star redounded to the benefit of the church in terms of recognition and image for members. Whatever the extent of his attendance at weekly sacrament meetings, the lack of active participation in ward functions would have meant a social disconnect. Mormon wards are close-­k nit communities within otherwise diverse neighborhoods providing the friendship and fellowship of likeminded people able to be personally supportive and spiritually sustaining. Without the usual church hierarchy to provide counsel, Alma had to rely on his own discretion and judgment. He also had to establish a wide-­ ranging circle of acquaintances who did not share his spiritual orientation. This was neither surprising nor difficult. Richards was essentially a secular Mormon during most of his adult life in a largely non-­Mormon environment, something he became accustomed to through travels and experiences beyond Parowan. As a result, he found it not only possible, but also perhaps preferable to retain his faith without the support of regular sacrament services, home teachers, or bishoprics. If his faith never faltered, church attendance undoubtedly ceased, at least for a time, given family circumstances. Twice he married outside the faith. His first wife Marion was a Protestant, raised in the Evangelical and Reformed Lutheran Church.26

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His second wife Gertrude was Roman Catholic, who exposed him to a religious world of clerical vestments, elaborate liturgy and ritual, and iconic adornments such as stained glass windows, bells and incense, altars and rosaries, Latin spoken and chanted, and, especially, the Mormon-­abhorred crucifix of the wounded, agonized Christ—all in stark contrast with the simplicity, plainness, and informality of LDS services. Here he confronted religious belief and practices that his church so opposed. Although raised in a strict patriarchal religion, Alma respected Gertrude’s faith, as their three children were raised and later married in St. Augustine’s Catholic church.27 If marriage for twenty years to two non-­Mormons did not bring about religious backsliding in the interest of domestic harmony and family spiritual solidarity, it influenced his theological perceptions and ecumenical sensibilities. So, too, no doubt, did his experiences at Cornell and in the military. Whether Alma sometimes attended Protestant or Catholic services with either or both of his first two families, the essential point is that his Mormonism became more oriented to mainstream Christianity than that of his orthodox LDS brethren. That his third wife Lenore was LDS certainly created a comfortable religious common ground as they shared spiritual sensibilities. Their marriage was not sealed (solemnized) in a temple as Alma’s two divorces, problematic church attendance, and failure to receive his endowment would have precluded obtaining the requisite temple recommend from a bishop. Nothing is known about Lenore’s religious posture, whether she was raised LDS or converted before or after meeting Alma. It appears that, like Alma, she may have been a committed but not active Mormon. Even after moving to Orange, with its burgeoning LDS population, residing within the boundaries of the Orange Ward and Santa Ana Stake, there is no evidence of them attending church functions or in any way being referenced as active members. The Richardses are not listed on priesthood or Relief Society rolls, nor do church records identify them as “absentees” who were assigned visits. There is no mention of Alma’s passing in stake, ward, or priesthood records, and his death, however impactful emotionally, did not cause Lenore to join her sisters in the Relief Society.28 Yet absence on official church records is not necessarily an indication of nonattendance, only of activity, and the conduct of Alma’s memorial service by his ward and stake members underscored that the Richardses regarded themselves as faithful LDS and were so regarded by other members.

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If Alma had not lost his testimony, he had likely expanded upon it. It is neither unusual nor surprising for people to alter their spiritual beliefs, wholly or partly. Alma did not abandon his essential Mormonism but modified it according to changing influences and circumstances. His spiritual sensibilities were most specifically revealed in 1957 when he filled out a registration form and statement of ceremonial preferences for “Commemoration” in Lot 3949, Section 15-­12, at Forest Lawn Memorial Park in Glendale, the resting place of many Hollywood stars. For “Church Denomination” he wrote “Latter Day Saint (Mormon).” For organ selections he chose “In the Garden,” the 1912 hymn by C. Austin Miles that became the theme song for the Reverend Billy Sunday’s evangelistic crusades; “Just a Song at Twilight,” a popular folk love song; “Rock of Ages,” a traditional Protestant hymn; and “Going Home,” a Christian hymn set to the third movement of Antonin Dvorak’s Symphony No. 9. Of those, only “Rock of Ages” (#111) is included in the official LDS hymnal. Most revealing in terms of self-­identity and legacy was his response to “Favorite Passage from the Bible or Other Literature”—“Miss Ward’s poem on my retirement as a teacher.”29 Alma’s exposure to traditional Christian precepts probably began at Cornell, where he made numerous non-­LDS friends, represented the school at the Christian-­oriented Eagles Mere conference of college students, and ushered at Reverend Sunday’s lectures. The diversity confronted in military service, twenty years of two non-­LDS marriages, and living in the spiritually blended society of Los Angeles further influenced his religious thinking. Perhaps symbolic of the duality of his spirituality, members of the LDS Church officiated at two memorial services commemorating his death, but the one in Los Angeles was held in a funeral home and featured traditional Christian musical selections, while the ceremony before burial in Parowan was in a Mormon wardhouse with mainstream Mormon hymns.30 The precise nature of Alma’s religious views is unknown, but was he something of an ecumenical Mormon? The question in no sense diminishes Alma’s religious identity or beliefs but simply suggests that perhaps his faith was not rigidly tied to prescribed precepts or practices. In this he was hardly unique as it is common for individuals to maintain a sense of religio-­cultural belonging while moving beyond orthodoxy. Since his wife Lenore was in charge of arranging for LDS-­administered memorial services in Los Angeles and Parowan, she must have appreciated the compelling reason for including traditional Christian, non-­LDS hymnal

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music in the services. Indeed, she may have contributed to it. In sending Christmas greetings to family and friends after Alma’s death, she on one occasion included a prayer, “a favorite of mine.”31 It was “Lord Make Me an Instrument,” a Catholic Christian prayer popularly, if erroneously, attributed to St. Francis of Assisi. The first of two stanzas speaks to both her sorrow at Alma’s passing and her longing for spiritual peace. “Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace; where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; and where there is sadness, joy.” As an LDS athlete, Alma’s adherence to the Word of Wisdom is easily understood, but his reaction to encountering a controversial vestige of early Mormonism—polygamy—was likely ambivalent. Plural marriage was largely covert following Joseph Smith’s stated revelation in 1831 but became prevalent after 1852 in territorial Utah, including Parowan. Alma’s maternal grandfather, William Adams, married a second wife in 1864.32 The Richards side of the family remained monogamous until, paradoxically, several years after President Wilford Woodruff issued the 1890 Manifesto disavowing future plural marriages. But since the Church had repudiated the practice but not the theological principle, its persistence necessitated a Second Manifesto in 1904 that strictly forbade new polygamous marriages and threatened transgressors with excommunication. That greatly deterred but did not wholly prevent the practice.33 That included two of Alma’s sisters, Mary Isabelle (“Belle”) and Columbia Eden, who married the same man, Salt Lake City lawyer Henry Smith Tanner. When the family returned to Parowan in 1900 after the four-­year sojourn in the state capital, the sisters stayed on to explore career opportunities. Belle, then twenty-­t wo, probably met Tanner while assisting Morgan as an assistant clerk in the auditor’s office; although Tanner already had two wives, she married him in 1901. Columbia, only fourteen at the time, studied nursing. Undoubtedly influenced by her older sister, Columbia became a plural wife in 1909, listed in the 1910 Federal Census as a “single

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woman,” profession “nurse,” in the Tanner household that included his first wife, Laura, and eight children.34 Whatever the Richards family’s initial reaction to Belle and Columbia’s violation of their church’s momentous 1890 directive—issued by Alma Wilford Richards’s namesake, the man who married their parents—the sisters’ polygamous marriages did not compromise close family relationships. In the end, the precise nature of Alma’s religious beliefs is a mystery. It seems clear that he was not worldly at the expense of his faith, that he was fundamentally Mormon. He always identified himself with the faith in which he was raised and baptized. That he was married by an LDS high priest signifies recognition of his faith. It is also obvious that his commitment to Mormonism was not incompatible with life in a religiously heterodox world or personal embellishments on the church’s theological preferences. Since the line between faithful practitioners and faithful believers is neither hard nor fast, the nature or degree of one’s religiosity cannot be measured by anyone other than the person in question. Perhaps it is enough to say that he respected church law and maintained the covenant. David Lunt’s conclusion seems apt that Richards was “not the most devout Mormon.”35 It would, of course, be apropos to suggest that in a deeply personal sense his spiritual center was the track, its jumping pits and tossing rings. Whatever the extent and nature of his religiosity, Alma earnestly embraced his Mormon heritage. Although living in southern California from 1921 until his death in 1963, he remained a Parowan boy at heart, an attachment made explicit during his funeral service. Over the years he maintained regular personal and informational contact with his hometown. Shortly after moving to California, he and Marion drove with their two-­year-­old daughter to Parowan to celebrate with his siblings their parents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary. It would be the last time the entire Richards family was together. A year later he returned, serving as a pallbearer for his mother, who died on September 23, 1921, at age sixty-­seven. An accidental blow to the forehead in 1920 had produced a malignant sarcoma that several medical specialists in Salt Lake City were unable to treat. Seven years later Alma would perform the same service for his father, who died on February 20, 1928.36 Alma remained drawn to Utah throughout his life. The primary attraction was family and friends, but Parowan also evoked memories of growing up as well as a sense of place, of belonging. He frequently came home

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during summer vacations while at Cornell and made a point to visit family during two army furloughs before shipping out to Europe. After relocating to Los Angeles, he drove at least eight times between 1927 to 1941 the three-­ day trip on two-­lane highways from southern California through desolate, sparsely populated country, accompanied, when married, by his wife and children to see relatives, the Adams cousins, and friends in Parowan and Salt Lake, now home to his father, two brothers, and five sisters.37 When the maternal side of the family held an Adams reunion, Alma, Gertrude, and their two infant daughters were the only Richards representatives in attendance.38 Alma’s Utah connections were extensive. He frequently dropped by Provo to catch up with BYU acquaintances, never failed when possible to stop by Beaver to meet with friends from his Murdock Academy days, and even drove to St. George for visits.39 The visits were not always all conversation and reminiscence. Tours of southern Utah’s many “scenic wonders” were also in order. 40 And he kept abreast of community affairs by subscribing to the Parowan Times, which he “greatly appreciated and enjoyed,” occasionally passing along family news to the editor. 41 Perhaps most indicative of his attachment to heritage, Alma honored his father and grandfather by giving his only son the middle name Morgan, an unmistakable sign of ancestral respect and familial identification, a strong tradition in the Richards family. 42 Alma remained a contributing member of the community. The efforts of the Daughters of the Utah Pioneers to preserve the pioneer-­era Old Rock Church dating from 1867 deeply touched his sense of place and identity. He initially offered $100 to help restore the meetinghouse but eventually contributed $25 due to personal fiscal problems in 1930. 43 Alma passionately spoke of his devotion to faith and heritage in a letter written to his cousin, Jane W. Adams, sentiments that appeared on the front page of the Parowan Times under the headline “RICHARDS WOULD DONATE TO RESTORE OLD BUILDING”:44 It would be a most serious mistake to destroy such a wonderful memorial. It remains as the only structure of importance to the Parowan people. . . . It stands for noble deeds and hard work of as fine band of pioneers as the world has ever known. It is where many of us were taught that it was wrong to steal, lie, smoke and drink

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and these teachings have been followed by many who otherwise would not have been so true. That building is valueless [priceless] to all thinking people who have been instructed within its stone walls. It would be rank sacrilege to raze that dear old building. It should be restored, beautified and kept in sacred memory of the fame and deeds of our pioneer dead. Don’t let the thoughtless people tear down that ancient place of worship. Alma’s concerns were community wide. When he read in the Parowan Times that the adult Aaronic priesthood group was raising money to purchase a wooden prosthesis for Simon A. Matheson, an elderly patriarch of the Parowan Stake who had lost a leg in an accident, he promptly sent a donation and asked to be remembered to his good friends in Parowan.”45 In turn Richards was a revered native son. Certainly his athletic achievements, a source of great pride to Parowan and Iron County, indeed all of southern Utah, gave him revered status as a hometown hero. During a campaign to raise funds for “a proper type of gymnasium” for the high school, a Parowan Times article cited Alma as the prime example of the importance of athletics to the community, although a sponsor confused his 1915 decathlon championship with his 1912 Olympic victory. 46 Alma’s refusal in 1912 to accept endorsement money from a tobacco company was repeatedly presented as an example to community youth. More than two decades later, the Parowan Times recalled his faithful adherence to the Word of Wisdom, concluding, “Our admiration for him has always been greater as a result.”47 When two former Parowan families living in California sent the Times a Los Angeles newspaper article about Alma giving blood during World War II, it was reprinted on the front page with the headline “Richards Contributes to Blood Bank.” The editor hoped that the example of “a guy who’ll never see 50 again” eagerly contributing blood would be an “object lesson for some of our young bucks.”48 In 1953, the year Alma retired from teaching, he donated a gold trophy for presentation to a Parowan high school junior, John V. Benson, a four-­sport letterman who had just been named Class B All-­State in basketball. As Alma had no personal association with the young man or his family, it was a nostalgic gesture of athletic recognition occasioned by his retirement for the school as well as the athlete. 49 The frequency of his trips to Utah and efforts to maintain contact with his hometown through newspaper subscriptions point to the importance of

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family to Alma as well as to his siblings, who told him they “enjoyed your visits so much.”50 But with only a few scattered letters, it is impossible to ascertain the precise nature of the relationships between and among his brothers and sisters, but it seems apparent from the existing correspondence that they kept regularly in touch sharing newsy, family information and sent greeting cards to mark special occasions. Alma’s financial support for Belle and Columbia as they dealt with the trials of raising a family in a polygamous marriage testify to his loyalty and devotion. His younger sister Catherine, the only member of the family to eschew matrimony, was the lone sibling known to have visited him in California. In early 1924 she spent “a couple of months” with Alma and his family in Los Angeles. Six years later, during one of Alma’s visits to Parowan, Catherine and Hattie, who did not remarry after her husband died in 1906 after only a decade of marriage, drove from Salt Lake to accompany him on a much-­needed emotionally uplifting postdivorce excursion to southern Utah parks.51 Raised in a large family surrounded by relatives in Parowan, Alma later in life found himself bereft of the intimate associations of kinship, as he was isolated as the only member of the Richards clan to reside outside of the Intermountain West. Nothing is known of his relationship with Marion’s family after the divorce, although it was probably not close. Gertrude had no family in California other than their children and grandchildren. Alma’s papers at BYU contain not a single photograph or letter to or from one of his wives or children; the presence only of athletic records and clippings plus a few items about his personal activities speaks volumes about his private life. There were no Adams cousins in the Los Angeles area. Living in Salt Lake City were Hattie and Maggie, housewives; Gomer, a businessman and mine executive; and Joseph, an attorney. Charles, a traveling salesman for the National Biscuit Company (Nabisco) resided first in Logan, then the capital city; Catherine also lived in Salt Lake for many years before joining her brother, William, a farmer, in Idaho. When Henry Smith Tanner died in 1935, leaving his five wives and numerous children to their own resources, Belle and Columbia lived together in Salt Lake for a few years before relocating respectively to Layton and nearby Ogden, Utah.52 The scattering of family precluded frequent personal contact. It also compromised deeply felt emotional end-­of-­life experiences. With the passage of time, Alma, the second-­youngest Richards, endured from afar the deaths of six siblings including all of his brothers—Harriett in 1931, Margaret

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in 1934, Gomer in 1940, Charles and William in 1944, and Joseph in 1948— without the solace of attending their funerals given the short time, usually three days, between death and interment. After Joseph died only three sisters remained; they would ultimately survive Alma—Mary Isabelle until 1968, Columbia until 1980, and Catherine until 1986. In contrast to his highly visible athletics career, Alma maintained a reserved, private profile. He did not participate in church activities. He did not seek public service despite his popularity and community standing. Apparently not a “joiner,” he may have had some peripheral involvement with the Benevolent and Protective Order of Elks, a popular men’s fraternal and service organization with a strong patriotic orientation. He was a sociable man, enjoying the company of a wide circle of friends that included Hollywood celebrities, notably Douglas Fairbanks, the swashbuckling star of 1920s silent adventure films.53 His closest friendships were with those who shared his sporting interests, especially track. Politically, Alma was much like his father, fervently patriotic and a conservative Republican. Morgan had set the example by successfully seeking electoral office and then remaining active in local and county GOP leadership circles including serving as the party’s county treasurer. And while the son served in the army during World War I, the father gave patriotic speeches at public gatherings; was a member of the Iron County Chapter of the Red Cross; served on appointment by Utah’s first non-­Mormon Democratic governor, Simon Bamberger, on Iron County’s Council of Defense; and upon the end of hostilities was a member of the Soldiers’ Welcome Home Committee and subscriber to the Parowan Victory Liberty Loan program to assist returning veterans.54 Unlike his active father, Alma’s politics, like his religious views, were more personally held than publicly displayed. He was ever the soldier as evidenced by directing the ROTC program at Lincoln. A copy of the Bill of Rights was a prized possession. He also wrote a passionately patriotic essay entitled “History and Meaning of the Flag.” An edited draft, suggesting he intended it for at least limited distribution, touches upon the history of the American flag since June 14, 1777, the meaning of the colors, rules for proper display and storage, as well as its symbolic significance. The flag, he wrote, “is the spirit of the American nation” as it “embodies the essence of patriotism” and signifies “for all mankind the spirit of Liberty and that glorious ideal of human freedom.”55 During World War II Alma earned

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membership in the “Gallon Club” by donating pints of blood for the armed forces a remarkable eight times from 1942 to 1945.56 Alma was not a political activist, never seeking elected office or a party leadership position. He was, however, a member of the local Eisenhower-­Nixon Sports Committee that worked for and endorsed the GOP ticket during the 1952 presidential election with “appreciation for the part you played in the campaign.”57 Oh, to have been the proverbial fly on the wall when Alma Richards met Parley Parker Christensen at a Cornell alumni gathering in late 1942. Christensen, a native Utahn and ardent Republican who knew Morgan Richards well, eventually embraced Progressive-­Socialist politics and campaigned as the liberal Farmer-­Labor Party candidate for president of the United States in 1920. He moved to Los Angeles in 1932, thereafter serving for many years as a city councilman dedicated to the needs of the poor and minority rights. It was a hail-­fellow-­well-­met encounter, and while the liberal Unitarian Democratic politician was enthusiastically impressed with the conservative Mormon Republican Olympian, Alma’s take was that they had nothing in common save for physical stature and time spent in Ithaca. A friendship failed to develop.58

PART IV

TAKING STOCK

10

ALMA REMEMBERING

The Olympics always remained a significant part of Alma Richards’s life. Indeed, to a remarkable extent it defined his self-­image and constituted primary social currency with friends, acquaintances, and the communities in which he lived. It is hard to envision Alma absent his Olympic experiences; no doubt he would concur. Living in the epicenter of the American movie industry, it was perhaps inevitable that Alma would find his way onto the silver screen. Because of his reputation as an Olympian and notoriety as a current track competitor, he was invited to “star” in a virtually unknown 1924 United Studios “epic” movie about the Games with Charley Paddock, Fred Kelly, and Coach Boyd Comstock. More substantively, Richards appeared in a promotional film for the 1932 Olympics. Filmed in the summer of 1931 at the Los Angeles Coliseum, site of the Games, the MGM “Sports Champions” short directed by Ray McCarey, technical advisor Boyd Comstock, showed four athletes preparing for the Olympics—broad jumper Hap Walker, pole vaulters Lee Barnes and George Jefferson, and weight thrower “Almer” Richards. The film was released in March 1932 to an undetermined, but likely meager, reception.1 The 1932 Los Angeles Games surely brought a rush of memories. Alma, like other local Olympians, was not involved in any of the organizational preparations for the Games. But three weeks before the Opening Ceremonies on July 30, he and Eugene Roberts, then coaching and teaching at USC, appeared as greeters at the “Olympic Tea and Fashion Show” held to raise funds to “entertain” Utah visitors during the Games. No doubt the famous athletic duo was more interested in socializing with the upwards of three hundred women who attended than they were in watching the endless 165

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parade of historic and contemporary dresses and bridal outfits.2 One of the Utah visitors was Alma’s nephew, Julian R. Durham of Ogden, with whom he attended numerous Olympic events. Given his interest in the decathlon, Alma was likely on hand to witness American James “Jarring Jim” Bausch break Thorpe’s 1912 record mark by a mere 49 points. (Unlike Alma’s rejection of tobacco commercials, Bausch, who after the Games played pro football, subsequently appeared as an Olympic decathlete in Camel cigarette ads.)3 Alma’s generosity and esteem within the track community was evident in that he opened his home—apartment, really—to two U.S. Olympians who did not want to stay in the first-­ever Olympic Village: Leo Sexton, who set an Olympic record in the shot put, and George Spitz, current world record holder in the high jump, who finished a disappointing tie for ninth due to an ankle injury. 4 Alma especially enjoyed keeping in touch with past and present Olympians living in southern California. He shared memories of Stockholm with seven 1912 Olympians residing in the area, in particular Fred Kelly in Los Angeles and Jim Thorpe, who moved to California in 1930, taking up residence in nearby Lomita. Alma was especially close to Thorpe, now a chronic alcoholic living in near-­poverty in a trailer. The friendship that began in New York City prior to departing for Stockholm was nurtured during the Olympics and the post-­Games excursion to France. After all, the two old decathletes shared a quasi-­ancestral spiritual connection: Nauvoo, the city of the Mormon Saints, was built upon the site of Quashquema, a major Sauk–Fox village. And they both enjoyed dancing, Thorpe having been the 1912 national collegiate dance champion. Alma and three other 1912 teammates—hurdler Fred Kelly, pentathlete Jim Donahue, and wrestler George Retzer Jr.—were among the sports notables and movie stars invited to the gala preview of the Warner Brothers film “Jim Thorpe—All American,” starring blue-­eyed Burt Lancaster at the Hollywood Theatre on August 29, 1951. That night Alma was interviewed on television, relating stories about Thorpe and their friendship. After Thorpe died on March 28, 1953, Richards and Donahue attended the rosary service at Mallow Mortuary on April 6, the night before Thorpe’s body was sent to Oklahoma for burial.5 Richards was constantly awash in Olympic memories. He took part in numerous civic and fraternal organizations—from the Elks Lodge and Commandery No. 9, Knights Templar, to the Rotary Club of El Monte and the Los Angeles Co-­Operative Club—as either a guest speaker or member of a

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celebratory gathering of local Olympians. He took special pleasure reliving the story of his gold medal leap at a banquet hosted by the Swedish Club of Los Angeles in 1951 for local American athletes who participated in the 1912 Games.6 These and other appearances were occasions for receiving accolades for his Olympic victory and regaling audiences with tales of athletic adventures. Predictably, Alma was an active member of the Southern California Olympic Association, which met regularly at Helms Hall. In recognition of his contributions, he was elected vice president of the oldest organization of Olympic athletes in the country, organized in 1919. Alma’s prominence in the local chapter led to his election in 1953 as one of three vice presidents of the United States Olympians, a national organization composed of former Olympic athletes.7 The Southern California contingent, the largest of the Olympic Association chapters, had a major voice in national affairs. A pair of Alma’s pals from San Marino—Emil Breitkreutz, 800 meter bronze medalist in 1904, and Alan F. Williams, 1924 gold medal winner in rugby— served as president and vice president respectively of the national organization, the Olympians.8 Alma also kept abreast of contemporary Olympics with keen interest. Another Olympic buddy, Markie (Marquard) Schwarz, 1904 Olympic swimmer living in Santa Monica, sent Alma a copy of Track and Field News containing complete track and field coverage of the 1952 Olympics, suggesting Alma might “get a kick out of reading this.”9 Did he ever. Alma scrupulously cut out and saved newspaper articles listing medalists in successive Olympic Games. It was not just the athletic competition that caught his attention, but the nature of the Games and their potential contribution to international cooperation. Richards was particularly interested in Helsinki 1952, the first appearance of the Soviet Union in an Olympiad. In contrast to general press laments about political tensions arising from cojoining of international sport and the Cold War, Alma viewed approvingly the friendship evidenced by the Russian athletes.10 If numerous high jump championships, highlighted by an Olympic gold medal, represented the pinnacle of his achievement, Alma was a decathlete at heart. It was the all-­round that commanded his greatest respect, not only because of his remarkable success in five different field events, but also from an intimate appreciation of the unique demands of each event as

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well as the mental and physical endurance required by such diverse competitions. Among the greatest disappointments in an illustrious career was Alma’s inability to repeat as national decathlon champion in 1915 and to compete in the event in a 1916 Olympics. Jim Thorpe, arguably the greatest decathlete of all time, remained very much in Alma’s mind both in admiration and as a goal never to be reached. In 1938 Los Angeles Times sportswriter Bill Henry, then researching a history of the Olympics, published a brief article about Thorpe. Henry asked Alma if he had a record of Thorpe’s posted statistics for individual events in winning the decathlon in Stockholm. Alma, who had purchased a book containing Thorpe’s records promptly after the Games, sent them along, advising Henry to change the numbers for the field events from metrics to inches because “the one’s you published yesterday are not all correct.” He added, “I suppose you know why I kept these records.”11 It was rhetorical. Henry knew that Richards kept the statistics to compare with his own scores when winning the national AAU decathlon title in 1915, scores that theoretically bested those tallied by the man still widely called “the greatest athlete in the world.” Alma followed Olympic track and field events with keen interest, especially drawn to the decathlon competitions. He was so impressed by Bob Mathias’s decathlon victory in London in 1948 that he drove to Tulare, California, to visit with the seventeen year old, the youngest track and field gold medalist in history.12 Tellingly in 1952, upon receiving a copy of a book on the history of the Olympics with an image of the 1948 and 1952 Olympic decathlon champion on the cover, Alma wrote boldly across it: “Picture of the greatest athlete I have known, Bob Mathias.”13 Of all the encounters that recalled Olympic memories, none was more meaningful to Alma than reestablishing contact with his 1912 rival, Hans Liesche. After Stockholm the two men went their separate ways. Liesche reigned as the German high jump champion through 1915, served in the army from 1912 through World War I, then moved to Berlin in 1937 where he remained involved in track and field as a member of several sports clubs. During World War II he rejoined the army at age fifty-­two to avoid becoming a member of the Nazi Party and was “slightly wounded” in combat. After the war Liesche worked as an interpreter for American and British forces during the multinational occupation of Berlin.14

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The aging Olympians thought frequently of the 1912 Games, the pinnacle of their athletic lives, but also of each other, owing to the bond of mutual respect forged during the high jump competition. Alma, especially, kept reliving the Games. After returning from Stockholm he often remarked that Liesche’s “fine spirit of sportsmanship and friendship will always stand out in my mind as the outstanding thing of our part of the games.” Most of all, the troubling circumstances of his victory weighed heavily on Alma. The gold medal was a source of great pride and accomplishment. He earned it, but had he deserved it? In relating his victorious leap for others, Alma frequently said he was “fortunate to win” because Hans, whom he considered “the best jumper in the world,” had suffered “many distractions.” Clearly, unforeseen and unfortunate developments are part of the competitive ethos, but Alma’s uneasiness about his victory may have been increased by the contrast between Hans’s gracious sportsmanship and his own unsportsmanlike attempt to distract the German during the finals.15 The mutual friendship, which dimmed but never faded despite the passage of time, distance, and two world wars, was revived through correspondence by remarkable happenstance after forty-­t wo years. In the fall of 1953, during one of his frequent visits to the Los Angeles Athletic Club, Alma happened to meet Edith Mendyka. A Berlin native and star member of the German national women’s handball team that competed in the 1936 Olympics, Mendyka had moved to Los Angeles in 1940, continuing her athletic career by founding a team handball league and coaching track, specialty the javelin, to high school and junior college women. Richards, in asking if she knew anything about his “old rival and friend, Hans Liesche,” related his concerns about their 1912 competition and wondered “if he was still alive and, if so, how he could get in touch with him.”16 Curiosity about Liesche was one thing, but wanting to get in touch with him was quite another. Clearly, Liesche had been on Alma’s mind for many years, partly because of Liesche’s sportsmanship, but primarily because of uneasiness about the circumstance of the gold medal victory. Alma’s reason for wanting to contact Liesche is a matter of speculation, but might it relate to a desire to alleviate his continual misgivings about the high jump event by confessing his concerns to Liesche? Mendyka had met Liesche before coming to America and thought he was still alive because she received news bulletins from the sport club to

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which they both belonged. She also knew a Berlin sportswriter, Arthur Ernst Grix, who was a member of Liesche’s club and could surely arrange for an exchange of addresses.17 Mendyka wrote to Grix, who still had the official German report of the 1912 Games containing a picture of Alma, and was also pleased to contact the American’s “old sports friend.” Grix subsequently contacted Hans, who “got the surprise of his life” upon hearing of Richards’s eagerness to correspond with him and, especially, his misgivings about their Olympic competition.18 On February 20, 1954, his sixty-­fourth birthday, Richards received a surprise present: Grix’s translation of Liesche’s letter of January 31, 1954. Hans told “Dear Sportsfriend Richards” that he was “very much delighted to hear after so many years of my victorious opponent at Stockholm 1912” as “I have thought often of A. Richards and wondered whether he is still alive.” To Mendyka’s report that Richards remained deeply touched by Hans’s sportsmanship and believed he should have won the gold medal, Hans responded: Having heard what you said about me, I was very deeply touched. I will not deny that I always tried to be a pretty good sport, for ‘Fair play’ and the spirit of good comradeship was always a high ideal for me, but the best high jumper on that particular day in Stockholm was not Hans Liesche or Horine but certainly Alva [sic] Richards, USA, who mastered the winning height of 1.93 meters as nobody else did. Even if I took all the heights up to 1.91 at the first try and apparently effortless I could not master the 1.93. Liesche was right, of course. It was not at all certain that even under the best of circumstances Liesche would have achieved the personal best leap necessary to win the event. Alma was “profoundly thankful” for the letter and immediately penned a heartfelt response. Yes, Liesche had always been on his mind, writing, “After your fine spirit of sportsmanship in this championship, I have always had a sincere feeling of friendship for you and the German people. When I went to Europe as lieutenant in the United States Army in 1918, I prayed that I wouldn’t meet you on the field of battle.” With a specificity that underscored the depth of his misgivings about winning the gold medal, Alma

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reiterated, “I have always felt that you should have won the 1912 high jump. I made the best jump of my life up to that time. As I remember, you were interrupted a great deal. First, the gun sounded for the start of a race; second, the band started playing; third, the officials hurried you somewhat. At that moment and as time has passed, I have respected you as a great jumper and most of all, as a fine representative of your country.”19 Hans, runner up, had long since gotten over the results of the high jump finals. Alma, the winner, never would. Grix, ever the sportswriter, recognized a good story. Olympic medalists breaching time, space, and language to reestablish friendship after four decades. He knew Liesche but not Richards, so Grix sent Alma a series of questions about the 1912 high jump event and his post-­Olympic career. In reply, Alma sent along newspaper clippings, biographical information, and candid comments about the Stockholm Games. He said he was “never afraid” of George Horine. After seeing Horine’s innovative “Western roll” jumping technique in the predeparture meet in New York City, Alma thought the world record holder would “be lucky to keep the cross bar on the pegs.” But Alma had “plenty of anxiety and worry” about Hans Liesche, “a fine jumper who cleared the bar with apparent ease.” Again declaring he was “fortunate to win,” Alma reiterated the specific distractions that marred Hans’s last jump attempt.20 News of the Richards–Liesche renewed friendship circulated widely in German sports circles. In May, at the monthly meeting of “seniors” at the Sport Club Charlottenburg where Liesche was a member, Grix told the story of how the two men “found” each other. “Everybody was quite stirred” when Grix read the letter wherein Richards gave “all the credit to Liesche.”21 The first installment of Grix’s two-­part story appeared in the German national track and field magazine Leichtathletik (Amateur Athlete) in June 1954. The next year an abbreviated version, “Two Olympic Medals for One Event,” appeared in the AAU magazine Amateur Athletics.22 Grix subsequently told Richards that Liesche had suffered greatly during World War II, admitting that Hans “has not got much left and he does not live in very well-­to-­do circumstances.” When incendiary bombs destroyed his house, among the lost possessions were athletic prizes, including the Olympic silver medal. From having covered the 1932 Los Angeles Summer Olympics, even publishing a daily chronicle of the Games, Grix knew the Helms Athletic Foundation in Los Angeles, which operated the finest

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sports museum and library in the world, annually awarded an “Athlete of the Year” trophy to selected “worthy athletes” on six continents along with medallions to distinguished athletes in all branches of sports. Would Richards be willing to ask the board of governors to provide “some kind of substitute”—“it could be a scroll or anything materially worthless”—for the destroyed silver medal? Since the suggestion might “sound foolish” or even be against the organization’s rules, Grix wondered if Richards might “have a better idea” for a symbolic replacement.23 The letter arrived when Alma was on vacation, so Mendyka showed it to William R. “Bill” Schroeder, managing director and cofounder of the Helms Foundation.24 Schroeder, who performed many acts of kindness for athletes including personally purchasing Jim Thorpe’s coffin, was touched by Liesche’s loss. He promptly authorized casting a duplicate of the 1912 silver medal and sent it to Grix, asking him to present it to Liesche, “hoping that the presentation of it will thrill him very much.”25 On August 8, 1954, the annual dinner of German track and field veterans convened on the eve of the national championships in Hamburg, Liesche’s hometown. Following a stirring speech by the organization’s president on American generosity and the sportsmanship displayed by Helms, Grix gave the medal to an utterly surprised Hans Liesche, who “received with tear-­dimmed eyes, his second Olympic medal for the performance of 42 years ago.”26 The two aging Olympians, now in their sixth decade, enthusiastically kept up regular correspondence. Richards did not know German and Liesche did not know English, so an intermediary, Grix, and occasionally Mendyka, translated their letters. They exchanged pictures and filled letters mostly with family news and personal anecdotes. Richards said his athletic prowess came from chasing jackrabbits and proudly noted his involvement in his two decades of post-­1912 track and field competitions. Liesche, married since 1928, said he kept a “slim figure,” remaining active by bowling, playing volleyball, and running, even at age sixty, in the annual Potsdam to Berlin race. Liesche sent a photograph of himself high jumping after his fiftieth year, commenting, “The same as I recognize you after 42 years, so will you probably still recognize tall and lanky Hans.”27 They were silent about political affairs. But the horrors of the Second World War prompted Alma to confess, “It is my hope that the Olympic games can and will have a great influence in stopping wars forever.” And Hans commented briefly on the Allied occupation and the Berlin Wall. “Many of our German Athletics

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are separated from us through the erection of the wall Aug. 13, 1961. With great pleasure can I say that the American-­English French troops stationed in West Berlin are very friendly minded towards us.”28 What compelled Richards to seek contact with Liesche after forty-­t wo years, prompted Hans to respond enthusiastically, and motivated them to forge a deep and abiding friendship via correspondence for the rest of their lives despite language barriers and lack of common cultural experiences? Perhaps it was simply their memories of the emotional and competitive circumstances of the 1912 gold medal duel between two unheralded high jumpers that established a bond of mutual respect. Perhaps it was no more than an opportunity to relive past glories, now absent in the minds of contemporaries. Gratified by the “heart-­warming contact after so many years,” Alma was so “deeply touched” by the letters that he kept them in a special portfolio labeled “Hans Liesche.”29 For Hans, too, the friendship went beyond the occasional receipt of letters. “We also speak a lot of you,” he frequently wrote. Upon learning in December 1962 that Alma was “not so well,” Hans optimistically hoped that “everything should pass soon.”30 It didn’t. Hearing the news from Alma’s wife, Lenore, that Alma had died on April 3, 1963, Hans responded, “I knew that your Dick was a very good & loveable man. I too shall never forget him.”31 Alma’s passing did not terminate the epistolary relationship. Lenore continued exchanging letters and Christmas cards with Liesche and his wife, Hedel, until Hans’s death on March 30, 1979. The correspondence between Richards and Leische was emotionally fulfilling to both men, especially to Alma, as it helped bring closure to longstanding emotional conflict over the circumstances of his Olympic victory. If the letters do not contribute to an understanding of the fundamental political, economic, and social issues confronting the modern Olympics, they do illuminate what was intended as the primary focus of the Games. The reason Pierre de Coubertin founded the modern Olympics was the hope that international sport competition would promote understanding, respect, and ultimately friendship among athletes and thus nations. If few acquaintances made during the Games are lasting, Alma and Hans’s personification of Olympism would have made the good baron proud. Theirs was a genuine friendship, unlike the infamous imagined relationship between African American Jesse Owens and German Carl “Luz” Long in the 1936 Berlin Games.32

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In a 1971 Berlin newspaper story about Liesche on the eve of his eightieth birthday, still then the only German ever to win a silver Olympic medal in the high jump, the reporter wrote, “Olympic friendship! Is not that at least as valuable for an eighty year old man as the medals themselves? We think so to be sure, but the World sees it otherwise.”33 As Alma noted in his first letter to Hans, “Much has happened in the World and to us since we competed together in the Olympic Games in Stockholm, Sweden in 1912.” True. But something remained constant through those tumultuous times: respect and friendship based on an Olympiad of memories. Memories. For thirty years after retiring from the track, Alma frequently flipped through his mental album to relive and reimagine days gone by. No doubt the passing of his primary coaches brought back a rush of memories. He obtained copies of the principal addresses delivered by Harvey L. Fletcher and William H. Boyle in July 1953 at Eugene Roberts’s funeral in Provo, which Alma likely did not attend, and assembled newspaper clippings of Dean Cromwell’s Los Angeles funeral in August 1962, which he may have missed due to declining health.34 Alma surely learned of Jack Moakley’s passing, at age ninety-­one in Ithaca on May 21, 1955, but there is no obituary or funeral references in Alma’s papers. What, Alma Richards may have wondered, would his athletic career, indeed his life, have been like without the influence of these three coaching legends?

11

REMEMBERING ALMA

If memories of Stockholm remained to a remarkable degree at the forefront of Alma Richards’s consciousness throughout his life, the Olympics also defined his persona for friends and acquaintances. He talked frequently about the gold medal feat, indicating how important it was to him. Thus on July 8, 1962, Elsie and James Miller, neighbors and close friends, arranged for an American flag to be hoisted atop a pole on the front lawn of the Richards home to “salute you again” on the fiftieth anniversary of Alma’s winning the gold medal in Sweden. The Millers, perhaps because of misinformation from Alma, mentioned erroneously that he “stood on the victory pedestal” and that “our American flag flew highest and you were saluted with the Star-­Spangled Banner.”1 Nonetheless, it was an unusually thoughtful gesture, one that acknowledged how much the Olympic victory meant to him. The Helms Athletic Foundation knew as much, having his 1912 teammate and pal Fred Kelly present Alma with a special Helms plaque to commemorate the fiftieth anniversary of his winning the high jump in Stockholm. When attending numerous functions at the LAAAC and the Helms Foundation, which proudly displayed his athletic awards, Alma was invariably hailed as an Olympic victor by fellow sports enthusiasts. Students and fellow teachers at Venice High School also were well aware of Alma’s Olympic achievement and regarded him with heroic status. Algot Nordstrom, a Swedish artist who immigrated to the United States in 1906, taught art for many years at Venice and Gardena high schools. Shortly after joining the Venice faculty, circa 1932, he drew an intensely personal heroic picture recalling Alma’s gold medal victory. A muscular, bare-­chested Alma

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stands on an island in Stockholm’s Riddarfjärden Bay holding a Nike-­like figure above the Greek inscription “NIKHTHE [Victor] 1912.”2 Perhaps most revealing of his Olympian status is a poem written by Martha Ward, head of the Latin Department and Latin Museum at Venice, which she recited at a luncheon on June 1, 1953, honoring Alma’s retirement after thirty-­t wo years of teaching. Ward, who had taught with him for twenty-­seven years, obviously knew Alma very well, for the lengthy poem, more a heartfelt than gifted production, is nothing short of an intimate, detailed hagiographic portrait of the man’s athletic achievement, distinguished teaching career, and exemplary personal character. The second and third stanzas reveal with specificity the degree to which he was known as an Olympic champion.3 II He distinguished himself in high school And made his parents proud; In height and in athletics He stood out above the crowd. While yet a lad in high school He entered the Olympic Games And made the name of Richards Famous among all names. III For he made a running high jump And man! How he did soar! Breaking the record of that date At a space of six foot four. This occurred at Stockholm, Sweden; He was given an ovation, And even the King was much impressed By this lad from a far-­off nation. The King himself a sportsman of considerable renown Presented to Alma in person the olive-­leaf victory crown. Athletics brought Alma a great deal of pleasure and reward, but it was as a teacher that he made the most lasting impact on society by positively influencing a generation of high school students. The Olympic gold medal

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bestowed athletic immortality, but he freely admitted to having “even greater satisfaction” from devoting thirty-­t wo years to teaching high school classes and “molding young men and women in the sports ideals.”4 Alma must have been good at it. His initial credential was for one year, June 16, 1922, to August 31, 1923; it would be renewed for three decades.5 It is difficult to ascertain with specificity the personal and pedagogic contributions of educators given the infrequency of authentic qualitative assessments. But in Alma’s case, several revealing tributes afford insight into his pedagogic performance and character. Six years after joining the Venice faculty, the Santa Monica Outlook ran an article about the Olympic champion turned biology teacher, observing that “to youth he is an exciting figure” who is “also possessed of tremendous mental energy, with an infinite capacity for detail in scientific study.”6 Alma’s personal qualities were captured by colleague Martha Ward in a poetic characterization of his twenty-­seven years at Venice. A faithful, loyal servant He has been throughout the years; He’s guided many boys and girls Beset by doubts and fears. His character’s above reproach, He’s genuine, sincere. He’s honest to the nth degree, To all that’s very clear. The poetic encomium from a fellow teacher is instructive but is less revealing than the spontaneous, heartfelt commentaries from students. Like most teachers Alma sometimes received verbal compliments, but more unusual were written accolades that not only stroked his pedagogic ego but also validated his commitment to an educational mission. These treasured writings, the most personal of the items carefully preserved among his papers, reveal a profound impact on students as well as an instructional presence. Fidel LaBarba, who won a gold medal as a flyweight boxer in the 1924 Olympics, remembered Richards as a “strict teacher” at Lincoln High who despite his athletic fame was “the quiet, reserved type who was never known

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to blow his own horn.”7 Upon learning that Alma would be transferring from academic to military instruction at Lincoln after only two years, a group of students in his physiology classes, identified only as “Our Gang,” in November 1924 “respectfully” penned a doggerel tribute. Given the unusual circumstances of students wishing a short-­term teacher farewell, the verse is worth quoting in full as it speaks to Alma’s character and impact on the lives of the youngsters.8 He is a man of high ideals, A man who speaks his mind. Square in dealing—square in receiving, He is a Man that’s hard to find. We barely know him, It’s hardly fair, But he must be changed, We know he’ll do his duty there. He does his duty as he sees it, He makes his words fall true. He’s taken up new duty, His best he’ll ne’r fail to do. We all appreciate his efforts, The humor that he’s shown, and Patience that he’s had. ADMIRATION for HIM has GROWN. Richards was no less highly regarded during nearly three decades at Venice, his contribution extending beyond course content to influencing positively individual lives. One student was impressed not only that his classes “always have been very interesting,” but also that she felt “more confident and self-­as[s]ured after coming from your class.” A ninth grader chose Alma as the subject of an English class composition entitled “The Teacher Who Helped Me Most” because “he has taught me a portion of his scientific knowledge, and it penetrated. Most important of what he taught was ‘Think for yourself. Use your own initiative.’ I feel privileged to have

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known such a fine teacher and fellow man.” It was such sentiments that led student Jim Freeman to nominate Alma for the best classroom teacher in the country, a competition sponsored by Quiz Kids, a popular radio and television program. And in May 1952 the president of the Venice student body wrote an advanced composition entitled “History of the Olympic Games,” which, after describing Alma’s victory in Stockholm, concluded: “To prove that education and athletics go hand in hand, Mr. Richards has been one of the leading and most beloved educators at Venice High School for the past 32 years.”9 It is often said that the true measure of a teacher’s effectiveness is not of the moment but enduring influence over time. Perhaps the most meaningful tribute came a few days before Alma died in 1963. Upon learning of Alma’s hospitalization, Harvey Anderson, a former student who was then assistant chief of the Los Angeles Fire Department, sent a letter that read in part: You won’t remember me but I was a student at Lincoln High School in one of your Physiology classes. I haven’t forgotten the impression you made on me. I can remember your enthusiastic approach to the subject. I also had you for ROTC. I am sure that most teachers feel that their efforts are not appreciated at the time but as I look back on the years I am sure that you helped me on to what little success that I have had and to the enjoyment of each day as we live it. Again many thanks for being an inspiration to me when I sorely needed one.10 Most people embrace the illusory hope of being widely remembered, but, as Alma illustrates, that belongs primarily to teachers who have influenced the lives of thousands of students. Whether living or dead, people are memorialized more for what they have done than for who they were. Alma’s initial commemorative honor came in 1947 in conjunction with Utah’s centennial celebration of the arrival of Mormon pioneers to the Salt Lake Valley. The Utah Centennial Commission honored thirty-­five individuals and members of four basketball teams who had won national titles at a “Century of Champions” banquet in April. It was a big deal. Replete with a queen and attendants, the gala affair was broadcasted live on the local ABC affiliate, KALL, as well as for fifteen minutes on the national Mutual Radio Network. Despite the broadly inclusive nature of the awards, Alma

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was pleased with the honor, traveling from Los Angeles to Salt Lake to accept his commemorative scroll in person. And he was delighted to be interviewed live on the radio during the festivities and later to read that of the more than one hundred “great and noble” athletes to be honored at the Utah Centennial banquet, the Deseret News unequivocally proclaimed: “None is more deserving than Alma Richards.” The paper’s sports editor, Les Goates, was emphatic, calling Richards “Utah’s First and Greatest” athlete.11 That he was. It was an emotional milestone for Alma. Upon receiving news of the honor, Alma said it was “the greatest thrill of my life.” He went on to say that his most “treasured clipping” was the copy of the Deseret News his brother Joe gave him after Alma returned from Sweden with the headline across the front page: “Richards of Utah Wins the High Jump at Stockholm.”12 Winning an Olympic gold medal is a monumental achievement, but being remembered, celebrated even, in one’s twilight years brings more immediate and profoundly personal pleasure. As a corollary, the newspaper, owned and operated by the LDS Church, then conducted a survey to determine the greatest Utah Athlete of the Century in various sports. Gene Roberts, Alma’s former BYU coach, agreed to serve on the committee to establish criteria for selecting the most renowned track and field athlete, but he admitted that he thought the evidence was “overwhelming” that the one most outstanding track and field star of the century was Alma Richards. To Roberts, Alma “could have failed to score points in the Olympic Games, the National AAU decathlon, and the American Expeditionary Forces Meet at France, and he still would easily qualify as the Athlete of the Century of Utah.” As a point of emphasis, Roberts told Walter Kerr, chair of the selection committee, that Alma was the “only man who was able to jump above six feet for TWENTY YEARS!” This was no self-­interested endorsement from Alma’s BYU mentor. Dean Cromwell, legendary track coach at the University of Southern California who coached Alma as a member of the LAAAC team, noted that even after Alma’s high jumping days were over “Richards astonished us all once more when he took up the 56 lb. weight and became a champion in that difficult event. Of course, he is Utah’s greatest by a wide margin. No one knowing the facts can question that.” Alma Richards, Cromwell concluded, was “unquestionably the greatest athlete Utah has produced, and one of the greatest America has given to the world.” High praise indeed, well beyond the customarily constrained accolades of the day.13

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Roberts’s belief that “by any standards of measurement” Richards “cannot be kept out of the TOP POSITION” proved accurate. When the balloting was completed in 1950, Alma was chosen the honoree in track and field by an overwhelming margin, receiving 474 points, more than the 460.5 accorded the next five athletes combined.14 Richards was so gratified by the honor that he and Lenore traveled to Salt Lake to receive the engraved plaque in person, an unexpected effort that delighted the awards committee as it showed how appreciative Alma was to be recognized by his home state. The award was presented at the 1950 Mountain States (aka Skyline) Conference track and field championships at the University of Utah where Alma was introduced to the crowd. Because of inadequate facilities he was not able “to speak a word of thanks,” but he did appreciate the additional honor of serving as the honorary referee for the meet.15 Wider recognition came as the burgeoning media focus on sport stimulated the creation of organizational pantheons to immortalize athletes. Alma was likewise deeply moved by enshrinement in the Helms Athletic Foundation Track and Field Hall of Fame in 1956. He had spent many an hour in various activities at the beloved institution, to which he had donated most of his athletic awards for display. The honor came as a “complete surprise” as he had received no notice that it was forthcoming. Fittingly, Richards was presented with the commemorative membership scroll while in the process of soliciting funds at the Knox Masonic Lodge to send American Olympians to the upcoming Games in Melbourne, Australia. Other honors followed posthumously. Alma’s home state took the lead. He was conferred charter membership in 1970 in the Utah State Sports Hall of Fame sponsored by the Old Time Athletes’ Association and in 1982 was inducted with the second group of six Beehive Hall of Fame honorees for “contributions or achievements” that brought great recognition to the state. Alma’s nephew Julian Durham, with whom he attended the 1932 Olympics, son of Margaret and Alfred Durham, submitted his Beehive nomination form.16 Julian idolized his famous uncle with a possessiveness that created an awkward, even embarrassing situation at the induction ceremony. Julian, who called Lenore to tell her of Alma’s Beehive Hall of Fame selection, did not tell Beehive officials that Lenore was coming from Sioux Falls to attend the ceremony. Julian alone sat at the head table, accepted Alma’s award, and failed to mention Lenore in his remarks. Ultimately recognized, she was introduced, stood up and displayed the gold medal, and chatted after

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the ceremony with friends and well wishers. Julian ignored Lenore until she asked to see the award, and at evening’s end he took it home instead of giving it to Alma’s widow. She later overcame hard feelings, interpreting his behavior as less a result of antipathy than a deeply personal attachment to Alma.17 There were also enshrinements in the athletic halls of fame. Alma’s alma maters immortalized their famous track star, BYU in 1975 and Cornell in 1986. Membership in the Niagara Track & Field Hall of Fame, instituted in 1998 and awarded for achievement in New York state track, was especially fitting as Richards was enshrined in 2001 in the same class as his Cornell coach, Jack Moakley.18 Surprisingly, Alma is not a member of the National Track and Field Hall of Fame. USA Track & Field, which began selecting honorees in 1974, requires athletes to meet one of six criteria for enshrinement; Alma meets every one of them.19 Utah’s statehood centennial commemoration in 1996 brought an additional honor—the Olympic representative among the state’s various “Athletes of the Century.”20 And in 1999 the Salt Lake Tribune ranked Alma eighth among Utah’s fifty greatest athletes of the twentieth century. Ranked ahead of Richards in order were Alf Engen, skiing; Karl Malone, basketball; Gene Fullmer, boxing; Merlin Olsen, football; Missy Marlowe, gymnastics; John Stockton, basketball; and Jim McMahon, football.21 The ranking betrayed a contemporary bias, historical myopia, and a lack of information about Richards’s accomplishments. Only Fullmer and Olsen were native Utahns, and if some athletes reached more widespread local and national recognition for achievement in their sports specialties during an age of mass media, principally television exposure, none matched the versatility or longevity of Richards’s athletic career. Alma’s stature has unquestionably declined over the years. This is due partly to inadequate information about his career and partly because his individual statistics have long since been surpassed by a considerable margin as athletes have become bigger, stronger, and faster due to advances in nutrition and training. While it is not possible to compare athletes across generations, the most revealing measure is intragenerational. Like Babe Ruth with baseball, Richards’s performances in a variety of different track and field competitions far surpassed those of other competitors of his time. If it is difficult, perhaps impossible and even specious, to designate Utah’s greatest athlete, the discussion must begin—and maybe end—with multitalented Alma Richards.

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Ironically, those most aware of Richards’s career, Utah sportswriters, were prone to proffer misinformation. Commenting on Richards’s achievements, the leading sportswriters incorrectly said Alma used the scissors kick when jumping, had recorded numerous decathlon victories over Jim Thorpe from 1910 to 1919, and that Alma’s 1915 decathlon score exceeded Thorpe’s 1912 total by almost one thousand points. Richards did not use the scissors technique and never defeated Thorpe save for the Olympics high jump or competed against him after 1912. Alma’s decathlon total of 6,859 in 1915 was well below Thorpe’s 8,413 in 1912. A comparative results chart, probably compiled by Alma, shows that except for identical times in the 100 meters and hurdles, his own performances in individual events in San Francisco “far exceeded” Thorpe’s in Stockholm. However, the hypothetical decathlon calculation suggesting Richards’s superiority is specious given the different circumstances and competitors in the 1915 AAU meet and the first-­ever Olympic decathlon in 1912.22 Besides, Thorpe won four events in finishing first by 689 points while Alma had but a single victory and margin of 399 points. In 1969 Hack Miller, Deseret News sports editor, uncritically related a story about Alma told by Al Warden, Miller’s longtime counterpart at the Ogden Standard-­Examiner. According to Warden, during the state high school track championships held at Cummings Stadium in Salt Lake City on May 14–15, 1915, where Warden won the mile run, Richards demonstrated to a group of athletes how to toss the discus. “He made a great turn and sailed the plate over the wooden stands and outside the stadium. Greatest throw I ever witnessed.” It turned out Alma had thrown a wooden discus painted black. About the prank, Alma simply said, “Surprise.”23 However, there are two problems with the story. While Warden did in fact win the mile run at the meet, none of the Salt Lake City newspapers mention Alma’s presence, which would be an especially striking omission given his celebrity status and because his alma mater, Murdock, won the championship. In fact, Alma was then in New York. On May 15, 1915, Cornell defeated Pennsylvania in a dual meet in Ithaca led by Alma’s “sensational performance” in winning three events—the shot put, high jump, and broad jump.24 Warden had not simply recalled the wrong year. Nor does a typographical error or mistaken year explain the discrepancy. Alma was not in Utah during the years in question, so there is also no mention of Alma at the 1914 state track championships in which Warden did not participate nor in the 1916 meet where Warden participated but did not win the mile run.25

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Warden, whose love of track and field—and Alma Richards—was boundless, was also a master craftsman of Alma legends. In an article about Richards beginning to train for the 1920 Olympics, an Ogden Standard-­Examiner article, surely written by Warden, revealed the “secret” of when and how Alma discovered his special athleticism.26 Early in 1910 Richards, a youngster, was playing with a wild “Bull” on his dad’s farm. The enraged bull in answer to a red flag waved by Alma started in hot pursuit. In his attempt to escape, Alma approached a fence, which was 5 feet 6 inches in height. To take the time to climb the fence might mean ruin, so Alma took a long run, jumped, and landed safely on the other side, thus, defeating the “mad bull.” Thus the career of a great athlete started. Other than the fact that farm boys do not wave red flags at bulls, Alma in early 1910 was a twenty-­year-­old student enrolled in the Murdock Academy in Beaver. The bull tale stands alone. Local sportswriters were not the only scribes to pen apocryphal accounts of Richards. Chief among them is Arthur Daley, Pulitzer Prize winning columnist for the New York Times, who related a purported conversation between Alma and fellow high jumper Wesley Oler aboard the Finland. Although the shot put supposedly was Alma’s “specialty,” Alma told Oler, “I’m not taking any chances on the shot in the Olympics. Maybe I can win the shot and maybe I can’t. But I do know that I’ll win the high jump. So that’s my event.” The conversation is bogus. The shot put was not Alma’s specialty, nor had he even attempted to qualify for the event in the Chicago trials.27 Oler was the culprit behind the fabrication, Daley the accomplice who did not know fact from fiction. Periodic, brief mention by sports page columnists and formal honorific recognitions aside, the Beehive State’s greatest athlete passed into historical obscurity until resurrected largely because of the purported circumstances of his Olympic victory. Alma’s gold medal leap in Stockholm was simply one of those rare instances in sports when mind and muscle so mesh as to produce an extraordinary physical feat. Or was it?

12

GOD, GOLD, AND GLORY?

Shortly after Alma Richards’s death in May 1963, Harold G. “Hack” Miller, sports editor of the LDS-­owned Deseret News, received an article reportedly clipped from a Milwaukee, Wisconsin newspaper. It was from James Alva Banks of Manti, Utah, then serving an LDS proselytizing mission in Milwaukee, “about the time” Alma won the Olympic gold medal. Quoted in Miller’s column on May 18, the article contended that Alma’s Olympic victory “ought to go down in American athletic history as one of the greatest dramas of sport ever seen.”1 It described what happened when Alma, one of the two remaining finalists, faced the bar set at an Olympic record height with the title at stake. The moment of the supreme test had come. The Americans who had failed were cheering and encouraging Richards. He took off his cap, walked back 200 feet [67 yards] and suddenly dropped to his knees. A murmur of surprise, followed by a reverent hush, came to the great crowd. Kneeling there, hands clasped before all that great crowd, Richards was praying. In a moment he arose, his face alight, and with a quick run, he raced down the pathway, leaped, cleared by an inch and in spite of the prejudices, the crowd roared with applause. A few moments later Litsche [sic] had failed and Richards was champion. If not the most dramatic, surely one of the most inspirational scenes in Olympic history was an unheralded athlete from rural Utah kneeling in 185

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prayer in front of a packed stadium before his record-­setting leap. That, of course, involved two occurrences: A leap and a prayer. Until Warden’s column, no mention had been made of Alma’s purported prayer, even in faith-­promoting LDS circles. A January 1969 article in the Improvement Era that linked Olympic principles with Mormon values recounted how “the young Latter-­day Saint took a deep breath and sailed gracefully over the bar” to win the gold medal. That same year T. Earl Pardoe, BYU drama professor turned Alumni Association historian, included Alma in his compilations of famous BYU personalities and LDS athletes without mentioning prayer. William Black’s Mormon Athletes in 1980 simply excerpted the Deseret News article without comment. And a Brigham Young University graduate student’s theatrical script about Mormons who achieved excellence in a variety of endeavors included Alma’s leap without reference to prayer.2 For that matter, Alma himself was essentially unknown to LDS Church leaders. In August 1980 general authority Robert L. Backman, First Quorum of the Seventy, the third-­highest church administrative body, connected sport and character by invoking the Olympic motto “Citius, Altius, Fortius” in a motivational speech to an LDS Boy Scouts encampment in Florida. His lengthy and exceptionally well prepared comments subsequently gained wide dissemination, appearing as “Swifter, Higher, Stronger!” in the church’s New Era magazine for youth and Liahona, the multilanguage international periodical. The inspirational message concluded by reminding the scouts, even though they might never participate in the Games, The Olympic motto and the Olympic spirit should have deep significance for Latter-­day Saints, a people who believe in eternal progression. These ideals should provide us with a motivation to strive constantly to improve our performance in all aspects of our lives— to do our best, lengthen our stride, to truly become champions. For greater effect, Backman personalized his comments with references to the lives and accomplishments of more than two dozen Olympians from Jim Thorpe and Johnny Weissmuller to Bob Richards and Parry O’Brien. Among them was Wade Bell, a Mormon from Ogden, Utah, who competed without a medal in the 800 meter run in the 1968 Mexico City Olympics. But there was no mention of Alma Richards, gold medalist from

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Parowan.3 To Elder Backman and church publication editors, not to mention the membership at large, the Mormon with the most inspirational Olympic story had been forgotten. Then, Alma’s image and prominence suddenly increased greatly as interest in sport and religion merged in Utah in the 1980s and 1990s commensurate with Salt Lake City’s campaigns to host the Winter Games. When two of the city’s sportswriters compiled a comprehensive compendium of Mormon Olympians, Trials & Triumphs: Mormons in the Olympic Games, a faith-­promoting book about courage and conviction intended for LDS readers, Alma was featured in the lead chapter. Subsequently, the story of Alma and his divine leap was retold with embellishments in several Deseret News and BYU alumni magazine articles. 4 Alma’s celebrity grew as Salt Lake’s Olympics quest coincided with the Mormon Church’s desire to project a more Christian and mainstream image. America’s cultural obsession with sport aided their effort, specifically the national visibility of Brigham Young University’s athletics programs, notably football, and the prominence of professional LDS athletes like Steve Young, Danny Ainge, Johnny Miller, and Dale Murphy.5 More significant, LDS officials, strong supporters of Salt Lake’s bid efforts, embraced Richards and his purported prayer in an effort to establish a Mormon Olympic identity for use in reinforcing the faith within the church. And why not? Here ipso facto was evidence of a divinely wrought miracle. David Lunt has admirably described not only how Mormon writers “revived Richards and his story” with a “strong emphasis on his faith and piety,” but also how church leaders packaged an Olympic trinity—Alma, double gold medal gymnast Peter Vidmar (1984), and steeplechaser Henry Marsh (1976, 1984, and 1988)—as exemplars of Mormonism. These messages offered an inspirational, faith-­promoting message for Latter-­day Saints— and others—by personifying how traditional Mormon beliefs, teachings, and practices led to success in sport and presumably other endeavors.6 LDS athletes had long been praised for their dietary faithfulness in following the Word of Wisdom, but Alma’s story added an important dimension to the affirmation of belief.7 Vidmar and Marsh bore their personal testimonies before church groups, but the retelling of Richards’s story was the more compelling because it involved an overt, public expression of faith that actually resulted in divine favor. The story was seen as evidence of God’s favor during Olympic competition, a record-­breaking gold medal

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performance owing to a successful appeal for divine support. In short, Alma was the personification of “a devout believer who prayed for God’s help —and received it.”8 Previously known as a champion track athlete whose religious significance lay in his obedience to the Word of Wisdom, Alma now became a widely venerated LDS role model and highly publicized Olympian. For several years prior to the 2002 Winter Games in Salt Lake City his image and identification—“Alma Richards, Utah’s first Gold Medalist”—appeared on billboards along the Wasatch Front. Some thirty billboards, stretching along eighty miles of road construction from Provo to Ogden, had an academic purpose—to ascertain motorists’ retention of outdoor advertising messages. Initially, a random survey of three hundred Utahns produced only one person who could identify the state’s first Olympic gold medalist; 120 days later sixty of three hundred could identify him. A more important and meaningful recognition came on February 4, 2002, when the Olympic Torch Relay passed through Parowan, Alma’s hometown, after an embarrassing oversight necessitated rerouting.9 Not everyone got the message, however. The LDS Church’s Museum of Church History and Art prepared a special exhibit during the 2002 Games showcasing the achievements of Mormon athletes collegiate, professional, and Olympic. The achievements of five Olympians were on display, but not Alma Richards.10 What cemented Alma’s celebrity, primarily to Mormons, was his proxy role as the principal character depicted in the LDS Church’s cultural contribution to the Salt Lake City Winter Olympics, “Light of the World: A Celebration of Life.” Billed by the Tribune as “The Biggest Show—Bar None,” the ninety-­minute drama-­dance-­musical extravaganza was performed to sold-­out audiences in the 21,000-­seat Conference Center during the Games in February 2002. Several Olympic medalist actors appeared among the cast of over eight hundred, but center stage belonged to Pat from Parowan. Alma, through his ancestral story, was used to illustrate the pioneer era of church history. The saga of Mormon pioneers, the inspirational tale of treks across the plains in wagons or handcarts that was part of Richards’s family history, has been meticulously and extensively documented. But a flesh-­and-­ blood Alma put a face on the written word, a poignant profession of faith and courage made the more relevant by the connection between his supposedly faith-­inspired victory in the 1912 Olympics and Salt Lake City’s current

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hosting of the 2002 Games. Codirector Randy Boothe was explicit about the connection. “This show is a marriage of Olympics and Olympic values, and Utah’s history and culture.” More specifically, the stories of the Olympians effectively meshed the Olympic motto with the production’s main theme: “The light that shows through adversity leads to achievement.” The source of light was religion, which version was implicit.11 Alma, played by Dallyn Vail Bayles, first appears as a cowboy, cloaked in the “darkness of uncertainty” from having drifted from his Mormon heritage, desperately yearning to escape from Parowan in hopes of finding adventure and his own destiny. Instead, thanks to the “providential” meeting with Thomas Trueblood, Alma returns to school and takes up track and field. He then spectral-­like observes a reenactment of Mormon history from Joseph Smith’s vision through the hardships and adversities of pioneers who crossed the oceans and plains to join Brigham Young in Utah. His ancestral heritage of grandparents and parents passes before his eyes. The final scene shows Alma in Stockholm in an Olympic uniform praying to God, confessing, “Dear Father, I’d forgotten who I am” and pleading for “the light of Heaven to show me who I am.” As he kneels in prayer, videos of the Olympic festivities and his gold medal leap are projected on a screen high above his head. At the conclusion of his victory, the narrator, declaring that the spectators in Stockholm who observed Richards in prayer “would never forget what they saw,” explains that “The light in Alma Richards and in all of us is not the light of victory alone. It is the light by which we find our path and follow it to the end.” Of course, the message is clear that it was “the light of Christ” that enabled Alma to find his way and inspired courage and achievement. If the LDS Church took pains to avoid any semblance of overt proselytizing in conjunction with the presentation, the Mormon message was front and center stage.12 If “Light of the World” provided a profoundly inspirational and visually spectacular depiction of LDS history and spirituality, the production in its portrayal of Alma took liberties with the historical record, even adding some new inaccuracies such as his receiving a law degree from Stanford. Still, the purpose of the production was faith promoting, not documentary. But why was Alma positioned as the central historical figure? Because, as Richard Kimball has succinctly observed, “Whether it was 1912 or 2002, recreation and athletics remained viable ways for the church to inculcate values and model proper social behavior.”13 And, one might add, given the

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probable demographic composition of the more than three hundred thousand people who attended the sixteen performances during the Games, the show culturally connected Mormons through America’s sporting obsession with the broader Christian community. Alma Richards had become a preeminent representative of Mormonism partly for an event that may not have happened, but primarily because he was an Olympic champion.14 Today it is commonplace for athletes to signify their faith by making the sign of the cross, inscribing scriptural references on eye shadow, kneeling prayerfully in end zones, or pointing heavenward after a notable competitive achievement. But such overt religious expressions were not commonplace in sport in predominately Christian America in 1912, and even much less so in international athletic arenas like the Olympics. The most infamous example of Olympics-­related religiosity involved Forrest Smithson, theology student from Oregon State University who in 1908 won the 110 meter hurdles in a world record time. The Official Report of the London Games contains a picture of Smithson carrying a Bible in his left hand while clearing a hurdle during the race, ostensibly to protest scheduling the event on the Christian Sabbath. It is bogus—the picture is staged. Neither qualifying heats nor the final race were held on a Sunday, and no contemporary newspaper, observer, or official mentioned him toting the Good Book while running. On the contrary, the photograph of Smithson’s race in Spalding’s “official account” of the Games shows him running empty-­handed.15 Because Alma’s public display was so unusual, more information about this compelling and inspirational supplication of God’s favor was needed. What was the reaction in Stockholm to his prayer? Did Alma ever expound upon this purported incident? Did Mormon Church leaders in Sweden and the United States comment on the display of piety? Immediately, two issues required resolution. The first is provenance. Initially, a search for the source of the Deseret News article was unsuccessful as neither the Milwaukee Sentinel nor Journal published an article about Richards during or after the 1912 Olympics. Fortuitously, while researching Alma’s intercollegiate career at Cornell, the “mother” article appeared. It was published on February 3, 1914, in the New York Evening Mail under the byline Francis, the pen name of Frank Albertanti, aka Max Francis, flamboyant sports columnist who specialized in covering prize fights. Hack Miller apparently had assumed the material Alva Banks sent was from a Milwaukee newspaper, when in fact it was from

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Francis’s article from the Evening Mail. Miller, as was his wont, substantially excerpted and rewrote portions of the piece. Miller seemingly was also unaware that on the basis of previous excerpts published in the News that his predecessor, Les Goates, had already obtained a copy of the article.16 The germane portions of the piece, headlined “How the World’s Greatest High Jumper Changed His Name From Boob to Champ,” are as follows: After the bar had been cleared at 6 feet 3 inches, there remained only Richards and Litsche, the German, to compete for first honors. At this height Richards had knocked the bar down once. But he was not disheartened. On the next trial he cleared it. At 6 feet 3.98 [3.93] inches Richards bowed his head and thought a moment. Litsche was looking him straight in the face. The country boy saw 20,000 people staring in his direction. The announcer had told in advance of the great competition that was going on in the high jumping pit. Horine, Grumpelt, Thorpe and Erickson, the Americans, who had failed at various heights seated themselves and gazed at Richards. He was America’s hope. Horine yelled words of encouragement to the “boob.” Suddenly Richards went to one side. All eyes were upon him. He threw off his cap and walked slowly 300 feet away from where his companions sat. He threw himself on his knees. With bowed head he crossed himself and his lips moved. He was praying. A minute elapsed and he was on his feet again. Tears came to Horine’s eyes. Gritting his teeth Richards straightened up like a new man, crouched and in a flash “sprinted” to where the posts stood, flung himself in the air, and, legs first, sailed across the bar. Thunderous applause followed. Richards jumped to his feet, shook the dirt from his legs and walked leisurely back to the bench. It was now up to Litsche [who] failed to clear the bar at that height. The article concludes with Alma reflecting on prayer the next day. “You must have felt like a hero after you did that 6 feet 4 inches?” a companion asked. “You betcher,” was the answer. “But maybe I didn’t pray to do that. I never prayed so hard in my life. The bar was at 6 feet 4

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inches. I had talked about it to almost everyone that I expected to clear it at that height. I felt that I owed a debt. I was determined to clear the bar to clear myself. “When I saw the stick at 6 feet 4 inches I thought for a minute that my confidence would fade away. If I was on my sick bed I wouldn’t have prayed any harder than to make that 6-­foot 4-­inch jump.” The second issue to be resolved is accuracy. Francis, who had accompanied the American team to Stockholm, was seemingly an authoritative source. But there are serious questions about the veracity of the story, even its validity.17 Francis had sent several reports to his newspaper during the trip without ever mentioning Alma; but then, nineteen months after the Olympics, he wrote a lengthy, laudatory article that contained numerous errors, fabrications, and manufactured verbatim conversations with and about Alma aboard the Finland and after his winning jump. For example, Francis incorrectly says the “awkward green country boy” cleared “six feet in the Western” trials, was in Parowan when the Olympic selection committee sent him a written invitation to New York to join the team, that AAU officials in Utah had recommended him to Sullivan, and that in going to Stockholm Alma had left chickens and geese “to mother’s care,” although he had not lived in Parowan for three years. Francis also incorrectly claims Alma had never before competed against “star athletes” and portrayed the college athlete who had lived in Salt Lake and Provo as an unschooled hick unaccustomed “to city ways,” describing him as “a ‘farmer’ in appearance” who spoke in crude “you betcher” vernacular. Francis also consistently misspells Liesche (as “Litsche”) and cites Alma as agreeing that he never jumped higher than 6 feet “at Brigham,” when Alma had often cleared 6 feet 3 inches.18 The alleged conversation the day after Alma’s victory is obviously invented. For one, it contains a basic contradiction. Alma says he “didn’t pray,” but in the next sentence says he had “never prayed so hard.” Alma could not have been boasting “to almost everyone” about clearing 6 feet 4 inches in Stockholm because he would have had no way of knowing the bar would reach that height. Besides, even if Alma had uncharacteristically talked so effusively to “a companion” in Stockholm about praying, he surely would have also done so later with family and friends.

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Even the account of the jump is riddled with errors. Francis has Alma missing just once instead of twice at 6 feet 3 inches and walking an improbable 100 yards away from the competition venue to pray. Most egregious is the reference to a devout Mormon crossing himself. (Perhaps Francis, a Catholic, deliberately used “crossing” in referring to another faith instead of “blessing” himself, the correct Catholic usage.) Minor inaccuracies also abound. Alma did not wear a cap in competition or kneel in view of 20,000 spectators. Photographs show that only a handful of people were on hand to watch the high jumping competition as the crowd’s attention was focused primarily on other more glamorous track events, notably the 800-­yard dash, rather than the less visible, slower-­paced field contest occurring simultaneously. It is also curious that Francis wrote the column in anticipation of Richards inaugurating the indoor track season in Boston on February 7, but Francis did not inform his New York City readers that the Cornell athlete’s next scheduled competition was four days later in Madison Square Garden. Factual errors and journalistic license aside, the major problem with the article is singularity. Such an unusual and conspicuous public expression of religious devotion would have been a noteworthy occurrence, but at the time not a single contemporary American or European newspaper, American sports or general interest magazine, U.S. teammate or official, or any other Olympic participant mentioned such an occurrence. George Horine, who supposedly teared up while cheering for Richards, never mentioned the incident in his reports from Stockholm for the San Francisco Call. If Alma dropped to his knees in prayer in a crowded stadium, the Stockholm newspapers missed it. In his detailed account of the high jump event, James Sullivan, secretary of the American Olympic Committee, wrote of Richards’s winning leap: “We all thought he would take a great deal of time and care, making the usual measurements carefully. To our surprise, he disdained all preparations, skipped up to the bar with an easy run, and hopped over it with a full two inches to spare.”19 Alma’s roommate aboard the Finland, John “Nick” Nicholson, principally a hurdler who also competed in the high jump and later wrote an effusive article about “one of the greatest athletes that ever lived,” described the gold medal leap. “At the height of 6 feet 4 inches Richards approached the bar with blood in his eyes on the first trial. Gathering his lumbering body he hurled himself over the height with space to spare. Richards afterward said that the jump took all he ever had.” No mention

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of prayer from an eyewitness, teammate, and friend.20 And only one historian of the Games has mentioned Alma praying, the account taken from the anthology of Mormon Olympians; the most detailed and authentic treatments of the 1912 high jumping contest do not mention prayer.21 An analysis of the Evening Mail story of Richards’s prayerful leap raises several fundamental questions. Since Francis had not mentioned Alma in any of his earlier reports from aboard the Finland or during the Games, why did he nearly two years later pen a lengthy column about the Utahn? Why, specifically, would Francis write about Alma’s public prayer if it didn’t happen? Why did an account by an on-­the-­scene reporter during the Olympics contain so many errors? Francis was obviously impressed with Alma’s gold medal performance and subsequent rise as the preeminent high jumper in the country, so rather than making up an article entirely from whole cloth, did he provide numerous embellishments for effect? Did Francis craft a stirring human-­interest tale of the religiosity of a “country” Olympian to attract readership? Francis’s motivation is unknown. However, the greater question remains: if Alma had knelt openly in prayer in front of 20,000 spectators, why did no other reporter, participant, or anyone else, for that matter, mention it? And, most significant, why didn’t Richards mention it? The day after winning the gold medal, Alma telegraphed the man responsible for launching his athletic career and Olympic ambitions, BYU track coach Eugene Roberts. Alma related comments from team officials after his victory. From James Sullivan: “I wish we had a hundred clean fellows like you.” Trainer Mike Murphy: “Richards, you can do anything but make love.” But Alma did not mention prayer in describing his winning jump. I gave them all I had. It was sure a very lucky contest for me as my eyes were very bad and it was hard for me to see the bar. My jump was 6 feet 3.94 inches. I did it the first trial without touching the bar. I did not try any higher height. There were 59 jumpers here but only eleven got over [the] 6-­foot mark. The others were great jumpers but my luck was better.22 Also revealing, upon returning to Provo the LDS athlete who attended and competed for BYU, his church-­owned institution, in explaining his record-­breaking jump to an overwhelmingly Mormon welcoming audience

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failed to mention an act of religious piety. Alma said only that when the bar reached 6 feet 4 inches that he “experienced a momentary feeling of discouragement and doubt and felt the shadow of a chill down his spine.” But then “I thought of the B.Y.U., Utah and my friends there, and the old United States and made the spurt—and chill and all went over the bar in the first attempt.”23 Alma repeated the account several times, and in interviews with Utah newspapers, including the Deseret News, he never mentioned prayer. He simply offered the most plausible explanation for his victory. “As it happened the good jumpers did not do as well as they had formerly and through some power new to me I was able to do better. I squeezed out the winner.”24 Coach Roberts, who also never mentioned Alma praying in Stockholm, subsequently penned a similar account in a laudatory description of Richards’s golden leap for the BYU high school’s yearbook. “It was at this point that the young Utahn was under his greatest strain. The honor of his country, his state, and his Alma Mater were in his custody and visions of this responsibility for a moment numbed him. Then, after warming up slightly, he summoned his powers, and reinforcing them with a liberal portion of that old, determined, B.Y.U. spirit, he jumped.”25 Coach and athlete both credited his—Alma’s—powers for the winning jump, not supernatural assistance. Richards surely knew about the Olympic prayer story while a student at Cornell. The Ithaca Daily News reprinted Francis’s article about the school’s famous track star on February 4, 1914, but Alma never made any reference to it. He likely did not know about the anonymous post in the 1920 Literary Digest that again mentioned the prayer story. This time, instead of kneeling, Alma just “stood silent, while his head sagged forward on his chest” before he “dashed forward with unwonted spirit and energy, and jumped over the bar with ease.” When “a friend” that evening “accused Richards of having indulged in prayer,” the “big fellow said quietly, ‘I wish you wouldn’t laugh, old man, because I did pray. I prayed to the Lord to give me strength to go over the bar, and I went over, didn’t I?’” The article, replete with errors about the 1912 Games, sounds a lot like Francis. But this account is of a more modest and inconspicuous prayer and a description from Alma that is much less expansive than he would later make. Accuracy of the account aside, it remains troubling that if indeed true, the alleged prayer, in this case noted by a teammate, failed to gain wider traction with sportswriters.26

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During the next twenty years of collegiate and amateur track competition in which he was invariably lauded as an Olympic champion, neither Alma, any of his contemporaries, Utah newspapers, or the Los Angeles sports reporters who covered his lengthy career mentioned a Stockholm prayer, a human interest story that would have surely been popular with readers. Neither did the dear friend who delivered Alma’s funeral eulogy nor the LDS elders who conducted memorial services in California and in Utah reference a prayer.27 This is not surprising. Alma had not mentioned it during or immediately after the Games in 1912. Nor did he publicly do so during the following two decades of highly publicized athletic competition. Then, thirty years later, came Alma’s first mention of an Olympic prayer. In November 1942 the Improvement Era, the official LDS news magazine, printed excerpts from “letters recently received” in an article entitled “Alma Richards—His Record and Testimony.” After a brief recapping of his athletic career, Alma was quoted as saying, “I told the Lord that if He would help me to win the high jumps in the Olympic Games at Stockholm, I would do my best to be a good boy and set a good example.”28 He does not make clear whether the entreaty was public or private, made standing or kneeling, or occurred before, during, or at the actual competition. As the excerpts appeared in the Melchizedek Priesthood section of the publication intended for Mormon males eighteen years and older, Alma’s reference to himself as a “boy” was incongruous as he was twenty-­t wo in 1912. However, the main point of the article was not the vague comment about prayer, but Alma’s reiteration of his refusal shortly after winning the gold medal to accept $1,000 from “a large tobacco concern” to endorse its products. His firm rejection of the offer in 1912 was well known and had earned him, like other prominent Mormon athletes, praise for personifying the relationship between athletic success and adherence to the church’s dietary teachings at a time when the Word of Wisdom was becoming a requirement for certain church activities as well as a postpolygamy marker of Mormon distinctiveness. Heber J. Grant, church president from 1918 to 1945, strongly advocated not only faithful adherence to the dietary guidelines generally but also staunchly supported the secular prohibition of alcoholic beverages. In a 1928 Improvement Era article that extolled his athletic achievements without mentioning prayer, Alma was quoted as saying, “I have never used regularly tea, coffee, tobacco, or liquor in any form. I still believe in

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the Word of Wisdom.”29 This was an interesting statement inasmuch as it implied that he had infrequently imbibed the forbidden beverages perhaps during the post-­Olympics tour in France. It would have been surprising had Alma not partaken of some spirituous beverages during his Olympic experience or while at Cornell and in the army. Although one cannot with certainty say what was in the flutes, it would have been surprising if Alma had not joined his teammates at some point in enjoying the famous French sparkling beverage. And spirituous brotherhood was the norm for many at Cornell and the military. Nonetheless, the article did not present Alma’s statement as signifying irregular consumption but that he did not partake as a matter of course. Religious proscriptions aside, Alma undoubtedly felt that abstaining from certain substances as well adhering to dietary directives were part of a performance-­enhancing regimen. After all, church teachings promised that Saints who followed the dietary commandments “shall run and not be weary.” A local newspaper indicated as much, attributing Alma’s 1915 decathlon victory to “determination and persistence, aided by a good natural physique and proper living”—the latter quality an oblique reference to the positive influence of the Word of Wisdom. Indeed, Alma felt so strongly about the dietary directives that while teaching high school in Los Angeles he wrote for Paul Howells, a thirteen-­ year-­old aspiring athlete, a detailed two-­page prescriptive statement about good health. Alma knew the Howells family while at Cornell, so he took great pains to comment on an array of dietary dos and don’ts—eat dairy products, cut down on sugar, drink three to four quarts of water per day, avoid fried foods, get nine to ten hours of sleep, emphasize calisthenics (“promotes general strength and gracefulness”), and “pick a regular time to eliminate your bowels” as it is important not to “delay this call of nature.” He concluded by citing the specific admonitions from the LDS law of health principles from eating fruits, grains, and vegetables to abstaining from “tobacco, liquor, tea or coffee.” Alma couldn’t resist adding a few personal admonitions of particular import for a young teen: Stay away from pastries and don’t stay up late at night.30 Alma’s strict position was no surprise, as the Word of Wisdom had always been an inviolate article of faith in the Richards family. On that and other matters, his father reinforced church teachings by example. In 1916, the year before Utah effectively imposed statewide prohibition by banning

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beverages with more than one-­half of one percent alcohol, Morgan Richards was the lead speaker at a Sunday prohibition rally in the Old Rock Church, emphasizing the negative effects of spirituous beverages, especially on the young, as well as the economic benefits of dry laws. After Prohibition became the law of the land in 1920 with the passage of the Eighteenth Amendment, Alma’s brother, Joseph Evans Richards, a Salt Lake attorney, upon the recommendation of U.S. Senator Reed Smoot served from 1921 to 1927 as the Federal Prohibition Director for Utah. Joseph was also a member of the LDS Church’s Anti-­Liquor and Tobacco Committee.31 (Ironically, it was the Beehive State’s vote for repeal, notwithstanding the vocal opposition of Mormon church president Heber J. Grant, that ended Prohibition in 1933.) Alma’s 1942 Improvement Era comments were featured in a “No-­Liquor-­ Tobacco Column.” The editor reminded stake chairmen to get at least one hundred members to urge their U.S. senators and representatives to support a bill sponsored by Texas senator Morris Sheppard, the “father of Prohibition” who wrote the Eighteenth Amendment, that would ban the sale, gift, or possession of alcoholic beverages where American military personnel “live, train or work.” The column concluded by praising Alma as an exemplary representative of Mormonism. Alma Richards is a modest, thoroughly honest man who attributes his athletic successes and moral strength to parental teachings, keeping the Word of Wisdom, and prayer. He has always believed that liquor and tobacco are not good for man—a truth revealed to the Prophet Joseph Smith in 1833. Alma Richards has set an example of moral courage, fidelity to parental teachings, and faithfulness in keeping the commandment of the Lord, worthy of imitation by every boy in the Church.32 Returning to the prayer, why did Alma now, thirty years after the Games, for the first time mention Olympic prayer? A few months before the Improvement Era article, in August 1942 Alma wrote a letter to Mormon church leader Joseph F. Merrill on the occasion of his birthday. In addition to congratulatory birthday greetings, Alma included a testimony of faith. Merrill responded, thanking Alma for the unexpected birthday wishes and for including “something of the principles that guide your conduct.” On the Council of the Twelve, the second-­highest governing body in the LDS Church,

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Merrill realized that the Olympic champion’s firm endorsement of the Word of Wisdom would inspire the faithful as well as bolster the church’s support of the Sheppard temperance bill. Thus Merrill responded, “I wonder, Brother Richards, if you would object to my making extracts from your letter and having them printed in the No-­Liquor Tobacco Column, Melchizedek Priesthood Department, of the October Number of the Improvement Era.” Another article in the same issue by Dr. Richard R. Lyman, Council of the Twelve, entitled “Liquor, Immorality, and Our Armed Forces,” reinforced the political value of Alma’s comments.33 Birthday greetings aside, why had Alma at this time borne his testimony to a Mormon general authority? Merrill, formerly the commissioner of church education, was the signatory for the education fund loan Alma received twelve years earlier, but the two men had not corresponded since then. Could the emotional impact of a second divorce that same year, this one involving three preteen children, have prompted for Alma a soul-­ searching rededication of faith, a reaching out for spiritual stability to a known church official? Whatever the case, as the title of the column made clear, Alma’s celebrity status gave added importance to his professed beliefs in LDS teachings. The publishers of the Church-­owned Deseret News understood as much, so two months later, on January 16, 1943, they republished the Improvement Era column with the same title to further promote Alma as a faithful role model. Twelve years later, in October 1954, Alma wrote a ruminative life assessment for his eyes only in which for the second time he mentioned prayer in conjunction with winning the gold medal. Many thoughts went very rapidly through my mind. I thought of Parowan—my folks—the B.Y.U.—Utah—my people—that I was representing our Country against a fine athlete from another country. I felt weak and as if the whole world was on my shoulders. As I walked back to make my jump, I said a prayer and asked God to give me strength and if it was right that I should win—that I would do my best to set a good example all the days of my life. The weight went off my shoulders and my confidence returned.34 The commentary, part of an overall reflection on his life the year after retirement, was essentially a reiteration with slight embellishment of the

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comments he made at BYU after returning from the Olympics in 1912 and thirty years later in the letter published in the Improvement Era. There were two major clarifications. Alma now linked prayer to his final, ultimately winning, jump. Second, saying he prayed as he “walked back” to prepare for an approach to the bar effectively countered the idea that he had knelt.35 The reasons Richards mentions Olympic prayer in the personal assessment are unknown. In any event, did an imperfect memory affected by time, distance, and circumstance conjure up a fanciful recollection of prayer? After all, he confused the 1912 medal ceremony with the modern awards protocol and mistakenly recalled the 1914 decathlon competition as a single-­day event rather than occurring over two days. (Ward’s retirement poem accurately referenced the presentation of an olive leaf crown.) Had the recent marriage to an active LDS spouse enhanced his religious consciousness? Was it coincidental that an expanded version of prayer appeared in a personal career evaluation a matter of months after resuming contact with Liesche? Did referencing a prayer help alleviate Alma’s longstanding uneasiness, now heightened by correspondence with Liesche, about an achievement that, however exceptional, remained troubling because of extenuating circumstances? Could referencing prayer, in whatever form, before his final jump justify a seemingly miraculous achievement that seemed inexplicable save for divine intervention? In the end, it is uncertain exactly how, or even whether, Alma Richards prayed before his victorious Olympic leap. We will never know with absolute certainty, but the record allows for reasonable judgment. One looks in vain for a ring of truth. If he had knelt openly in prayer during the competition, this most unusual act would have been widely observed and commented upon. But no contemporary sources mentioned prayer, and Richards himself did not mention it upon returning home from the Games to overwhelmingly LDS audiences or in interviews with Provo and Salt Lake City newspapers that, given the religious orientation of the general Utah population, surely would have reported such a profession of faith. During the next twenty years of collegiate and amateur track competition, Richards was widely heralded as an Olympic champion, but none of his competitors or newspaper reporters apparently knew of such a prayer. The teacher who wrote a lengthy epic ode for his retirement, the close friend who delivered his funeral eulogy, and the LDS elders who conducted his memorial

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services never mentioned it. Nor did Alma reference praying in the account of his Olympic experience prepared for Arthur Grix or in correspondence with Hans Liesche from 1954 to 1963, who surely would have known about it. And there is no evidence that Alma’s widow, whose determined efforts to preserve Alma’s Olympic memory ever mentioned prayer in Stockholm. In short, the only direct evidence of an Olympic prayer is two brief, vague statements from Alma thirty and forty-­t wo years after the fact. Whatever the reliability, personal recollection is private and untestable, while the historical record is public and verifiable. If Alma did pray in Stockholm, then certain conclusions seem evident. First, he apparently placed no particular significance on it at the time since he did not mention prayer while explaining his achievement to others after returning from the Olympics. Perhaps he felt prayer was purely a private matter. But the failure to share with coreligionists evidence of God’s favor countered the customary practice, even obligation, of Mormons to bear faith-­promoting testimonies. Second, since Alma never mentioned a public display of devotion, he almost certainly did not before his final leap ostentatiously kneel in prayer, an atypical gesture for a Mormon and contrary to biblical injunction,36 but instead would have offered a private, brief, and silent entreaty similar to divine supplications later commonly made by athletes in competitions. Ultimately, the question of Alma Richards’s prayer relates to the larger issue of the use of sport as instrument of assimilation and reinforcing faith. This is nothing new. Church-­owned educational institutions from Notre Dame to Brigham Young have sponsored athletic teams for this purpose since the late nineteenth century. The Alma Richards story is unusual in that it involves a religious institution, the LDS Church, officially using an individual athlete’s specific expression of faith to inspire the faithful, to project a culturally respectable mainstream image and indirectly support Salt Lake’s bid for the Winter Olympics. There is nothing unreasonable in any of that. What is troublesome is how stories of Alma’s alleged prayer were constructed, even exaggerated, so that faithful purpose overrode factual accuracy. No attempt was made by writers or church officials to ascertain the veracity of the story in whole or in part. And despite David Lunt’s compelling 2007 article questioning public prayer, the story was repeated uncritically

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and with embellishments, most recently in the Deseret News prior to the 2012 London Summer Games, wherein Alma is credited with setting a world instead of an Olympic record.37 Does it matter? Well, yes. Tension between fabulous invention and factual chronicle must always be resolved. Because extraordinary professions of religiosity and overt examples of God’s favor are potent and important means of reinforcing and transmitting faith, it seems imperative, given the folkloric status that such tales command, to ensure accuracy. Bearing personal testimony, in essence teaching one another, a vital part of Mormonism, is taken as an experiential perception or contrived parable intended as object lesson, simply a faith-­promoting expression of belief, but statements about the experiences of historical figures, having passed the test of time and thus taken as gospel, should be faithful to history, not faithful history. It was perhaps inevitable in a religious culture given to premonition and God’s revealed favor that Alma’s extraordinary, “Divinely inspired” athletic achievement would become part of faithful folklore. In this, Alma’s story does not stand alone.38 But the uncritical acceptance of a questionable account about an undocumented Olympic prayer has created a distorted if not false representation of Alma Richards and his historic achievement. There was nothing providential or miraculous about the gold medal leap. An alliance of phenomenal leg strength and indomitable determination propelled him over the bar in Stockholm; more than that need not be said. Alma Richards deserves a place in the pantheon of great Utah, Mormon, and American athletes for the same reasons that brought him recognition and fame before it was fashionable to emphasize a questionable instance of public devotion. Richards was indeed the first Utah and LDS Olympic gold medalist who, while faithfully adhering to Mormon dietary proscriptions, became the most versatile and accomplished track and field athlete of his generation. For all the attention given to Alma’s leap of faith in LDS circles, he remained essentially a celebrity bound in obscurity. That was strikingly evident in the planning of Salt Lake’s 2002 torch relay, the extremely popular, highly publicized pre-­Games promotional event. On January 23, 2001, the Salt Lake Organizing Committee announced there would be twenty-­one stops over five days in the Beehive State including a tour through West Valley–Taylorsville to honor Natalie Williams. Alma’s hometown, Parowan, less

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than a mile east of Interstate 15, the main north–south highway through the state, was not included. Parowan’s 2,600 residents, who had just held Alma Richards Day on January 11 as part of the town’s sesquicentennial celebration, protested. Mayor Glen Halterman said, “We are outraged. Our feelings are hurt. And we think it’s a slap in the face.” Carrie Shurtleff, director of the Parowan Visitors Center, made the case succinctly. “He represents all the old Olympic ideals—the ‘nobody’ supposedly out of ‘nowhere,’ rising out of ‘nothing’ to win the prize. Does anyone mean Olympics more than Alma Richards?” That spring Parowan posted two billboards along I-­15 publicizing Alma as Utah’s first gold medalist. That recognizing Alma and Parowan was not just a matter of local pride was evident in the materials and labor donated by companies from Las Vegas to the south and Kaysville in the northern portion of the state. The oversight gaffe was obvious, and a letter to the editor of the Deseret News captured the political implications. “It doesn’t take a genius to know that the Salt Lake Organizing Committee is facing potential public relations disaster if it continues to avoid including Parowan in the Olympic torch relay route. Including Parowan would be a win-­w in for SLOC.”39 Lobbying by Parowan officials, widespread public protests, and press criticism finally got the message across. In late June the committee added ten cities, including Parowan, to the parade route. In announcing the addition of Parowan, SLOC president Mitt Romney said it wouldn’t delay the torch run. “Parowan was on Interstate 15, so it was pretty much a no-­brainer. It also had an emotional pull—its connection to Alma Richards.”40 Well, yes. In January 2002 Parowan received permission to hold a two-­minute celebration in front of Alma’s boyhood home on February 5, three days before the Games. 41 The bell in the Old Rock Church, the oldest building in Iron County where Alma received his early academic and religious training, announced the arrival of the torch in Parowan just before 10 o’clock. Alma’s second cousin, Carol Wright, ninety-­three years spry, ran the torch to Alma’s dormered two-­story home at 25 South Main Street where Mayor Halterman, who worked so hard to have the route reworked, offered a few celebratory comments. It was the least SLOC could do to memorialize Utah’s most famous gold medalist. 42 The townspeople did more. The Iron County Courthouse in Parowan featured an impressive exhibit of Richards memorabilia. His medals and awards, nearly two hundred and fifty, were on display, as were his 1912 Olympic jersey and photographs depicting major

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moments in his athletic career. The exhibit had meaning beyond local pride. Mary Margaret Schraeger, Alma’s eldest daughter from his second marriage, who loaned the memorabilia for presentation, always knew her father was “a great athlete,” but it was by “going through his stuff that it sunk in what a truly amazing, amazing talent he was.”43 Richards was not the only Olympian slighted. L. Jay Silvester, four-­time Olympic discus thrower (1964–1976) who won a silver medal in Munich, lived in Orem, through which the torch was scheduled to pass. Although a roommate of Mitt Romney, CEO of the SLOC, while a student at BYU, Silvester was incomprehensibly not invited to participate in the torch relay. Only after an article by Lex Hemphill of the Salt Lake Tribune on February 6 called attention to the embarrassing slight did SLOC immediately offer Silvester a leg of the relay. Although “pained” by the snub, Silvester graciously accepted the invitation and on Thursday, the day before the Opening Ceremonies, ran a brief route through the state capitol rotunda. SLOC officials had “no explanation” for neglecting Silvester, a former world record holder who participated in four Olympics (1964–1976), though shocking ignorance of Olympic and Utah sport history immediately comes to mind. 44

13

CROSSING THE BAR

Twilight and evening bell, And after that the dark! And may there be no sadness of farewell, When I embark; For tho’ from out our bourne of Time and Place The flood may bear me far, I hope to see my Pilot face to face When I have crost the bar. —“Crossing the Bar,” Alfred, Lord Tennyson .

In December 1961 Alma and Lenore, who had established “a thriving insurance business,” moved to a home in Orange, California, at 1240 East Sycamore Avenue.1 Shortly thereafter, Alma’s health began to decline. He was suffering from Parkinson’s disease. It was especially difficult for an athlete whose bodily strength and agility had played a central role in his life to suffer from a disorder of the central nervous system that entailed a progressive loss of muscle control. The Swedes, remembering his stunning victory, sent him an Arsbok (yearbook) inscribed to “Alma Richards, Olympic high jump winner Stockholm 1912,” and in 1959 invited him to attend the fiftieth anniversary of the Stockholm Olympics, but illness now prevented Alma from returning to the scene of his life-­changing triumph.2

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Word of his poor health circulated quickly. Bill Schroeder, Alma’s close friend at the Helms Foundation, voiced his concern. “We haven’t heard from you for some time, and we are wondering just how you are feeling. We think of you often, Alma . . . and we miss seeing you.”3 As Alma’s condition worsened, twenty-­three members of the Southern California Chapter of U.S. Olympic Athletes in July 1962 signed a “get well” note with several personal comments—“Hi Champ, get well” and “Keep your chin up”—that conveyed their concern and admiration. 4 Such a gesture by fellow Olympians, all personal friends, was to be expected, but the act of kindness by Junior Girl Scout Troop 4 in Santa Ana in December 1962 was a total surprise. Hearing that Alma was suffering from advancing Parkinson’s disease, they decided to give him a “Happy Day” as a Christmas present. Richards undoubtedly appreciated the lace Christmas tree gift, but he was surely moved when they sang their original composition recalling his Olympic victory.5 Mr. Richards sailed the ocean, sailed the ocean blue 1912 to Sweden, won the Olympics true. For the old U.S.A. he jumped 7’4 [sic] A record and honors had him floored. Won the Olympics, made his country proud aglow Oh people have you heard the story Mr. Richards seen Gustavus V [sic] in his glory. Proud as a tree and straight as an arrow. By February 1963 Parkinson’s necessitated Alma’s transfer to the Long Beach Veterans Hospital. His condition became critical with the onset of pneumonia, requiring the use of oxygen. On April 3, 1963, Alma W. Richards, age 73, died of “left coronary thrombosis due to generalized arteriosclerosis, severe” complicated by pneumonia. That year Lenore’s Christmas greetings to friends disclosed, “My dear and beloved husband, Dick, was called to his Eternal Reward on April 3rd.”6 A memorial service was held on Saturday, April 6, at the Gillogly-­ Donegan funeral home in Orange. Four Mormon elders from the Orange Ward and Santa Ana Stake where Alma resided conducted the service. R. Chadwick Noel, second counselor in the presiding bishopric, offered the

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invocation; Gerald K. Romriell, first counselor, officiated. Ralph Lorenzo Jack, representing the stake high council, presented a tribute to Alma; Berne D. Broadbent, president of the Orange elders quorum, gave the benediction. James B. Miller, LDS friend and neighbor, delivered a eulogy that instead of personal comments consisted almost exclusively of testimonial letters written by Alma’s former students. Interestingly, the ceremonies began with the singing of “The Lord’s Prayer” and concluded with “Going Home,” both iconic Christian songs not found in the Mormon hymnbook. It was fitting given Alma’s personal faith and heritage, and in keeping with his widow’s religious preference, that LDS officials conduct the service. Whether an omission or evidence of nonmembership, Alma is not included in the LDS church register of deceased members.7 In addition to a religious tone, the occasion had a distinct sporting presence as six of the honorary pall bearers were members of the 1912 Olympic team—Fred Kelly, Jim Donahue, Ira Courtney, George Retzer Jr., Edwin Pritchard, and John R. Case—along with Bill Schroeder, Helms Foundation director, and Maxwell Stiles, Los Angeles sportswriter who specialized in track and field reporting. The family requested in lieu of flowers donations be made to the Helms Athletic Foundation’s Olympic Games Fund. Resulting in donations of $90, it was an appropriate gesture as Alma had actively participated in campaigns to raise money for the fund.8 Like his Olympic pal of 1912, Jim Thorpe, Pat Richards was returned home for burial, as was his wish. On April 8 funeral services conducted by Bishop Verl E. Taylor were held in the Parowan Third Ward Chapel, across from the Richards homestead. The opening and closing musical selections, “Jesus, Lover of My Soul,” performed by a male quartet, and the priesthood song, “Brightly Beams our Father’s Mercy,” were from the LDS hymnal. Most poignantly and personally, a vocal solo of “The Old Refrain,” the secular Viennese song, popularized by a Fritz Kreisler transcription during Alma’s Cornell years, spoke to Alma’s lifelong affection for Parowan—the people and the place. The opening line, “I often think of home,” was followed nostalgically by remembrances (“My childhood joys again come back to me”) and the comfort of belonging (“And though my heart is young my head is grey, Yet still the echoes ring, And dear old memories forever stay”). As Thomas Wolfe put it, “You Can’t Go Home Again.” Alma Richards did, frequently in visits and his mind’s eye, and now in death. At the city cemetery, Anceil J. Adams dedicated the grave while members of the

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Parowan American Legion Post No. 20 posted the colors and conducted military honors. Alma’s final resting place was next to where his father and mother lay, the only sibling interred in proximity to their parents.9 Curiously, carved on Alma’s grave marker is a small cross, a symbol of faith decidedly atypical of Mormons. The cross is widely regarded as a universal, unifying Christian symbol signifying both Jesus’ sacrifice for the sins of humankind and the resurrection of the faithful, but it is shunned by Mormons despite the Church’s identification with Christianity.10 Consequently, Mormon ward houses are topped with spires, their chapels do not display crosses or crucifixes, and members disdain wearing crosses on necklaces or other personal adornments. Not a single headstone of the fifteen presidents of the LDS Church, from Joseph Smith buried in 1844 to Gordon B. Hinckley interred in 2008, has a cross or even a remotely Christian representation. And nary a cross is to be found on the markers of the more than fifty prominent Mormons buried in the Salt Lake City cemetery.11 So why is there a cross on Alma’s gravestone? The bronze marker is a standard-­issue headstone provided gratis upon request for veterans by the federal government. Alma had been taken to a Veterans’ hospital in Long Beach, which probably indicated his desire to utilize military services. Applications for gravestones at the time offered not only a choice of the size and composition of the marker, but also religious emblems—Christian (a cross), Jewish (the Star of David), or no symbol either because of nonbelief or unavailability of an appropriate signifier. (Since 1973 sixty religious emblems of belief have been available, including the Angel Moroni as approved by LDS Church officials.)12 Given the LDS Church’s adamant aversion to displaying crosses, one would expect an unadorned headstone to have been obtained for Alma. The marker is a mystery. Alma’s widow, Lenore, who attended funeral ceremonies in Parowan, most likely ordered his marker; but that, too, is uncertain because his military records were destroyed in the July 1973 fire at the National Personnel Records Center. Had Alma developed an ecumenical sense of Mormonism that warranted the traditional Christian adornment? Not likely. Was the wrong headstone inadvertently ordered, it not being understood that marking “Christian” would produce a cross symbol? If so, was the marker simply accepted due to Lenore living out of state or pride in a military headstone?13

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In any event, Parowan’s most famous citizen, a veritable hometown hero, was not memorialized in monumental fashion. The small brass plate, set flush to the ground, that marks his final resting place, is much smaller than his parents’ adjacent upright marble markers, notes his military service units but not his Olympic achievement, and is obscured by a large bush. Alma’s name is inscribed in the World War I section of the memorial pillar in the Parowan town square honoring military veterans. Fittingly, if belatedly, on January 8, 2001, the Parowan high school held Alma W. Richards Day as part of Parowan’s sesquicentennial celebration. The school’s football and track stadium was christened The Alma W. Richards Memorial Stadium, his name emblazoned on the scoreboard; at the entrance was placed a small brick monument containing a plaque describing his accomplishments, including the prayer story.14 In addition to numerous obituary notices in the Los Angeles area newspapers, word of Alma’s passing spread throughout the track and field community. Emil Breitkreutz reported that Elvin Drake, UCLA track coach, had directed the announcer at an April 6 triangular collegiate meet at Westwood to ask spectators to stand for a minute of silence in memory of Richards. Condolences arrived from around the country. Responding to a letter and newspaper clipping Lenore had sent about Alma’s passing, Louis Montgomery, Cornell track coach, said a eulogy “he so richly deserves” would appear in The Wastebasket, the sport’s curiously titled newsletter. He also mentioned that two pictures of Alma “hang in the track room—one as a former Cornell record holder, and the other as one of Cornell’s Olympians.” In addition, Cornell’s university newspaper, the Cornell Chronicle, and alumni magazine, The Call, published Martha Ward’s poem in full as a tribute to the Big Red athlete.15 Surprisingly, Alma’s passing earned scant notice in Utah newspapers. The Deseret News offered a mere five cryptic sentences under the headline “Utah Loses Track Ace.” The Daily Herald in Provo, home of Brigham Young University where Alma launched his career, posted a brief notice of his passing without commentary on the second page of the sports section. Apropos an athlete without recognition in his own land, the passing of “the former track champion” was given greater notice in the New York Times than his home state papers. John Mooney of the Salt Lake Tribune was the lone local sportswriter to follow up notification of Richards’s death with a

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laudatory column describing his achievements and importance, albeit with some embellishment.16 If memories of Alma’s athletic career diminished by the time of his passing, the medals and trophies remain emblematic signifiers of his achievements. The memorabilia relate not only to a particular person, Alma Richards, and specific events, notably the 1912 Olympics, but also represent athletic times past worth remembering. The tangible remembrances of an extraordinary athletic career eventually became the object of contention. When Alma returned to BYU in 1913 after Stockholm, his Olympic gold medal and awards won to date had been showcased in Room D of the Education Building at BYU; in December 1917 he indicated, at the suggestion of Coach Roberts, his desire for all of his trophies, ribbons, and plaques to be permanently displayed in the library or Education Building at his alma mater.17 But by spring 1919 the school had failed to make arrangements to preserve and exhibit the awards. Three forceful efforts by Gene Roberts to obtain authorization to purchase a hardwood case to display the medals in the physical education department, the school library, or perhaps the president’s office came to naught. As a result, most of the medals were on view at the Provo Commercial and Savings Bank save for a few cups at Roberts’s home. He was concerned because Alma would soon be coming to campus for the second or third time since his presentation of the medals in December 1917 without anything having been done to accommodate his gift. Roberts had a personal stake in the matter, being responsible for initially encouraging Alma to donate the awards to BYU, so he pleaded with Brimhall to allow the physical education department to spend $30 to purchase a display case from the Smoot Lumber Company. The president declined.18 After settling in Los Angeles in 1921, Alma was approached by the Helms Athletic Foundation to house the collection. Alma was a frequent visitor and participant in Helms social and commemorative athletic activities and had established a good relationship with Bill Schroeder, the institution’s cofounder and director. Given BYU’s indifference to the matter, Alma went to Provo, collected his awards, and transferred them to Helms. It was an appropriate site for the memorabilia as the HAF, founded in 1936, managed the finest all-­sports museum in the world.19 Helms treasured Alma’s memorabilia, providing a prominent display for the items. Years later Schroeder wrote Alma expressing “how much we treasure your awards collection, which we were fortunate to lodge in our sports shrine a number of years ago.”20

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Then, only three days after Alma’s death, Earl Pardoe, the BYU alumni association historian, wrote Lenore claiming that Alma said when he took his memorabilia to Los Angeles that he would eventually “give some of them to [BYU] for our trophy case.” Asking that she “kindly keep this in mind when you have the time and courage to look into such matters,” Pardoe concluded, “We want something of him to always remind our students of his prowess and love for BYU.” The appeal from Provo, understandable if absent evidence of Alma’s intent, was compelling. It was reinforced by Karl Richards, son of Alma’s eldest brother, Gomer, who likewise thought an “exhibit of Alma’s stuff” would be “very meaningful” at the school because, as he wrote to track coach Clarence Robison, there was “more personal appreciation of his outstanding achievement at the BYU than at any other spot in the country.” An executive with the Automobile Manufacturing Association in Detroit, Michigan, Karl in July 1963 traveled first to Provo to talk with Robison and then to Los Angeles to discuss the matter with Lenore. She initially expressed a desire to retain legal possession of the awards during her lifetime and on her death pass them to Paul Richards, Alma’s son. When Karl pressed the disposition of the awards, she indicated an interest “on more or less, permanent display” at BYU. Karl immediately urged Robison to get in touch with Lenore and “outline a plan for the display.”21 Although Alma had spent more time and with greater distinction at Cornell than BYU, and had been far more involved with Helms Foundation activities, Lenore, unable to resist the call of their church and his school, decided to transfer the awards to Provo. Schroeder, believing it would be “a keen disappointment” to lose all of Alma’s awards, suggested leaving some of the items at Helms.22 The loss of the Richards collection would indeed be a substantial loss to the preeminent repository of Olympic memorabilia in the country, but even Alma’s admired friend, two-­time Olympic decathlon champion Bob Mathias, felt sending them to Alma’s alma mater was “a fine idea.” Friends concurred with “the hard decision to move the medals.”23 In March 1968 Lenore began assembling the many medals and awards for relocation to Provo. It turned out to be a rushed job as a “young couple” from BYU showed up sooner than expected, so she “just packed everything into two small foot lockers.” Relinquishing the physical manifestations of athletic achievement was not easy, as they were an intrinsic part of Alma’s life. The decision was easier because Lenore as planned returned to South Dakota that December, and sending Alma’s memorabilia to the church

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school symbolically and no doubt emotionally finalized her time without him in California. “They must not be lost,” she said in turning them over to the two BYU representatives who went to Los Angeles to pick them up. To that end she had a lawyer draft a gift in trust stipulating her intentions in making the donation.24 Alma had not indicated a desire to relocate his awards to BYU, but Lenore succumbed to family and institutional pressure. It was a decision she would come to regret. Alma’s medals went to BYU under the auspices of the athletic director Floyd Millet and governed by the conditions in the gift in trust. Inaccurately referring to BYU as Alma’s alma mater, Lenore said the “greatest benefit” for his family and the general public would be “if his medals and trophies won during his lifetime are owned and held by Brigham Young University in trust so that they may be available for exhibition of the same, and may prove to be an inspiration to aspiring young athletes.” Viewing by the public aside, the desire to exhibit the awards was in keeping with Alma’s initial hope that they would serve as an inspirational example to students, especially athletes. The awards, save for the Olympic gold medal which Lenore retained until her death, were “to be displayed as the Brigham Young University sees fit.”25 (Coincidentally but appropriately and symbolically, BYU within a year received the personal papers of Eugene Roberts and Clinton Larson, originally given to the College of Physical Education but eventually also deposited in the archives for processing and safekeeping.) When Lenore visited the campus in 1970, Alma’s awards, now under the supervision of Stan Watts, BYU’s basketball coach and athletics director from 1970–1976, were displayed in a trophy case in the reception lounge of the Wilkinson Center, the school’s student union. “I was tremendously impressed and extremely happy that I chose BYU as the trustee of Alma’s athletic medals and trophies,” she enthused. “Words cannot express my pleasure in seeing the display of the medals and other mementos.” She was “certain” other family members would be “equally pleased with the honor the University has given.”26 In addition to Alma’s medals and trophies, BYU by 1974 had also received his scrapbook, correspondence, and photographs. The materials, like the awards, were entrusted to library archivist Hollis Scott for safekeeping. Lenore said the “prime reason” she decided to donate Alma’s entire collection to BYU was “to help set up a lasting example for students and athletes alike.” In keeping with Alma’s belief that “teaching was his greatest

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work,” she hoped the display of his medals “may inspire some students.”27 When Lenore went to Provo in 1975 on the occasion of Alma’s induction into the BYU Athletic Hall of Fame, it seemed the objectives he and the student body had envisioned in the December 1917 convocation had been realized. But the situation changed in the summer of 1981 when Lenore received a disturbing message from Catherine Richards, Alma’s youngest sister. While visiting Richards family members in Salt Lake City, Alma’s eldest daughter Joanne and husband Art Youngberg went to BYU to see the medals. They were unable to locate them as the awards were nowhere on display. Instead, they were stored in the school’s archives. Disappointed, quite upset actually, by what she considered the school’s failure to abide by the intent of the gift in trust, Lenore decided to revoke the custodial arrangement, take back the entire collection, and give custody to Alma’s children living in southern California. It was an emotional decision involving reflections on the past and future disposition of Alma’s treasured mementos. “When I made the decision to send the medals to BYU, it seemed the right thing to do—and maybe I should of left them at Helms Athletic Foundation in Los Angeles as Bill Schroeder was very upset that I removed them. Now I feel change should be made and let Alma’s children be the beneficiary of the collection.” She sought advice from Catherine, who agreed that his children should have their father’s medals.28 To that end Lenore contacted Gomer’s son, Reed H. Richards, a Salt Lake attorney. Reed, who had helped draft the original trust document, was well suited to draft a letter of notification to BYU regarding termination of the agreement and transference of the medals to Joanne, who agreed to serve as trustee for the collection on condition that Alma’s other children—Mary, Anita, and Paul—share in the distribution of the awards. There were two related issued. First, when BYU representatives picked up the medals in California, they said an inventory of the collection would be made, but Lenore never received a copy. She wanted one. Second, since Joanne preferred to not come to Utah until the following spring, Lenore requested Reed Richards to arrange for the medals to be stored in a secure place until she arrived.29 The termination-­transfer did not proceed smoothly. Back in April 1980 Lenore had inquired about the disposition of Alma’s medals and papers without a response. Now a year had passed and there was still no word from BYU about Reed Richards’s letter of termination. Catherine Richards was “surprised at BYU’s attitude,” and hoped the medals were in a safe

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place. Lenore shared her concern, writing to athletic director Glen Tuckett about the matter without receiving a response. Julian Durham, who had once seen the medals on exhibit in the Cougar Room of the Marriott Center, the school’s multipurpose arena, sometime after the arena opened in 1971, had also inquired concerning the whereabouts of the medals without a reply. Finally, Durham’s letter to Tuckett in May 1982 got a response. Durham, in addition to requesting a meeting “before the end of the month” with the athletics director, executive secretary of the Cougar Club, and executive director of the alumni association about the medals, requested a copy of the collection inventory (“a promise that was never fulfilled”) and complained about the “shoddy way the medals collection has been handled.”30 Tuckett, who had been the Cougars’ distinguished baseball coach prior to taking over administrative duties in 1976, responded in a forthright manner. He took umbrage at the claim the collection had been “handled in such a ‘shoddy’ manner,” pointing out that the awards had been on display for over two years in the Cougar Room, “the most prominent and prestigious area available to the athletic department.” Tuckett thought BYU had done “an outstanding job of displaying [the] medals” but concluded, “evidently that is not so.” The problem, he said, was space; there was insufficient room to construct trophy cases in public areas to display all the athletic awards that had come to the school. For that reason the Richards collection was consigned to storage for safekeeping in the archives in the Harold B. Lee Library. Although he could not locate Lenore’s letter, he would ask archivist Hollis Scott to prepare an inventory for her. As for transferring the collection, she should contact Carl W. Bacon in the development office. Tuckett concluded with what apparently represented BYU’s position on athletic memorabilia at the time. “If she wants to revoke her trust agreement, that would certainly be alright with me. We do not want anyone involved in helping the athletic department if they do not feel good about it.”31 Despite Tuckett’s helpful explanations and response, including the prompt preparation of the inventory, removal of the collection still remained difficult. In late June, Lenore wrote to Bacon hoping for a quick resolution. Should the collection be sent to her, to Joanne, or have Joanne as trustee decide how to handle it? Three months later Lenore remained “very much interested in removing the medals from BYU,” but she had no reply from Bacon to two letters, not even an acknowledgement of correspondence received. Inquiries from her attorney, Reed Richards, and telephone calls

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also went unanswered. Thinking a formal, pointed letter from Reed requesting a meeting with Bacon would “really bring things to a head,” she traveled to Salt Lake on October 21. On October 26 Lenore and Julian drove to BYU where they met with school attorney, a Mr. Terrell (“Mr. Bacon was conveniently not in the office”). They then met with David Whittaker of the archives and packed up the medals.32 Lenore decided to take the collection, save for giving Julian the Beehive Hall of Fame plaque “for all his work on it,” to Sioux Falls. While there were only eighty-­seven of the original 245 medals Alma had won, she was “sure” that was how many Alma was able to retrieve from BYU when initially transferring them to Helms. Undoubtedly many were lost when dispersed from Roberts to the bank and beyond. Despite the frustrations entailed in securing the collection, Lenore agreed to let the BYU archives make copies of Alma’s papers, scrapbook, and pictures pursuant to returning the material in three weeks. But what now to do with the collection—give them to his family? Lenore reasoned, “His children by a former marriage, and his grandchildren will get more pleasure out of the medals and trophies than the few people who might have seen them in the school archives.”33 Meanwhile, another option presented itself. Upon returning home from Utah, Lenore read in a Sioux Falls newspaper that Helms Hall was moving to a new permanent museum, library, and office building. She had written to Alma’s children asking for their thoughts about an equitable distribution of his medals, receiving a positive response from Joanne but nothing from Mary, Anita, or Paul, the children from his contentious second marriage. With the prospect of family allocation seemingly dim, Lenore wrote to Bill Schroeder asking if he might be interested in receiving Alma’s collection. He was. Schroeder, still smarting over the loss of the medals, ungenerously commented that Lenore had retrieved from BYU the “awards and items which were entrusted to me by Alma many years ago, for permanent lodging in our sports museum, which you subsequently requested it be returned for placement at Brigham Young University.” The dig aside, he assured her that he would be “very happy to accept the return of Alma’s athletic awards and other items for permanent lodging” in their “splendid new home,” the First Interstate Bank Athletic Foundation, and said he “shall be looking forward to receiving them.”34 It seemed like the best solution. In advising Joanne of her intention to return the medals “to the place your Father had put them before he passed

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away,” Lenore confessed that she probably had “a personal guilt over the past years for removing the medals from Helms Hall and sending them to BYU.” After all, Alma spent half his life in Los Angeles, where many family and friends would be able to view them. Perhaps, she thought, “it was meant to be,” as the local newspaper article about the new museum had led to her writing to Schroeder. In the end, she told Joanne, “I have so wanted to make everybody happy—but it seems the whole thing has snow-­balled.”35 But once again the medals saga took an unexpected turn. By the spring of 1983 Lenore had received all of Alma’s papers from BYU and was prepared to send the entire collection to the sports museum in Los Angeles. The transfer never materialized. Her nephew Tom Cornwall, a former lieutenant in the Los Angeles police department, advised against lodging the collection in the city, citing concerns about safety in the area. Salt Lake, he thought, would be a better location. But Julian Durham nixed that idea. Whatever the security concerns, and they seemed wildly exaggerated, custodial rights was the main obstacle. Lenore insisted that any custody agreement gave Alma’s children “control and ownership of the collection.” That is a deal breaker for museums and archives, which ipso facto assume ownership of materials in their possession. Lenore admitted that removing the medals from Helms Hall was “my first mistake, I should have left them there. At the time sending them to BYU seemed right.” Now age seventy-­three and tired of the hassles, she just wanted to “get them out of my possession.” She sent the medals to her sister in Santa Ana then asked Cornwall, who knew Mary Schraeger, to seek her opinion about the original idea of dividing the medals among Alma’s children. In 1985 Mary agreed to take control of the collection. Relieved that “this is part of my life that I’m finally releasing to the family,” she confessed, “hopefully it will be divided to everyone’s liking.”36 Of course, it wasn’t. Joanne Youngberg never received any of her father’s awards except for the gold medal from the Olympic fundraising exhibition meet in New York City. In 2001 Mary loaned some memorabilia to Parowan and others to BYU for displays featuring Alma in conjunction with the 2002 Salt Lake Olympics; the BYU items were finally returned to the Schraeger family in 2013.37 Here was a lose-­lose conclusion to a tangled tale of misplaced athletic memorabilia. Two-­thirds of Alma’s 245 awards were lost; only eighty-­seven emblems of his athletic achievement remain. BYU lost the opportunity to

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display artifacts of the school’s founding athletic hero in the excellent Legacy Hall. With the medals hidden from view in family hands, the opportunity for the public to appreciate Alma’s awards, trophies, cups, plaques, and ribbons is lost. Alma so ardently desired their prominent display for generations to come; the loss may be his most disappointing defeat. Interestingly, with regard to the possession of their medals, Alma and Jim Thorpe’s paths crossed again. The same month Lenore obtained the Richards collection from BYU, the International Olympic Committee announced on October 13, 1982, Thorpe’s amateur status had been reinstated and that his ceremonial medals would be given to his family in January 1983. Lenore was very much an “Olympic widow,” investing a good deal of time and energy in celebrating Alma’s 1912 victory. She commemorated his death in a manner befitting his patriotic bearing by presenting the American flag that had been draped across his coffin to the John Muir School in Santa Ana; in a 1963 Memorial Day celebration members of Girl Scout Troop 4 raised the Stars and Stripes at the school. Lenore frequently wore the gold medal on a chain as a necklace—her “favorite piece of jewelry”— and as a member of the Business and Professional Women’s Club of Orange never tired of relating for friends and associates the highlights of her late husband’s illustrious career. And as Alma had done for previous Games, Lenore contributed to the 1968 U.S. Olympic Fund for the support of athletes competing in Mexico. And, of course, she tried unsuccessfully to transfer his trophies and awards to BYU for permanent public display. After returning home in December 1968 to Sioux Falls, South Dakota, as a New York Life insurance agent, Lenore continued until her death in 1992 to keep alive memories of Alma’s special athletic achievements. She returned to Salt Lake City to participate in Alma’s induction into the BYU (1975) and Beehive (1982) halls of fame and eagerly consented to lengthy newspaper interviews such as the article headlined: “Olympic Champ’s Widow Remembers 1912 Games.”38 The preservation of physical artifacts is an easy task; the perpetuation of memory is the more difficult undertaking. In 1912 Alma Richards was hailed as the greatest athlete in Utah history. His fame endured among the keepers of the state’s sporting past. In 1959 Al Warden of the Ogden Standard-­Examiner proclaimed Alma “unquestionably the state’s greatest track and field performer and possibly its great all around athlete.” (Given sport specialization since World War II, Richards will likely remain Utah’s

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finest all-­around athlete.) But noting Richards’s death in 1963, John Mooney of the Salt Lake Tribune correctly concluded, “Though known by every follower of athletics, Alma died the other day without the honor his athletic feats warranted.”39 As memories diminish, the forgetting increases. Two years after Alma’s retirement, Venice honored its illustrious Olympian-­turned-­teacher by establishing the Alma Richards Award to be presented annually to the school’s most outstanding track and field athlete. At some time and for some reason the award was discontinued; Venice administrators and coaches in 2013 had never heard of it. 40 Once a statewide celebrity, Alma Richards, perfunctory membership in commemorative organizations notwithstanding, a half century later had passed into historical oblivion for the majority of Utahns and for Olympic cognoscenti was an enigmatic name inscribed on athletic honor rolls. Election to local halls of fame does not resonate with the public at large and thus does not promote a general awareness of individuals or accomplishments, save of the current generation. Despite the efforts of Alma and later Lenore—not to mention the school’s coaching legend, Gene Roberts—none of Alma’s trophies, medals, or ribbons are on permanent display at BYU, not even in Legacy Hall, an impressive showcase of artifacts belonging to famous Cougar athletes. Alma’s papers reside in archival storage awaiting retrieval for special occasions. 41 In 2011 the Deseret News, published by Alma’s church and appropriately attuned to Mormon and BYU athletics, did not list him among the twenty most “extraordinary homegrown athletes.”42 Utah’s first and greatest Olympian wanders lost in history.

14

ALMA RICHARDS REDIVIVUS

The time you won your town the race We chaired you through the market-­place; Man and boy stood cheering by, And home we brought you shoulder-­high. Smart lad, to slip betimes away From fields where glory does not stay And early though the laurel grows It withers quicker than the rose. Now you will not swell the rout Of lads that wore their honours out, Runners whom renown outran —A.E. Housman, “To An Athlete Dying Young”

And the name died before the man. A. E. Housman’s poem “To An Athlete Dying Young” (1896) uses a sporting context to capture poignantly the transient nature of glory—that the memory of great achievement diminishes over time and that the only way to ensure lasting fame and public praise is to die metaphorically at the zenith of one’s achievement and recognition, to step aside while fulsome praise still reigns, lest memories of accomplishment fade or are forgotten. Housman’s view of fleeing fame applies widely,

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almost universally, in the world of sport, where athletes invariably either “peak too soon” or “stay too young.” Alma Richards was an exception to the rule, as a reflection on his life amply illustrates. Olympic champions, like other elite athletes, typically exit the competitive arena as soon as physical capabilities noticeably diminish, then they savor embellished memories of their achievements. Not Alma. That for twenty years post-­Stockholm he consistently continued to perform at championship levels in regional and national competitions is a tribute to his superb, indeed rare, physical abilities. Instead of following the typical athletic ethos of striving to achieve “personal bests” during competitions, Alma consistently jumped only high enough to win. To him, victory itself was paramount, as he measured success by accumulating more and more triumphs. At the conclusion of his collegiate career he had accumulated victories and honors far beyond the reach of most athletes, so why continue to endure the rigors of training and the hardships of travel to distant competitions? In 1944 Alma submitted to a handwriting analysis. The graphologist provided the following profile: “Active-­Ability-­Frank-­Sincere-­Courageous-­ Independent-­Ability in Technical Line-­Sports. Ability to Argue, Dispute, To get Overly Excited. Teaching too Tame. Favorite Activities: Sports, Out-­of-­ Doors.” Richards apparently took it seriously as an indicator of personality, character, and attitudinal traits because in 1949 he had handwriting analyses done posthumously for his father and brother Joe, his two most influential family members.1 But other than being completely wrong about teaching, the pseudoscience produced characteristics of near universal applicability. In any event, a focus on specific personality characteristics obscures the larger sources and expressions of behavior. It was not enough that Alma was an Olympic gold medalist and a national champion in five different track and field events. He had a hunger to compete as if he needed to prove himself over and again. To whom? Himself? Whence came the driving ambition, the obsessive need to make himself known through athletic achievement? Egotism? The intoxicating, habit-­ forming elixir of mounting victories? An emotional haunt deeply rooted in his personal psyche that kept propelling him up and out? Personal pride in demonstrating his exceptional physical prowess to much younger athletes in prime competitive condition? Something as simple as sheer enjoyment

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of competition, the pleasure of success and a desire to remain an active part of the athletic fraternity? Or just to continue, to hang on to the activity that had so fundamentally transformed his life and sense of self? Psychologists might have an answer. I do not. But it is clear that Alma thirsted for acclaim, not from the public, but from fellow competitors on cinder tracks and sawdust pits. Just as obvious and incontrovertible is that at the very core of his being, Alma Richards was an Olympian. Alma leapt into Olympic fame in Stockholm in the summer of 1912. But it was the totality of the Olympic experience—the team qualifying trials, the voyage to Sweden, the winning leap, and the subsequent acclaim—that rearranged his cosmos, not only giving new direction to his life but also forging a lifelong identity. Winning an Olympic gold medal brought international renown, but athletic competition itself became the driving force in his life. He simply could not rest on his laurels, because he could not let go of the activity that propelled him beyond Parowan possibilities and gave him celebrity status and a newfound identity. Alma was obsessively driven not by angels or demons but by a wellspring of self-­satisfaction, ego gratification as it were, forged in athletic success. His track and field accomplishments had made the man, hence the reluctance to step away from competitive jumping and throwing. Sundry awards and championships, highlighted by Olympic gold, and enshrinement in various sports halls of fame do not capture the remarkable story of how an unschooled rural wrangler from Parowan, Utah, became an Olympic champion, European traveler, graduate of an elite eastern university, lieutenant in the U.S. Army, national champion in five track and field events, and a lawyer and inspirational science teacher to a generation of high school students. That spoke to his ability, yes, but also to his character and a determination to excel. Alma Richards was also lucky—very lucky. His life might have remained hardscrabble and dusty were it not for the chance encounter with Professor Thomas Trueblood that prompted Alma’s return to school and introduction to track and field, the fortuitous association with BYU coach Gene Roberts who provided guidance in sport and more, the support of Amos Alonzo Stagg in ensuring Alma’s place on the Olympic team, the disruptions that befell Hans Liesche in the 1912 high jump contest, and the experiences at Cornell that broadened his social, intellectual, and athletic horizons.

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In January 1918 the faculty athletic representatives from the four universities in Utah after “two heated meetings” decided that BYU could no longer use high school students in intercollegiate competition.2 What might Alma’s future have been had he been restricted to high school competition instead of developing his talents by competing with collegians? And would he even have been able to try out for the 1912 Olympics? The salient point is, of course, that he made the most of his opportunities. There is no gainsaying that Alma Richards was a disciplined, determined, even driven athlete. He was also a proud man, not just in competitive effort but also in maintaining a distinctive identity. He was not a graceful, stylish jumper. His refusal to accept expert counsel and adopt a more orthodox style that might have increased performance was likely less stubbornness than a desire to maintain a unique identity in an event given to conformity in technique. And if his unorthodox style led to inconsistent performances, often requiring all three attempts to clear the bar, he reacted not with frustration or discouragement but with a fierce determination to succeed. And he did. Alma Richards rose up from a small-­town country lad to become successively a cowboy with an eighth grade education, an Olympic and five-­time national track and field champion, a recipient of bachelor’s and law degrees from two prestigious universities, and an admired high school teacher. An otherwise ordinary man, Alma was able to accomplish extraordinary things by virtue of remarkable athletic ability, yes, but primarily by dint of his exceptional dedication to achievement. Alma’s competitive flame burned fiercely, some would say out of control, for two decades. Like Homeric heroes, he was driven by a creed of competition, a desire to be excellent and to display his prowess and thereby achieve recognition. It was in the jumping pits and weight rings that he distinguished himself, realizing the desire for distinction. The mindset that produced an intensely competitive spirit was also indicative of a take-­charge, controlling personality given to exactness, precision, and accountability. From the day he enrolled in high school in 1909 through graduation from college in 1917 and from 1921 to 1923 while in law school, Alma kept a painstakingly detailed record of his personal expenditures as well as money borrowed from his parents and siblings, chiefly Joseph, a prominent Salt Lake attorney. He also kept track of family expenses, not only noting his contribution to purchasing his father’s headstone, but also the amount the other siblings owed. (A penchant for precise accounting aside, the ledger points

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to a gregarious personality as numerous entries are for attending dances in high school and college.) Without the monetary support of family, he would have had a difficult time meeting financial obligations during schooling. That he was determined to repay all loans in full speaks to his character and sense of familial solidarity. Over the years Alma tried to maintain contact with siblings in Utah and Idaho, and he was quick to provide financial assistance as needed. The ledger book records personal loans to family members, mostly to the sister wives in a polygamous marriage who expressed thanks for all he had done, as well as his share of collective family expenses. He sent Belle money in 1960, but it was Columbia, with six children, who received the most assistance. From 1942 to 1960, he sent her $5 to $10 twenty-­four times. No miserly accountant, at one point he commented, “Overpaid in case $33.25 But not in care and love.”3 Perhaps even more revealing than the determination to compete long after most athletes move to the sidelines was his comprehensive accounting of his athletic accomplishments. Toward the end of his life, age sixty-­four, when public awareness of his achievements had faded, if not entirely disappeared, Alma relived his athletic career by compiling a detailed record of his athletic accomplishments. Like his spiritual namesake, Alma was concerned about the preservation of his records for future generations. It was an astounding tally. He meticulously cataloged by date, name, and location the meets in which he achieved his personal best performances in each of seven field events, absent only the javelin, which he disdained, in addition to the 100 and 400 meter runs. He also listed the meets and events from 1909 to 1932—“championship meets only” with high school, college, and club meets excluded—in which he won points, calculating that he had earned over two thousand. He noted that he had been the high-­point man in 123 different meets and pointed out that there were “dozens of these meets where Alma W. Richards won from 12 to 26 points.” Despite the debilitating illness that would in less than a year take his life, he took time to send a “better” photograph of himself for deposit in the international Olympic museum in Lausanne, Switzerland. 4 Ego, yes. Enormous pride of accomplishment, yes. Obsession, to be sure. That he was not content to recall accomplishments verbally or replay them in the album of his mind, but was instead compelled to record his athletic achievements with precise detail, signified an emotional commitment to that which had given him personal gratification and public acclaim. The

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message is clear. Track and field competition, launched at Murdock Academy, developed at Brigham Young and honed at Cornell, had given new life to the lad from Parowan and sustained his sense of accomplishment, even identity, throughout his adult life. So strong was his athletic identity that he felt compelled to record his achievements lest they be forgotten. Aristotle observed that we are what we repeatedly do, that excellence is a habit, not an act. Alma Richards was a track and field athlete who jumped high and threw far. Finis. So who was Alma Richards and why is he important? For scholars he is revealed in the impersonal ink of historical documents, but for most people he exists in the shadowy world of memory. The problem is that there is no universal memory, only disparate memories created by individuals and organizations who fashion images that reflect their own interests, values, understandings, and needs. In a perceptive essay, “Remembering an Athletic Hero: The Afterlife of Alma Richards,” David Lunt observes that Richards’s memory has become “a powerful tool of identity-­construction” used “to magnify the values and reputations of the many communities to which he belonged.” Moreover, in fundamental ways his story is more about those who have told it, and who continue to tell it, than about the man himself.5 Alma is revered in Parowan as a larger-­than-­life hometown hero who put a remote community on the international map. The LDS Church has mythologized Richards, elevating him, as Lunt put it, “as an ideal exemplar of Mormon piety and faith” in order “to promote later versions of the Latter-­day Saint gospel and lifestyle.”6 It is difficult to separate fact from fiction, but in Alma’s case the essentials seem clear enough. Legendarily and factually, his was a career of unparalleled athletic accomplishment. He had reached the pinnacle of success in the sport of track and field in multiple events and clung to the memories for the rest of his life. It was a life well lived in terms of personal success in the athletic arena as an Olympic champion, a superb multi-­sport athlete who claimed national titles in four different events, and the most decorated track and field performer of his generation. It was also a life well lived in terms of contributions to the larger community through thirty-­t wo years as an exceptionally influential teacher, an athletic role model for Mormon youth, and a worldly man of character who never forgot his heritage—the people and the place that nurtured him with the spiritual and ethical foundations by which he conducted his affairs.

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The role of religion, perhaps more accurately heritage, in his life points to a central attribute of his character. He was born and bred in an exclusively Mormon environment, Parowan. He left home, but for an LDS school and Mormon-­dominated community, Provo. He temporarily broke away for what was literally a foreign experience, but he soon returned to the theological and social security of BYU. Then came Cornell—socially diverse, intellectually challenging, culturally worldly. But through four years in Ithaca, two years in the U.S. Army, twenty years of marriage, albeit failed, to non-­Mormons, and forty-­some years living in a largely non-­LDS community, Alma retained his faith albeit with traditional Christian embellishments despite the absence of formal church activities and prescribed practices, demonstrating that neither are requirements for spiritual well-­ being or faithfulness. It was testimony to his religious faith, yes, but also his commitment to tolerance and acceptance of diversity. Alma’s spirituality may have been as much poetical as scriptural. The Kipling poem Coach Roberts gave him before Alma left Provo for the Olympic trials remained a course of comfort and inspiration over the years. And later Alma was especially fond of Berton Braley’s popular poem, “Prayer of a Sportsman,” a Christian paean to courage, honor, and sportsmanship frequently quoted by the legendary Notre Dame football coach, Knute Rockne.7 The first stanza expresses Alma’s lifelong coupling of personal and athletic ethical conduct. Dear Lord, in the battle that goes on through life, I ask but a field that is fair, A chance that is equal with all in the strife, A courage to strive and to dare: And if I should win, let it be by the code With my faith and my honor held high; And if I should lose, let me stand by the road And cheer as the winners go by. According to LDS belief, when his days were done, Alma could look forward to one of three possible degrees of glory (kingdoms or heavens) as his eternal reward depending upon how fully he embraced the principles and practices of the gospel. Of spiritual judgment I cannot speak, and

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whether he realized the eternal life promised to his religious namesake is not verifiable.8 However, in the secular world it is the historian who issues the final verdict, who decides one’s place in the annals of humankind. Alma Richards was a phenomenal athlete of legendary accomplishment, a dedicated and esteemed teacher to a generation of high school students, a worldly-­w ise figure who remained faithful to his heritage and religion, a thrice-­married man who generally fared better in nonintimate relationships, and a self-­possessed personality driven to achieve success and personal validation. During his life, Alma successfully worked his way through the various athletic, social, cultural, academic, religious, economic, political, and familial issues that swirled about him because, in the end, individual temperament matters. In the final reckoning, an attempt to bring Alma Richards historically back to life reveals him foremost as an Olympian in spirit as well as fact to himself, to his family and associates, and in public memory. At Richards’s death, the Orange Daily News front page headline on April 4 announced “Death Claims Orange Olympic Champion.” In a sense, that is unfortunate, a distortion of a life. At the 1982 Beehive Hall of Fame inductions, Roy Gibson, master of ceremonies, remarked, “Alma Richards had a distinguished career as a teacher, but we remember him for his sports achievements.” Such was the cultural emphasis of his day—and ours.9 Clearly, as an educator he made his most important and lasting contributions to his fellow humans, but as an athlete he gained enduring recognition. In 2014 Terry Lee Marzell, a master secondary teacher from Corona, California, combined both areas of accomplishment with a brief sketch of Alma in her “Chalkboard Champions” blog.10 And yet the Olympic persona is apposite. Carrie Shurtleff got it partly right. As a “nobody” from “nowhere” rising from “nothing” to win a gold medal, Alma personified an athletic ideal on which the modern Olympic Games were founded. One might add that by fretting about the circumstances of his Olympic victory and reestablishing friendship with his rival Hans Liesche Alma personified the sportsmanship the Games were intended to promote. Inscribed on the headstone marking his gravesite in the Parowan City cemetery are the numerical designations of a Lieutenant’s World War I military units. A more fitting epitaph might simply read: Alma W. Richards, Olympian.

APPENDIX A

MARTHA WARD, “TRIBUTE TO ALMA RICHARDS”

In a little town in Utah Once on an early morn To some gentle folk named Richards A little son was born; He grew not only in stature But in strength and wisdom too; He early had ambitions And accomplished quite a few. He distinguished himself in high school And made his parents proud; In height and in athletics He soared above the crowd. Yet scarcely out of high school He entered the Olympic Games And made the name of Richards Famous among all names. For he made a running high jump And man! How he did soar! Breaking the record of that date At a space of six feet four. This occurred at Stockholm, Sweden He was given an ovation, 227

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And even the king was much impressed By this lad from a far-­off nation The king, himself a sportsman of considerable renown Presented to Alma in person the olive-­leaf victory crown. But Alma was level-­headed And the plaudits of the crowds Failed to spoil this earnest lad And keep his head in the clouds. He settled down to earth again, He’d a definite aim in view, And what he had aspired to He vowed that he would do. So off he went to college But not for a grand spree; He spent four years at Cornell With result, B.S. degree. He spent one year at Stanford Picking up odds and ends And at the same time making For himself a host of friends. In the service of his country He spent two years or more, Winning of medals not just one But one, two, three, and four. Presented by General Pershing, Who without hesitation Declared him the greatest athlete In the army of occupation. When the blood bank’s supply of plasma In World War Two was running short, He made his contribution By the gallon, not the quart. In Utah’s centennial Jubilee

Martha Ward, “Tribute to Alma Richards”   229

The officials called him back And as a favorite native son Presented him a plaque. Twenty-­seven years ago He came to V.H.S. These years brought some stress and strain But much of happiness; A faithful, loyal servant He has been throughout the years; He’s guided many boys and girls Beset by doubts and fears. His character’s above reproach, He’s genuine, sincere. He’s honest to the nth degree, To all that’s very clear As an athlete, soldier, scholar, teacher, And as a devoted Dad, We believe that he has given The very best he had. His life has been an open book That all who care may read. And nothing ignoble there you’ll find In word or thought or deed. In all the years I’ve known him I have never heard or seen One thing in Alma Richards That was petty, low or mean. Well-­groomed, well-­mannered and polite, He’s courteous and kind; A finer all-­around gentleman Would be difficult to find. To Alma with his charming wife, Our blessing we extend;

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We’ll miss him and remember him As a true and loyal friend. Richards Papers, Box 1, Folder 11

APPENDIX B

ALMA RICHARDS TRACK AND FIELD RECORDS*

State of Utah High Jump, 1911 Broad Jump, 1913 Shot Put, 1920 Discus, 1920 Olympic Games

High Jump, 1912

Intercollegiate High Jump (indoor), 1915 High Jump (outdoor), 1915 Broad Jump (indoor), 1916 National AAU Decathlon, 1915 Shot Put, 1918 Central AAU High Jump, 1914 56-­ pound Weight, 1915 Middle Atlantic AAU High Jump, 1915 Shot Put, 1915 Southern Pacific AAU 56-­pound Weight, 1922–1928, 1931–1932 *Record-­setting performances, not a record of achievements.

231

NOTES

Introduction 1. Ewry won the gold medal in the high jump all four times from 1900 to 1908. (An Intercalated Olympics was held for the only time in 1906.) The standing triple jump was discontinued after the 1904 Games, the other two events after 1912. Ewry holds the Olympic and world record in all three events. See Brad Herzog, “Setting A High Gold Standard: Ray Ewry’s remarkable Olympic success came in the short-­lived standing jumps,” Sports Illustrated, September 18, 2000, http://www.si.com/vault/2000/09/18/288209. See also Eric Adelson, “Ray Ewry wasn’t even supposed to walk,” ESPN The Magazine, August 19, 2004, http://sports.espn.go.com/oly/summer04/ trackandfield/columns/story?id=1862509; and Wikipedia, s.v. “Ray Ewry,” last modified August 23, 2015, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ray Ewry. 2. “This Day in Sports: Eddie Eagan Wins His ‘Other’ Olympic Gold,” ESPN, February 15, 2010, http://espn.go.com/blog/sportscenter/post/_/ id/31045; Wikipedia, s.v. “Eddie Eagan,” last modified September 8, 2015, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eddie_Eagan. Four other Olympians earned Summer and Winter medals. For three of them, one of the medals was silver, not gold. Jacob Tullin Thams, Norway (ski jumping 1924 and sailing 1936); Christa Luding-­Rothenburger, East Germany (speed skating 1984, 1988, and cycling 1988); and Clara Hughes, Canada (cycling 1996 and speed skating 2006). Gillis Grafström, Sweden, won three gold medals in figure skating, one in 1920 when the sport was included in the Summer Games. 3. James E. Sullivan, ed., Spalding’s Official Athletic Almanac (New York: American Sports Publishing, 1905), 203, 245–247. 4. The first class was enshrined in 1983; there were no inductees from 1992 to 2003. As of 2012 there were 143 members of the Hall—ninety-­six Olympians and five Paralympians plus forty-­t wo designees representing teams, coaches, and contributors. 5. Larry R. Gerlach, “From Gathering Place to Visitor’s Center: Power, Politics, and Salt Lake City’s Olympic Legacy Park,” OLYMPIKA: The International Journal of Olympic Studies 19 (2010): 1–40; Kristina Holt, “Through Fire and Ice: The Olympic Cauldron Park Carves a Legacy” (master’s thesis, University of Utah, 2013). 6. For example, see Steve Luhm, “Olympic TV ratings? Salt Lake City is No. 1,” Salt Lake Tribune, March 2, 2010.

233

234  Notes to pages 3–7

7. Bill Mallon, The 1904 Olympic Games: Results for All Competitors in All Events, With Commentary (Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 1999), 43–48. For Dallin’s sculptures, see Wendell B. Johnson and Rell G. Francis, Frontier to Fame: Cyrus E. Dallin, Sculptor (n.p., [2005]); for his biography, see Rell G. Francis, Cyrus E. Dallin: Let Justice Be Done (Springville, UT: Springville Art Museum, 1976), 134–35, 168–69. 8. The artistic competitions ended due to concerns about the professionalism of the contestants, but since 1954 each Olympic Games has been required to schedule a cultural program of artistic events. Richard Stanton, The Forgotten Olympic Art Competitions: The Story of the Olympic Art Competitions of the 20th Century (Victoria, BC: Trafford Publishing, 2000), 152; Richard G. Oman, “Sculptors,” in Encyclopedia of Mormonism, ed. Daniel H. Ludlow (New York: MacMillan, 1992), 1285–86; ­­­http://olympic-­ museum.de/art/1932.htm; Wikipedia, s.v. “Mahonri Young,” ­http:// en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mahonri_Young; Thomas E. Toone, “Mahonri Young: His Life and Sculpture” (Ph.D. diss., Pennsylvania State University, 1982). 9. Doris Henson Pieroth, Their Day in the Sun: Women of the 1932 Olympics (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1996), 60–61, 122–23, 143; Betty Lou Young, Our First Century: The Los Angeles Athletic Club, 1880–1980 (Los Angeles, LAAC Press, 1980), 109, 127, 130, 137; for Williams’s profile, see Salt Lake Tribune, September 18, 2005. 10. Lee Benson, “Alma,” BYU Magazine, August 1996, 38. 11. Deseret News, April 12 and 15, 2011. 12. Bill Henry, An Approved History of the Olympic Games (New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1948), 56, 86. Standard Olympic histories failing to mention Richards include William O. Johnson, All That Glitters Is Not Gold: The Olympic Games (New York: Putnam’s, 1972); John Durant, Highlights of the Olympics: From Ancient Times to the Present (New York: Hastings House, 1973); Dick Schaap, Illustrated History of the Olympics (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1975); John Lucas, The Modern Olympic Games (Cranbury, NJ: A. S. Barnes, 1980); and George G. Daniels, The V & VI Olympiads: Stockholm 1912, Inter-­Allied Games, vol. 6, The Olympic Century: The Official History of the Modern Olympic Movement (Los Angeles: World Sport Research & Publications, 2000); and Bill Mallon and Ture Widlund, The 1912 Olympic Games: Results for All Competitors in All Events, with Commentary (Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 2002). 13. Bill Mallon and Ian Buchanan, Quest for Gold: The Encyclopedia of American Olympians (New York: Leisure Press, 1984), 337; Alexander Weyand, The Olympic Pageant (New York: Macmillan, 1952), 117–18; David Wallechinsky, comp., The Complete Book of the Summer Olympics: Athens 2004 Edition (Wilmington, DE: Sport Media Publishing, 2004), 343. 14. Harrison R. Merrill, “Utah Athletes Coming to Their Own,” Improvement Era, August 1928, 824; Deseret News, May 28, 1935; Gary James Bergera and Ronald Priddis, Brigham Young University: A House of Faith (Salt Lake City: Signature Books, 1985), 271. 15. John Mooney, Salt Lake Tribune, April 12, 1963.

Notes to pages 8–21  235

16. There are no contemporary reports of the king’s statement, which first began circulating in newspapers in 1948, thirty years after Stockholm. The most detailed concise account of Thorpe’s life and career is “In the Matter of Jacobus Franciscus Thorpe,” in Mallon and Widlund, The 1912 Olympic Games, 399–415. The best biography is Kate Buford, Native American Son: The Life and Sporting Legend of Jim Thorpe (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2010). 17. Sports Illustrated, December 27, 1999, 66.

1. Formative Years 1. Because of the lake, the area was originally called the Little Salt Lake Valley but was later changed to Iron County after the discovery of iron ore deposits. Janet Burton Seegmiller, A History of Iron County: Community Above Self (Salt Lake City: Utah State Historical Society, 1998) and Morris A. Shirts and Kathryn H. Shirts, A Trial Furnace: Southern Utah’s Iron Mission (Provo: Brigham Young University Press, 2001). Luella Adams Dalton, comp., History of Iron County Mission and Parowan: The Mother Town (n.p, 1973) is a superbly detailed record of the town’s early inhabitants, institutions, and activities. 2. Dalton, Iron County Mission and Parowan, 68, 324, 361; “Darwin Richardson Company (1854),” accessed November 8, 2015, history.lds.org/ overlandtravels/companies/251/darwin-­richardson-­company. 3. Dalton, Iron County Mission and Parowan, 68, 322; “Allen Taylor Company (1849),” accessed November 8, 2015, history.lds.org/overlandtravels/ companies/298. 4. Dalton, Iron County Mission and Parowan, 294–96. In attendance at the ceremony were Samuel Harrison Bailey Smith, grandson of Joseph Smith; William Wines Phelps, former scribe for Joseph Smith; John Lyon, Endowment House superintendent and premier male Mormon poet of the day; Bathsheba W. Smith, wife of George A. Smith, member of the Twelve; and Joseph Fielding Smith, future sixth church president. 5. For Morgan’s life, see Mary Isabelle Richards, “Narrative of Morgan Richards,” a twenty-nine-­page transcript of her interview with Morgan from September 1927 to his death in February 1928, Joanne Richards Youngberg Papers in possession of John A. Youngberg, Yountville, California; Andrew Jenson, comp., Latter-­day Saint Biographical Encyclopedia. A Compilation of Biographical Sketches of Prominent Men and Women in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-­day Saints, 4 vols. (Salt Lake City: A. Jenson History Company, 1901–1936), 3: 499–500; and Dalton, Iron County Mission and Parowan, 302, 306–7, 317, 350–51. See also Deseret News, October 12, 1887; July 11, 1888; January 1 and April 5, 1890; and October 6, 1894. 6. Catherine Richards, “Margaret Adams Richards,” 1973, typescript, 9–10, Youngberg Papers; Iron County Record, September 24 and November 5, 1909, June 28, 1918. 7. Parowan Times, September 28, 1921, and February 29, 1928. 8. Heber J. Grant to the children of Morgan Richards Jr. and to Alma Richards, March 29, 1928, box 1, fd. 9, Alma Richards Papers, UA 310, University

236  Notes to pages 21–26

Archives, L. Tom Perry Special Collections, Harold B. Lee Library, Brigham Young University, Provo, Utah; Deseret News, February 23, 1928; Catherine Richards, “Funeral Services of Elder Morgan Richards,” typescript, Youngberg Papers. 9. Dalton, Iron County Mission and Parowan, 370. 10. Parowan Times, November 28, 1917. After serving a mission with her husband, Alfred Morton Durham, to the Tongan and Friendly Islands in 1899, Margaret was a prominent leader in MIA and Relief Society activities in several Utah communities until her death in 1931. Deseret News, January 12, 1931, and Parowan Times, January 16, 1931. 11. In chronological order: Gomer Morgan, 1871; Margaret Anna, 1873; Harriett, 1875; Mary Isabelle, 1878; William Adams, 1880; Joseph Evans, 1882; Charles Leech, 1885; Columbia Eden, 1887; Alma Wilford, 1890; and Catherine, 1893. 12. Richards, “Margaret Adams Richards,” 3; Dalton, Iron County Mission and Parowan, 313; Deseret News, August 13, 1903; Parowan Times, September 19 and November 28, 1917. 13. Iron County Record, October 19, 1903, and October 6, 1911; Dalton, Iron County Mission and Parowan, 362–63; Richards, “Margaret Adams Richards,” 8. 14. Thomas G. Alexander, Things in Heaven and Earth: The Life and Times of Wilford Woodruff, a Mormon Prophet (Salt Lake City: Signature Books, 1993); Dalton, Iron County Mission and Parowan, 294–96. 15. Their eldest son was named Gomer, but it is unlikely they named him after the wife of Hosea, a harlot, whose story is related in the Old Testament’s Book of Hosea. 16. Richards, “Margaret Adams Richards,” 2–3. 17. Jenson, Latter-­day Saint Biographical Encyclopedia, 3:500; Dalton, Iron County Mission and Parowan, 104, 134, 307, 343–45, 362–69. 18. Dalton, Iron County Mission and Parowan, 246–47, 254–81, and 348–49. 19. Barbara Adams to undisclosed recipient, n.d., box 1, fd. 12, Richards Papers; Dalton, Iron County Mission and Parowan, 105. 20. Dalton, Iron County Mission and Parowan, 40, 261, 382; Catherine Richards, “In a Reminiscent Mood,” March 26, 1962, box 2, fd. 3, Richards Papers. 21. Wikipedia, s.v. “Parowan, Utah,” last modified September 18, 2015, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Parowan,_Utah. 22. Dalton, Iron County Mission and Parowan, 243, 248, 370. 23. Montana gained statehood in 1889, Idaho and Wyoming in 1890. Republicans had rushed to admit Nevada in hopes of influencing the 1864 presidential and congressional elections. Edward Leo Lyman, Political Deliverance: The Mormon Quest for Utah Statehood (Champaign: University of Illinois Press, 1986); Gustive O. Larson, The Americanization of Utah for Statehood (San Marino, CA: Huntington Library, 1971). 2 4. Richards, “Margaret Adams Richards,” 11. Morgan was third after the first balloting, well behind the two leaders. He was second after the second vote, trailing J. H. Deming of Summit County by sixty-­one votes. Then after Utah county swung en masse to his candidacy, he defeated Deming 290 to 176. Daily (Provo) Enquirer, August 29 and November 4, 1895. For extensive detail

Notes to pages 26–30  237

25.

26. 27.

28.

29. 30.

31. 32.

33. 34.

35. 36.

concerning the election of 1895, see Wayne D. Stout, History of Utah, 3 vols. (Salt Lake City: n.p., 1967–1971). Martha Cannon was one of five Democrats seeking an “at large” seat; her polygamous husband, Angus, was one of the unsuccessful Republican candidates. Salt Lake City Directory, 1897 (Salt Lake City: R. L. Polk, 1897), 548; The Blue Book, 1898: A Social and Family Directory, vol. I (Salt Lake City: Geo. Q. Cannon & Sons, 1898), 35; The Salt Lake City Blue Book 1901–1902 (Salt Lake City: R. L. Polk, 1902), 176. Twelfth Census of the United States, 1900. Salt Lake City, Utah. Fourth Precinct, District 273, Ed. 39, p. 136. Thomas G. Alexander, Mormons & Gentiles: A History of Salt Lake City (Boulder, CO: Pruett Publishing, 1984); John S. McCormick, The Gathering Place: An Illustrated History of Salt Lake City (Salt Lake City: Signature Books, 2000); Gary Topping and Melissa Coy Ferguson, Salt Lake City: 1890– 1930 (Charleston, SC: Arcadia, 2009); Jeffrey Nichols, Prostitution, Polygamy, and Power: Salt Lake City, 1847–1918 (Champaign: University of Illinois Press, 2002); and Allen Dale Roberts, Salt Lake City’s Historic Architecture (Charleston, SC: Arcadia, 2012). Armand Mauss, The Angel and the Beehive: The Mormon Struggle With Assimilation (Champaign: University of Illinois Press, 1994); Larry R. Gerlach, “Sporting Saints: Reshaping Mormon Identities,” in Bettina Kratzmuller, Mattias Marschik, Rudolf Müller, Hubert Szemethy, and Elisabeth Trinkel, eds., Sport and the Construction of Identities (Vienna, Austria: Verlag Turia + Kant, 2007), 453–61. “Whitney, Horace Gibson,” last modified July 11, 2015, whitneygen.org/wrg/ index.php/Family:Whitney,_Horace_Gibson_%281858-­%3F%29. Margaret Richards to Mary Ann Leech Adams, February 8, 1898, Youngberg Papers. For a listing of Salt Lake City schools, see Salt Lake City Board of Education Annual Reports (Salt Lake City: Salt Lake City Board of Education, 1896–1900). Columbia Richards to Alma and Lenore Richards, n.d., box 1, fd. 1, Richards Papers. Deseret News and Salt Lake Tribune, September 5, 1900; Salt Lake Tribune, January 7, 1911; Iron County Record, January 27, 1911. See also Dalton, Iron County Mission and Parowan, 104, 134, 306, 368; Jenson, Latter-­day Saint Biographical Encyclopedia, 3:499–500; “Legislators” directory, accessed November 8, 2015, http://le.utah.gov/documents/find.htm. The Evening (Salt Lake City) Telegram, July 8, 1912; Seegmiller, History of Iron County, 192; Dalton, Iron County Mission and Parowan, 59, 350. Seegmiller, History of Iron County, 192; Dalton, Iron County Mission and Parowan, 304. Utah public secondary education began in the 1890s, and by 1910 just over fifty percent of eligible youth were in high school. See Frederick S. Buchanan, “Education in Utah,” in Allan Kent Powell, ed., Utah History Encyclopedia (Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press, 1994), 154. Dalton, Iron County Mission and Parowan, 378–410. Thomas C. Trueblood to Alma Richards, June 30 and September 21, 1930, March 28 and November 18, 1933, box 1, fd. 1, Richards Papers; Richards

238  Notes to pages 31–34

to Trueblood, July 30, 1930, box 1, Thomas C. Trueblood Collection, Bentley Historical Library, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Michigan. For a glimpse of Trueblood’s career, see William J. Temple, “Thomas C. Trueblood—Edwin P. Trueblood,” Quarterly Journal of Speech 37 (October 1951), 417; Linda Robinson Walker, “Michigan’s Champion Orator,” Michigan Today 27 (March 1995), “Michigan Today,” accessed November 8, 2015, http://deepblue.lib.umich.edu/handle/2027.42/61040.

2. From Parowan to Provo 1. The LDS Church established the Murdock Academy as a branch of the Brigham Young Academy in Provo on the old Fort Cameron property obtained from the U.S. Government in 1898. Arid G. Merkley, comp., Monuments to Courage: A History of Beaver County (Beaver, UT: Daughters of Utah Pioneers of Beaver County, 1948), 82–87; Martha Sonntag Bradley, A History of Beaver County (Salt Lake City: Utah State Historical Society, 1999), 164–65. 2. Box 1, fd. 7, Richards Papers. 3. Whitney as late as 1914 held the collegiate state records in the 100 and 200 yard dashes. White and Blue, May 13, 1914; Deseret News, May 31, 1951, June 19, 1947; Family Sheet, Richards Papers, box 2, folder 3; Dalton, Iron County Mission and Parowan, 382. 4. Salt Lake Tribune, May 23, 1909. 5. The Murdock Lever, May 15, 1910; box 1, fd. 16, Richards Papers; The Weekly (Beaver) Press, May 27, 1910; Deseret Evening News, May 16, 1910; Salt Lake Herald-­Republican, May 12–15, 1910; Salt Lake Tribune, May 15, 1910. 6. A. W. Richards, “Accounts during High School and College work. Murdock Academy. B.Y.U. Provo, Cornell Univ.,” 3, 5, box 1, fd. 19, Richards Papers. 7. Beaver City Press, May 13, 1910; Richards, “Margaret Adams Richards,” 5–6. 8. Alma boarded with the following women identified only as “Mrs.”: 1910– 1911 Memes. Crandall and Ashworth; 1911–1912 Memes. Banks and Hamline; and 1912–1913 Memes. Dunn, Cluff, Wood, and Henrie, in “Accounts during High School and College work,” 13, 16, 19, 22–23; and passim, box 1, fd. 19, Richards Papers; President George H. Brimhall to Morgan Richards, May 9, 1912, box 19, fd. 1, George H. Brimhall Papers, UA 1092, L. Tom Perry Special Collections, Harold B. Lee Library, Brigham Young University, Provo, Utah. 9. Richards to Marva Gregory, May 13, 1952, box 1, fd. 2, Richards Papers. For Roberts, see Marva Hodson Gregory, “The Life and Educational Contributions of Eugene Lusk Roberts” (master’s thesis, University of Utah, 1952); Ed Carter, “Timp Roberts,” BYU Magazine 52 (Fall 1998): 38–43; “Eugene ‘Timpanogos’ Roberts,” in William T. Black, Mormon Athletes Book 2 (Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Company, 1982), 234–42. 10. Gregory, “Eugene Lusk Roberts,” 25–33; Salt Lake Herald-­Republican, August 20, 1912; Salt Lake Tribune, May 17, 1913. See also the Daily (Provo) Herald, June 11, 1975. 11. Brigham Young Academy, founded in 1875, initially combined secondary and collegiate programs. The high school program separated administratively from the Academy in 1895; in 1903 Brigham Young High

Notes to pages 35–38  239

12. 13. 14.

15. 16.

17.

18. 19.

20.

21.

22.

23.

2 4.

25.

School and Brigham Young University were formally established as separate entities and housed in separate wings of the Academy Building. See Gary James Bergera and Ronald Priddis, Brigham Young University: A House of Faith (Salt Lake City: Signature Books, 1985); Ernest L. Wilkinson, et al., eds., Brigham Young University: The First One Hundred Years, 4 vols. (Provo: Brigham Young University Press, 1975–1976). Deseret Evening News, October 18, 1910; (Salt Lake) Evening Telegram, July 8, 13, 1912. White and Blue, February 14, 1911. Richards to Marva Gregory, May 13, 1952, box 1, fd. 2, Richards Papers; Richards Personal Statement, October 14, 1954, box 1, fd. 14, Richards Papers; Iron County (Cedar City) Record, July 5, 1912. Salt Lake Herald-­Republican, May 7, 14, 1911; Salt Lake Tribune, May 14, 1911; and Evening Telegram, July 13, 1912. Eugene Roberts to Walter A. Kerr, March 29, 1950, box 1, fd. 11, Richards Papers; Iron County Record, July 5, 1912; Evening Telegram, July 8, 9, 13, 1912; R. L. Templeton, The High Jump, in Spalding’s Athletic Library (New York: American Sports Publishing, 1930), 193–94, 196, 208–9. Roberts to Kerr, March 29, 1950, box 1, fd. 11, Richards Papers. The Evening Telegram, July 9, 1912, contains a picture of Alma competing for BYU wearing his “worn out cap.” Richards Personal Statement, October 14, 1954, box 1, fd. 14, Richards Papers; Provo Herald, March 3, 1912; Salt Lake Tribune, April 4, 1912. Unlike the scissors style, where the jumpers face forward when leaping, in the straddle technique they face down as they roll over the bar. The western roll is a version of the straddle. Salt Lake Herald-­Republican, May 19, 1912. White and Blue, April 30, 1912; Provo Herald, May 6, 20, 1912; Salt Lake Herald-­Republican, May 19, 1912; Deseret Evening News and Salt Lake Tribune, May 20, 1912. President George H. Brimhall to Mr. and Mrs. Morgan Richards, May 2, 1912, and Morgan Richards to President Brimhall, May 9, 1912, box 19, fd. 1, Brimhall Papers. White and Blue, April 30, 1912; Provo Herald, May 6, 20, 1912; Salt Lake Herald-­Republican, May 19, 1912; Deseret Evening News and Salt Lake Tribune, May 20, 1912. Richards Personal Statement, October 14, 1954, box 1, fd. 14, Richards Papers. American athletes were appointed to the first three Olympic teams, 1896–1904, selected from three regional trials in 1908 and 1912, and chosen by single national tryout thereafter. See Richard Hymans, “The History of the United States Olympic Trials—Track & Field,” USA Track & Field, 2008; Richard Hymans, A History of the United States Olympic Trials for Track & Field (Indianapolis: Department of USA Track & Field), 1996. Alma Richards to Marva Gregory, May 13, 1952, box 1, fd. 2, Richards Papers. Alma’s shipmate during the Olympics later mistakenly said BYU students “made up a purse” to send him to the trials. Iron County Record, March 13, 1914. Deseret Evening News, May 31, 1912; Salt Lake Tribune, June 1, 1912.

240  Notes to pages 38–44

26. Richards Personal Statement, October 14, 1954, box 1, fd. 14, Richards Papers. The next year Roberts spelled the coach’s name “Greer.” White and Blue, April 1, 22, 1913. Although Richards never mentioned any involvement with a Coach Grier or Greer, he must have done so as he was expected to meet with him in Chicago en route to Utah after the Olympics. The coach has not been identified despite the assistance of the staffs of the Avery Brundage Papers at the University of Illinois and Amos Alonzo Stagg Papers at the University of Chicago; Chicago sports historians Robert Pruter, Raymond Schmidt, and Gerald R. Gems; and the staff and members of the Illinois Track and Field Association. 27. Daily (Provo) Herald, July 31, 1912.

3. Making the American Team 1. Alma later told his Olympic shipmate, John Nicholson, that he wore the bandages because he “threw his knees out” in a scuffle with “a town bully” in Provo when he was sixteen. Iron County Record, March 13, 1914. 2. Deseret Evening News, May 31, 1912; Richards Personal Statement, October 14, 1954, box 1, fd. 14, Richards Papers. Lee Benson and Doug Robinson, Trials & Triumphs: Mormons in the Olympic Games, Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Company, 1992), 8, says Richards arrived in Chicago on June 7, the day before the trials, but if he left Provo on May 31, the two-­day trip suggests arrival no later than June 2, a date consistent with his pre-­event activities. 3. Salt Lake Herald-­Republican, August 20, 1912. 4. Richards Personal Statement, October 14, 1954, box 1, fd. 14, Richards Papers. 5. Comstock was in town with three athletes from Citrus Union High School in Azusa, California, to participate in a national prep meet. The trio bested entries from 102 schools to win the meet. Chicago Daily Tribune, June 7 and 9, 1912; Salt Lake Herald-­Republican, June 9, 1913. 6. Boyd Comstock, “The Man from Utah,” Sporting Life (April 1923), 19, 35, 38. 7. Chicago Daily Tribune, June 8, 9, 1912; Evening Telegram, July 9, 1912; Iron County Record, March 13, 1914; Richards Personal Statement, October 14, 1954, box 1, fd. 14, Richards Papers; Hymans, “Olympic Trials,” 47. 8. Deseret News, May 29, 1912; Evanston Daily News, June 10, 1912; Provo Post, June 11, 1912. For the AOC, see Robert Edward Lehr, “The American Olympic Committee, 1896–1940” (Ph.D. diss., Pennsylvania State University, 1985). 9. Deseret News, Salt Lake Tribune, and Salt Lake Herald-­Republican, June 5–11, 1912; Provo Post, June 11, 1912. 10. Salt Lake Telegram, April 3, 1912, and (Ogden) Evening Standard, June 11, 1912. 11. Salt Lake Herald-­Republican, August 20, 1912; Deseret Evening News, August 24, 1912. 12. Salt Lake Herald-­Republican, August 20, 25, 1912. The certificate from the tryouts identifying Alma as the winner of the high jump and a member of the 1912 U.S. Olympic team is dated June 8, 1912, the day he won the high jump at the trials. 1912 Olympic Team Certificate, box 1, fd. 19, Richards Papers.

Notes to pages 44–49  241

13. Richards Personal Statement, October 14, 1954, box 1, fd. 14, Richards Papers; Salt Lake Evening Telegram, July 13, 1912; Salt Lake Herald-­ Republican, August 20, 1912. 14. Benson and Robinson, Trials & Triumphs, 9; (New York) World, June 10–12, 1912; New York Herald, June 11, 1912; New York Times, June 11—13, 1912; Ogden Examiner, June 14, 1912. 15. (New York) World and New York Herald, June 9, 1912; (New York) Evening Mail; New York Times, June 11, 1912. 16. Evening Telegram, July 13, 1912. 17. (New York) Evening Mail, June 10, 1912; New York Times, June 13, 1912, January 30, 1916; Deseret Evening News, June 13, 1912; Salt Lake Herald-­ Republican, August 20, 1912. 18. Richard W. Young to George H. Brimhall, June 12, 1912, in Iron County Record, July 5, 1912. 19. New York Times, Evening Mail, World, and New York Herald, June 13, 1912. 20. New York Times and Deseret Evening News, June 14, 1912; New York Herald and World, June 15, 1912; San Francisco Call, July 9, 1912; Salt Lake Herald-­ Republican, August 25, 1912; James E. Sullivan, ed., The Olympic Games: Stockholm 1912 (New York: American Sports Publishing, 1912), 11; Edward Bayard Moss, “America’s Olympic Argonauts,” Harper’s Weekly, No. 2903 (July 6, 1912): 11–12.

4. Going for Gold 1. Philadelphia Inquirer, June 5, 1913; Washington Post, June 8, 1913; and Percy C. Madeira, “Not So Fast,” Saturday Evening Post, July 11, 1936, 16–17, 77–78, 80. 2. James E. Sullivan, ed., The Olympic Games: Stockholm 1912 (New York: American Sports Publishing, 1912), 37, 39; and M. P. Halpin, “How the Team Trained on the Finland,” in Sullivan, ed., The Olympic Games, 237–39, 274; (New York) World, June 14–15, 1912; New York Times, June 16, 25, 1912; Salt Lake Herald-­Republican, August 20, 25, 1912. The ship was not the USS United States. Benson and Robinson, Trials & Triumphs, vii. 3. (New York) Mail, June 18, July 3, 1912. 4. Iron County Record, July 5, 1912; Salt Lake Herald-­Republican, August 20, 1912; Deseret News, August 24, 1947. 5. New York Herald and Evening Mail, June 18, July 3, 1912. 6. Evening Telegram, July 13, 1912; Evening Mail, February 3, 1914. 7. Salt Lake Herald-­Republican, August 25, 1912. 8. Morgan Richards to George H. Brimhall, May 9, 1912, box 19, fd. 1, Brimhall Papers. 9. Mark Dyreson, Making the American Team: Sport, Culture, and the Olympic Experience (Champaign: University of Illinois Press, 1998), 157–58. See also “America at the Olympic Games,” Outlook, July 20, 1912, 603; “The Olympic Games,” Current Literature 53 (July 1912), 15–18; “Our Olympic Laurels,” Literary Digest, July 27, 1912, 131–32; Edward Bayard Moss, “America’s Athletic Missionaries,” Harper’s Weekly, July 27, 1912, 8; “More Remarks on Our Athletic Supremacy,” Literary Digest, August 10, 1912, 213.

242  Notes to pages 49–53

10. Literary Digest, July 3, 1920, 94. 11. Salt Lake Tribune, August 20, 1912; Salt Lake Herald-­Republican, August 25, 1912; Deseret Evening News, August 24, 1912; Deseret News, April 2, 1947. 12. Sullivan, Olympic Games: Stockholm, 48; Deseret Evening News, August 24, 1912. 13. Salt Lake Tribune, August 20, 1912; Salt Lake Herald-­Republican, August 20, 25, 1912. 14. Evening (New York) Mail, February 3, 1914; New York Times April 14, 1945; Deseret News, April 2, 1947, July 30, 1953. 15. Evening (New York) Mail, February 3, 1914. 16. Report from Antwerp, June 25, New York Herald, July 3, 1912. 17. Ibid.; George L. Horine, June 19, 1912, report from aboard the Finland, printed in (San Francisco) Call, July 16, 1912; Sullivan, Olympic Games: Stockholm, 38, 43, 45; Deseret Evening News, August 24, 1912; Carl W. McBrayer, “Alma Wilford Richards,” http://www.findagrave.com/cgibin/ fg.cgi?page=gr&GRid=9314779. 18. Washington Post, July 1, 4, 1912. 19. Weyand, Olympic Pageant, 108; unidentified correspondent’s report from Stockholm on July 7 in the New York Herald, July 10, 1912. 20. New York Herald, July 10, 1912; New York Times, July 5, 1912; Salt Lake Tribune, August 20, 1912; Lewis H. Carlson and John J. Fogarty, comps., Tales of Gold (Chicago: Contemporary Books, 1987), 7. 21. New York Times and Deseret Evening News, June 14, 1912; New York Herald and World, June 15, 1912; (San Francisco) Call, July 9, 1912; Salt Lake Herald-­ Republican, August 25, 1912; James E. Sullivan, ed., The Olympic Games: Stockholm 1912 (New York: American Sports Publishing, 1912), 11; Moss, “America’s Olympic Argonauts,” 11–12. 22. Dyreson, in Making the American Team, explores this theme from the 1896 to 1912 Games. 23. For an overview of the Stockholm Olympics, see Erik Bergvall, Stockholm 1912: Official Report (Stockholm: The Swedish Olympic Committee, 1912); Sullivan, The Olympic Games: Stockholm; Lief Yttergren and Hans Bolling, eds., The 1912 Stockholm Olympics: Essays on the Competitions, the People, the City (Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 2012); Horst Ueberhorst, “Stockholm 1912,” in John E. Findling and Kimberly D. Pelle, eds., Historical Dictionary of the Modern Olympic Movement (Westport, CT: Greenwood, 1996), 41–46; Ulf Hamilton, “Stockholm 1912,” in Findling and Pelle, eds., Encyclopedia of the Modern Olympic Movement (Westport, CT: Greenwood, 2004), 57–62; “The Olympic Games,” Outlook, 655–66; and Will T. Irwin, “The Olympic Games,” Colliers, August 10, 1912, 8–10, 26; and James E. Sullivan, “What Happened at Stockholm,” Outing Magazine 61 (October 1912), 20–31. 2 4. Sullivan, Olympic Games: Stockholm, 53. After the Games the second level of the northwest stands was removed, reducing capacity to its present 13,000– 15,000. Bergvall, Stockholm 1912: Official Report, 168–211. 25. http://www.olympic.org/stockholm-­1912-­summer-­olympics; Bergvall, Stockholm 1912: Official Report, 307–8; Washington Post, July 5, 1912; New

Notes to pages 53–54  243

26.

27. 28.

29.

York Times, July 7, 1912; Salt Lake Herald-­Republican, August 25, 1912. It is difficult to determine precisely team participation numbers. The most recent calculation in Yttergren and Bolling, eds., The 1912 Stockholm Olympics, 234, provides the following figures: Sweden, 444; Great Britain, 271; Norway, 190; Germany, 183; USA, 174; Finland, 164; Russia, 159; and Denmark, 152. The United States was the only aforementioned team without women athletes. For the exclusion of American women athletes, see New York Times, July 13, 1913; Paula Welch and D. Margaret Costa, “A Century of Olympic Competition,” in D. Margaret Costa and Sharon R. Guthrie, eds., Women and Sport: Interdisciplinary Perspectives (Champaign, IL: Human Kinetics, 1994), 124–25; Cecile Houry, “American Women and the Modern Summer Olympic Games: A Story of Obstacles and Struggles for Participation and Equality” (Ph.D. diss., University of Miami, 2011). Bergvall, Stockholm 1912: Official Report, 310. The king’s speech: “It is with legitimate joy and pride that we Swedes see athletes from every part of the world gathered here with us. It is a great honour for Sweden that Stockholm has been chosen as the scene of the Fifth Olympiad, and I bid all of you, athletes and friends of athletics, a most hearty welcome to this friendly contest of the nations. May the grand thought that found expression in the Olympic Games in classic times be so held in honour by our age too, that these competitions may become a powerful means to promote the physical health and development of every people. With these words, I herewith declare the Olympic Games of Stockholm opened.” Bergvall, Stockholm 1912: Official Report, passim; Sullivan, Olympic Games: Stockholm, passim. Among the numerous firsts: Japan was the first Asian nation to participate, thus making 1912 the first time all five continents were represented in the Games; Egypt became the first Arab and African nation to compete; as Sweden had abolished boxing, the sport was disallowed in the Games; women’s swimming and diving debuted with forty-­eight competitors; automatic timing equipment, photo finish cameras, and a public address system were introduced; baseball made its initial appearance with two exhibition games between teams of Olympians and the Vesteras Base Ball Club of Sweden; and artistic competition, a fixture in the Games until 1948, debuted with contests in architecture, literature, music, painting, and sculpture. (The founder of the Modern Games, Baron Pierre de Coubertin, using the nom de plume of Georges Hohrod and M. Eschbach, won first place in literature for his poem, “Ode to Sport.”) There was a tragic occurrence, as Portugal’s Francisco Lazaro died of hyperthermia while running the marathon on July 15, the last day of the Games, thereby becoming the first athlete to die while participating in an Olympic event. See Bergvall, Stockholm 1912: Official Report, 823–24; “The Olympic Games,” Outlook, 655–66; Will T. Irwin, “The Olympic Games,” Colliers, August 10, 1912, 8–10, 26. Kolehmainen set world records in the 5,000 and 10,000 meters and won the 12,000 meter cross country race. Because of Russia’s occupation of Finland,

244  Notes to pages 54–59

30.

31. 32. 33.

34. 35.

36.

37.

38. 39.

40. 41.

42. 43. 44. 45.

he suffered from seeing his victories celebrated by the raising of the Russian flag above a pennant reading “Finland.” Irwin, “Olympic Games,” 10; “America at the Olympic Games,” 603; and Moss, “Athletic Missionaries,” 8. New York Times, June 23, 1912, January 30, 1916; Salt Lake Herald-­ Republican, August 10, 1912; Edward Lyell Fox, “Our Olympic Flyers,” The Outing Magazine, July 1912, 397–398; Hymans, “Olympic Trials,” 47. The other U.S. high jumpers were, in order of finish, Jervis Burdick, Pittsburgh Athletic Association; Platt Adams, the New York Athletic Club, who won gold in the standing high jump; and John Nicholson, University of Missouri, who also competed in the 110 meter hurdles. Horine’s reports from Stockholm printed in the Call, July 18, 26, 1912; Hymans, “History of U.S. Track and Field Trials,” 47. New York Times, Evening Mail, World, and New York Herald, June 13, 1912; Iron County Record, July 5; Salt Lake Herald-­Republican, August 20, 1912. Evening Mail, July 3, 1912; Provo Post, August 25, 1913; Salt Lake Herald-­ Republican, August 18, 1912; Salt Lake Tribune, August 20, 1912; Morgan Richards to George Brimhall, May 9, 1912, box 1, fd. 16, Brimhall Papers. Evening Telegram, July 8, 1912; Bergvall, Stockholm 1912: Official Report, 337, 340, 392–93; Irwin, “Olympic Games,” 26. “Eimsbütteler Turnerschaft Verein” (Eimsbütteler Gymnastics Federation; www.etv-­hamburg.de) began as a gymnastics organization in the 1890s but soon became a general sports club sponsoring a variety of athletic endeavors; Deseret News, May 16, 1912; Evening Mail, June 11, 24, 1912. New York Times, April 30, 1912; Milwaukee Sentinel, August 11, 1912; Richards Personal Statement, October 14, 1954, box 1, fd. 14, Richards Papers; Salt Lake Tribune, July 9, 1912. Edward Lyell Fox, “Our Olympic Flyers,” Outing Magazine, July 1912, 397– 398; Richard Hymans, “The History of the United States Olympic Trials— Track & Field,” 47, USA Track & Field, 2008, www.usatf.org/usatf/files; New York Times, April 30, 1912; Milwaukee Sentinel, August 11, 1912; Richards Personal Statement, October 14, 1954, box 1, fd. 14, Richards Papers; Salt Lake Tribune, July 9, 1912; Parowan Times, February 16, 1945. Bergvall, Stockholm 1912: Official Report, 337, 392–93; Oler’s remembrance in the New York Times, April 14, 1945. Bergvall, Stockholm 1912: Official Report, 393–94; Wallechinsky, The Complete Book of the Summer Olympics: Athens 2004 Edition, 343; Arthur E. Grix, “The Olympic-­days in Stockholm,” box 1, fd. 12, Richards Papers; (New York) Evening Mail, February 3, 1914. Provo Herald and Salt Lake Tribune, August 20, 1912; Salt Lake Herald-­ Republican, August 20, 25, 1912. New York Herald, July 9, 1912; Evening Mail, June 11, 1912, February 2, 1914; Richards Personal Statement, October 14, 1954, box 1, fd. 14, Richards Papers; Salt Lake Herald-­Republican, August 25, 1912. Nick Nicholson in the Iron County Record, March 13, 1914. New York Herald, July 9, 1912; Salt Lake Herald-­Republican, August 20, 25, 1912. Evening Telegram, July 13, 1912. Sullivan, Olympic Games, Stockholm, 61–85; Salt Lake Tribune, July 9, 1912.

Notes to pages 59–67  245

46. For examples, see (New York) World, New York Times, Manchester Guardian (England), and (London) Times, July 9, 1912. 47. Salt Lake Tribune, July 9, 1912. 48. World, July 9, 1912; New York Times, January 30, 1916. 49. Call, July 9, 1912. 50. Richards to E. L. Roberts, July 9, 1912, in Provo Herald, July 26, 1912. 51. Deseret Evening News, July 8; Evening Telegram, July 8; Salt Lake Tribune, July 9; Salt Lake Herald-­Republican, July 9; Ogden Examiner, July 9; Provo Post, July 9, 1912; Iron County Record, July 12, 1912 (report from Parowan, July 10). 52. Provo Post, July 9, 1912. 53. Sullivan, Olympic Games: Stockholm, 76, 105; New York Times, June 16, 1912; Irwin, “Olympic Games,” 9; Bergvall, Stockholm 1912: Official Report, 784– 85; World, July 16, 1912; New York Herald, July 16, 1912. 54. Orange (California) Daily News, July 9, 1962. 55. Benson and Robinson, Trials & Triumphs, 12. 56. Sullivan, Olympic Games, Stockholm, 784–85; New York Times, July 16, 1912. 57. “Olympic Summer Games Medals From Athens 1896 to Beijing 2008,” International Olympic Committee, April 2010; New York Times, July 16, 1912. 58. Benson and Robinson, Trials & Triumphs, 12. 59. Bergvall, Stockholm 1912: Official Report, 786. Unfounded reports of similar invitations were commonplace; Jim Thorpe for one flatly denied that the king had extended to him an invitation for a private audience at the palace. Buford, Native American Son, 132. 60. Daytona Beach News-­Journal, November 11, 1962. 61. New York Times, World, and Call, July 18, 1912. 62. Ogden Standard-­Examiner, July 30, 1912; (New York) World, August 1, 2, 4, 1912. 63. Photo in possession of Caroline Adams Miller, MAPP, accessible at de.wikipedia.org/wik/Platt_Adams. 64. Call, July 22, 1912; List of Athletic Championships, box 1, fd. 11, Richards Papers; Evening Mail, July 9, 1912. Abel Kiviat is the source for the French adventure. See “Abel Richard Kiviat,” in Carlson and Fogarty, Tales of Gold, 8–9. Jim Thorpe’s biographers repeat Kiviat’s account in Buford, Native American Son, 134–35; Bill Crawford, All-­American: The Rise and Fall of Jim Thorpe (New York: John Wiley, 2005), 179; Robert W. Wheeler, Jim Thorpe: World’s Greatest Athlete (Norman: University of Oklahoma Press, 1970), 9. 65. Iron County Record, August 9, 1912. 66. New York Passenger Lists, 1820–1957, Microfilm Roll T715_1910 Sheet 715, Line 5, p. 86; World, August 8, 1912. 67. New York Times, New York Herald Tribune, World, August 24–26, 1912; Sullivan, Olympic Games: Stockholm, 230–32. 68. Benson and Robinson, Trials & Triumphs, 12. 69. Boston Daily Globe and Boston Herald, August 9–10, 1912; (Provo) Daily Herald, August 12, 1912. 70. Boston Daily Globe and Boston Herald, August 11, 1912.

5. The Hero Returns 1. Provo Post, August 17, 1912.

246  Notes to pages 68–77

2. Deseret News, August 19, 1912. 3. Salt Lake Tribune and Salt Lake Herald-­Republican, August 20, 1912; Salt Lake Telegram, September 7, 1912. 4. Kathleen Flake, The Politics of American Religious Identity: The Seating of Senator Reed Smoot, Mormon Apostle (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2004). 5. Provo Post, August 17, 20, 1912; Daily Herald, July 21, August 23, 1912; Salt Lake Tribune and Salt Lake Herald-­Republican, August 20, 1912. 6. Provo Post, July 20, 1912; Ogden Standard-­Examiner, August 21, 1912. 7. Iron County Record, August 23, 1912; Gunnison Gazette and Mt. Pleasant Pyramid, August 30, 1912. 8. Salt Lake Herald-­Republican, August 25, 1912; Dyreson, “Stockholm, 1912: The Sporting Republic’s Zenith,” in Making the American Team, 154–79. 9. Wallenchinsky, Summer Olympics, 1163. Jim Thorpe’s subsequent disqualification resulted in Sweden besting the United States in both gold medals, 24 to 23, and total medals, 64 to 60. Yttergren and Bolling, eds., The 1912 Stockholm Olympics, 272. 10. Salt Lake Herald-­Republican and Salt Lake Tribune, August 20, 1912; Deseret Evening News, August 24, 1912. 11. San Francisco Call, August 22, 1912. 12. Deseret News, January 16, 1943; Thomas G. Alexander, “The Word of Wisdom: From Principle to Requirement,” Dialogue: A Journal of Mormon Thought 14, no. 3 (1981): 78–88. 13. Deseret Evening News, August 24, 1912; Salt Lake Tribune, May 17, 1913; White and Blue, November 26, 1912. 14. White and Blue, October 29, 1912, and January 21, 1913. 15. Evening Standard, September 14, 1912; New York Times, September 18, 22, 1912. 16. New York Times, September 18, 22, 1912; unidentified newspaper article, box 2, fd. 2, Richards Papers. 17. Richards to Marva Gregory, May 13, 1952, box 1, fd. 2, Richards Papers; Deseret Evening News, December 14, 1912, February 5, 23, 1913; White and Blue, November/December 1912 and January/February 1913; BYUtah 1913 (Provo: BYU Student Body, 1913), 184; BYU Basketball Almanac, 2011–2012, 64. BYU does not list basketball lettermen prior to 1918. See “All-­Time Lettermen,” accessed November 8, 2015, http://byucougars. com/m-­basketball/all-­time-­lettermen. 18. White and Blue, April 1, 22, 1913. 19. Daily Pennsylvanian, April 19, 1912. 20. Philadelphia Inquirer, April 26, 1913. 21. Daily Pennsylvanian, April 29, 1912; Philadelphia Inquirer, April 27, 1913. 22. Roberts to Brimhall, April 28, 1913, box 20, fd. 2, Brimhall Papers. 23. White and Blue, May 6, 1913. 2 4. Salt Lake Tribune, May 4, 1913; BYUtah 1913, 194. 25. BYUtah 1913, 194; Salt Lake Tribune, May 17, 20, 1913; Salt Lake Herald-­ Republican, May 18, 1913; Deseret Evening News, May 20, 1913; New York Times, May 21, 1913.

Notes to pages 77–83  247

26. Lucille Spencer, BYU Assistant Registrar, typescript of Alma’s BYU high school transcript, June 29, 1950, box 1, fd. 7, Richards Papers; Brigham Young Academy High School Class of 1913, “Class of 1913 H.S.,” accessed November 8, 2015, http://www.byhigh.org/cgi-­bin/ez-­directory/ dispCatAssoc.cgi?60&X329586&100; Annual Record 1913, Brigham Young University, Book 6, 380; BYUtah 1913, 64. 27. Ogden Standard-­Examiner, May 10, 1913. 28. 1913 BYU Banyan Yearbook, 63–81; Provo Daily Herald, May 19, 1913. A year later Alma still held the records. White and Blue, May 13, 1914. 29. Salt Lake Tribune, May 17, 1913. 30. Deseret Evening News, May 16, 1913; Salt Lake Tribune, August 20, 1912, May 17, 1913. 31. New York Times, May 21, 1913; (Provo) Daily Herald, May 26, 1913. 32. Chicago Tribune, June 8, 23, 1913. 33. Deseret Evening News, July 12, 1913. 34. Chicago Tribune, June 22, July 12, 1913; Deseret Evening News, July 12, 1913; list of championships, box 1, fd. 11, Richards Papers; Sporting Life, December 5, 1916, 13. 35. Iron County Record, August 1, 1913.

6. The Big Cornellian 1. New York Times, January 23, 1915. Gregory, “Eugene Lusk Roberts,” 56, says Alma “on encouragement of Coach Roberts, left to enter Cornell University in 1914.” He did not leave Provo to enter Cornell and his year of enrollment is 1913, but while documentation is lacking the essence of the claim that Roberts suggested Ithaca is probably correct. 2. When Moakley retired in 1949 after fifty years of coaching, Cornell had won twenty-­nine national championships, seventeen cross-­country, ten outdoors and two indoors. “John ‘Jack’ Moakley,” accessed November 8, 2015, http:// www.usatf.org/HallOfFame/TF/showBio.asp?HOFIDs=111. 3. Iron County Record, August 22, 1913. L. L. Nunn envisioned Telluride House as something akin to the independent colleges at Oxford and Cambridge in England, an idea first promoted by former Cornell president Andrew D. White. Nunn also founded Deep Springs, a private two-­year agricultural work-­study college in 1917. Stephen A. Bailey, L. L. Nunn: A Memoir (Ithaca: Telluride Association, 1933), 97–99. 4. Salt Lake Telegram, September 17, 18, 1913. 5. Deseret Evening News, July 12, 1913; Ithaca (New York) Daily News, September 4, 27, 1913; Gregory, “Eugene Lusk Roberts,” 56; Robert J. Kane, Good Sports: A History of Cornell Athletics (Ithaca: Cornell University, 1992); John F. Moakley, 40 Years at Cornell (Cortland, New York: The Cayuga Press, 1939). 6. According to the 1910 Federal Census, the population of Provo was 8,925, Ithaca 14,802. For Cornell, see Morris Bishop, A History of Cornell (Ithaca: Cornell University Press 1962); Carol Kammen, Cornell: Glorious to View (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2003). 7. Technically, his program of study was in the New York College of Agriculture and Life Sciences, a statutory college within Cornell University. How and

248  Notes to pages 83–88

when he acquired a 160-­acre farm is unknown; perhaps he was anticipating inheritance property. 8. The Register of Cornell University, 1914–1915 (Ithaca: Cornell, 1915), 35, 41, 117, 244, 261. 9. Cornell Alumni News, April 2, 1914, 2; “Army ROTC,” accessed November 8, 2015, http://www.goarmy.com/rotc/schools/cornell-­university/history.html. 10. Benson, Trials, 13, and BYU Magazine, August 1996, 43; Richards, “Accounts during High School and College work.” 11. Richards, “Accounts during High School and College work,” 76–77; Register of Cornell University, 1914–1915, 42; Ithaca Daily News, January 23, 1915. By 1916 approximately 500 of the 1600 Agricultural College students were working their way through school. In recognition of the problem, an Agricultural Loan Association was formed in 1914, but three years later had funds sufficient to assist only ten students. Cornell Daily Sun, February 13, 1917. 12. Register of Cornell University, 1914–1915, 262; Cornell Daily Sun, May 17, September 26, 1913; “All day-­time enrollment,” accessed November 10 2015, yfacts.byu.edu/Article?id=104. 13. Cornell Daily Sun, October 14, 18, 1913. The initial attempt to elect class officers failed when only 75 of the 500 College of Agriculture freshmen showed up at the meeting. At the next meeting 350 men and 75 women were on hand to elect officers. The Cornell Daily Sun reported that “A. T. Richards” had been elected president. That was a typographical error as no one with a name corresponding to those initials has ever been enrolled at Cornell. Email from Rodney A. Orme, Office of the University Registrar, Cornell University, to Larry Gerlach, November 11, 2013. 14. Salt Lake Herald-­Republican, February 1, 1914. 15. A classic and still valuable sociological study is Thomas F. O’Dea, The Mormons (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1978). See also Dean L. May, “Mormons,” in Eric A. Eliason, ed., Mormons and Mormonism: An Introduction to an American World Religion (Champaign: University of Illinois Press, 2001), 47–76, and David E. Campbell, John C. Green and J. Quin Monson, Seeking the Promised Land: Mormons and American Politics (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2014). 16. Register of Cornell University, 1914–1915, 262. The Cornell Daily Sun regularly posted advertisements for Protestant churches including First Unitarian, First Methodist Episcopal, St. John’s Episcopal, First Presbyterian, First Baptist and Zion African Methodist Episcopal. 17. Ithaca Daily News, September 27, 1913. 18. Cornell Daily Sun, September 22–23, 29–30, 1913. 19. Ibid., October 20, 27, December 8, 1913. 20. Ibid., November 15, 17, 1913. M. G. Crane of Newton, Massachusetts, invented the game in 1891. Initially played with great variations, its popularity faded drastically by World War I, but persisted at Emory University until 1955. 21. Ithaca Daily News and Ogden Standard Examiner, February 28, 1914; Salt Lake Telegram, January 3 and February 29, 1914. 22. Ithaca Daily News, January 31, 1914; Boston Daily Globe, February 4, 6, 1914. 23. New York Times, February 2, 1914; Ithaca Daily News, February 3–4, 1914.

Notes to pages 88–98  249

2 4. St. Louis Post-­Dispatch and St. Louis Globe-­Democrat, March 8–10, 1914; Iron County Record, March 13, 1914. 25. Cornell Daily Sun, March 2, 12, 16, 1914. 26. Salt Lake Telegram, January 2, 1914. 27. Cornell Daily Sun, April 24, 27, 1914. 28. Ibid., May 22–24, 1914. 29. Ibid., May 25, 1914. 30. Ithaca Daily News, January 25, 1915. 31. The Register of Cornell University, 1914–1915, 41. Five percent of students were to be given scores above 90 as well as below 60 (failing), twenty percent between both 80 and 90 and 60 and 70, with fifty percent receiving 70 to 80, considered average or “C” grades. Cornell Countryman 11 (February 1914): 181; Cornell Countryman 14 (April 1917): 577. 32. Salt Lake Telegram, July 16, 1916. 33. Catherine Richards, “In a Reminiscent Mood,” March 26, 1962, box 2, fd. 3, Richards Papers. 34. Dayton Daily News, July 2, 4–5, 1914. 35. Beaver City Press, January 22, 1915. 36. Ibid., October 12, 14, 19, 21, 23, November 7, 23, 30, December 7, 1914. 37. Ibid., December 1, 13, 17, 21, 1914. 38. New York Times, January 9, 1915; Ithaca Daily News, January 23, 25, 1915. 39. Ithaca Daily News, January 25, 1915. 40. Cornell Daily Sun, January 8, 15, 1915. 41. Ithaca Daily News, January 25, 1915; New York Times, August 23, 1914, February 16, 1915. 42. Beaver City Press, January 22, 1915. 43. Boston Globe, February 1, 5–7, 1915; Cornell Daily Sun, February 4, 8, 1915. 44. Chicago American, February 4, 1915; New York Times, January 23, February 16, March 7, 14, May 17, 1915; Ithaca Daily News, March 8, 1915. 45. Philadelphia Inquirer, April 23–25, 1915; New York Times, January 3, April 25, 1915. 46. New York Times, April 25, 1915; Cornell Daily Sun, April 26, 1915. 47. New York Times, May 16, 1915; Cornell Daily Sun, May 10, 17, 1915. 48. New York Times, May 16, 30, 1915; Ithaca Daily News, May 28–29, 1915; Cornell Daily Sun, May 27, 29, June 14, 1915. 49. New York Times, May 17, 1915; Ithaca Daily News, April 26, May 17, 1915. 50. Cornell Daily Sun, April 14, 1915; New York Times, June 13, July 9, 1915; Deseret Evening News, June 28, 1915; Troy (New York) Daily Times, June 30, 1915. 51. For example, in November charges against five athletes including 1912 Olympian Abel Kiviat led to widespread criticism of the complicated and confusing regulations. New York Times, November 17, 1915; Alan S. Katchen and Abel Kiviat. National Champion: Twentieth-Century Track & Field and the Melting Pot (Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press, 2009). 52. New York Times, July 4, 1915; Deseret Evening News, December 2, 1915. 53. New York Times, July 18, 20, 1915; Salt Lake Herald-­Republican, August 7, 1915; Salt Lake Telegram, August 8, 1915; San Francisco Examiner, August 8, 1915.

250  Notes to pages 98–104

54. New York Times, July 18, 20, 1915; Salt Lake Herald-­Republican, August 7, 1915; Salt Lake Telegram, August 8, 1915; San Francisco Examiner, August 8, 1915; Iron County Record, August 20, 1915. 55. Mallon and Widlund, The 1912 Olympic Games, 400. An “All-­A round” was contested in the 1904 Olympics. Other than adjusting running and hurdle distances, the decathlon essentially replaced the hammer throw and 56-­ pound weight events with the discus and javelin. 56. Salt Lake Telegram, May 30, 1915; Iron County Record, July 5, 1912; Evening Telegram, July 13, 1912; Salt Lake Tribune, August 20, 1912. 57. There is no mention of Alma in the massive Avery Brundage Papers at the University of Illinois according to numerous conversations between the curator of the collection, Maynard Brichford, and Larry Gerlach. 58. Jim Thorpe set the historic standard of excellence in the 1912 decathlon with four first, four third and two fourth place finishes. Salt Lake Tribune and Salt Lake Telegram, August 10–11, 1915; San Francisco Examiner, August 10–11, San Francisco Call and Post, August 9–11; San Francisco Chronicle, August 10, 1915; Sporting Life, August 21, 1915. 59. San Francisco Call and Post, August 9–11, 1915; San Francisco Examiner, August 11, 1915; Cornell Daily Sun, September 27, 1915; Deseret Evening News, March 4, 1916; Sporting Life, February 26, 1916, 20. Richards later claimed, and writers subsequently followed suit, that all ten events were contested in a single day. However, as reported in every San Francisco and Salt Lake City newspaper, it was a two-­day event, standard for decathlons. Richards’s list of athletic performances, box 1, fd. 10, Richards Papers. 60. Salt Lake Telegram, February 20, 1915; Iron County Record, February 26, August 20, 1915. 61. Salt Lake Tribune and Salt Lake Telegram, August 25, 1915; New York State Census, 1915, Family History Library, Salt Lake City (hereafter FHL); Cornell Daily Sun, September 26, 1917. 62. Salt Lake Telegram, September 20, 1915. 63. Ogden Standard, August 28, 1915. 64. Cornell Daily Sun, October 18-­19, 26, November 7, 1915; Sporting Life, March 4, 1916, 18. 65. Cornell Daily Sun, October 18–19, 1915. 66. While never held, the 1916 Berlin Games remains in the record book at the Sixth Olympiad. Volker Kluge, “Cancelled but still counted, and never annulled: The Games of 1916,” Journal of Olympic History 22, no. 2 (2014): 9–17; William Durick, “Berlin 1916,” in Findling and Pelle, eds., Encyclopedia of the Modern Olympic Movement, 63–69. 67. Salt Lake Telegram, February 17, April 11, 1916. 68. New York Times, March 5, 18, 1916; Deseret Evening News, March 18, 1916; Cornell Daily Sun, March 6, 13, 1916. 69. Cornell Daily Sun, April 27–29, May 1, 1916. 70. Ibid., May 8, 13–15, 1916. 71. New York Times, May 17, 19, 1916; Ogden Standard, May 26, 1916. 72. Ogden Standard, February 4, 1916; Post-­Standard (Syracuse, New York), May 16, 1916; New York Times, 27, 28, 1916; Cornell Daily Sun, May 23–25, 27, 1916.

Notes to pages 105–114  251

73. Ithaca Daily News, n.d., box 1, fd. 16, Richards Papers. 74. New York Times, August 24, 1916; Cornell Daily Sun, September 12, 1916; Sporting Life, July 15, 1916, 17; Sporting Life, August 26, 1916, 14; Sporting Life, September 30, 1916, 13. 75. New York Times, September 5, 1916. 76. Newark Star-­Eagle, September 11, 1916. 77. New York Times, September 17, 1916; Newark Star-­Eagle, September 14, 18, 1917. 78. Newarker 5 (September-­October 1916): 305–9. 79. New York Times, September 17, 1916; Chicago Daily Tribune, September 17, 1916; Newark Star-­Eagle, September 18, 1917; Sporting Life, September 30, 1916, 17; Newarker 5 (September-­October 1916): 309. 80. New York Times, September 17, 1916. 81. Cornell Daily Sun, May 6, 10, October 26, 30, November 6–8, December 16, 1916. 82. Ibid., December 16, 1916. 83. Ibid., January 27, 1917. 84. Ibid., January 2, 1917; New York Times, February 18, 1917. 85. Cornell Daily Sun, March 5, 1917. 86. Ibid., March 15, 17, 1917; New York Times, March 18, 1917. 87. Cornell Countryman 14 (May 1917): 667–68; Cornell Daily Sun., March 17, 20, 1917. For example, the C. U. C. A. sent delegates to the train station to give literature to arriving freshman and distributed monthly pamphlets about their activities. See ibid., October 9, 1916. For Sunday, see Lyle W. Dorsett, Billy Sunday and the Redemption of Urban America (Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1991); Elijah P. Brown, Billy Sunday: The Life and Work of the Baseball Evangelist (Greenville, NC: Ambassador International, 2006). 88. New York Times, May 17, 1917. 89. Ibid., April 26, 30, May 25–26, 1917. 90. Moakley: 40 Years At Cornell, box 1, fd. 14, Richards Papers. 91. Deseret Evening News, March 4, 1916; Sporting Life, March 18, 1916, 20; Sporting Life, October 21, 1916, 14; Sporting Life, March 16, 1917, 18. 92. Deseret Evening News, March 4, May 20, 1916; New York Times, April 25, 1915. 93. Cornell Countryman 10–13 (1913–1917). 94. Cornellian: The Yearbook of Cornell University 1916, 311, 468; Cornellian: The Yearbook of Cornell University 1917, 269, 319, 321, 326, 400; Cornell Alumni News, May 11, 1916, 381; New York Times, November 5, 1916; Deseret Evening News, December 30 1916; Richards Personal Statement, October 14, 1954, box 1, fd. 14, Richards Papers. “Aleph” and “Samach” are Hebrew letters.

7. Military Interlude 1. Cornell Alumni News XIX (July 1917): 458–60. Sheep ranching, introduced by the local Mormon co-op, was a major industry in San Juan County from the 1880s to the 1920s. Albert R. Lyman, History of San Juan County, 1879–1917 (n.p., 1965), 44. 2. Alma Richards Registration Card No. 59, World War I Draft Registration Cards, 1917–1918, 250, FHL, original in National Archives. 3. Ogden Standard-­Examiner, July 10, 1913.

252  Notes to pages 114–119

4. Provo Daily Herald, July 2, 5, 1917; Ogden Standard-­Examiner, July 5, 1917. 5. Salt Lake Telegram, August 5, 9, 20, 1917; Ogden Standard-­Examiner, December 7, 1917. 6. Richards’s Officers Record Book, box 2, fd. 3, Richards Papers; Box 1 and Roster of the Sixth Company OTC, 1917, box 1, fd. 14, Richards Papers; A. W. Richards, War Service Questionnaire, Utah Military Records, 1861– 1970. Utah State Archives and Records Service, World War I Service Questionnaires, 1914–1918, Series 8529, Reel 19; OTC Presidio Training Farewell Dinner Program, box 1, fd. 12, Richards Papers; Parowan Times, August 29, December 3, 5, 1917; Deseret Evening News, April 13, 1918. 7. Signed copy of the book, dated December 9, 1917, box 1, fd. 20, Richards Papers; White and Blue, December 12, 1917; Ogden Standard-­Examiner, December 7–8, 1917; Mt. Pleasant Pyramid, March 1, 1918. 8. The wartime installation was short-­lived, being closed in December 1918, one month after the armistice. Wikipedia, s.v. “Camp Fremont,” last modified April 9, 2015, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Camp_Fremont. 9. Barbara Wilcox, “‘Fremont, The Flirt’: Unearthing Stanford’s World War I Battleground,” Sandstone & Tile 37 (Spring/Summer 2013): 3–15. 10. San Jose Evening News, March 30, 1918; Parowan Times, April 3, 1918; Daily Herald and Deseret News, April 13, 1918; Richards to Trueblood, July 30, 1930, Trueblood Collection; White and Blue, April 10, 1918. 11. After the marriage Marion’s address was listed as General Delivery, Palo Alto. Alumni Directory and Ten-­Year Book: 1891–1920, vol. 3 (Palo Alto: Stanford University, 1921), 221, 636. 12. U.S. Federal Census 1900; California County Marriages, 1850–1952; John A. Youngberg, interview with Larry Gerlach, August 26, 2014, Yountville, California; Joanne Youngberg to Katie Nash, n.d., and Nash to Youngberg, November 20, 1905, Youngberg Papers; “Riley, Nash and Related Families,” last modified November 11, 2014, http://wc.rootsweb.ancestry.com/cgi-­bin/ igm.cgi?op=GET&db=katie1&id=I121. 13. Eugene Roberts to Walter A. Kerr, March 29, 1950, box 1, fd. 11, Richards Papers. 14. New York Times, September 22, 1918. 15. Officers Record Book, box 2, fd. 3, Richards Papers; Richards, War Service Questionnaire; Alma Richards, Military Service Cards, Reel 4, Utah Military Records, 1861–1970, Series 85268, Utah State Archives and Records Service, Salt Lake City; Carol R. Byerly, “The U.S. Military and the Influenza Pandemic of 1918–1919,” Public Health Reports 125, Supplement 3 (2010): 82–89. 16. Salt Lake Telegram, December 7, 1917. 17. Richard A. Rinaldi, The United States Army in World War I—Orders of Battle Ground Units 1917–1919 (Takoma Park, MD: Tiger Lily Publications, 2004), 27; William Howard Taft, et al., eds., Service With Fighting Men: An Account of the Work of the American Young Men’s Christian Association in the World War, vol. II (New York: Association Press, 1922). 18. “Training Bulletin No. 1,” January 9, 1919, and “Training Bulletin No. 2,” January 25, 1919, in The U.S. Army in World War I, 1917–1918, 17 (Washington, DC: U.S. Government Printing Office, 1948), 162–69. In general see Wanda E. Wakefield, Playing to Win: Sports and the American Military, 1898–1945

Notes to pages 119–127  253

19. 20.

21.

22. 23.

2 4.

25. 26.

(Albany: State University of New York Press, 1997), 35–57; Thierry Terret, “The Military ‘Olympics’ of 1919: Sport, Diplomacy and Sport Politics in the Aftermath of World War One,” Journal of Sport History 14 (August 2006): 22–31. Stars and Stripes, March 21, 1919. Wait C. Johnson and Edward S. Brown, eds., Official Athletic Almanac of the American Expeditionary Forces, 1919: A.E.F. Championships, Inter-­Allied Games (New York: American Sports, 1919), 85; New York Times, May 20, 1919; Cornell Daily Sun, May 21, 1919. Stars and Stripes, March 21, May 2–9, 30, June 6, 1919; George Whythe, et al., eds., The Inter-­Allied Games, Paris, 22nd June to 6th July, 1919 (Paris: Societe anonyme de publications periodiques, 1919); Johnson and Brown, eds., Official Athletic Almanac of the American Expeditionary Forces 1919, 69, 71; Salt Lake Herald, July 14, 1919; Salt Lake Tribune, December 14, 1977; Eugene L. Roberts to Walter A. Kerr, March 29, 1950, box 1, fd. 11, Richards Papers; Daily Herald, June 11, 1975. Teck to Maloney, n.d., box 1, fd. 1, Richards Papers. A letter from Alma appearing in an LDS Church publication contains the first reference to Pershing’s remark that Alma was “the greatest athlete in the A.E.F.” Improvement Era, 45 (November 1942): 731. The statement about him being “the greatest athlete in the Armed Forces” appears in Alma’s listing of championships, box 1, fd. 11, Richards Papers, written sometime after 1932, perhaps in his later years. Coach Roberts did not refer to such a comment in his effusive support in 1947 of Richards as Utah’s track and field Athlete of the Century, a striking omission as it would have bolstered his argument. Richards to Thomas Trueblood, July 30, 1930, Trueblood Collection; Richards’s Officers Record Book, box 2, fd. 3, Richards Papers; Miller Eulogy, box 1, fd. 10, Richards Papers. Photo of the helmet and statement of authenticity, n.d., box 1, fd. 12, Richards Papers. Brimhall to Richards, April 4, 1919, box 27, fd. 5, Brimhall Papers.

8. To the Track 1. Parowan Times, August 13, 1919; Dalton, Iron Mission and Parowan, 354–55; Joanne Richards Baby Book, Youngberg Papers. 2. Parowan Times, August 13, September 3, September 17, November 12, 1919. 3. Ibid., November 5, 19, December 31, 1919. 4. 1920 United States Federal Census, Parowan, Utah, microfilm, Roll T625_1863, p. 88, FHL. 5. George Brimhall to Alma Richards, April 30, 1920, and Reed Smoot to Alma Richards, May 26, 1920, box 1, fd. 9, Richards Papers. 6. For the preparation and conduct of this remarkable Olympiad, see Roland Renson’s The Games Reborn: The VIIth Olympiad, Antwerp 1920 (Llanwarne, Herefordshire: Pandora, 1996). 7. New York Times, September 8–10, 1919; Ogden Standard-­Examiner, October 8, 10, 1919; Deseret Evening News, October 10, 1919.

254  Notes to pages 128–136

8. Ogden Standard-­Examiner, November 29, 1919. 9. Ibid., February 20, 1920. 10. Ibid., December 6, 1919, February 6, May 23, 1920; Deseret News, February 21–23, 1920. 11. Salt Lake Telegram, February 27, 1920; Ogden Standard-­Examiner, March 9–10, 1920. 12. Evening Standard, July 30, 1912. 13. Ogden Standard-­Examiner, May 9, 1920. 14. Provo Herald, April 26, 1920. 15. Ogden Standard-­Examiner, March 13, April 5, 16–17, 1920; Ogden Standard-­ Examiner, April 22, May 7, 11, 1920. 16. Deseret News, June 14, 1920. 17. Ogden Standard-­Examiner, May 23, 1920; Deseret News, June 14, 1920. 18. Coverage of the trials varies dramatically. See Pasadena Star-­News, June 12, 14, 21, 25, 1920; Los Angeles Times, June 24, 26–27, 1920; Deseret News, June 14, 24–25, 27–28, 1920; Salt Lake Telegram, June 26–28, 1920; Salt Lake Tribune, June 27–28, 1920. 19. Ogden Standard-­Examiner, June 29, 1920. 20. Ibid., July 5, 8, 1920. 21. Salt Lake Tribune, June 27, 1920; Pasadena Star-­News, June 28, 1920; Los Angeles Times, June 28, 1920; Deseret News, June 25, 27, 29, 1920; Salt Lake Telegram, June 29, 1920. 22. New York Times, July 10–11, 1920; Ogden Standard-­Examiner and Salt Lake Telegram, July 10, 1920; Deseret News, July 12, 1920; Hymans, Olympic Trials, 53, 55. 23. Record for Alma Wilford Richards, 1920, U.S. Passport Applications, January 2, 1906–March 31, 1925, Roll 105, MLR #A1 534_1490, Series M1490, Record Group 59, National Archives. 2 4. Ogden Standard-­Examiner, July 16, 1920; Hymans, “History of the Olympic Trials,” 53. 25. Deseret Evening News, July 31, August 3–4, 6–7, 9–13, 1920. 26. Salt Lake Tribune, December 17, 1920; Parowan Times, December 22, 1920. 27. New York Times, February 21, 1921; Elmer L. Shirrell, U.S. Veterans Bureau to Alma Richards, December 17, 1921, box 1, fd. 2, Richards Papers; and transcript of Stanford courses and grades, box 1, fd. 2, Richards Papers; Ron L. Racilis, Office of the University Registrar, Stanford University, email to Larry R. Gerlach, October 18, 2011. 28. San Francisco Chronicle and San Francisco Examiner, July 7–10, 1921. 29. Tom Sitton and William Francis Deverell, eds., Metropolis in the Making: Los Angeles in the 1920s (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2001). 30. Championships, box 1, fd. 11, Richards Papers; Provo Herald, January 9, 1922. The winning throw in the 1924 Games was 151 feet 4 inches, an Olympic record. Wallechinsky, Summer Olympics, 385–86. 31. Young, Our First Century: The Los Angeles Athletic Club. 32. Los Angeles Examiner, April 15, 1922; Championships, box 1, fd. 1, Richards Papers.

Notes to pages 136–142  255

33. New York Times, July 15, 1922. 34. Championships, box 1, fd. 11, Richards Papers; Newark Star-­Eagle, September 8–9, 1922; New York Times, September 10, 1922. The Star-­Eagle did not publish on Sunday, September 10, so there is no local commentary on the final day of competition that might explain Alma’s absence from the records. 35. El Rodeo Yearbook (Los Angeles: University of California Law School, 1925), 602. 36. Lita was married to Clarence Chester; their child, Margaret, was born May 28, 1912. California Birth Index, 1905–1995; California Death Index, 1905–1939, FHL; “Riley, Nash and Related Families,” last modified November 11, 2014, http://wc.rootsweb.ancestry.com/cgi-­bin/igm. cgi?op=GET&db=katie1&id=I3922. 37. Lincoln Railsplitter, February 6, 1925; Lincolnian Yearbook 1926, 140, 147, box 2, fd. 2, Richards Papers; Leonore Richards Memo, n.d., box 1, fd. 11, Richards Papers. 38. Certificate of Service, Los Angeles City School District, June 30, 1953, box 1, fd. 19, Richards Papers. Evening (Orange County) News-­Independent, March 24, 1968. (Santa Monica) Outlook, January 2, 1932; Orange Daily News, April 6, 1963. According to the Deseret News, July 4, 1950, Richards was a school superintendent. Inquiries in 2011 to the principals of Lincoln and Venice high schools and the superintendent of the Los Angeles Unified school district about Richards’s teaching careers and possible tenure as a principal have gone unanswered. The claim is almost assuredly incorrect. 39. Wikipedia, s.v. “Venice High School,” last modified November 7, 2015, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Venice_High_School_(Los_Angeles). 40. Transcriptions in the Youngberg Papers. 41. Orange (California) Daily News, July 9, 1962; Richards Personal Statement, October 14, 1954, box 1, fd. 14, Richards Papers; Ogden Standard-­Examiner, November 1, 1959. 42. Richards to Hans Liesche, February 20, 1954, box 1, fd. 2, Richards Papers. 43. Championships, box 1, fd. 11, Richards Papers; Ogden Standard-­Examiner and Salt Lake Telegram, February 17, 1923. 44. Salt Lake Telegram, February 3, 1924. 45. Los Angeles Examiner, April 23–25, 1924; Los Angeles Times, May 24, 1924. 46. Los Angeles Times, January 23, 1945. 47. Deseret News, June 19, 1947. 48. Salt Lake Tribune, July 10, 1926; Deseret News, June 19, 1947. The 56-­pound weight was a steel or lead ball attached to a short chain with a handle; contestants normally made a single turn before the throw. The hammer throw competitors swung a sixteen-­pound object attached to a long chain over their head three or four times before release. 49. Championships, box 1, fd. 10, Richards Papers. 50. Los Angeles Express, June 23, 1929. 51. Los Angeles Times and Los Angeles Examiner, May 16, 1926; Comstock quoted in Arthur Dailey, “Sports of the Times,” New York Times, March 5, 1947. 52. Sexton to Richards, February 1932, box 1, fd. 1, Richards Papers. 53. Salt Lake Tribune, July 5–7, 1927; Deseret News, July 7, 1927.

256  Notes to pages 142–148

54. 55. 56. 57.

Richards to Trueblood, July 30, 1930, Trueblood Collection. Los Angeles Examiner, January 23, 1945; New York Times, August 24, 1930. Championships, box 1, fd. 10, Richards Papers. David Brown, Wildwood Crest, New Jersey, to Richards, April 7, 1939; Richards to Brown, April 12, 1939; both in box 1, fd. 1, Richards Papers.

9. On the Home Front 1. Richards to Trueblood, July 30, 1930, box 1, Trueblood Collection, Bentley Historical Library. 2. Youngberg Interview; 1930 and 1940 U.S. Federal Census, FHL; Scottsdale City Directory 1956; Scottsdale Daily Progress, December 27, 1951, June 13, 1952, October 21, 1955; Daily travel journal, October–May, 1953, Youngberg Papers; Social Security Death Index 526–78–3662; Arizona Republic, January 14, 1965, April 11, 1988. Neale wrote Water and the New West (San Francisco: J. R. Mason, 1925) and Accomplishments of the United States Reclamation Service (San Francisco: J. R. Mason, 1926). Neale’s obituary also identified his wife as Marion Gardner Neale. 3. El Rodeo 1941 (Los Angeles: University of Southern California, 1941), 290; Napa Valley Register, June 17, 2014. Joanne had been married previously to an architect who died from an accident on a ski slope. Youngberg Interview. 4. Parowan Times, July 10, 1912; 1930 U.S. Federal Census, Los Angeles, District 237, p. 174; Santa Monica Outlook, January 2, 1932. 5. Richards to Trueblood, July 30, 1930, Trueblood Collection; Joseph F. Merrill, LDS Education Fund, to Richards, May 8, 1931, box 1, fd. 9, Richards Papers. For Merrill, see Casey P. Griffiths, “Joseph F. Merrill: Latter-­day Saint Commissioner of Education, 1928–1933” (master’s thesis, Brigham Young University, 2007). 6. Trueblood to Richards, June 30, September 21, 1930, November 18, 1933, box 1, fd. 1, Richards Papers. 7. Martha Ward, Poem, box 1, fd. 11, Richards Papers. 8. Parowan Times, August 8, 1930. 9. Ibid., July 1, 1932. 10. Loren H. Amudson, Huntimer: Families of Huntimer, Ancestors and Descendants (College Station, TX: VirtualBookworm.com Publishing, 2009), 3–4, 7–8, 100–2; Robert Kolbe, comp., Minnehaha County Historical and Biographical Sketches (Dallas, TX: Curtis Media for the Minnehaha County Historical Society, 1988), 115. Gertrude’s parents were married in St. Andrew’s Catholic Church, Tennyson, Wisconsin; the family burial plot is in Saint Joseph’s Cemetery, Huntimer, South Dakota. See George’s obituary in the Dell Rapids (SD) Tribune, August 27, 1942. 11. Gregory A. Prince and Gary Topping, “A Turbulent Coexistence: Duane Hunt, David O. McKay, and a Quarter-­Century of Catholic-­Mormon Relations,” Journal of Mormon History 31, no. 1 (2005): 142–63; Gregory A. Prince and William Robert Wright, David O. McKay and the Rise of Modern Mormonism (Salt Lake City: University of Utah Press, 2005), 112–23; Carol Ann Morrow, “Catholics Among the Mormons,” St. Anthony Messenger (October 1997), http://www.americancatholic.org/messenger/oct1997/feature1.asp.

Notes to pages 148–151  257

12. California County Marriages, 1950–1952, FHL. Elmer L. Anderson, MD, and his wife were witnesses. The couple’s first child, Mary Margaret, was born on May 14, 1933. 13. Parawon Times, June 26, 1936. 14. U.S. Federal Census, 1940, FHL. The Investment Company, frequently arrears in taxes, lost its final landholdings at a sheriff’s auction in November 1939. Parowan Times, May 30, 1929, December 29, 1933, May 26, 1939, October 20, 1939. 15. Shawn A. Schraeger, Alma’s grandson, email to Larry R. Gerlach, July 17, 2014. South Dakota State Census, 1945, FHL; California Death Index, 1940– 1997, FHL. 16. Family Records Sheet, ibid., box 2, fd. 3; Sioux-­Falls Argus-­Leader, January 29, 1969, September 3, 1972; Sioux Falls Tribune, October 20, 1982; 1983 award nomination letter, Youngberg Papers. 17. Joanne and Arthur Youngberg had four children (John Arthur, Jan Elizabeth [Biz], Mary Ann, and stepdaughter Nina); Mary Margaret and Robert Alan Schraeger had three (Shawn Alan, Susan Marie 1956, and Robert Charles 1960); Anita and Philip Fortunato had six (Noel Ann 1952, Valentina Marie 1956, Kathleen Ruth 1958, Philip Leo 1961, Paul, and Patrick); and Paul had four (Rila, John, Paul, and Laura). 18. California County Marriages, 1950–1952, FHL. 19. Long Beach Press Telegram, April 4, 1963; Lenore Richards to Joanne Youngberg, October 15, 1984, Youngberg Papers; U.S. Department of Health, Education and Welfare, 100 Years of Marriage and Divorce Statistics, United States, 1867–1967 (Rockwell, MD: National Center for Health Studies, 1973), 22, 25, 27, 29; “Sampling of Latter-­day Saint/Utah Demographics and Social Statistics from National Sources,” updated September 16, 2005, http://www. adherents.com/largecom/lds_dem.html. 20. Missionary Index by Surname, 1830–1971, FHL. 21. Gomer’s obituary is in the Salt Lake Tribune, October 21, 1940; Joseph’s in Deseret News, November 21, 1949. 22. The endowment ceremony took place on August 26, 1969. Ancestral File 5J2V-­V J, FHL; Benson and Robinson, Trials & Triumphs, 14. 23. Temple records do not identify who was responsible for providing the information for the endowment ceremony. Alma’s widow, Lenore, returned to South Dakota in December 1968, so it was most likely one of his siblings living in Utah. Garments are sacred underclothes worn day and night as a sign of Mormon identity and protection against negative influences. “The LDS Endowment,” accessed November 8, 2015, http://www.ldsendowment. org; David John Buerger, “The Development of the Mormon Temple Endowment Ceremony,” Dialogue: A Journal of Mormon Thought 20 (Winter 1987): 33–76; Jerald and Sandra Tanner, Evolution of the Mormon Temple Ceremony: 1842–1990 (Salt Lake City: Utah Lighthouse Ministry, 2005); Evelyn T. Marshall, “Garments,” in Encyclopedia of Mormonism, ed. Daniel H. Ludlow (New York: Macmillan, 1992), 534–35; Colleen McDannell, Material Christianity: Religion and Popular Culture in America (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1995), 198–221.

258  Notes to pages 152–156

2 4. Larry R. Gerlach, “Sporting Saints: Reshaping Mormon Identities,” in Bettina Kratzmuller, Mattias Marschik, Rudolf Muller, Hubert Szemethy, and Elisabeth Trinkel, eds., Sport and the Construction of Identities (Vienna, Austria: Verlag Turia + Kant, 2007), 453–61. 25. Alma’s name does not appear in available membership records. LDS Church Records of Membership: Los Angeles, 1896–1925 and 1936–1941; LDS Church Census: Stakes and Missions, 1914–1935; Los Angeles Stake: Officers and Historical and Statistical Reports, 1927–1955, Wilshire Ward, Los Angeles Stake: General Minutes, 1935–1938; Wilshire Ward Melchizedek Priesthood Minutes and Records; Record of Members: Wilshire Ward, 1927–1941; Record of Members Collection, 1836–1970; and Deceased Member Records, 1941– 1988; all in Church History Library (hereafter CHL). 26. Her father, Leo B. Gardner, was a member of the Evangelical and Reformed Lutheran church. “Riley, Nash and Related Families,” last updated November 11, 2014, http://worldconnect.rootsweb.ancestry.com/cgi-­bin/ igm.cgi?op=GET&db=katie1&id=I121. 27. Mary Margaret, born in 1933, and Anita Ann, born in 1934, were married in St. Augustine Catholic Church in 1952; Paul Morgan, born in 1937, also married a Catholic, Maria Gomez. Family Records Sheet, box 2, fd. 3, Richards Papers. The ancestral burial plot is in St. Joseph’s Cemetery, Colton, South Dakota. 28. Santa Ana Stake Historical Resource File, LR 8054 22; Orange Ward General Minutes, LR 6532 11; Orange Ward Priesthood and Relief Society Minutes and Records, LR 6532 14; Orange and Tustin Wards and Santa Ana Stake, M227 S231; all in CHL. 29. Forest Lawn forms, “Vital Statistics and Historical Record,” and “My Preferences for My Memorial Service,” box 2, fd. 3, Richards Papers. 30. Memorial service outline and program, box 1, fd. 2, Richards Papers; Old Stone Church Museum, Parowan, Utah. 31. Lenore Richards, Christmas greetings, box 1, fd. 4, Richards Papers. 32. Shortly after marrying a German immigrant, Mary Barbara Bolanz (1833– 1919), Adams moved his families to Bluff, San Juan County, raising sixteen children, nine by Mary Ann and seven by Mary Barbara. After his death in 1901, his first wife immediately moved back to Parowan while the second wife remained in Bluff. 33. Richard S. Van Wagoner, Mormon Polygamy: A History (Salt Lake City: Signature Books, 1986); D. Michael Quinn, “LDS Church Authority and New Plural Marriages, 1890–1904,” Dialogue 18 (Spring 1985): 9–105; Kenneth Cannon II, “After the Manifesto: Mormon Polygamy, 1890–1906,” Sunstone 8 (Jan–Apr 1983): 27–35. A concise, authoritative survey is Jessie L. Embry, “Polygamy,” in Powell, ed., Utah Historical Encyclopedia, 428–30. 3 4. Tanner ultimately had five wives, siring twenty-­n ine children, three with Belle and six with Columbia. See Chad M. Orton, By Reason and Faith: The Life of Henry S. Tanner (privately published, 1998), 257, 277, 282, 287–88. When Tanner died in 1935, the Deseret News obituary on May 24 mentioned Laura but none of the other wives. Death did not them part as the wives

Notes to pages 156–159  259

35.

36. 37.

38. 39. 40. 41. 42.

43.

44. 45. 6. 4 47. 48. 49.

50. 51.

52.

were subsequently buried next to his grave in Park 2-­1 4-­1-­E , Salt Lake City Cemetery. David Lunt, “Remembering an Athletic Hero: The Afterlife of Alma Richards,” unpublished paper presented at the annual meeting of the North American Society for Sport History, Glenwood Springs Colorado, June 2, 2014, 15. Parowan Times, April 20, September 28, 1921, February 22, 1928. For example, ibid., May 22, 1929, July 19, 1935, July 24, 1936, August 8, 1941. Gomer, Joseph, Harriett, Margaret, Mary Isabelle, Columbia Eden, and Catherine lived in the state capital; Charles lived in Logan and William in Fairfield, Idaho. After Margaret died in 1921, Morgan promptly moved to Salt Lake to be close to most of his children. Parowan Times, October 26, November 2, 1921. Parowan Times, July 19, 1935. Beaver City Press, August 21, 1914, July 22, 1927; Washington County News, September 2, 1915. Parowan Times, July 27, 1927. Ibid., February 9, 1934, October 22, 1937. Morgan and Margaret apparently ran out of names as the three youngest children—Columbia, Alma, and Catherine—are the only ones not given an ancestral designation. Gomer Morgan was named after his father and paternal grandfather; Harriett and Joseph Evans after grandmother Richards; Margaret after her mother; William Adams, Charles Leech, and Mary Isabelle after their maternal grandparents. Dalton, Iron Mission and Parowan, 305. The Old Rock Church, completed in 1867, was abandoned in the 1920s but restored as a public facility in 1939. Parowan Times, July 10, 1929, January 22, 1930. Parowan Times, July 10, 1929. Ibid., August 27, 1943, February 18, 1944; Dalton, Iron Mission and Parowan, 304–5. Parowan Times, September 5, 1928. Ibid., April 12, 1935. Ibid., February 16, 1945. Iron County Record, March 26, April 23, 1953. There was apparently no provision for the award to continue being presented to the school’s outstanding athlete. Columbia Richards to Alma and Lenore Richards, n.d., box 1, fd. 1, Richards Papers. Catherine served several years as the deputy treasurer for Iron County before moving from Parowan to Salt Lake City seeking greater career opportunities, even then frequently returning to Parowan to assist the county treasurer in preparing tax notices. Parowan Times, January 30, 1924, August 8, 1930. Hattie’s husband, William B. Dougall, died April 1, 1906. Salt Lake City Cemetery Records, 1848–1992, FHL. Belle and Columbia shared a house at 1434 South 900 West with their six children. 1940 U.S. Federal Census, FHL; Iron County Record, April 11, 1963.

260  Notes to pages 160–168

53. See Rusty Wilson, “Douglas Fairbanks and the Birth of Hollywood’s Love Affair with the Olympics,” in Nigel B. Crowther, Robert K. Barney, Michael K. Heine, eds., Cultural Imperialism in Action, Critiques in the Global Olympic Trust: Eighth International Symposium for Olympic Research (London, Ontario: International Centre for Olympic Studies, University of Western Ontario, 2006), 106–10. 54. Parowan Times, August 2, 1916, June 6, August 29, 1917, February 20, July 17, 1918, February 19, May 21, 1919. Following the creation of the Council of National Defense in August 1916, President Woodrow Wilson asked the states to create councils of defense to support the war effort by addressing agricultural and industrial needs as well as raising funds and boosting morale. See William J. Breen, Uncle Sam at Home: Civilian Mobilization, Wartime Federalism, and the Council of National Defense, 1917–1919 (Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1984). 55. Box 1, fd. 6, Richards Papers. 56. Los Angeles Times, January 23, 1945; Blood donor certificates, 1942 to 1945, box 1, fd. 12, Richards Papers. 57. Robert Humphreys, Republican National Committee, to Richards, March 30, 1954, box 1, fd. 19, Richards Papers. 58. Parley Parker Christensen to Alma Richards, November 27, 1942, box 1, fd. 1, Richards Papers. For Christensen, see John R. Sillito, “The Making of an Insurgent: Parley P. Christensen and Utah Republicanism 1900–1912,” Utah Historical Quarterly 60 (Fall 1992): 319–34; “Parley P. Christensen: A Political Biography, 1869–1954” (master’s thesis, University of Utah, 1977).

10. Alma Remembering 1. Olympic Events (MGM 1932); unidentified 1931 newspaper article with Alma’s picture entitled “Mr. Richards in Picture,” box 2, fd. 2, Richards Papers; Evening News-­Independent (Orange County Edition), March 24, 1968. 2. Gunnison Valley News, July 7, 1932. 3. San Antonio Light, July 21, 1935; “Olympic Athletes Smoke Camels! (1935),” September 26, 2009, http://olderthanme.blogspot.com/2009/09/olympic-­ athletes-­smoke-­camels-­1935.html. 4. Durham’s reminiscence in the Salt Lake Tribune, December 4, 1977. 5. Los Angeles Times, August 29, 1951, April 7, 1953; Lenore Richards to Joanne Youngberg, October 15, 1984, Youngberg Papers. 6. For brochures, clippings, and certificates from various organizations see box 1, fds. 10, 19, Richards Papers. 7. Los Angeles Times, October 26–27, 1951; Los Angeles Herald Express, October 27, 1951; New York Times, May 7, 1953; Black, Mormon Athletes, 10. 8. Los Angeles Times, n.d., box 1, fd. 16, Richards Papers. 9. Track and Field News 6 (August 1952), in Schwarz to Richards, September 21, 1952, box 1, fd. 2, Richards Papers. 10. Los Angeles Times, August 7, 1952, box 1, fd. 16, Richards Papers. 11. Alma Richards to Bill Henry, March 26, 1938, box 1, fd. 2, Richards Papers. 12. Tulare Advance-­Register, June 23, 1949.

Notes to pages 168–171  261

13. Cover of Alexander M. Weyand, The Olympic Pageant (New York: Macmillan, 1952), in box 1, fd. 12, Richards Papers. 14. He was a member of the Eimsbritteler T.B. and Charlottenburg S.C. athletic teams, the VAR sports club, and cofounder of WKK sports club. Liesche to Richards, undated letter, and Hans Senftleben, “The First Silver Medal Winner of German Athletics Becomes 80,” translation from an unidentified German newspaper, September 1971, box 1, fd. 16, Richards Papers; Fritz Schenkel, “Hans Liesche holte die erste Olympia-­Medaille für Hamburg,” accessed November 8, 2015, http://www.elbe-­wochenblatt.de/eimsbuettel/ sport/hans-­liesche-­holte-­die-­erste-­olympia-­medaille-­f uer-­hamburg-­d10247. html; Wikipedia, s.v. “File:1912_Hans_Liesche.JPG,” accessed November 8, 2015, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:1912_Hans_Liesche.JPG; and “Hans Liesche,” accessed November 8, 2015, http://www.sports-­reference.com/ olympics/athletes/li/hans-­liesche-­1.html. 15. The story of the Richards-­Liesche friendship is contained in two boxes of materials in the UA310; the originals are in the Youngberg Papers. For ease of access, the following citations are mostly to the Richards Papers. See also Larry R. Gerlach, “An Olympic Friendship: Alma Richards and Hans Liesche,” in Janet Forsyth and Michael Heine, eds., Problems, Possibilities, and Promising Practices: Critical Dialogues on the Olympic and Paralympic Games (London, Ontario: International Centre for Olympic Studies, 2012), 45–50. 16. Edith Frieda Reichardt was born in Berlin, Germany, in 1910. She tried to qualify for the 1936 Games in the javelin but finished fourth in the trials. In 1939 she married John Mendyka, former member of the German national rugby team and 100 meter hurdler, who also failed to qualify for the Berlin Olympics after finishing fourth in the hammer throw trials. Edith competed in track and field until age eighty-­t wo, holding some thirty world records. At age seventy she set U.S. Senior Olympics records for women in seven events—the 100 and 200 meter dashes, discus, shot put, javelin, and long jump. In 1999 she was enshrined in the USTAF Masters Hall of Fame. Stan Cohen, The Games of ’36: A Pictorial History of the 1936 Olympics in Germany (Missoula, MT: Pictorial Histories Publishing Company, 1996), 146; Wikipedia, s.v. “USATF Masters Hall of Fame,” last modified August 29, 2015, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/USATF_Masters_Hall_of_Fame. 17. Grix reported the details of Richards’s meeting with Mendyka in “Treffen mit weltbesten Hochspringern” (II), Leichtathletik, undated issue, p. 13, copy in box 1, fd. 2, Richards Papers. See also “Olympics Hold Special Meaning For Wife Of Late Gold Medalist,” Sioux ­Falls Argus-­Leader, September 3, 1972. 18. Deseret News, August 24, 1912; Salt Lake Herald-­Republican, August 25, 1912; Alma Richards Personal Statement, October 14, 1954, box 1, fd. 14, Richards Papers; Grix to Richards, February 3, 1954, Youngberg Papers. 19. Richards to Liesche, February 20, 1954, box 1, fd. 14, Richards Papers. 20. Grix to Richards, February 5, 1954; Richards to Grix, February 25, 1954; Grix to Richards, April 17 and May 8, 1954, box 1, fd. 14, Richards Papers. 21. Grix to Richards, May 8, 1954, box 1, fd. 14, Richards Papers.

262  Notes to pages 171–179

22. Arthur E. Grix, “Treffen mit weltbesten Hochspringern” (I), Leichtathletik 24 (June 15, 1954), 12–13; Part I of the article appeared in June; Part II appeared in a subsequent issue, date unknown, p. 13; copies in box 1, fd. 2, Richards Papers; Amateur Athletics 26 (February 1955): 23, 29, box 1, fd. 14, Richards Papers. 23. Arthur E. Grix, Olympische Tage in Los Angeles (Berlin: Emil Wernitz, 1932). 2 4. Los Angeles Times, December 24, 1987; Press (Long Beach) Telegram, March 18, 1975; Joe Jares, “A Baker’s Dream Needs Dough,” Sports Illustrated, September 7, 1970, 18–21. 25. W. R. “Bill” Schroeder to Grix, May 25, 1954, box 1, fd. 2, Richards Papers. 26. Grix, “Two Olympic Medals for One Event,” 23, 29. 27. Liesche to Richards, May 7, 1954, box 1, fd. 14, Richards Papers. 28. Richards to Liesche, February 20, 1954, box 1, fd. 2, Richards Papers; Liesche to Richards, Christmas 1962, box 2, fd. 5, Richards Papers. 29. Alma to Dr. George Feledi, August 28, 1962, box 1, fd. 11, Richards Papers. 30. Liesche to Richards, Christmas 1962, box 2, fd. 5, Richards Papers. 31. Liesche to Lenore Richards, December 22, 1963, box 2, fd. 5, Richards Papers. 32. For the definitive account of the largely fabricated Owens–Long relationship, see Volker Kluge, “Jesse and Luz—A century since their birth— is their legend still stronger than the truth?” Journal of Olympic History 21, no. 2 (2013): 26–39. 33. Hans Senftleben, “The First Silver Medal Winner of German Athletics Becomes 80,” September 1971, box 1, fd. 16, Richards Papers. Alma’s widow contributed a picture of Hans jumping in 1912 for the article. In the 1972 Munich Games Stephan Junge, German Democratic Republic, won silver in the high jump. In the next two Olympics, Germans won the gold medal, Gerd Wessig in 1980 and Dietmar Mögenburg in 1984. These are the only Germans other than Leische to win an Olympic medal in the high jump. 34. Box 1, fds. 10, 16, Richards Papers.

11. Remembering Alma 1. Telegram from Elsie and James Miller to Alma Richards, July 8, 1962, box 1, fd. 1, Richards Papers. 2. Ibid., Richards Papers; Edan Milton Hughes, Artists in California, 1786–1940, 3rd ed., 2 vols. (Sacramento: Crocker Art Museum, 2002), 2:820. 3. Martha Ward, Poem, box 1, fd. 11, Richards Papers. The poem is printed in full in Appendix I. Sports editor Al Warden extensively revised portions of it in the Deseret News, July 30, 1953. 4. Ogden Standard-­Examiner, November 1, 1959. 5. High school credentials, box 1, fd. 14, Richards Papers. 6. Santa Monica Outlook, January 2, 1932. 7. Ibid., April 10, 1932, quoted in the Ogden Standard-­Examiner, November 1, 1959. 8. “Our Gang,” box 1, fd. 1, Richards Papers. 9. Diane Dilworth to Alma Richards, n.d., and Jim Freeman, “The Teacher Who Helped Me Most,” box 1, fd. 2, Richards Papers; Mike Peak, “History of the

Notes to pages 179–182  263

10. 11. 12. 13.

14.

15.

16.

17. 18.

Olympic Games,” May 29, 1952; John Lewellen, Quiz Kids Program Director, to Alma, n.d., box 1, fd. 10, Richards Papers. Harvey T. Anderson to Richards, March 29, 1963, box 1, fd. 2, Richards Papers. Deseret News, March 27, April 1–3, 1947. Richards to Les Goates, June 19, 1950, box 1, fd. 2, Richards Papers. Eugene L. Roberts to L. Brent Goates, March 1, 24, 29, 1950, box 1, fd. 2, Richards Papers; Roberts to Walter A. Kerr, n.d., box 1, fd. 10; Roberts to Kerr, March 23, 29, 1950, ibid., box 1, fd. 11; L. Brent Goates to Richards, June 15, 1950, June 25, 1951, box 1, fd. 1; Richards to Les Goates, June 19, 1950, box 1, fd. 2; Final Ballot for Utah Athletes of the Century, box 1, fd. 3; Deseret News, May 28, 1951; all in Collected Material About Alma Richards, MS 7562, CHL. The committee used a rating system devised by Roberts: Alma Richards, 474;, Clinton Larson, BYU high jump, 116;, Dale Schofield, BYU sprinter, 94; Knewell Rushforth, Utah high jump, 86.5; Creed Haymond, Utah and Pennsylvania sprinter, 83.5; (Robert) Nathan Long, multiple events, 80.5; Owen Rowe, BYU hurdles and sprints, 80.5; Fred Scheffield, Utah high jump, 64; Clarence Robison, BYU distance runner, 61; and Mac Speedie, Utah hurdles, 60.5. Athlete of the Century Final Ballot, box 1, fd. 3, Richards Papers. Deseret News, July 4, 1950, May 28, 1951; Les Goates to Richards, May 26, 1951, box 1, fd. 1, Richards Papers; Mountain States Track & Field Championship Program, box 1, fd. 12, Richards Papers. Church News, October 16, 1982; Deseret News and Salt Lake Tribune, October 23, 1982; Beehive Nomination Form, MS 7562, CHL. The other five honorees were Marriner S. Eccles, Keynesian banker who served as chairman of the Federal Reserve Board under President Franklin Roosevelt; Philo T. Farnsworth, inventor of television; Eliza R. Snow, plural wife of Joseph Smith and Brigham Young, poet, women’s rights champion, and director of the LDS women’s Relief Society; Esther E. Peterson, advocate for the rights of workers, women, and consumers, who served as an advisor to U.S. presidents John F. Kennedy, Lyndon Johnson, and Jimmy Carter; and Obert C. Tanner, philosophy professor, entrepreneur, and philanthropist. Lenore Richards to Joanne and Art Youngberg, September 30, 1982, November 27, 1984, Youngberg Papers. Salt Lake Tribune, November 5, 1970; Helms Foundation Press Release, May 3, 1956, box 1, fd. 10, Richards Papers; Deseret News, May 3, 1956, November 2, 1970; “BYU Hall of Fame Inductees,” accessed November 10, 2015, byucougars.com/hall-­of-­fame; “Alma Richards,” accessed November 10, 2015, byucougars.com/athlete/m-­track-­f ield/alma-­richards; “Cornell Athletic Hall of Fame,” accessed November 8, 2015, http://www.cornellbigred.com/ sports/2007/7/31/HOFIntro.aspx; “Members of the Niagara Track and Field Hall of Fame,” accessed November 8, 2015, http://www.niagaratrackhof. org/members.php. Despite championship-­caliber performances over two decades, Richards is not a member of the U.S. Track and Field Hall of Fame. “USA Track and Field Hall of Fame,” accessed November 8, 2015, http:// www.usatf.org/Athlete-­Bios.aspx; Wikipedia, s.v. “United States Olympic

264  Notes to pages 182–187

19.

20. 21. 22.

23. 2 4.

25. 26. 27.

Hall of Fame,” last modified June 4, 2015, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ United_States_Olympic_Hall_of_Fame. Elected in 1998, Jay Silvester, world record holder in the discus, is the lone Utahn in the track Hall of Fame. Wikipedia, s.v. “National Track and Field Hall of Fame,” last modified November 3, 2015, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ National_Track_and_Field_Hall_of_Fame. Deseret News, October 22, 1996; Salt Lake Tribune, October 23, 1996. Salt Lake Tribune, December 26, 1999. Benson and Robinson, Trials & Triumphs, 15; 1912 and 1915 decathlon statistics, box 1, fd. 12, Richards Papers. Thorpe finished first in the shot put, discus, 110 hurdles, and the 1500 meters; Richards won the high jump. Wikipedia, s.v. “Athletics at the 1912 Summer Olympics Men’s Decathlon,” last modified July 21, 2015, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ Athletics_at_the_1912_Summer_Olympics_–_Men’s_decathlon. Deseret News, May 29, 1969. Salt Lake Herald-­Republican, Salt Lake Tribune, Deseret News, May 15–16, 1915; Salt Lake Herald-­Republican, May 16, 1915; New York Times, May 16, 1915. Deseret News and Salt Lake Tribune, May 8–9, 1914, May 12–13, 1916. Ogden Standard-­Examiner, April 18, 1920. New York Times, April 14, 1945.

12. God, Gold, and Glory? 1. Deseret News, May 18, 1963. 2. Jack A. Nelson, “Mormons and the Olympics,” Improvement Era 72 (January 1969): 10–11; T. Earl Pardoe, “Alma Wilford Richards,” The Sons of Brigham (Salt Lake City: Deseret News Press, 1969), 449–52; William T. Black, Mormon Athletes (Salt Lake City: Deseret Book, 1980), 6–10; Kris Marele Morgan, “Mormon Montage: Mormons in the World. A Production Script” (master’s thesis, Brigham Young University, 1979), 92–93. Morgan presents Richards as a hayseed speaking with “a Utah drawl” and saying “Ahh, shucks” when complimented by General Pershing at the AEF championships. 3. New Era (September 1981) and Liahona (July 1982). The Church News, July 15, 1984, included a brief sketch of Alma in an article of past Mormon Olympians and those participating in the upcoming Los Angeles Games. 4. Lee Benson, “Alma Richards,” in Lee Benson and Doug Robinson, Trials & Triumphs: Mormons in the Olympic Games (Salt Lake City: Deseret Book Company, 1992), 1–19, is the basis of Benson’s subsequent articles, “He Came, He Saw and He Went Home With Gold,” Deseret News, July 22, 1992; “Alma,” BYU Magazine, 38–43; as well as derivative pieces by Twila Van Leer, “Utah Native Leaped to Fame in 1912 Summer Games,” Deseret News, March 25, 1995, reprinted ibid., January 14, 1996; W. Paul Reeve, “Alma Richards Was Utah’s First Olympic Gold Medalist,” Utah History Blazer, February 1996; Gib Twyman, “Route to Honor Utah Golden Boy,” Deseret News, June 20, 2001; Richard Neitzel Holzapfel and Susan Allen Myers, The Utah Journey (Layton, UT: Gibbs Smith, 2009), 237.

Notes to pages 187–191  265

5. Gerlach, “Sporting Saints,” 453–61, and “The ‘Mormon Games’: Religion, Media, Cultural Politics, and the Salt Lake Winter Olympics,” Olympika: The International Journal of Olympic Studies 11 (2002): 1–52. 6. David J. Lunt, “Mormons and the Olympics: Constructing an Olympic Identity,” Olympika 16 (2007): 1–18. 7. Merrill, “Utah Athletes Coming to Their Own,” 824. For the use of athletes in exemplifying the Word of Wisdom to young Mormons, see Richard Ian Kimball, Sports in Zion: Mormon Recreation, 1890–1940 (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2003), 107–24. 8. Lunt, “Mormons and the Olympics,” 2–3. 9. Parowan was inexplicably left off the original torch relay route but was added following substantial public protest and press criticism. Deseret News, January 12, 23, March 7, June 20, 25–28, 2001. Ken Foster, mass communications professor at the University of Utah, teamed with Reagan Outdoor Advertising to use the billboards to promote Alma as well as determine motorists’ retention rates. Ken Foster, email to Larry R. Gerlach, September 5, 2014. 10. Church News, February 2, 2002; LDS Church Public Affairs Press Release, April 1, 2002. The Olympians were Corey Engen, Nordic skiing, 1948 St. Moritz; Marvin Melville, alpine skiing, 1956 Cortina d’Ampezzo and 1960 Squaw Valley; Barbara Day Lockhart, speed skating, 1960 Squaw Valley and 1964 Innsbruck; Jean Saubert, alpine skiing, 1964 Innsbruck; and Peter Vidmar, gymnastics, 1984 Los Angeles. 11. Salt Lake Tribune, February 3, 2002; Deseret News, March 11, 2007, February 3, 2014. 12. David G. Pace, “Endowing the Olympic Masses: Light of the World,” Dialogue: A Journal of Mormon Thought 36 (Spring 2003), 151–55; Church News, February 9, 2002; Salt Lake Tribune, February 3, 7, 2002. For video of “Light of the World” and all other LDS cultural activities related to the Olympics, see Friends to All Nations: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-­ day Saints and the 2002 Olympic Winter Games (2 disc DVD set, LDS Church Productions, 2003). 13. Kimball, Sports in Zion, 189. 14. After the 2002 Games, Alma received scant mention in LDS publications. In the July 2005 editions of two church magazines, New Era (for youth) and Liahona (multilanguage international), under the “Did You Know?” column noted, “July 8, 1912: The first Latter-­day Saint to win an Olympic medal, Alma Richards, won a gold medal in the high jump.” LDS Living, a biweekly lifestyle magazine, twice mentioned Alma in a staff listing of famous Mormons, “14 Little-­K nown Mormon Athletes” (June 19, 2004), and “Mormon Firsts” (May 15, 2012). Ensign (for adults) did not publish anything about Alma. 15. William Oscar Johnson, All That Glitters Is Not Gold: The Olympic Games (New York: Putnam’s, 1972), 129; James Edward Sullivan, ed., Spalding’s Official Athletic Almanac for 1909 (New York: American Sports, 1909), 48. 16. Deseret News, April 2, 1947, July 30, 1953.

266  Notes to pages 192–198

17. For a detailed analysis of the article and the entire prayer issue, see Larry R. Gerlach, “Alma Richards’s Leap of Faith Revisited,” Utah Historical Quarterly 82, (Spring 2014), 133–50; “Gold and Glory, but God? Alma Richards’s Olympic Leap of Faith Revisited,” North American Society for Sport History annual meeting, Halifax, Nova Scotia, May 28, 2013. 18. Evening Mail, February 3, 1914. 19. Nyheter, Stadion Edition, Aftonbladet, and Svenska Dagbladet (Stockholm); Hamburger Abendblatt and Die Ziet (Hamburg); London Times and Manchester Guardian (UK), July 9–10, 1912. Horine’s reports from Stockholm in the Call, July 18, 26, 1912; James Sullivan, “What Happened at Stockholm,” The Outing Magazine, October 1912–March 1913, 30. 20. Iron County Record, March 13, 1914. Nicholson posted the best time in the 110 meter hurdles heats, but in the finals he fell at the eighth hurdle to lose the event. In the high jump he tied for last. Nicholson later became the varsity track coach at Notre Dame University. See The Notre Dame Alumnus 18 (May 1940): 215. 21. Wallenchinsky, The Complete Book of the Summer Olympics: Athens 2004 Edition, 343, adds that Alma “closed his eyes and bowed his head, and made a deal with God.” But see Bill Mallon and Ture Widlund, The 1912 Olympic Games—Results for All Competitors in All Events, with Commentary, 96–98. 22. Alma Richards to E. L. Roberts, July 9, 1912, printed in the Provo Herald, July 26, 1912. 23. Deseret Evening News, August 24, 1912 (date line Provo, August 12). 2 4. Salt Lake Herald-­Republican, August 20, 25, 1912. 25. Daily Herald, June 11, 1975; “Our ‘Y’ Man at Stockholm,” BYUtah 1913 (Provo: BYU Student Body, 1913), 186; Pardoe, Sons of Brigham, 450–51. 26. “Memories of the Last Olympic Games,” Literary Digest, July 3, 1920, 94. 27. Los Angeles Times, April 4–5, 1963; Iron County Record, April 11, 1963; Press Telegram (Long Beach), July 3, 1963; New York Times, April 5, 1963; James B. Miller, “Eulogy in Memory of Alma Wilford Richards,” box 1, fd. 10, Richards Papers. The Helms Foundation received donations of $90. Schroeder to Mrs. Alma W. Richards, April 26, 1963,box 1, fd. 1, Richards Papers. 28. Improvement Era 45 (November 1942): 731. 29. Merrill, “Utah Athletes Coming to Their Own,” 824. For the use of athletes in exemplifying the Word of Wisdom to young Mormons, see Kimball, Sports in Zion, 107–24. For the development of the dietary principles, see Thomas G. Alexander, “The Word of Wisdom: From Principle to Requirement,” Dialogue: A Journal of Mormon Thought 14, no. 3 (1981): 78–88. 30. Doctrine & Covenants, 89:20; Iron County Record, August 20, 1915; General Health (Athletic) Rules and Hygienic Living, undated typescript, box 1, fd. 4, Richards Papers. Richards said the guidelines were “written in appreciation of or help you [gave?] on the stage several years ago and for the lovely press write-­ups your dear Mother gave me while we were living in New York State.” 31. Parowan Times, August 2, 1916, June 1, 1921, May 12, 1926; Deseret News, November 21, 1948.

Notes to pages 198–206  267

32. Improvement Era 45 (November 1942): 731. Deseret News, January 16, 1943; Richards Personal Statement, October 14, 1954, box 1, fd. 14, Richards Papers. 33. Joseph F. Merrill to Alma Richards, August 24, 1942, box 1, fd. 9, Richards Papers. 34. Improvement Era 45 (November 1942): 706–7, 731; Deseret News, January 16, 1943; Richards Personal Statement, October 14, 1954, box 1, fd. 14, Richards Papers. 35. Lunt, “Mormons and the Olympics,” 3, stresses this point. 36. The Gospel According to Matthew, 6:5–6, advises against praying in public. 37. Trent Toone, Deseret News, July 27, 2012. 38. Creed Haymond later in life told a faith-­promoting story involving prayer that happened while he was a track athlete at the University of Pennsylvania in 1919. The night before the sprint finals, he turned down his coach’s offer to have a glass of sherry with teammates. Haymond, agonizing about the refusal, prayed seeking to know if the Word of Wisdom was true. The next day he not only learned that all who imbibed had gotten sick because the sherry had gone bad, but he also realized the truth of the commandment as he won the 100 yard dash by surging to the finish “not under my own strength.” See “Creed Haymond Story of the Word of Wisdom in His Own Words,” April 13, 2013, http://www.templestudy.com/2013/04/13/ creed-­haymond-­story-­word-­w isdom-­words. 39. Deseret News, June 28, 2001. 40. Deseret News, January 12, 23, March 7, May 25, June 25–27, 2001; Spectrum, April 5, 2001; Daily Herald, June 25, 2001; Brainerd (Minnesota) Dispatch, April 11, 2001. 41. Salt Lake Tribune, January 26, 2002; Deseret News, January 28, February 5, 2002. Lamar Signs of Las Vegas, Nevada, donated use of the billboards; Xtreme Edge Graphix, St. George, donated the graphic design; and Impact Imaging of Kaysville provided the vinyl covering. 42. Deseret News, February 5, 2002; Salt Lake Tribune, February 6, 2002; Harvey T. Anderson to Richards, March 29, 1963, box 1, fd. 2, Richards Papers. 43. Deseret News, June 20, 2001. 44. Salt Lake Tribune, February 6, 8, 2002. For Silvester’s career, see Benson and Robinson, “L. Jay Silvester,” Trials & Triumphs, 97–119.

13. Crossing the Bar 1. BYU Alumni magazine change of address card, box 1, fd. 12, Richards Papers; Evening News-­Independent (Garden Grove), March 24, 1968. 2. Arsbok 1954, box 1, fd. 14, Richards Papers; Ogden Standard-­Examiner, November 1, 1959. 3. Schroeder to Richards, June 29, 1962, box 1, fd. 1, Richards Papers. 4. Southern California Chapter of U.S. Olympic Athletes get well note, July 12, 1962, box 1, fd. 1, Richards Papers. 5. Orange Daily News, December 3, 1962.

268  Notes to pages 206–208

6. Orange Daily News, April 6, 1963; Lenore Richards Christmas card [December 1963], box 1, fd. 4, Richards Papers; Death Certificate, box 2, fd. 3, Richards Papers. 7. Orange County Stake Directory LR 3071 22; Orange California Stake General Minutes LR 8054 11; Orange California Stake Melchizedek Priesthood Minutes and Records, 1958–1973 LR 8054 13; Deceased Member Records; all in CHL. 8. Los Angeles Times, April 24, 1924, April 4–5, 1963; Press Telegram (Long Beach), July 3, 1963; New York Times, April 5, 1963; William Schroeder to Alma Richards, May 11, 1956, box 1, fd. 2, Richards Papers; “In Memorium” memorial service program and James B. Miller, “Eulogy in Memory of Alma Wilford Richards,” box 1, fd. 10, Richards Papers; Order of Service, box 2, fd. 3, Richards Papers; Schroeder to Mrs. Alma W. Richards, April 26, 1963, box 1, fd. 1, Richards Papers. Miller read in entirety the Anderson and Freeman letters as well as Peak’s essay. 9. Hymns of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-­day Saints (Salt Lake City: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-­day Saints, 1985), 102, 335; Iron County Record, April 11, 1963. 10. Nineteenth-­century Protestants shunned the cross as a Roman Catholic signifier. Aversion to displaying the cross in Mormondom began early in the twentieth century when theological hostility became openly manifested resulting from conflicts with the Catholic Church. It became quasi-­doctrinal in the 1950s when President David O. McKay labeled the cross, demonstrably incorrectly, as a “purely Catholic” symbol. It soon took on a more sinister meaning. Joseph Fielding Smith was LDS president only from 1970 to 1972, but the numerous writings of the longest-­serving member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles (1910–1970) in church history served as basic references for doctrine and practice. Smith viewed the cross not as a revered symbol but as an instrument of a tortuous execution akin to the guillotine, and thus was worshipfully “repugnant” and disrespectful to the Redeemer. “We may be definitely sure that if our Lord had been killed with a dagger or with a sword, it would have been very strange if religious people this day would have graced such a weapon by wearing and adoring it because it was by such a means that our Lord was put to death.” The notorious anti-­Catholic apostle Bruce R. McConkie described in Mormon Doctrine the Catholic Church as the “most abominable above all other churches” and equated the cross with the Bible’s Satanic “mark of the beast.” (The comments were later stricken from subsequent editions.) As the Mormon Church underwent a concentrated expansion effort, apostle Gordon B. Hinckley at a 1975 semiannual general conference tried to soften the imagery. “For us, the cross is the symbol of the dying Christ, while our message is a declaration of the living Christ.” And as the Church increasingly attempted to establish a more mainstream and thus less controversial image, his remarks, printed in the three basic churchwide magazines, has become the Church’s official public explanation for eschewing the traditional Christian symbol, although the murderous image of the cross persists. Joseph Fielding Smith, Answers to Gospel Questions (Salt Lake City:

Notes to pages 208–210  269

11.

12. 13.

14.

15.

16. 17. 18. 19.

Deseret Book, 1963), 4: 17–18; Bruce R. McConkie, Mormon Doctrine (Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1966), 172; Gordon B. Hinckley, “The Symbol of Christ,” New Era (April 1990): 4, reprinted as “The Symbol of Our Faith,” in Ensign and Liahona (April 2005). For an historical overview, see Michael G. Reed, Banishing the Cross: The Emergence of a Mormon Taboo (Independence, MO: John Whitmer Books, 2012); Peggy Fletcher Stack, “Mormons and the Cross,” Salt Lake Tribune, May 1, 2009; “Cross,” accessed November 8, 2015, https:// www.lds.org/topics/cross?lang=eng. Save for Joseph Smith in Nauvoo, Lorenzo Snow in Brigham City, and Ezra Taft Benson in Whitney, Idaho, church presidents are buried in the Salt Lake City cemetery. “Graves of the Prophets of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-­day Saints,” accessed November 8, 2015, http://www.moroni10. com/prophets_graves.html; Carol Edison, “Mormon Gravestones: A Folk Expression of Identity and Belief,” Dialogue: A Journal of Mormon Thought 22 (Winter 1989): 89–94; “Salt Lake City Cemetery: Where Mormon History Lives,” Salt Lake Tribune, July 23, 2013; “Find a Grave: Salt Lake City Cemetery,” accessed November 8, 2015, www.findagrave.com/php/famous. php?FScemeteryid=77424&page=cem. For the approval of Moroni as the LDS gravestone emblem, see Deseret News, May 31, 1980; Church News, May 1980. The reason for the uniformity of the military headstones given individual family applications and identification of religious reference is unknown. Larry R. Gerlach, personal interview with Mark E. Smith, Salt Lake City Cemetery sexton, July 17, 2014. In this regard, it may be instructive to note that the veterans department-­issued headstones in the veterans section in the Salt Lake City cemetery are identical in shape and composition, indicating mass-­produced markers for a specially created military interment area. Although some headstones bear the Star of David for Jewish internees and other memorials have no symbol, there are crosses on Mormon tombstones including that of Alma’s contemporary high jumper, BYU’s Clinton Larson. This may suggest LDS familial indifference to the cross symbol on military headstones. For an Eagle Scout project, Joe Zaleski raised $1,200 in private and public donations to create the monument. He also obtained $250 from the Iron County Commission to have a likeness of Alma placed on the plaque. Parowan Visitors Center email to Larry R. Gerlach, June 22, 2012. Louis C. Montgomery to Lenore Richards, September 18, 1963, box 1, fd. 2, Richards Papers; Cornell Chronicle, March 1964, 3, in box 1, fd. 11, Richards Papers; The Call of 1917 (March 1964): 3. Deseret News, April 5, 1963; Daily Herald, April 4, 1963; New York Times, April 5, 1963; Salt Lake Tribune, April 12, 1963. For a photo of his early collection, see “Alma W. Richards of BYU and his Medals,” BYU 1913, 187. Roberts to President George H. Brimhall, February 28, 1919, box 27, fd. 5, Brimhall Papers. After Paul Helms died in 1957, Helms Hall underwent a series of sponsorships, including the Amateur Athletic Foundation of Los Angeles,

270  Notes to pages 210–216

20. 21.

22. 23.

2 4. 25. 26.

27. 28. 29. 30. 31.

32. 33. 34. 35. 36.

37.

renamed the LA84 Foundation in recognition of an endowment from the 1984 Summer Games. LA84 maintains the world’s largest sports library with emphasis on Olympics collections. Schroeder to Richards, June 29, 1962, box 1, fd. 1, Richards Papers. Earl Pardoe to Sister [Lenore] Richards, April 6, 1963; Karl M. Richards to Lenore Richards, July 10, 1963; both in box 1, fd. 1, Richards Papers. Karl’s letter to Lenore enclosed his to Clarence Robison, also July 10, 1963. Schroeder to Lenore Richards, March 27, 1964, box 1, fd. 18, Richards Papers. Bob Mathias to Lenore Richards, July 12, 1967, box 1, fd. 1, Richards Papers; Lydia Hoffman to Mrs. Alma Richards, November 3, 1970, box 1, fd. 10, Richards Papers; Santa Ana Register, April 19, 1968; Daily Herald, June 11, 1976; Daily Universe (BYU), December 7, 1972. Evening News-­Independent (Garden Grove), March 24, 1968; Lenore Richards to Joanne Youngberg, September 6, 1981, Youngberg Papers. Alma W. Richards Gift in Trust, March 20, 1968, Youngberg Papers. BYU Today, August 1970, n.p., box 1, fd. 18, Richards Papers; Emily G. Weeks, BYU alumni records supervisor to Stanley H. Watts, October 3, 1972, box 1, fd. 1, Richards Papers. Provo Herald, June 11, 1975; Sioux Falls Argus-­Leader, January 29, 1969; Garden Grove Evening News-­Independent, March 24, 1968. Lenore Richards to Joanne Youngberg, September 6, 1981, Youngberg Papers. Ibid. Catherine Richards to Joanne Youngberg, March 21, 1982; Julian Durham to Glen Tuckett, May 3, 1982; Youngberg Papers. Tuckett to Durham, May 6, June 11, 1982; Hollis Scott to Brother Tuckett, Richards Collection Inventory; Durham to Tuckett, June 17, 1982, Youngberg Papers; Durham to Tuckett, June 18, 1982, Youngberg Papers. Lenore Richards to Joanne and Art Youngberg, August 2, September 30, October 15, October 26, 1982, Youngberg Papers. Salt Lake Tribune, November 1, 1982. Sioux Falls Argus-­Leader, October 25, 1982; Bill Schroeder to Lenore Richards, November 17, 1982, Youngberg Papers. Lenore Richards to Joanne and Art Youngberg, December 10, 1982, Youngberg Papers. Lenore Richards to Mary Schraeger, Anita Ricciardi, Paul Richards, and Joanne Youngberg, June 26, 1985; Lenore Richards to Joanne and Art Youngberg, July 1, 1985; both in Youngberg Papers. J. Gordon Daines III, university archivist at BYU, email to Larry Gerlach, June 24, 2014. Alma’s grandson, Robert C. Schraeger, loaned the material on behalf of his mother, Mary Margaret Schraeger, Alma’s eldest daughter by his second marriage. The saga of Alma’s awards and BYU is incomplete as the school claims, incredulously, that there is no paper trail, not even documents of legal conveyance, regarding obtaining, exhibiting, or relinquishing the collection.

Notes to pages 217–226  271

38. The Register (Orange County), May 30, 1963; Orange Daily Sun, October 31, 1964; Sioux Falls Argus-­Leader, January 29, 1969; Sioux Falls Tribune, October 20, 1982; U.S. Social Security Death Index, 1935–2014. 39. Ogden Standard-­Examiner, November 1, 1959; Salt Lake Tribune, April 12, 1963. 40. Cornell University, Telluride Association Newsletter, August 1954, n.p. Email communication between Larry R. Gerlach and Rich McKeon, Venice high school sports historian, September 5, 2013. 41. A half-­dozen medals are on display in Parowan’s Old Rock Church museum. 42. Deseret News, April 12, 15, 2011.

14. Alma Richards Redivivus 1. Three handwriting analyses, box 1, fd. 12, Richards Papers. 2. White and Blue, January 16, 1918. 3. “Accounts,” passim, box 1, fd. 19, Richards Papers. For an example of the closeness of family relationships, see Columbia Richards to Alma, [c. 1962], box 1, fd. 1, Richards Papers. 4. “Best Performances by Alma W. Richards,” box 1, fd. 10, Richards Papers; Richards to Dr. George Feledi, August 28, 1962, box 1, fd. 11, Richards Papers. For Alma the Younger and importance of records, see the Book of Mormon, the Book of Mosiah, 2:15, 25, 39. 5. Lunt, “Remembering an Athletic Hero,” 4, 16. 6. Ibid., 7, 12. 7. Scrapbook of Alma Richards material, Old Rock Church Museum, Parowan, Utah. “Prayer of a Sportsman,” in Linda Tania Abrams, comp., Virtues in Verse: The Best of Berton Braley (Milpitas, CA: Atlantean Press, 1993), 62. 8. For a discussion of the Celestial, Terrestrial, and Telestial kingdoms, see Larry E. Dahl, “Degrees of Glory,” in Encyclopedia of Mormonism, ed. Daniel H. Ludlow (New York; Macmillan, 1992) 367–69. For Alma the Younger, see the Book of Mormon, the Book of Mosiah, 26:20–33. 9. Deseret News, October 23, 1982. 10. Marzell is also the author of Chalkboard Champions: Twelve Remarkable Teachers Who Educated America’s Disenfranchised Students (Tucson, AZ: Wheatmark, 2012). The blog essay, “Alma Wilford Richards: Olympic Gold Medal Winner Chalkboard Champion,” February 16, 2014, http:// chalkboard-­champions.blogspot.com/2014/02/alma-­w ilford-­richards-­ olympic-­gold.html, is taken from Benson and Robinson, Trials & Triumphs.

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Archival Collections Alma W. Richards Papers. L. Tom Perry Special Collections, Harold B. Lee Library, Brigham Young University, Provo, Utah. Ancestral Files 5J2V-­V J. Family History Library, LDS Church, Salt Lake City. California Birth Index, 1905–1995. Family History Library, LDS Church, Salt Lake City. California County Marriages. Family History Library, LDS Church, Salt Lake City. California County Marriages, 1850–1952. Family History Library, LDS Church, Salt Lake City. California Death Index, 1905–1939 and 1940–1997. Family History Library, LDS Church, Salt Lake City. Clinton Larson Papers. L. Tom Perry Special Collections, Harold B. Lee Library, Brigham Young University, Provo, Utah. Eugene R. Roberts Papers. L. Tom Perry Special Collections, Harold B. Lee Library, Brigham Young University, Provo, Utah. George H. Brimhall Papers. L. Tom Perry Special Collections, Harold B. Lee Library, Brigham Young University, Provo, Utah. Joanne Richards Youngberg Papers. In possession of John A. Youngberg, Rio Vista, California. Los Angeles and Orange California Stake and Ward Records, 1920–1963. LDS Church History Library, Salt Lake City. New York Passenger Lists, 1820–1957. Family History Library, LDS Church, Salt Lake City.

280  Bibliography

Thomas C. Trueblood Collection. Bentley Historical Library, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Michigan. U.S. Federal Census, 1890–1940. U.S. Federal Social Security Death Index. U.S. Passport Applications January 2, 1906–March 31, 1925. National Archives. World War I Draft Registration Cards, 1917–1918. National Archives. World War I Service Questionnaires, Utah Military Records, 1861–1970. Utah State Archives and Records Service, Salt Lake City.

INDEX

AAU. See Amateur Athletic Union Abraham Lincoln High School, 11, 137– 38, 177–78 Adams, Anceil J., 207–8 Adams, Benjamin, 48 Adams, Jane W., 157–58 Adams, Mary Ann Leech, 18, 258n32 Adams, Mary Barbara Bolanz, 258n32 Adams, Morgan, 24 Adams, Platt, 48, 62, 63, 72, 244n30 Adams, William, 18, 155 AEF. See American Expeditionary Force Albertanti, Frank. See Francis, Max Alma Richards Award, 218 Alma Richards Day, 203, 209 Alma W. Richards Memorial Stadium, 209 Amateur Athletic Union (AAU), 6, 7, 9, 44, 75, 77, 79, 109, 131, 168, 192; All-American track team, 93; championships, 72, 91, 92, 98, 105, 108, 110, 114, 117, 127, 128, 134, 136, 140, 141, 142, 183; magazine of, 171; Middle Atlantic Association of, 97 American Expeditionary Force (AEF), Meet, 118–19, 120, 140, 180 American Olympic Committee (AOC), 42, 46, 51, 55, 193; exhibition by, 45; selection by, 43, 44 Anderson, Harvey, 179 Antwerp Games (1920), 127, 128, 129, 131, 132, 133, 134, 136, 184 AOC. See American Olympic Committee

Approved History of the Olympic Games, An (Henry), 5 Athens Games: of 1896, 53; of 2004, 3, 4 BAA. See Boston Athletic Association Backman, Robert L., 186, 187 Bacon, Carl W.: memorabilia and, 214, 215 Bagnard, Roy, 106 Bagster, Samuel, 115 Balck, Viktor, 56 Bamberger, Simon, 160 Banks, James Alva, 185, 190–91 Barnes, Lee Stratford, Jr., 4, 165 Bausch, James “Jarring Jim,” 166 Bayles, Dallyn Vail, 189 Beaver (UT), 31, 83 Beehive Hall of Fame, 181, 215, 217, 226 Beershot Athletic Club, 51 Bell, Lita Gardner, 137; family, 255n36; death of, 137 Bell, Wade, 186 Benson, John V., 158 Benson, Lee, 3 Berlin Games: of 1916, 8, 102, 105, 168, 250n66; cancellation of, 127, 133; training for, 87; of 1936, 4, 169, 173, 261n16 Bjørndalen, Ole Einar, 2 Black, William, 186 Bolanz, Mary Barbara, 258n32 Book of Mormon, 23, 85; Alma the Younger in, 23 Boothe, Randy, 189 281

282  Index

Boston, 129; meet in, 64, 67; trials in, 132 Boston Athletic Association (BAA), 88, 94, 135 Bovard, George F., 130 Boyle, William H., 174 Braley, Berton, 225 Breitkreutz, Emil, 167, 209 Brichford, Maynard, 250n57 Brigham Young Academy, 33, 34, 238n1, 238–39n11 Brigham Young High School, 33, 78, 238–39n11 Brigham Young University (BYU), 4, 33, 35, 74, 82, 93, 98, 116, 121, 186, 195, 200, 209, 212; Athletic Hall of Fame, 27, 182, 213, 217; athletic programs of, 5, 187, 201; competing for, 45, 108, 109, 224; Cougar Club, 214; exhibit in Cougar Room, 214; high school students at, 222; memorabilia and, 115, 211, 212, 213–14, 215, 216; returning to, 36, 85, 86; Richards and, 34, 72–73, 77–78, 89, 100, 107, 121, 211 Brimhall, George H., 68–69, 121, 126; counseling from, 37–38; on Richards, 45, 75–76, 115 Broadbent, Berne D., 207 Bronder, George A., 107 Brown, Everett C., 43, 44 Brundage, Avery, 99, 106–7, 117 Burdick, Jervis, 72, 244n30 Buttrick, Alden Crippen, 84 CAA. See Chicago Athletic Association Camp Dix, 121 Camp Fremont, 116, 117 Cannon, Angus, 237n24 Cannon, Martha Hughes, 26, 237n24 Carlisle Indian School, 45 Carter, Jimmy, 263n16 Case, John R., 207 Catholic Church, criticism of, 148, 268n10

Central AAU: championships, 79, 91, 97, 98; ruling from board of managers, 97–98; team, 79, 98 Central trials, 38, 43, 44, 54, 55 Chicago Athletic Association (CAA), 42, 43, 44, 78, 79, 97, 98, 99, 101, 135 Chicago Athletic Club (CAC), 78 Chicago Daily News, 79 Christensen, Joss, 4 Christensen, Parley Parker, 160, 161 Church News, 264n3 Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. See LDS Church Citrus Union High School, 240n5 Clinton Courier, 145 College of Agriculture (Cornell), 83, 84, 90, 91, 110, 248n11, 248n13; honorary society of, 107 College of Physical Education (BYU), 212 Colombes Stadium, 119, 140 Comstock, Boyd, 141, 165, 240n5; on Richards, 41, 58 Cornell Athletic Association, 111 Cornell Chronicle, 209 Cornell Countryman, The, 108, 110 Cornell Daily Sun, 86, 92, 96, 104, 248n13, 248n16 Cornell University, 86, 121, 126, 133, 134, 146, 153, 157, 183, 193, 195, 197, 209, 225; Agricultural Loan Association, 248n11; College of Agriculture, 83, 84, 90, 91, 110, 248n11, 248n13; Agricultural Society, 107, 111; Cornell Committee on Student Affairs, 108; Hall of Fame, 182; Major Sports Council, 107, 109; Richards at, 36, 81–83, 87, 88, 90–91, 92, 96, 100, 101–2, 107–11, 190, 207, 211, 221; Richards graduation from, 110; Telluride Association of, 81, 83, 247n3; track and field at, 81, 92, 93, 94, 96, 224. See also College of Agriculture (Cornell); Cornell Athletic Association

Index  283

Cornwall, Tom, 216 Coubertin, Pierre de, 4, 173, 243n28 Courtney, Ira, 207 Crane, M. G., 248n20 Cromwell, Dean, 141, 174, 180 cross, aversion to, 153, 208, 268n10 “Crossing the Bar” (Tennyson), 138, 205 Cutler, Thomas R., 45 Daily Globe, 64 Daily Pennsylvanian, on Richards, 74–75 Daley, Arthur, 184 Dallin, Cyrus, 3 Daniels, Spafford, 34 Darwin Richardson Company, 18 Daughters of the Utah Pioneers, 157 Deming, J. H., 236n24 Denny, Robert A., 97 Denver Athletic Club (DAC), 127–28 Deseret Evening News, on Richards, 67–68 Deseret Gymnasium. See Salt Lake City, Desert Gymnasium Deseret News, 5, 6, 27, 43, 133, 180, 183, 185, 186, 190, 191, 195, 199, 202, 218; Olympic Games and, 187; on Richards’s death, 209; torch relay and, 203; dietary code, 71–72, 196, 197, 202. See also Deseret Evening News Doctrine and Covenants, 71 Donahue, Jim, 166, 207 Dougall, Hattie, 259n51 Dougall, William B., Jr., 26, 259n51 Drake, Elvin, 209 Drew, Howard, 49 Durham, Alfred Morton, 31, 181, 236n10, 260n4 Durham, Julian R., 166, 181, 182, 216; memorabilia and, 214, 215 Durham, Margaret, 181, 236n10 Eagan, Eddie, 1 Eccles, Marriner S., 263n16 8th Infantry Division, 116, 117–18, 120, 139

Eimsbritteler T. B., 261n14 Eimsbütteler Turnerschaft Verein, 244n35 Eisenhower-Nixon Sports Committee, 161 Engen, Alf, 182 Engen, Corey, 265n10 Enright, Harold, 54 Erickson, Egon, 54, 55, 56, 191 Eschbach, M., 243n28 Evans, Harriett, 259n42 Evans, Joseph, 259n42 Evening Song, The, 111–12 Ewry, Ray, 1, 233n1 Eyser, George, 1–2 Fairbanks, Douglas, 160 Farnsworth, Philo T., 263n16 Fitzgerald, John “Honey Fitz,” 64 Fletcher, Harvey L., 174 Fosbury, Dick, 8 Foster, Ken, 265n9 Francis, Max (Frank Albertanti), 51, 190, 191, 192, 195; errors by, 193; motivation for, 194 Freeman, Jim, 179 Gallagher, Lyman Hickok, 100, 101, 135 Gardner, Clinton, 135 Gardner, Glenn, 135 Gardner, Leo Benjamin, 116, 258n26 Gardner, Marion. See Richards, Marion Gardner Gardner, Narcissa, 116, 117, 118, 126, 135, 145 Gaynor, William J., 63 Gems, Gerald R., 240n26 Gibson, Roy, on Richards, 226 Girl Scout Troop 4, 206, 217; song by, 206 Glade, Earl, 76 Glasmann, Abe, 129 Goates, Les, 180, 191 Grafström, Gillis, 233n2 Grant, Heber J., 21, 196, 198 Greer, Coach, 38, 64, 74, 78, 240n26 Griffin, Lenore. See Richards, Lenore Catherine Griffin

284  Index

Grix, Arthur Ernst, 170, 171, 172, 201, 261n17 Grumpelt, Harry, 54, 55, 56, 72, 191 Gustav Adolf, Crown Prince, 61, 62 Gustav V, King, 7, 53, 61, 120 HAF. See Helms Athletic Foundation Hageman, Johannes Conrad, 116–17 Halterman, Glen, 203 Harvard University, 38, 81, 135; competition against, 95–96, 103; ICAAAA outdoor championships at, 104 Haymond, Creed, 5, 127, 128, 129, 130, 131, 133, 134, 152, 263n14, 267n38 Helms, Paul, 269n19 Helms Athletic Foundation (HAF), 171, 172, 175, 206, 210, 266n27; memorabilia and, 211, 213, 215; Olympic Games Fund of, 207; Track and Field Hall of Fame, 181 Helms Hall, 167, 215, 216, 269n19 Helsinki Games (1952), 167 Hemphill, Lex, 204 Henry, Bill, 5, 168 Hermitage Hotel, 63 Hinckley, Edwin S., 76 Hinckley, Gordon B., 208, 268n10 Hohrod, Georges, 243n28 Holcomb, Steve, 4 Horine, George, 7, 37, 45, 46, 54, 56, 60, 72, 98, 170, 191, 193; criticism of, 70; western roll and, 55, 171 Housman, A. E., 219–20 Howells, Paul, 197 Hughes, Clara, 233n2 Hughes, Sarah, 2 Hundermer, George Valentine, 147, 148 Hundermer, Rose Ann Darrah, 147–48 Huntimer, Anita. See Richards, Anita Gertrude Huntimer Huntimer, Lester, 147, 148 IAC. See Illinois Athletic Club ICAAAA. See Intercollegiate Association of Amateur Athletes of America

“If” (Kipling), 38–39 Illinois Athletic Club (IAC), 44, 78, 79, 91, 97, 98, 101, 135 Improvement Era, 186, 196–97, 198, 199, 200 Inter-Allied Games, 119, 120, 127 Intercollegiate Association of Amateur Athletes of America (ICAAAA), 92, 95, 96, 104, 110; indoor championship, 108, 109 International Olympic Committee (IOC), 10, 56, 217 Iron County, 22, 23, 26, 29, 47, 158, 203; Council of Defense, 160; County Courthouse, 203; Red Cross chapter, 160 Iron County Record, 69 Ithaca Daily News, 90, 93, 104, 195 Jack, Ralph Lorenzo, 207 Jefferson, George, 165 “Jim Thorpe—All American” (movie), 166 Johnson, Ted, 127 Johnstone, Jim, 72 Johnstone, John, 54, 56, 95 Kahanamoku, Duke, 49, 54 Kelly, Fred, 6, 62, 63, 89, 135, 165, 166, 175, 207 Kelly, W. C., 73 Kerr, Walter, 180 Kimball, J. Golden, 21 Kimball, Richard, 189 Kipling, Rudyard, 38–39, 225 Kiviat, Abel, 62, 63, 245n64, 249n51 Knight, J. William, 69 Knockdown, The, 4 Kolehmainen, Johan “Hannes,” 54, 243–44n29 Kostelić, Janica, 2 Kreisler, Fritz, 207 Kullerstrand, Karl-Axel, 55, 56 LA84 Foundation, 270n19 LAAC. See Los Angeles Athletic Club LaBarba, Fidel: on Richards, 177–78

Index  285

Lake Placid Games (1932), 62 Lancaster, Burt, 166 Larson, Clinton, 5, 36, 98, 113, 127, 128, 130, 131, 133, 152, 212, 263n14, 269n13; OAA and, 134; Richards and, 10, 114 Lawrence, Samuel, 37 Lazaro, Francisco: death of, 243n28 LDS Church, 3, 4, 5, 17, 18, 19, 68; AntiLiquor and Tobacco Committee (LDS Church), 151, 198; Catholic Church and, 148, 268n10; covenant-based teachings of, 151; cross and, 208, 268n10; dietary code of, 71–72, 196, 197, 202; discriminatory legislation by, 25; education from, 21, 31, 146, 238n1; First Manifesto of (1890), 155; First Quorum of the Seventy, 186; founding of, 85; inspiration from, 201; and interfaith marriages, 150, 151, 152– 53, 154; missions with, 151, 185; plural marriage (polygamy), 9, 25, 27, 68, 155–56, 159, 223, 233, 237n24; Quorum (Council) of the Twelve Apostles, 19, 21, 198, 199, 268n10; Relief Society program, 21, 22, 153, 236n10, 263n16; Salt Lake City Temple, 19, 151. See also Mormonism; Word of Wisdom LDS Church Education Fund, 146 LDS Church School Loan Association, loans form, 84 Leichtathletik (Amateur Athlete), 171 Lewis, Carl, 8 Liahona, 186, 264n3, 265n14 Liberty Park, meet at, 114 Liesche, Hans, 55, 102, 168, 221; death of, 173; and Sports Clubs, 55, 171, 261n14; Richards and, 56–58, 70, 169–74, 185, 191, 192, 200, 201, 226, 261n15, 262n33 Liesche, Hedel, 173 Ligety, Ted, 4 “Light of the World: A Celebration of Life,” 188, 189

Literary Digest, 195 Lockhart, Barbara Day, 265n10 London Games: of 1908, 52, 53, 190; of 1948, 169; of 2012, 202 Long, Robert Nathan, 263n14 “Lord Make Me an Instrument” (hymn), 155 Los Angeles Athletic Club (LAAC), 106, 136, 141, 146, 169, 175, 180 Los Angeles Examiner, 140 Los Angeles Games: of 1932, 4, 51, 165, 171; “Olympic Tea and Fashion Show at,” 165; of 1984, 270, 264n3 Los Angeles Times, 168 Luding-Rothenburger, Christa, 233n2 Lunt, David, 156, 187, 201, 224 Lyman, Eugene Ray, 147 Lyman, Richard R., 199 Lyon, John, 235n4 Maid of Iowa, The (steamer), 18 Majestic, traveling on, 62 Mallon, Bill, 6 Maloney, Wilfred “Harry,” 120 marriages: interfaith, 150, 151, 152–53, 154; plural, 9, 25, 27, 68, 155–56, 159, 223, 233, 237n24 Marsh, Henry, 3, 187 Martin, Bob, 128, 130 Marzell, Terry Lee, 226 Matheson, Simon A., 158 Mathias, Bob, 8, 168, 211 McCarey, Ray, 165 McConkie, Bruce R., 268n10 McKay, David O.: on cross, 268n10 McMahon, Jim, 182 Meadow Brook Athletic Association Games, 95, 103 “Meaning of Richards’s Victory to the B. Y. University” (Hinckley), 76 Melbourne Games (1956), 181 Melville, Marvin, 265n10 Mendyka, Edith, 169–70, 172, 261n16, 261n17 Mendyka, John, 261n16 Meredith, Ted, 5, 59, 89, 104, 110, 133, 134

286  Index

Merrill, Amos N., 68, 76 Merrill, Joseph F., 146, 198, 199 Mexico City Games (1968), 186 MGM “Sports Champions,” 165 Miles, C. Austin, 154 Miller, Elsie, 175 Miller, Harold G. “Hack,” 183, 185, 190–91 Miller, James B., 175, 207 Miller, Johnny, 152, 187 Milwaukee Journal, 190 Milwaukee Sentinel, 190 Missouri Athletic Club (MAC), 88 Mitchell, James S., 48 Moakley, John Francis “Jack,” 86, 87, 90, 105, 132, 133, 174, 182; meeting, 82; retirement of, 247n2; Richards and, 81, 92, 93–94, 102, 103–4, 107–8, 109 Mockabee, Leo, 117 Mockabee, Narcissa, 117 Mögenburg, Dietmar, 262n33 Montgomery, Louis, 209 Mooney, John, 7, 209, 218 Mormon Athletes (Black), 186 Mormon Doctrine (McConkie), 268n10 Mormonism, 86, 151, 154, 186, 189, 198, 225–26; commitment to, 156; mainstream Christianity and, 152–53; role of, 225. See also Word of Wisdom Moses, Edwin, 8 Mountain States Conference meet of 1950, award presented at, 181 Mucks, Arlie, 103 Munich Games (1972), 262n33 Murdock Academy, 6, 34, 98, 104, 157, 183, 184, 238n1; attending, 31–33, 35; track and field competition at, 224 Murphy, Michael C., 47, 52, 58, 59; death of, 78; Richards and, 48, 50, 55, 99, 194 National Collegiate Athletic Association (NCAA), 95

National Track and Field Hall of Fame, 182 Neale, John Dwight, 145 New Era, 186, 264n3, 265n14 New Testament of Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, The (Bagster), 115 New York American, 59–60 New York Athletic Club, 46, 54, 62, 88, 107, 135; exhibition by, 105; meet at, 95 New York College of Agriculture and Life Sciences, 247n7 New York Evening Mail, 51, 191, 194 New York Herald, on Richards, 46, 48, 61 New York Times, 54, 88, 95, 184, 209; on Brundage, 106–7; on Richards, 46, 59, 77, 104, 107, 132, 136 Newark Star-Eagle, 105, 106, 136, 255n34 Niagara Track & Field Hall of Fame, 182 Nicholson, John P. “Nick,” 49, 55, 72, 193, 240n1, 244n30, 266n20 Nixon, E. W., 42, 49 “No-Liquor-Tobacco Column,” 198, 199 Noel, R. Chadwick, 206–7 Nordstrom, Algot, 175 Northwestern University, trials at, 38, 40 Nunn, Lucien L. “L. L.,” 81, 247n3 OAA. See Ogden Athletic Association O’Brien, Parry, 186 O’Connor, G. J., 97 “Ode to Sport” (Coubertin), 243n28 Oerter, Al, 8 Ogden Athletic Association (OAA), 128, 131, 133, 136; inaugural meet for, 129–30 Ogden Standard-Examiner, 128, 129, 130, 131, 132, 183, 184, 217 Old Rock Church, 17, 21, 28, 157, 198, 203, 259n43, 271n41; refurbishing, 146 Oler, Wesley, Jr., 54, 56, 96, 103, 184, 244n38; competing against, 50–51, 93, 95, 104, 109, 110

Index  287

Olympiastadion, marching into, 52–53 Orange Daily News, on Richards, 226 Pacific Athletic Association Invitational, 134–35 Paddock, Charley, 140, 165 Palmer, A. Mitchell, 126 Palmer, Earl, 41, 42, 43, 49 Panama-Pacific Exposition World’s Fair, 98 Pardoe, T. Earl, 186, 211 Paris Games (1924), 4, 53, 119, 133, 136, 140 Parowan, 28, 33, 43, 46, 49, 82, 112, 114, 116, 121, 131, 141; American Legion Post No. 20, 208; childhood in, 23–24; city cemetery, 13; described, 17, 26–27; founding of, 18; funeral ceremonies in, 207–8, 209; influence of, 156–57, 207; leaving, 189, 221; population of, 25; teaching in, 126, 128, 130; Alma Richards Day, 203, 209; torch relay and, 188, 202–3; visiting, 79–80, 91, 113, 125, 146, 147, 157, 158–59. See also Old Rock Church Parowan Cooperative Mercantile & Manufacturing Institution, 23, 25 Parowan Dramatic Association, 24 Parowan Times, on Richards, 20, 157–58 Parowan Victory Liberty Loan, 160 Parowan Visitors Center, 203 Pasadena Star-News, 130–31 Pasemann, Robert, 55 Paso Robles Press, 145 Pershing, John J. “Black Jack,” 119–20, 253n23, 264n2 Peterson, Esther E., 263n16 Phelps, William Wines, 235n4 Philadelphia Inquirer, on Richards, 75 Pilgrim, Paul, 62 Porter, Harry, 82 Poynton-Hill, Dorothy, 4 “Prayer of a Sportsman” (Braley), 225

Pritchard, Edwin, 207 Provo (UT), 68, 115, 210; population of in 1910, 43 Provo Daily Herald, 78, 114, 209 Provo Post, 42, 43, 61, 69 Provo Student Loan Association, 34, 121 Provo Tabernacle, high jumping at, 82 Pruter, Robert, 240n26 Quest for Gold (Mallon and Buchanan), 6 Ray, Paul, 68 “Remembering an Athletic Hero: The Afterlife of Alma Richards” (Lunt), 224 Retzer, George, Jr., 166, 207 Ricciardi, Fortunato Philip, 150; family of, 257n17 Rice, Grantland, 8 Richards, Alma Wilford: achievements of, 21, 54, 59, 60–62, 67–68, 69, 102, 110, 112, 120, 142–43, 144, 151, 158, 167, 175, 176, 182, 183, 188, 202, 209, 210, 216–17, 220, 223–24; athleticism of, 5, 9, 32–33, 36, 37, 41, 77–78, 96, 111, 119, 125, 127, 139, 184; and California Bar Association, 137; celebrating, 68–69, 179–80, 181– 83; children/grandchildren of, 150; college life and, 88, 90–91, 109; competition for, 18–19, 86, 87, 89, 90, 92, 96, 101–3, 113, 127, 129, 132, 139, 140–41, 142, 143, 169, 220–23; confidence of, 41, 42, 48, 51, 56, 75; death of, 7, 27, 155, 173, 179, 185, 206– 10, 211, 218; disqualification of, 88, 132–33; divorce of, 144, 149, 150; education of, 27, 28, 29–30, 31–32, 34, 71, 77, 78, 102, 121, 222; experiences/interests of, 9–10, 71; fame of, 8–9, 160, 219–20, 221, 224, 226; financial support

288  Index

from, 159, 223; handwriting analysis for, 220; health issues for, 205, 206; homecoming for, 63–64; identity of, 111–12, 157, 222, 224; independence for, 28–29, 34; injuries for, 94, 103– 4, 105, 107; life story of, 9–10, 11, 226; marriage of, 116, 142, 147, 149, 154; memorabilia of, 211– 17, 221; memorialization of, 154– 55, 206–7, 209, 210; memory of, 12, 166–67, 224, 226; military service for, 9, 113–18, 121, 125, 138, 154, 208, 209; Mormonism and, 152–54, 156, 188, 189, 190, 198, 200, 202, 225–26; named to AllAmerican track and field team, 100; Olympic Games and, 3, 4–5, 35, 36, 165, 166–67, 173, 175, 201, 202–3; Olympic prayer and, 186, 189, 193–97, 198, 199, 200, 201–2; patriotism of, 160–61; and Penn Relays, 9, 74–75, 88, 89, 95, 103, 109; performance of, 5–6, 55, 56, 58, 59, 60, 70, 74, 76–77, 93, 98, 99–100, 120, 131, 222; politics and, 160, 161; private life of, 144, 149– 50, 160; prominence for, 7, 84–85, 111, 158, 187, 202; religion and, 17, 18–19, 19–20, 24, 85, 86, 154, 157, 160, 200, 226; reputation of, 75, 77; research on, 10, 13; and Reserve Officers’ Training Corps (ROTC), 138, 160, 179; retirement of, 142, 147, 158, 176, 218; selection of, 42–43, 44; siblings of, 236n11; social/cultural opportunities for, 34; social life for, 84, 85, 90, 110–11; spiritual core of, 18, 151; sportsmanship and, 58, 70, 71, 110, 169, 170–71, 172, 225, 226; style of, 54–55, 57; successes for, 75–76, 126–27; teaching by, 11, 125, 126, 137, 138–39, 148, 176–79; training by, 48, 51, 52, 87, 113, 117, 129, 130, 132, 135, 140; trials and,

38, 40, 41, 42, 239n24, 240n2; Utah Athlete of the Century, 179– 180; writers favored by, 138; youth of, 20, 23–24, 25 Richards, Anita Ann (daughter), 257n17, 258n27; birth of, 148; marriage of, 150; memorabilia and, 213, 215 Richards, Anita Gertrude Huntimer (wife), 150, 153, 157, 256n10; death of, 149; divorce of, 149, 159; marriage of, 147 Richards, Catherine (sister), 22, 91, 147, 150, 236n11, 259n37, 259n42, 259n51; death of, 160; memorabilia and, 213–14; on Richards, 24; visit from, 159 Richards, Charles Leech (brother), 28, 32, 151, 159, 236n11, 259n37, 259n42; death of, 160; I.B.B.T. and, 24; investment with, 84 Richards, Columbia Eden (sister), 150, 236n11, 258n34, 259n37, 259n42, 259n52; death of, 160; financial support for, 159, 223; marriage of, 155–56; on Salt Lake City, 27 Richards, Gomer Morgan (brother), 24, 29, 34, 159, 211, 213, 236n11, 236n15, 257n21, 259n37, 259n42; death of, 160; mission by, 151 Richards, Harriet Evans (sister), 18, 34, 147, 236n11, 259n37, 259n42; death of, 159 Richards, Joanne (daughter), 125, 126, 144, 150, 256n3, 257n17; birth of, 118, 121; death of, 146; family information from, 10; hall of fame and, 213; marriage of, 145; memorabilia and, 213, 214, 215–16 Richards, Joseph Evans (brother), 29, 135, 159, 198, 236n11, 259n37; death of, 160; handwriting analysis for, 220; mission by, 151 Richards, Karl, 211 Richards, Lenore Catherine Griffin (wife), 150, 173, 181, 182, 218,

Index  289

257n23; church service of, 153; death of, 217; grave marker and, 206, 208; hall of fame and, 213; insurance business and, 149, 205, 217; marriage of, 149, 153; memorabilia and, 211–16; memorial services and, 154–55; as Olympic widow, 217 Richards, Margaret Adams (mother), 18, 20, 23, 145, 259n42; Brimhall and, 38; church service of, 22; death of, 156, 259n37; education and, 27; marriage of, 19, 23, 235n4; politics and, 26; religiosity of, 21–22 Richards, Margaret Anna (sister), 22, 31, 159, 236n11, 259n37 Richards, Maria Gomez, 258n27 Richards, Marion Gardner (wife), 118, 126, 150, 152, 156, 256n2; birth of, 137; death of, 137, 145; divorce of, 144, 159; family of, 116–17; marriage of, 116, 147, 252n11 Richards, Mary Isabelle (Belle; sister), 26, 34, 236n11, 258n33, 259n37, 259n42, 259n52; death of, 160; financial support for, 159, 223; marriage of, 155–56 Richards, Mary Margaret (daughter), 149, 204, 257n17, 258n27, 270n37; birth of, 148; family of, 257n17; marriage of, 150; memorabilia and, 213, 215, 216 Richards, Morgan, Jr. (father), 18, 235n5, 259n42, 264n2; behavioral trinity of, 21; Brimhall and, 38; church service of, 19, 20, 23, 152, 198; death of, 20, 21, 156; discipline by, 23, 24; farming by, 22, 23; handwriting analysis for, 220; and House of Representatives, 28; illness for, 125; marriage of, 19, 235n4; personal qualities of, 21; politics and, 26, 160; as state auditor, 25–28; teaching by, 23

Richards, Morgan, Sr., 18 Richards, Paul Morgan (son), 211, 258n27; birth of, 148; memorabilia and, 213, 215 Richards, Reed H, 213, 214–15 Richards, Robert, 8, 186 Richards, William Adams (brother), 29, 236n11, 259n37, 259n42; death of, 160; sheep ranching and, 113 Roberts, Eugene L., 6–7, 48, 49, 59, 67, 72, 73, 74, 83, 89, 113, 165, 194, 195, 218; absence of, 56; awards collection and, 115; coaching by, 10, 34, 221; funeral for, 174; papers of, 212; rating system by, 263n14; Richards and, 35, 37, 39, 42–43, 51, 60, 75, 81, 98, 100, 109, 180, 181, 210, 253n23; telegram to, 58; trials and, 40–41; watch from, 69 Robinson, Doug, 3 Robinson, Jackie, 12, 151 Robison, Clarence, 211, 263n14 Rome Games (1960), 62 Romney, Mitt, SLOC and, 204 Romriell, Gerald K., 207 Rowe, Owen, 263n14 St. Louis Games (1904), 3, 53, 233n1, 250n55 St. Louis Globe-Democrat, 88 Salt Lake City, 18, 19, 20, 21, 26, 28, 32, 71, 101, 129, 147, 192, 200, 269n11; Alma’s boyhood in, 26–27; changes for, 26, 27; conferences in, 22; Deseret Gymnasium, 72, 128, 130; meet in, 114, 127; population of, 26; visits to, by Alma, 125, 133 Salt Lake City cemetery, 208, 269n11, 269n13 Salt Lake City Games (2002), 2–3, 4, 6, 189, 216, 265n14; campaign for, 187; inspiration for, 201; preparing for, 188; Richards memory and, 187; torch relay for, 188, 202, 203, 204

290  Index

Salt Lake Evening Telegram, 43, 44 Salt Lake Herald-Republican, 43 Salt Lake Telegram, 68, 118 Salt Lake Tribune, 7, 42, 43, 68, 142, 182, 188, 204, 209, 218 San Francisco Call, 60, 70, 193 San Juan County, 113, 251n1 Santa Monica Outlook, 177 Saubert, Jean, 265n10 Scheffield, Fred, 263n14 Schmidt, Raymond, 240n26 Schofield, Dale, 263n14 Schraeger, Mary Margaret. See Richards, Mary Margaret Schraeger, Shawn, x, 257n17 Schraeger, Robert Charles, 150, 257n17, 270n37 Schroeder, William R. “Bill,” 172, 206, 207, 210; memorabilia and, 211, 213, 215, 216 Schwarz, Markie (Marquard), 167 Scott, Hollis, 212, 214 Sexton, Leo, 141, 166 Shea, Jim, 2 Sheppard, Morris, 198, 199 Shirrell, Elmer L., 134 Shurtleff, Carrie, 226 Silvester, L. Jay, 3, 204, 264n19 Smith, Bathsheba W., 235n4 Smith, George A., 235n4 Smith, Joseph, 18, 85, 198, 208, 235n4, 263n16; plural marriage and, 155; vision of, 189 Smith, Joseph Fielding, 235n4, 268n10 Smith, Samuel Harrison Bailey, 235n4 Smith, Tom, 67 Smithson, Forrest, 190 Smoot, Reed, 26, 68, 126, 198 Snow, Eliza R., 263n16 Snow, Lorenzo, 269n11 Sochi Games (2014), 4 Spencer, Clarence C., 120 Spitz, George, 166 Sporting Life, 102 sportsmanship, 58, 70, 71, 110, 169, 170–71, 172, 225, 226

SS Finland, 99, 118, 184, 193, 194; traveling on, 46, 47, 48, 51, 52, 58–59, 62, 192 SS Oceanic, 63 Stagg, Amos Alonzo, 74, 78, 221; national interscholastic championships, 41; Richards and, 43, 44, 80, 81 Stanford University, 38, 116, 134, 135, 137; degree from, 189 Stiles, Maxwell, 207 Stockholm Games (1912), 5–6, 9, 35, 44, 45, 51, 67, 71, 89, 98, 99, 120, 133, 134, 136, 146; competition at, 59; memories of, 166, 167, 169, 170, 174, 175, 184, 190, 195, 196, 205; opening of, 52–53, 55, , 243n26; Östermalm Athletic Grounds, 52; Swedish Olympic Committee, 42, 55–56; traveling to, 46, 47–50 Sullivan, James E., 7, 42, 44, 48, 72, 75, 192, 193, 194; on Richards, 43, 50; self-promotion by, 59 Sunday, William A. “Billy,” 108, 154 Surtleff, Carrie, 203 Sydney Games (2000), 4 Tanner, Henry Smith, 258n34; death of, 159; marriage of, 155–56 Tanner, Laura, 156, 258n34 Taylor, Verl E., 207 Teck, Morris M., 120 Telluride Association, 81, 83, 247n3 Thams, Jacob Tullin, 233n2 Thompson, Robert M., 46, 51 Thorpe, Jim, 6, 45, 49, 56, 62, 87, 99, 120, 186, 191, 207, 235n16, 245n59, 245n64, 264n22; article about, 168; biopic movie, 166; death of, 166, 172; decathlon and, 250n58; disqualification of, 246n9; preeminence of, 7, 54; Richards and, 7–8, 63, 72, 98, 183, 217 “To an Athlete Dying Young” (Housman), 219 Torino Games (2006), 2, 4

Index  291

track and field, 12, 74, 79, 93, 142, 143, 224; exposure to, 33, 38; popularity of, 8, 53 Track and Field News, 167 Trials & Triumphs: Mormons in the Olympic Games (Benson and Robinson), 3, 187 “Tribute to Alma Richards” (Ward), 227–30 Trueblood, Thomas Clarkson, 137, 142, 146–47, 151, 189, 221; meeting with, 71; Richards and, 29–30, 31 Tucker, James R., 82 Tuckett, Glen, 214 University of Chicago, 41, 74, 80, 81 University of Pennsylvania, 74, 81, 135, 183; meet at, 74, 89, 103 University of Southern California (USC), 130, 136, 137, 141, 145, 165, 180 University of Utah, 2, 33, 129, 142; competition with, 74, 76, 77, 181 U.S. Army, 221, 225; competitions in, 118–19, 120 U.S. Olympic Team, 47; Richards and, 35, 36–37, 42, 44, 99, 130, 131, 132, 140, 240n12; uniforms for, 46 Utah Agricultural College (later Utah State University), 129; competition with, 33, 35, 77

Warden, Al, 127, 128, 183–84, 186, 217 Wastebasket, The, 209 Watts, Stan, 212 Weissmuller, Johnny, 186 Wendnagle, Linus “Vere,” 86, 90, 108 Wessig, Gerd, 262n33 White, Horace, 103 White and Blue, 72, 73–74 Whitney, Frank, 27 Whitney, Horace G. “Hoddy,” 27, 32 Whittaker, David, 215 Williams, Alan F., 167 Williams, Charles W., 59–60 Williams, Natalie, 4, 220 Wilson, Guy C., 26 Winter Olympics, 2–3, 4, 6, 233n2 Woodruff, Wilford, 19, 23, 155 Word of Wisdom, 71, 147, 155, 158, 187, 188, 196, 197, 198, 199, 265n7, 267n38 “World War Seen in Europe, The” (Richards), 125 Wright, Carol, 203 Young, Brigham, 3, 189, 263n16; Beehive House and, 27; Iron mission and, 18; Parowan and, 17 Young, Mahonri, 3, 4

Vaderland, 62 Vancouver Games (2010), 4 Venice High School, 138, 175, 177, 178–79 Vidmar, Peter, 3, 187, 265n10

Youngberg, Arthur Carl, 145, 213; family of, 257n17 Youngberg, Joanne, x, 10. See also Richards, Joanne Youngberg, John Arthur, x, 257n17

Walker, Hap, 165 Ward, Martha, 177; retirement poem by, 154, 176, 200, 209, 227–30

Zaleski, Joe, 269n14