Jackson Scholz

He was born Jackson Volney English, the only child of Frank English (1872–1931) and Anna Elizabeth Weaver English (1875–1952). The couple met and married (1894) in Buchanan, Michigan. After Jackson was born in 1897, the family moved to nearby Benton Harbor. Frank English was involved in a variety of construction enterprises, notably supervising the construction of water, gas, and electric plants. In 1903, the family moved to Colorado where English worked on projects in Fort Collins and Boulder. In February 1907, English ran his own brick-manufacturing plant in Boulder.^[2]

Seven months later, Anna sued Frank for divorce on grounds of cruelty, alleging wife-beating.^[3] In November, presumably with Jackson, she returned to Buchanan to spend the winter with her widowed mother.^[4] On May 25, 1908, she married Dr. Samuel Benjamin Scholz, Jr. (1878–1949), of Colorado Springs; the ceremony took place in Alameda County, California. Jackson was legally adopted by his stepfather.^[5] From that point forward, he was named Jackson V. Scholz, or more commonly Jack Scholz.

Dr. Scholz was a Spanish-American War veteran.^[6] In 1905, he graduated from the University of Denver with a Doctor of Medicine degree.^[7] When he married Anna, he was a traveling inspector for the Equitable Life Assurance Society.^[8] Acting as a medical representative for life insurance companies typified his career.

The family was in Los Angeles by 1911. Representing the Berendo Street Intermediate School, Jack entered the annual AAU South Pacific Association championships in the 100-yard dash (under 4 ft 9 in class), and the relay (no results known).^[9] In late 1912, the family lived in New York, where the Equitable Life headquarters were located. In January 1913, Dr. Scholz joined the Equitable offices in St. Louis to act as the “medical referee” for Missouri, Iowa, and Illinois.^[10]

Jack attended Soldan High School, St. Louis. He didn’t try out for the track team until his senior year, when he shocked the coach by beating Soldan’s star sprinter.^[11] On June 1, 1915, two weeks before graduation, the St. Louis interscholastic meet was held at Francis Field, the stadium built for the 1904 Summer Olympics. Scholz won the 100-yard dash in 10-1/5 seconds (i.e., 10.2), breaking the meet record by a fifth.^[12] He also competed in the high jump, broad jump, and relay.^[13]

Unrecruited, he entered the University of Missouri, Columbia, Missouri, fall 1915, in the College of Agriculture. Following his boyhood dream, he intended to become a farmer.^[14] He pledged to the Kappa Alpha Order fraternity.^[15] Under Coach Henry F. Schulte, Scholz developed into the fastest collegian in the nation, winning many races, indoors and out, while occasionally breaking records, up to the highest level.

Jackson’s half-sister, Elizabeth Jeannette Scholz (1916–33), Dr. Scholz’s and Anna’s only child together, was born in St. Louis on June 16, 1916.^[16]

On June 5, 1918, Scholz registered for the draft. He asked and was accepted into the Navy’s flying division.^[17] He put his senior year at the university on hold. He reported to the Dunwoody Naval Training Station, Minneapolis, for basic training as a flyer on September 3.^[18] The November 11 Armistice made his service less timely. Nevertheless, by Thanksgiving he had transferred to the Miami Naval Air Station to continue training “for my own satisfaction”. In a letter to Schulte, he described the thrill of flying, even as a passenger: “While we were upside down 3,000 feet above the bay, I couldn’t help but hope that my safety belt would remain well fastened. Lots of fun.”^[19]

While serving, Scholz continued track training. In February 1919, at the Inter-Naval Aviation Meet, Key West, he won the 50-yard high hurdles and ran on the winning relay.^[20] On March 1, at Royal Palm Park, on the edge of the Everglades, the Miami Naval Air Station lost a dual meet with the Key West Air Station. However, Scholz won the 100 (10.1) and the broad jump (20 ft 11 in), but had to settle for a tie in the 220 at 24.2.^[21]

In March, Scholz transferred to Naval Air Station Pensacola to complete his training.^[22] In May, he was commissioned an ensign, discharged, and returned to Missouri.^[23]

As he recalled his experiences:

In World War I, I fought in the battle of Miami and Pensacola, and flew such balls of fire as the old N-9s, H-boats, F-boats, and something, which for want of a better name, the fellows called a Gyrene. It was a double pontooned biplane with a four-cylinder Hall-Scott motor which throve on castor oil, but didn’t seem to care for it after it reached an inky stage. Then it would spray the black stuff back across the pilot and his passenger, until they looked like a pair of end men. . . . Getting caught up there in the rain was just like having someone hurl gravel in your face.^[24]

In September 1919, he began his senior year at Missouri. He tried to join the football team, but Coach Shulte, also head football coach, forbade it.^[25] In track, Scholz was named an All-American.

By 1932, Scholz’s writing career was well underway, overlapping his running career by a decade.

The first hint of his desire to write came when he returned to the university after World War I. An avid reader, he switched his degree program to the School of Journalism.^[32] He had to double up his courses to graduate on time.^[11]

After the 1920 Olympics, he found that his relay gold didn’t “translate to money.”^[53] Charles W. Burton, a wealthy Detroit real-estate developer and sports enthusiast, found him an easy job in real estate. He ran for the Detroit Athletic Club, but got bored with real estate after two years. He went to New York and got hired as a “bin monkey” in a hosiery factory, sorting socks into bins.^[11] He soon landed a better job with the United Press (UP) as an assistant sports editor. He lasted for a year and a half.^[32] His bylined pieces date from July 1922 to June 1923. His first piece, a prognosis for Charley Paddock, was preceded by an editor’s note that touted Scholz’s athletic achievements—he was an entry-level celebrity journalist.^[54] About half of his articles were about track and field; he also covered college football and professional boxing. But there were less than twenty short articles in a year. He explained his departure: “editing wires—making 2,500 words into twenty-five lines—lost its thrill after a time.”^[32] Later, he admitted that he was a “flop,” that he got the “air,” i.e., he’d been fired.^[27]

While still at UP, and using a rented typewriter, he wrote his first piece of fiction, a short story.^[32] “And Jill Came Tumbling After” sold to Argosy All-Story Weekly, a leading pulp-fiction magazine, appearing in the July 14, 1923, issue.^[55] It was a short romcom with some clever writing that drew upon Scholz’s Navy background. The setting was Miami, Key West, and environs. The story involved a flying boat (seaplane) pilot and his challenging girlfriend Jill.

He next tried a new pulp (first issue, September 8, 1923), Sport Story Magazine, which offered a wide variety of sports fiction aimed at boys, the first magazine of its kind. He sent them numerous stories; all were rejected.^[40] He apparently didn’t realize that most of the content, at first, were low-cost reprints that came from publisher Street & Smith’s (S&S) inventory. But then fabled U.S. middle-distance runner Mel Sheppard, star of the 1908 Summer Olympics, made a deal with Sport Story to sell them his life story. He asked Scholz to ghostwrite it.^[11] Spiked Shoes and Cinder Paths was serialized in eleven twice-a-month issues from May 8 through October 8, 1924. S&S paid $3,500 for the work, of which Scholz received half, financing his training for the Paris Olympics.^[27] When Sheppard told the company that Scholz was the author, they “begged” Scholz for more.^[11] He resubmitted one of his rejects and they published it.^[40] His destiny as a writer was set.

He’d also found a home—Street & Smith and, particularly, Sport Story—though, because of his travels, he wouldn’t really move into his new quarters until 1926, when he published 11 short stories in the magazine.^[55] From 1927–31, Scholz averaged 16+ sales a year to the company, while selling a few stories to other publishers. Then the numbers started climbing. From 1932–38, retired from running, he averaged 38 sales per year with 1936 the peak at 53.^[55] From 1931–38, 100% of his sales went to S&S, the vast majority to Sport Story. In 1939, he branched out to other publishers again and his S&S sales dropped to 23. From 1940–43, he only averaged 8 sales a year to S&S. He had a track tale in the last issue of Sport Story (July 1943), his 407th appearance in the magazine.^[55] He made only one more sale to S&S, in 1943.

During his most productive years, he often had two, even three, stories in a single issue of Sport Story. A second story would be published under the name “Royal Hall,” and a third under “Jack Volney” (his nickname plus middle name).^[55]

In February 1927, William Morrow published Scholz’s first book, Split Seconds: Tales of the Cinder Track, collecting his first ten Sport Story tales, all track & field yarns. Told from the point of view of a track coach at a midwestern university, they were inspired by Coach Schulte.^[32]

In 1927, Sport Story serialized Scholz’s autobiography, The Cinder Trail, in five installments (July 22–September 22). A detailed account of his athletic career, it was never republished elsewhere, and obviously doesn’t cover Amsterdam 1928.

For most freelance pulp writers, it paid to diversify, to withstand changes in publisher, editor, reader tastes, and so forth. Thus, after Charles Lindbergh became a sensation in 1927, and aviation fiction became a hot new genre, Scholz tried his hand using his Navy flying experience for background material. He published 10 air stories from 1929–30. Four were for Street & Smith’s Air Trails; the rest went to other pulps like Airplane Stories and Sky Birds. After the U.S. entered World War II, he returned to the genre, publishing about 21 additional air stories through 1947.^[55]

Though he wrote a great many track and field stories, he became known as a sports polymath. He wrote stories about the major team sports, individual sports like tennis, and lesser-known sports like boat racing, cross country, or water polo. He wrote a number of stories about golf, his favorite sport after he retired from running. Ronald Oliphant, Sport Story editor in the 1930s, wrote:

In his stories, he draws on scenes of athletic competition in which he has taken part, as well as those of which he has been a spectator. Scholz is a keen sport fan. I think he can write of more kinds of sport than any other man now contributing to Sport Story. His knowledge is not confined to sprinting. He attends every kind of sport event.^[56]

With the meteoric rise of comic books, starting in 1938, the pulps lost a large part of their juvenile audience, which helps explain Scholz’s change in fortunes at the end of the 1930s. Oliphant retired and the magazine switched to a monthly, halving the opportunities for authors. Scholz’s sales to S&S, and the pulps in general, declined. His pulp sales dwindled into the 1950s, as the market steadily contracted.^[55]

Another factor is that the second part of his writing career had begun. In 1939, he returned to Morrow, publisher of Split Seconds, with Fighting Coach: A Football Story, an original novel. It was published in February 1940. From 1940–71 (excepting 1941 and ’43), he published a new juvenile sports novel every year. Gone was the variety of Sport Story, though. Fifteen of the novels were about football, 14 were about baseball, and one was about golf.

On August 17, 1935, Scholz married Phyllis Jule Rahner, a New York department store buyer. They had no children. In 1938, they bought a 57-acre farm near Doylestown, Pennsylvania,^[57] though apparently Scholz never did any actual farming.^[27] In 1972, Scholz retired from writing and the couple moved to Delray Beach, Florida, where they spent the rest of their lives.

Scholz got another crack at fame with the release of Chariots of Fire (1981) which won Best Picture, and three other Oscars, at the 54th Academy Awards.

The film tells the story of the 1924 Paris Olympics primarily from the perspective of British sprinters Harold Abrahams and Eric Liddell. To represent the American team, the film focuses on Scholz (played by Brad Davis) and Charley Paddock. The film took ample dramatic license with the historical record, including its depiction of Scholz. He reviewed the screenplay before the film was shot.^[42]

Differences between Scholz’s experience and the film:

• In the film, the British runners are briefed on the competition. A slide is shown of Scholz in the 1920 100-meter final. The British are told that he cost himself a medal by looking to the right as he crossed the line. “That’s really ridiculous,” Scholz said. “I used to dip my body forward, turning to the right as I approached the tape. That gave me an angle approach to the finish, which is what you need to edge out the others.”^[42]
• The British are told that Scholz’s nickname is the “New York Thunderbolt”, alluding to his sponsorship by the New York Athletic Club. “That was the first time I heard that name used for me,” said Scholz.^[25] In fact, Scholz had many nicknames through his years of competition, but no single one stuck, and “New York Thunderbolt” was not on the list. Coach Schulte had named him “Germany” because of his last name, but once the U.S. entered World War I, that was dropped.^[25]
• In the film, Scholz and other American athletes are introduced to the Prince of Wales. Scholz denied ever meeting him.^[58]
• In the film, Scholz engages in rigorous calisthenics. Scholz rebutted: “I am portrayed as a very active person. Hell, I was really one of the laziest men on the team.”^[25]
• In the film, on the evening following the 100 final, Abrahams goes out drinking with his coach, Sam Mussabini. According to bronze medalist Arthur Porritt (New Zealand) (“Tom Watson” in the film), that evening the finalists dined together.^[59]
• In the film, Abrahams redeems his last place in the 200 final by winning the 100. In reality, the 100 came first on the schedule. Scholz, then, would receive any claim to redemption.
• In the film, Scholz hands Liddell a good-luck note before the 400 final. According to Scholz: “That would have been very dramatic, but I don’t remember ever speaking to Liddell, much less writing him a note.”^[42] Furthermore, it challenges credibility that Scholz would buck up an Englishman when there were two Americans in the final. However, Scholz agreed to let screenwriter Colin Welland keep the scene as written.

By the time the film came out, Scholz was the only major character still alive. Paddock died in 1943; Liddell, 1945; and Abrahams, 1978. After the Academy Awards (March 29, 1982), Scholz became a focus of media attention. Within a few weeks, he was interviewed 21 times. Having just turned 85 and troubled by high blood pressure, he stopped talking to the press.^[60]

He felt no urgency to see the film. From what he’d heard, “I would probably be annoyed by the portrayal of the track meet and my character.”^[25] Instead, as an interviewer conveyed it, he could “just close his eyes and recall the 1924 games in Paris with vivid clarity.” Said Scholz, “One day, I’ll go see the movie but for now I’d rather have my own memories of how things were.”^[42] According to his brother-in-law, Harry Rahner, he never saw it.^[58]

Scholz’s renewed celebrity extended two years, into the 1984 Summer Olympics. In an American Express credit card commercial, he sits in a restaurant with Ben Cross, the actor who played Abrahams. Cross says to the camera, “I beat him in the movie Chariots of Fire.” Scholz replies with mock indignation, "You didn't beat me!" Then, proving he was “still pretty fast,” it turns out that Scholz has beaten Cross to the draw in picking up the tab with his credit card.^[61]

Charley Paddock died in 1943, depriving the record of his view of Chariots of Fire. In the film, Scholz and Paddock represent the American juggernaut that the British sprinters must overcome. In the broader view, Scholz and Paddock were the two most accomplished sprinters of the era.

The unexpected detail is that both were already making money as professional writers by the time of the 1924 games; both became accomplished career writers. They wrote about each other on occasion when their sprinting careers were active, and retrospectively after their sprint heroics had ended. Scholz specialized in fiction whereas Paddock wrote sports journalism and eventually managed a string of newspapers.

They had numerous other similarities. They were roughly the same height (5 ft 7 in) though Paddock outweighed Scholz by about 30 lbs. Both were barred by their college coaches from playing football (Paddock^[62]).

Their Olympic careers were a close match. Each ran in the same three Olympics: 1920/24/28. They were the first sprinters to compete in three Olympics. They shared the gold medal in the 1920 4x100 relay. In 1920, Paddock took gold in the 100 and silver in the 200. In 1924, Scholz flipped it, taking gold in the 200 and silver in the 100. Paddock had an additional medal, the 200 silver in 1924. However, Scholz insisted he deserved the 100 bronze in 1920, and Paddock, who was in the race, agreed that he was “robbed.”^[63] Additionally, both athletes scaled back their running between games to work on their writing careers.

Both published their serialized memoirs in Sport Story Magazine, Scholz in 1927 and Paddock in 1928. Though Paddock only appeared in the magazine 15 times, he and Scholz had material in the same issue 7 times.^[55]

Both had comeback attempts aimed at making a 4th Olympic team in 1932. In 1929, after the disappointment of Amsterdam, Paddock attempted a first comeback but then announced his retirement for good in July.^[64] By January 1930, he was already plotting his return. But, like Scholz’s comeback, it fizzled out in 1932.

Regarding their head-to-head matchups, Scholz frequently brought up the same stat: “I met him 17 times, and I beat him 12.” In 1982, an interviewer added, “Of his track accomplishments, Scholz recalls little but the duels he staged with the great Paddock.”^[40]

Their attitudes toward each other rarely provoked comment. In 1929, Paddock referred to Scholz and himself as “friendly rivals.”^[64] In 1982, Scholz recalled, “There was no love lost between Charlie and me. We weren’t the best of friends, but we respected each other as competitors.”^[42]

Jackson Scholz would have been unusual just in rising into the debate over “world’s fastest human,” an honor afforded very few. He was doubly rare in financing his track career, in the age of amateurism, by writing popular fiction, a challenging occupation to make a living at.

In 1977, Scholz was inducted into the National Track and Field Hall of Fame, in the same class as his 1928 Olympic teammate Frank Wykoff. Charley Paddock had been inducted the year before. In 1990, Scholz was inducted into the University of Missouri Hall of Fame.^[65]

According to Scholz’s brother-in-law, “Jack said it just came naturally to him. He didn’t have to try, he was just born a fast runner.”^[58]

Phyllis Scholz died in Delray Beach on January 2, 1986. Jackson followed on October 26. Their ashes were scattered at sea.^[58]

When asked how he’d like to be remembered, Scholz replied: “I’d like for people to remember me as a winner, a successful runner, a decent writer and a gentleman. And one other thing . . . I was fast. I hope they remember I was fast.”^[42]

Following his initial collection, Scholz wrote 30 juvenile sports novels,^[66] all published by William Morrow.