Doyel finds amazing tales at obscure museum

TERRE HAUTE — “Here’s a great story” is how it always starts, and now Marshall Goss is tapping on a glass case, gesturing at the oddity inside and telling me its story.

Or he’s grabbing a piece of bamboo that rises so high it pokes through the ceiling, disappearing beyond the fiberglass panel. Or he’s standing in the middle of the hall, gesturing at nothing because this story he’s about to tell — this great story — doesn’t require a visual aid. Just the facts inside his brain.

And there are so many facts inside Marshall Goss’ brain.

We’re standing inside the Indiana track and field hall of fame, a museum that has a whiff of Ripley’s. Believe it or not, the museum has an actual “killer pole.” The pole has a spear at one end, the end that jabs into the ground, and was used centuries ago by soldiers to vault over the enemy wall … and then to stab opposing soldiers through the heart. It also was used by the state’s earliest pole vaulters.

There are the clip-ons of sharp steel that sprinters once slid over their regular shoes, turning loafers into track spikes. There’s a chunk of earth with two small holes dug into it, the first version of the sprinters' starting blocks.

The stories come one after another. They are track stories, crazy stories, and they are housed in two places: Here in the hall of fame, which is inside the Terre Haute Convention and Visitors Bureau off I-70. And there in the mind of museum director Marshall Goss.

And now he’s telling me another story, about the birthplace of this museum. And while this story is about the track hall of fame, it’s like so many stories here in this city, the home of Indiana State.

This story is about Larry Bird.

* * *

For nearly four decades the Indiana Track and Field and Cross Country Hall of Fame was a concept, an idea. It was real, sort of. In 1975 the Indiana Association of Track and Cross Country Coaches (IATCCC) decided the state needed a hall of fame. They picked 22 inductees and had a dinner for the inaugural class at Lotus Gardens in Carmel.

“For 37 years we were inducting people into a hall of fame that floated in the air,” Goss says.

Enter Larry Bird. Or, exit Larry Bird. The Terre Haute Convention and Visitors Bureau had carved out the right side of its building in 2012 for a sports exhibit. It wanted a Larry Bird Museum, but the museum fell through. Enter Goss, the legendary former track coach at Bloomington South and IU. He and the IATCCC were offered the spot, and in 2012 the track hall of fame stopped floating in the air.

It landed at 5353 E. Margaret Drive, where parking is free and admission is free and the museum still doesn’t get many visitors. Marketing is an issue. So is money. Same thing, right?

Goss updates museum aficionados by email because “we can’t afford the postage.” There is no sign near Exit 11 on I-70 to point visitors to the hall of fame. No hint of the believe-it-or-not track exhibit near the Holiday Inn Express just off Ind. 46, not until you pull into the convention and visitors bureau parking lot, and only if you notice the museum banner hanging on the right side of the building.

But the oddities inside! Like the display for Lafayette’s Ray Ewry — “Here’s a great story,” Goss says — who was 7 when he contracted polio. A doctor told him he’d never walk again, but Ewry built up his leg strength through rudimentary body-weight exercise, a precursor to plyometrics. He started walking, then running, then jumping. He competed in the 1900, ’04 and ’08 Olympics and won eight gold medals in the high jump, long jump and triple jump.

Or the story of Bloomfield’s Sammy Johnson, who was born so small — and so still, so quiet — that doctors thought he was dead. They wrapped him in cotton and placed him inside a shoebox to bury him before noticing their mistake. Family members hand-made baby clothes for Sammy that later were used for dolls. In 1924 Johnson represented the U.S. in the 10,000-meter run at the Paris Olympics.

Or Fred Wilt (Pendleton High) and Donald Lash (Auburn High). Born 12 years apart, both went to IU, ran the 5,000 and 10,000 meters, reached the Olympics and won the Sullivan Award given to America’s premier amateur athlete — Lash in 1938, Wilt in 1950. Both then became FBI agents.

Or Harry Friday — “Another great story,” Goss says — who changed his name to Harry Frieda after he and his mom left the family farm in Chalmers. They said goodbye to Harry’s father, Otto, a tenant farmer who played the “no son of mine needs college” card when Amos Alonzo Stagg tried to recruit Harry to the University of Chicago. Harry’s mother divorced Otto, took Harry to Chicago, changed their last name to Frieda and watched as Harry became an Olympic decathlete.

Or Willie Williams of Gary Roosevelt, who won NCAA 100 titles at Illinois in 1954 and ’55 and broke Jesse Owens’ world record in 1956 and helped coach the Saudi Arabian Olympic team in 1988. But his greatest contribution to Indiana track lore came in the 1950 state meet, when he and his coach showed up late. Williams went from the parking lot to the starting blocks, hurriedly peeling off his sweats — and, unfortunately, his track shorts — and ran the race in his underwear.

And won.

“Isn’t that a great story?” Goss says, giggling. “And it’s true!”

These are just some of the stories at the Indiana track hall of fame, available on a self-guided tour featuring interactive touch screens and the taped voice of former Indianapolis 500 announcer Mike King.

Recently the hall of fame added a new feature: Videos from state meets.

“Click a year,” Marshall Goss is telling me. “Click an event.”

Wait a minute. I can watch Clyde Peach run the 100 in 1966?

Goss smile and reaches for the touch screen.

* * *

Clyde Peach is a larger-than-life character in the annals of Indiana track. And the annals of Indiana track are plenty large. Forty-five Hoosiers have represented the state in the Olympics, with that number set to grow soon in Rio.

But Clyde Peach has the great name, the tiny frame, the right event — he ran the 100 — and the Baylor pedigree. Before he became known as “the fastest white guy in the world” in the late 1960s, Peach ran for Brebeuf. It was at the 1966 state meet where he ran a race that legendary local football coach Dick Dullaghan tried to describe for me.

“He was just shot out of a cannon,” Dullaghan was telling me. “He wasn’t a little bit fast. He was really fast … (and) nobody expected it. He was a little (bleep). He ran like no other.”

Doyel: World-class speed, world-class life lived by Clyde Peach

Until this week, Dullaghan’s words were all I had. But now Marshall Goss is reaching for the screen, hitting “1966” and then “100,” and there he is:

Clyde Peach, that little (bleep), running like he’s shot out of a cannon. His legs are churning furiously for 60 yards, keeping pace with a field that includes the legendary Larry Highbaugh of Washington High, IU and the Canadian Football League. At the 60-yard mark, Peach hits another gear. He’s gone.

But the track hall of fame is here. Right off I-70. Just a few miles east of Terre Haute. And it’s a great story.

Find Star columnist Gregg Doyel on Twitter at@GreggDoyelStar or atfacebook.com/gregg.doyel.

See it for yourself

The Indiana Track & Field & Cross Country Hall of Fame Museum is at the Terre Haute Convention and Visitors Center, 5353 E. Margaret Drive, Terre Haute, IN 47803. It is open 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. Monday through Friday. Admission is free.