The Life and Opinions of Jack Lovelock

Turnbull Library Record, Volume 35, 1 January 2002, Page 81

The Life and Opinions of Jack Lovelock

Roger Robinson

Jack Lovelock won the 1500 metres gold medal in the 1936 Berlin Olympics, ‘Hitler’s Games’, in a world record time. It was New Zealand’s first gold medal in Olympic track and field. Bom in 1910 in Cmshington, a mining settlement near Reefton on the West Coast of the South Island, and educated at Timaru Boys High School and Otago University, he was a Rhodes Scholar at Oxford, and qualified in medicine at St Mary’s Hospital, London. After medical service in the Second World War he moved to New York and was specialising in rehabilitation research at the time of his accidental death in 1949. Lovelock was the subject of a National Library exhibition Come on, Jack! The Lovelock Olympic Story in 2000, and an associated lecture series. His journals and training diaries, still unpublished, are in the Alexander Turnbull Library, by arrangement with Timaru Boys High School.

One of the most respected New Zealand and British sportsmen, Lovelock was in some ways a perplexing personality. Close friends have described him as ‘reserved’, and ‘a hard man to know’. 1 There were contradictions in his career and perhaps his personality. He was a dedicated athlete who could win brilliantly, yet sometimes laughed as he lost. With the admiring public he was sometimes charmingly at ease, at others (as in his unhappy celebrity tour of New Zealand in late 1936) gauche and guarded. 2 He was a pure amateur who wrote sports columns for London tabloids. He was an exile, committed to a life in Britain, who raced with a large silver fern and ‘NZ’ on his all black

uniform. He arrived at the 1936 Berlin Olympics after eight years careful preparation, and then left his team manager (a former sprinter) to decide which events he should run. 3 His great 1500 metres race was the outcome of meticulous medical and physiological planning, yet its inspired flair is best described in his own words, as ‘an artistic creation’. 4 Psychologically as well as physically he could seem an unpredictable mixture of frailty and strength. He is remembered now for fleet movement and hairspring judgement, for flying to a world record victory of rare and perfect beauty before a vast acclaiming open-air stadium. Yet he is also remembered for stumbling to a clumsy, dizzy, dingy death from an obscure subway platform.

These contradictions pose challenges, and allow licence for speculative fiction to present itself as biographical revelation. In the highly charged context of the 19305, and with powerful records available in what were then the new media of radio and film, it is also inevitable that his career should be interwoven with larger cultural and political issues, 5 and his character adjusted accordingly. This is a perfectly legitimate literary process, but one that requires to be checked against reality from time to time, especially in the absence of any recent biography. 6

Lovelock did speak for himself, in fact, and not only in the private training diaries. One publication that has not previously been noticed is an essay he contributed by invitation to Growing opinions: A symposium of British youth outlook, edited by Alan Campbell Johnson with a preface by Professor J. B. S. Haldane. 7 A piece by the editor on ‘The problem of peace and war’ suggests that the book was occasioned by that era’s concern with the connection between ethics and politics. Lovelock deals firmly with that issue in his essay ‘Youth and modem sport’. Since his supposed attraction to Fascism has occupied the imaginative energies of a number of recent writers, an explicit statement from him on the subject is worth noticing. He was 24 at the time of writing, shortly after he won the Empire Games mile title in London. He had been to Mussolini’s Italy for the World Student Games in 1933, but Hitler’s Berlin Olympics were nearly two years away.

His essay opens with a neat sketch of the international history of sport and England’s special contribution, and moves to the revived Olympics, with a personal comment on their value. For participants, he says, the Games ‘form a valuable aid to the promotion of international amity’ (p. 223). At this point he had known only failure as an Olympic competitor (at Los Angeles in 1932), and this relaxed and positive comment on the Olympic experience deserves to be noted by those who give a vengeful spin to his private diary remark, after the disappointing 1932 race, that ‘all I can hope for is a chance to square my account with Beccali and Co.’. 8

‘Youth and modem sport’ then deals with the ‘tendency to study physical culture as an end in itself (p. 223), giving credit to Germany’s influence in the ‘popularity of walking’ and the Youth Hostel movement. That leads him to countries where ‘the Governments have taken the matter in hand, subsidizing health-camps and schools for physical education’. His approval of ‘the healthy open-air appearance of youth

of all classes’ in these countries is immediately qualified in political terms. The passage that follows should be pondered before any credence is given to the notion of Fascist yearnings in him:

Where Governments tend so carefully the bodily well-being of their peoples, it is unfortunate that political discipline should have to enter so much into the control of their sport. A striking contrast, however, exists in this respect between the three Scandinavian countries and the two nations where dictators have recently taken command over all departments of their peoples’ lives. As one of the many aims of sport is to engender a spirit of congeniality and initiative in its participants, all who have its interests at heart cannot help deploring any influence which may take away from the individual’s freedom of expression and action, (pp. 223-224)

‘Unfortunate’, ‘deplore’ and ‘take away... freedom’ are strong language, especially since the opinion is in no way necessitated by the context. He leaves no room to doubt his dislike of the regimes in Germany and Italy, nor that it is grounded in their destruction of‘congeniality and initiative’, and ‘freedom of expression and action’. It is revealing, too, that he sees beyond the health benefits of sports programmes to advocate the qualities of initiative and freedom that they properly foster and represent.

The essay moves on to an entertaining commentary, made from the point of view of an elite competitor, on spectator and press behaviour in various countries. The effect of crowds and journalism on performance leads him to sports psychology — a half century ahead of his time —and the wider issue of the application of science to sport, and vice-versa, again reaching beyond the scope of most sports thinking in 1935. He then distinguishes between team and individual sports, also in terms opposite to the conventional wisdom of his age. The Victorian ethic, dominant well into the 20th century, held that team games teach ‘discipline and reliance on one another’, and so are ‘much better games than [those] where the object is to come in first or win for oneself. 9 Lovelock comes closer to our own values of individual excellence in emphasising the ‘sensation of satisfaction and fulfilment’ (p. 230).

Not that he disparages team games, which give, he says, ‘a feeling of deeper companionship with one’s fellows’. He in no way resembles here the obsessive introvert of some fictional constructs. All sport, he says warmly, offers ‘ opportunities for social contacts, making new and valued friends, travelling, and broadening one’s views’ (p. 230). A reminiscence published in 2002 by an Oxford teammate confirms that Lovelock, though apparently a ‘loner’, was ‘generous minded to fellow athletes’. 10

Lovelock’s essay is for the most part only incidentally personal, as with the opinion about Fascist dictators. His comments on the national characteristics of

spectators, or on ‘satisfaction and fulfilment’ are in general terms, not anecdotal. He moves, however, to a personal analysis of his own ‘reactions’ to major competition, more explicit and cogent than anything in his journals. Top sports people are not always the best interpreters of their own motivation and behaviour, but this passage is essential reading for understanding Lovelock, and instructive for any competitor or coach.

He writes eloquently, and not in the least neurotically, of the conflict before a major event between ‘pleasurable anticipation ... joy at the thought of a struggle of brain and muscle’ and ‘a sinking fear that at the last one may be found wanting’ (p. 230). He then confirms what his private journals suggest—that he was a cool and perceptive analyst of training and tactics, astute in identifying his rivals’ strengths and weaknesses. He writes of experiment and fresh strategy: ‘For in unexpectedness and originality often lie the element of success’. He covers the need to leam from failure, to reconsider tactics, and above all to see successful racing as ‘more the victory of the mind than of the body’ (p. 231). There is even a moral dimension when he writes of defeat ‘producing a combination of judgment and philosophic outlook without which an athlete can scarcely hope to rise to the top’ (p. 231). It is an illuminating account of his long-term preparation for the Olympic final (including instructive defeats) and the masterly tactics he used there, written nearly two years in advance.

The essay closes with the ‘inextricable’ relationship between sport and science, and cites mens sana in corpore sano. Sport is a ‘means to re-create our bodies and satisfy our minds’ (p. 232).

‘Youth and modem sport’ shows Lovelock as an intelligent, lucid and often original thinker about his craft as a mnner and sport’s value for the individual, society, and world understanding. Its cogency is consistent with his school Rector’s description of him as ‘one of the best debaters in the school’. 11 Its breadth of mind, good-humoured self-knowledge, and courageous stand against the dictators are those of a more attractive personality than the one that has emerged from recent fictions.

The essay also clarifies Lovelock’s key assets as an athlete, especially his tactical astuteness. In the Berlin final, and several of his earlier ‘mile of the century’ races in America, Lovelock beat faster opponents, and set world records, because of his skill at capitalising on his preparation, getting the best from himself even in the torrid midst of competitive drama. He made the point again in his little-known booklet, Athletics : ‘Use judgment of pace to get the best out of yourself and the worst from your opponents.’ 12 Such judgement requires a good pre-race plan, the ability to control the race even when not leading, and the almost instinctual sense of the moment to make a decisive move. Lovelock’s diary commentary on the Berlin race shows how finely attuned he was to pace, the condition of his opponents, and the instant of opportunity. He wrote about the third lap:

I debated how long I should stay [behind Cunningham] . . . Just before entering the back straight [on the last lap] I felt the tension of the field relax and realized, unconsciously perhaps, that everyone was taking a breather ready for a hard last 200. So at the 300 m mark I struck home, passed Cunningham and gained a 5 yard break before he awoke. 13

On the next page he uses the phrase ‘catching them napping’. The moment of opportunity was (when you watch the film of the race) at most one second. The challenge is to seize the flying moment. In ‘Youth and modern sport’ he wrote that

an opponent caught off his guard for a fraction of a second may leave an opening that must be quickly seized, a quickness that comes only from long experience, combined, perhaps, with a natural flair and undoubtedly with careful and logical forethought (p. 231).

It was this combination of careful forethought and instantaneous opportunism that made Lovelock a tactical genius with few peers in the history of running.

Contradictions remain. Porritt’s comment that Lovelock in everyday life typically ‘found it hard to make a decision’ (see note 3) is not necessarily incompatible with focused decisiveness and lightning reflexes on the track. Some other apparent inconsistencies are explicable, and far from unique. Ahead of his time, he was taking seriously (personally and scientifically) an activity that his culture insisted was just a gentlemanly game. (The film Chariots of Fire dealt with the same pressures.) Distance running is a proverbially lonely pursuit, but success can impose heavy public demands. New Zealand’s relationship with Great Britain in the 1930 s was radically different from now —the anthem for his victory was ‘God save the King’— and Lovelock had to combine the two affiliations.

There is no need for hagiography. The Jack Lovelock who emerges from the published materials considered above (‘Youth and modern sport’ and Athletics ), from an informed reading of the training and racing diaries, from private recollections by those who knew him, and from the competitive record, is wholly consistent with the account given by Bill Thomas, his school Rector, in a Rhodes Scholarship testimonial:

... a well-balanced mind making him capable of excelling in any branch of study... he preferred to develop his all-round powers ... [and] lived as full a life ... as it is possible for any boy to live and whatever he ‘touched he adorned’. Lovelock is the most quietly-efficient young man with whom I have been associated in nearly forty years of teaching ... with debating powers where sound common sense and facility of

expression are outstanding characteristics. It may be seen again in his leadership ... his quiet but firm control made him an outstanding personality among his fellows. 14

When Lovelock writes, ‘on the day I go in a little nervous always, but determined to hide those well-known symptoms, to try to forpe or bluff the enemy into ... doing what he really does not want to do’, the mind and personality at work sound like those of an interesting man —strong, original and pragmatic, highly competitive without any arrogance. It sounds like a considerable intelligence —the ‘well-balanced mind’ that Thomas identified —brought to bear on the complex challenge of competitive running, with the strength of purpose, quiet efficiency, and capacity for excellence that Thomas also perceived. Nothing Lovelock published or wrote privately endorses the view of him as a self-obsessed glory-seeking manic-depressive drug-popping Fascist-sympathising sexually confused suicidal neurotic, however interesting this is as a fictional version. To watch again the sublime moments of sporting creation with which he brought light to the darkest Olympics in history is to be reminded again of Bill Thomas’s summary: ‘whatever he touched, he adorned’.

Turnbull Library Record 35 (2002), 81-88

References This article was developed from a talk given at the National Library of New Zealand on 9 November 2000 as part of a series in conjunction with the exhibition Come on. Jack! The Lovelock Olympic Story. 1 Tony Leach, ‘Seventy years on’, Annual report of the Achilles Club (London), 2002, pp.2l-22; and Arthur (later Lord) Porritt, Lovelock’s team manager and closest friend during his career in England, in an interview with the author at the House of Lords, 1986. 2 The best account of this unhappy tour, 30 October-8 December 1936, is by Steve Fordyce, ‘Lovelock’s labour lost’, New Zealand runner, February/March 1989, 31-34, and April/May 1989, 37-39. 3 The issue was whether he should contest the 5000 metres first, as well as the 1500 metres. The episode is important in James McNeish’s novel Lovelock (London: Hodder& Stoughton, 1986), where it is presented more as a choice between the two events. Lord Porritt in my interview (see note 1) reported that Lovelock said, ‘Sir, I know what I think but the responsibility is too great.’ Porritt recalled, ‘He often found it hard to make a decision.’ 4 The phrase ends Lovelock’s account of the race in his diary (Diary entry, 6 August 1936, John Edward (Jack) Lovelock, Papers, MSX-2510, Alexander Turnbull Library, National Library of New Zealand, Wellington, New Zealand). Norman Harris, in The legend of Lovelock (Wellington: Reed, 1964) makes good use of selections, including this phrase, as does the shorter, more entirely athletic biography, Christopher Tobin, Lovelock: New Zealand’s Olympic gold miler (Dunedin: Mclndoe, 1984). The diaries and journals as a whole await the edition now being prepared by David Colquhoun at the Alexander Turnbull Library.

5 For an account of the literary treatments of Lovelock, see my essay ‘Lovelock, Jack’ in the Oxford companion to New Zealand literature (Melbourne: Oxford University Press, 1998), p. 312. For the context that has helped to create the myth (Fascism, radio, etc.) see my essay on him in the Dictionary of New Zealand biography, Volume 4, 1921-1940 (Auckland: Auckland University Press; Wellington: Dept of Internal Affairs, 1998), pp. 291-293. 6 The two biographies are Harris and Tobin; see note 4. 7 J. E. Lovelock, ‘Youth and modern sport’ in Growing opinions: A symposium of British youth outlook, ed. and designed by Alan Campbell Johnson (London: Methuen, 1935), pp. 221-232. Page references to quotations from this work are included in the text. I am grateful to Mary R. Lovelock and her husband W. Robert Chapman, of Newington, Connecticut, for first giving me access to a copy of this essay. 8 Journal entry, 4 August 1932, John Edward (Jack) Lovelock, Papers, MSX-2245, Alexander Turnbull Library, National Library of New Zealand, Wellington, New Zealand. 9 Thomas Hughes, Tom Brown’s schooldays (1857), part 2, chapter 8. 10 Leach, ‘Seventy years on’, p. 22. 11 Bill Thomas, Rector of Timaru Boys High School, Letter, 7 November 1930, to the Rhodes Scholarship selection committee, in the School’s War Memorial Library; cited by courtesy of the current Rector, Kevin O’Sullivan. 12 J. E. Lovelock , Athletics for health; running theory and practice (Seven Kings, Kent: The author, [1937]), p. 23. 13 Lovelock, Diary entry, 6 August 1936, MSX-2510. 14 Thomas, Letter, 7 November 1930.