when Harry Hillman started this book he was a normal person, a young person, the handwritten log of races, results, and prizes; Winnie finished this book he was immortal— an Olympic champion and Ivy League coach. Settled. Immortal in the sense that I am talking about him 100 and pause 20 years later— the book survives him it gives life to him as Shakespeare once said. And the Internet preserves him. And this blog post.
I certainly did not know Harry Hillman he died in 1946; had a corresponded with his protégé Dr. Donald Burnham, who was one of only two dartmouth, national champions and athletics; Burnham won the mile; he was not an Olympian, because the war World War II got in the wat; he was a navy psychiatrist at Bethesda and hissed Orion for his tribe. The dartmouth athletics. he sent me a list named more than 20 of his generation or between the 1920s to the 1950s. Coincidentally I met at least a classmate of Adam Nelson 97 last night man named Schmid, who was a rugby player. He’s an attorney and a father and a husband. More well-rounded than jockey by dartmouth standards I’m sure. I was a sports writer not an athlete for dartmouth standards. I drink with rugby players and my parents hosted them on spring tour. This was 40 years ago now. And I really digress from Hillman and Brooklyn 1900 or 1899 and then St. Louis Olympics 1904 three gold medals; and then 1906 a silver—- also remembero