By this time the thoroughly artificial character of most of these later cycling records had become glaringly apparent. It was not only seen in the fact that their heavy cost was largely borne by cycle and tyre-makers, who found advertisement in them, but it was obvious also in the arbitrary selection of the starting-points, by which a record run to Brighton and back might be begun at Purley, run to Brighton, then back to Purley, and thence to London and back again, with any variation that might suit the day and the rider. It was evident, too, that the growing elaboration of pace-making, first by relays of riders and latterly by motors, had reduced the thing to an absurdity in which there was no credit and—worse still—no advertisement. Then, therefore, a new order of things was set agoing, and the era of unpaced records was begun.
On September 27th, 1898, E. J. Steel established a London to Brighton and back unpaced cycling record of 6 hrs. 23 mins. 55 secs.; and on the same day the new unpaced tricycle record of 8 hrs. 11 mins. 10 secs. for the double journey was set up by P. F. A. Gomme.
The South London Harriers’ open “go-as-you-please” walking or running match of May 6th, 1899, attracted the attention of the athletic world in a very marked degree. Cyclists, in especial, were in evidence, to make the pace, to judge, to sponge down the competitors or to refresh them by the wayside. The start was made from Big Ben soon after seven o’clock in the morning, when fourteen aspirants, all clad in the regulation running costumes and sweaters, went forth to win the modern equivalent of the victor’s laurelled crown in the ancient Olympian games. F. D. Randall, who won, got away from his most dangerous opponent on the approach to Redhill, and, increasing that advantage to a hundred yards’ lead when in the midst of the town, was not afterwards seriously challenged. He finished in the splendid time of 6 hrs. 58 mins. 18 secs. Saward, the second, completed it in 7 hrs. 17 mins. 50 secs., and the veteran E. Ion Pool in another 4 mins.
As if to show the superiority of the cycle over mere pedestrian efforts, H. Green on June 30th cycled from London to Brighton and back, unpaced, in 5 hrs. 50 mins. 23 secs., and on August 12th, 1902, reduced his own record by 20 mins. 1 sec. Meanwhile, Harry Vowles, a blind musician of Brighton, who had for some years made an annual walk from Brighton to London, on October 15th, 1900, accomplished his ambition to walk the distance in one day. He left Brighton at 5 a.m. and reached the Alhambra, in Leicester Square, at ten o’clock that night.
On October 31st, 1902, the Surrey Walking Club’s 104 miles contest to Brighton and back resulted in J. Butler winning: time, 21 hrs. 36 mins. 27 secs., Butler performing the single journey on March 14th the following year in 8 hrs. 43 mins. 16 secs. For fair heel-and-toe walking, that was considered at the time the ultimate achievement; but it was beaten on April 9th, 1904, in the inter-club walk of the Blackheath and Ranelagh Harriers, when T. E. Hammond established the existing record of 8 hrs. 26 mins. 57⅖ secs.—the astonishing speed of six miles an hour.
STOCK-EXCHANGE WALKS
This event was preceded by the famous Stock Exchange Walk of May Day, 1903. Every one knows the Stock Exchange to be almost as great on sport as it is in finance, but no one was prepared for the magnitude finally assumed by the match idly suggested on March 16th, during a dull hour on the Kaffir Market. Business had long been in a bad way, not in that market alone, but in the House in general. The trail of the great Boer War and its heritage of debt, taxation, and want of confidence lay over all departments, and brokers, jobbers, principals, and clerks alike were so heartily tired of going to “business” day after day when there was no business—and when there calculating how much longer they could afford annual subscriptions and office rent—that any relief was eagerly accepted. In three days twenty-five competitors had entered for the proposed walk to Brighton, and the House found itself not so poverty-stricken but that prize-money to the extent of £35, for three silver cups, was subscribed. And then the Press—that Press which is growing daily more hysterical and irresponsible—got hold of it and boomed it, and there was no escaping the Stock Exchange Walk. By the morning of March 25th, when the list was closed, there were 107 competitors entered and the prize-list had grown to the imposing total of three gold medals, valued, one at £10 10s. and two at £5 5s., with two silver cups valued at £10 10s., two at £5 5s., and silver commemoration medals for all arriving at Brighton in thirteen hours.
Long before May Day the Press had worked the thing up to the semblance of a matter of Imperial importance, and London talked of little else. April 13th had been at first spoken of for the event, but many of the competitors wanted to get into training, and in the end May Day, being an annual Stock Exchange holiday, was selected.
There were ninety-nine starters from the Clock Tower at 6.30 on that chill May morning: not middle-aged stockbrokers, but chiefly young stockbrokers’ clerks. All the papers had published particulars of the race, together with final weather prognostications; hawkers sold official programmes; an immense crowd assembled; a host of amateur photographers descended upon the scene, and the police kept Westminster Bridge clear. Although by no means to be compared with Motor-car Day, the occasion was well honoured.
Advertisers had, as usual, seized the opportunity, and almost overwhelmed the start; and among the motor-cars and the cyclists who followed the competitors down the road the merits of Somebody’s Whisky, and the pills, boots, bicycles, beef-tea, and flannels of some other bodies impudently obtruded.