"Bannister's Historic Mile Only Started His Great Run: Sir Roger's Versatility Easily Passed His Record"

John Gearan
The Worcester Telegram
May 7, 2000

His brightly colored tie comes at you like the start of a modern-day marathon. Painted runners representing every race on earth collide in outlandish style as they break out from the background of his British-blue conservative attire.

It is the favorite tie of Sir Roger Bannister, a royal knight without pretense and an uncommon man of the people. To him, it expresses the running revolution that has embraced all of humankind.

Forty six years ago yesterday, Bannister lifted the human spirit when he broke through what his chief rival John Landy once called "a brick wall" - running a mile in less than four minutes. The world gasped. In four laps around a cinder track off Iffley Road at Oxford University, this 25-year-old medical student had become Babe Ruth.

Now 71, Dr. Bannister wears his legend like an old warm-up suit that still fits comfortably after all these years. He carries himself with a class that one cannot be born into, for it derives from a noble heart and is polished by intellect and keen humor.

He and his affable wife, Moyra, married for 45 years, still walk hand-in-hand and talk softly, yet proudly, of their four children and dozen grandchildren. Moyra, an artist, sketches profiles of a handful of reporters as they chat with her husband on Friday afternoon. Occasionally, she injects a point of information or reminds Bannister to tell a particularly amusing story.

Was a Reporter, Too

At the outset, the unassuming Bannister catches reporters off guard as he begins by questioning them. Where are you from? What newspaper? He listens patiently until reporters reflux the drift of the conversation. Bannister recalls with delight his days as a fledgling reporter. Once he worked as an unpaid correspondent for the Times of London while competing on a tour of the Balkans. Due to an upset stomach, he lost the race in Belgrade, Yugoslavia, at Soldiers Stadium before 50,000 fans. Under an anonymous "special correspondent" byline, he wrote "Bannister, who was clearly not at his best..." and so forth. He chuckles, looking back at his wonderfully duplicitous behavior.

Later, Bannister would cover the Olympics for Sports Illustrated, write for other magazines, do TV commentary, and author a column for the Sunday Times of varied topics, including a gem entitled, "The Hazards of Fan Mail."

Inquiring minds urged him to revisit every detail of May 6, 1954, when he churned past two Amateur Athletic Association mates, Chris Chataway and Chris Brasher, and three other also-rans. In that orchestrated race, Bannister accomplished what was once considered an impossible dream.

Bannister recounted how he hadn't decided to try and break the four-minute barrier until shortly before the announcement of "event number nine, The Mile," during a dual meet between an AAU club and Oxford, his alma mater.

When the Wind Died, He Knew

When the wind-whipped flag of St. George, flapping high about St. John the Evangelist church drooped, Bannister knew he had a date with destiny. He was also well aware that Australian John Landy, who had already run a 4:02 mile, seemed poised to crack the almighty Four.

As planned, Bannister passed Brasher, his front-running rabbit. Then, on the backstretch, he gobbled up Chataway, his other pacer, with his loping 7 ½ -foot strides. He hit the tape at 3:59.4 with only 1,000 fans, including his parents, there to witness history. His reward was as unadorned as the times. Friends encircled Bannister, giving him the traditional three cheers, and his mum gave him a hug.

For his generation, the headline of Bannister's feat had the impact that "Man Lands on Moon" did 15 years later. Breaking the four-minute mark is still compared to Ruth hitting 60 homers in 1927 and Sir Edmund Hillary conquering Mount Everest in 1953.

Bannister recalled that he had done no running and little else but interning at St. Mary's Hospital in London for the five days before the race. His wife, who started dating him at about that time, reminded him that he had gone mountain hiking with his pal, Brasher, in Wales. He nodded in agreement. "Luckily, I didn't fall and break something," he said with a laugh. In an aside, she sharpened his running spikes that day with tools intended for medical use. "He must have been a tough guy to catch," I said to Moyra. "Not really," she replied with an alluring twinkle still in her eyes.

Wasn't Alone for Long

Landy ran a 3:58 mile in Finland 46 days later. "He could have left it for a bit longer. Landy didn't show much respect, did he?" Bannister kidded.

Bannister left competitive racing that December, never to look back. He felt fortunate to gain even fleeting fame, but knew it could not sustain him. "I had acquired unexpectedly an unusual type of fame at 25 which is only possible through sport...unless you are a Spice Girl or that sort of thing," he said.

Since he was 14, his dream was to be a doctor of consequence and "never be out of a job." Starting out his medical career as a resident being paid 175 pounds a year, Bannister blossomed into a renowned neurologist and continued running for recreation. Almost poetically, he described what true athletics means to him. "My idea of sport," he said, "is running through the countryside, hearing the birds sing, looking at the trees, feeling the wind in your face."

His convictions run deep. He talks about sports providing inspiration so sorely needed in the world. His description of Britain's post-war poverty and the need for someone to show the country that it could rise up and be counted once again brings tears to one's eyes. When asked about his triumphs, he does not dwell on his historic race. Rather, he discusses heading a national sports commission responsible for planting hundreds of sports arenas in towns throughout England.

Near Fatal Car Accident

He talks reverently about life, vividly conscious of a 1975 accident that nearly killed him when his Volvo was smacked head-on by a car being operated by a drunk driver. He was in a wheelchair for five months. His wife was hospitalized with cuts and broken ribs. His three children and a friend were shaken up in the backseat. The badly fractured foot he suffered ended his running forever. But his lust for life intensified.

Dr. Bannister became an authority in research on low blood pressure. He served as master at Oxford's Pembroke college. He continued his vigorous flight to rid sports of illegal drugs. HE sits on many charitable boards and screens applications for academic scholarships. Be he does not cash in on his celebrity, refusing money to promote products, and only endorses causes in which he actively engaged. He donated the royalties of his autobiography to build a track for young people in the Harrow section of London where he grew up. He does not auction off memorabilia, but turns over his priceless trophies to Pembroke. His good name never has been, and ever will be, for hire.

Most every May 6, Sir Roger and Lady Moyra dine with old pals Chataway and Brasher and their spouses. "A faithful friend is the medicine of life," says Bannister. Yesterday, they missed that annual appointment. They had been invited to Rhode Island, to the International Scholar-Athlete Hall of Fame, by its founder, Danny Doyle, a Worcester native. Due to illness, Bannister had missed last June's inaugural induction ceremonies. So last evening, a special night was held to honor no ordinary knight.

Someone asked Bannister how he would want his epitaph to read. "He tried hard and did his best," he answered with elegant simplicity. And Sir Roger Bannister will leave us the legacy of a timeless run that will forever inspire those who follow in his footsteps.