#TalesFromTheGrid is a surreal thought experiment regarding AI, algorithms, technology, giant rodents pretending to be doctors. Born in that weird, vulnerable moment between being awake and asleep, this set of text explores the dream logic of humans. And sometimes this series features very real stories about actual recorded human history.
#MoreTrueFacts – This episode is fake scene from a a true tale of the time Australia lost the “Emu War”
Municipalities will never beat nature.
Welcome back to #TalesFromTheGrid
If you’re new here, this feed is a repository for the kind of information that makes you question reality. Sometimes we discuss things that are patently untrue, like the staff bios at “Dr. Chipmunk’s” unlicensed medical practice (For example: A Ferret on stimulants in a short-sleeve button-down? Fake).
But usually, we are digging into the archives of actual human history that sound too stupid to be real. We’ve covered the Canadian war against raccoons. We’ve discussed the time architects slapped a gangplank on top of the Empire State Building because they genuinely thought blimps were the future of commuting. We must never forget the “chicken gun,” or the time we solved a landscaping problem in Utah by throwing live beavers out of airplanes attached to parachutes.
These are important events. But today, we are looking at an heavyweight champion of historical absurdity.
You need to understand something before you read the rest of this post. It is the tagline of our entire operation here on the Grid:
This was a real thing that happened.
We are talking about the Men’s Marathon at the 1904 St. Louis Olympics.
Modern marathons are boring. They are efficient displays of human endurance. The 1904 marathon was a dusty, ninety-degree citywide march organized by people who viewed “science” as a mere suggestion.
The chief organizer, James Sullivan, wanted to test a theory called “purposeful dehydration.” He decided water made you weak. In a 24.85-mile race held in blistering heat on roads choked with dust from delivery wagons, he provided two water stations. Total. Two.
It wasn’t a race; it was an act of negligence set to ragtime music. Here is a lineup of the athletes and how their day went:
The Guy Who Drove a Car The first guy across the finish line was an American bricklayer named Fred Lorz. The crowd went wild. Alice Roosevelt, the daughter of the sitting US President, was about to put the gold medal around his neck when someone gently pointed out that Fred had dropped out at mile nine due to cramping. He then hitched a ride in an automobile for the next eleven miles, waving giddily at the other runners, before the car broke down and he jogged the last bit. Fred claimed it was just a “joke.”
The Napper Félix Carvajal was a Cuban postman who lost all his money gambling in New Orleans on his way to the games. He arrived at the starting line wearing dress shoes, a long-sleeve shirt, and trousers, which a fellow competitor had to attack with scissors to turn into shorts. Mid-race, starving because he hadn’t eaten in 40 hours, Félix stopped in an orchard and ate some rotten apples. They gave him terrible stomach cramps. So, in the middle of the Olympic marathon, he lay down on the side of the road and took a nap. He woke up refreshed and finished 4th.
The Victim of Feral Dogs Len Taunyane was one of the first Black Africans to compete in the modern Olympics. He was a Tswana tribesman who ran barefoot. He was making excellent time and likely would have medaled, except he was chased one full mile off the course by a pack of wild dogs.
He still finished 9th.
The Winner (On Rat Poison) And then we have the winner, Thomas Hicks.
By mile 10, Hicks was done. He begged his handlers to let him quit. His handlers refused.
Instead of water, they decided to performance-enhance him using the best sports medicine 1904 had to offer: strychnine and brandy.
Yes. They fed him small doses of rat poison mixed with alcohol to act as a stimulant.
By the last mile, Hicks was hallucinating. He thought the finish line was still 20 miles away. He didn’t run across the line; he was physically carried across it by two handlers while his feet weakly shuffled in the dirt, his brain melting from heat stroke and poison. He lost eight pounds during the race. They gave him a gold medal and he probably should have died.
History books try to sell you a sanitized version of the past. They want you to revere guys like “John Adams.”
Forget that.
Here on the Grid, we know the truth. History is messy, deeply stupid, and usually features animals interfering with official business. The real heroes aren’t the politicians; the real heroes are the parachuting beavers, the pigeons of war, and Conrad—that brave, dead raccoon whose sidewalk memorial in Toronto captivated a nation.
Drink some water today. James Sullivan wouldn’t want you to.
