David Maraniss New Biography of Jim Thorpe

PATH LIT BY LIGHTNING: THE LIFE OF JIM THORPE (2023)

By David Maraniss

Simon & Schuster, 568 pages (plus end material)

★★★★

 

 When Jim Thorpe won the pentathlon and the decathlon at the 1912 Stockholm Olympics, King Gustav V dubbed him “the greatest athlete in the world.” Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist David Maraniss focuses on Thorpe in Path Lit by Lightning. He doesn't break new ground, but Maraniss excels at locating Thorpe in history and adds tasty tidbits. (Who knew that poet Marianne Moore once taught at the Carlisle Indian Industrial School?)

 

If you don't know much about sports or have only seen the problematic film Jim Thorpe–All- American, Thorpe was a magnificent athlete, but a flawed human being. He was born in Oklahoma, was of Sac and Fox blood, and his Native name meant “Bright Path,” hence the book’s title. His year of birth is a matter of dispute but in 1907, he left Oklahoma and was sent to the Carlisle Indian School in Pennsylvania, where he gained attention by cleared a 5’9” high jump in his street clothing as he chanced upon a practice conducted by Glenn “Pop” Warner. Thorpe was a lousy-to-indifferent student, but excelled at track, baseball, basketball, and the disreputable sport of his day: football.

 

Many Native youngsters were given opportunities, but 186 died in Carlisle. It bore more resemblance to a military academy than a private school. Deprivation and racism were rampant; its philosophy was summed by Superintendent Richard Henry Pratt: “Kill the Indian, save the man.” Warner was a legendary coach, but he too was a confirmed believer in Anglo-Saxon superiority and threw Thorpe under the metaphorical bus when his gold medals were revoked because he was (barely) paid for playing minor league baseball as a summer job. Thorpe spent the rest of his life seeking restoration of his gold medals, often locking horns with I. O. C. head Avery Brundage, whose character was deeply assailable. Not coincidentally, Brundage was pulverized in a football match against Thorpe in which Carlisle defeated Illinois. Carlisle routinely defeated colleges such as Harvard, Michigan, and Notre Dame. Maraniss spotlights other stellar athletes at Carlisle, including Lewis Tewanimo and Pete Calac.

 

Thorpe ran afoul of Olympic “rules,” but it’s accurate to note that many sports had loose standards. He played football for Carlisle in 1907-08 and again in 1911-12, but how old was he? Today’s fans would not have recognized football. Touchdowns were worth five points, most extra points and field goals were drop kicks, equipment was primitive, forward passes were rare, now-banned formations were routine, participants played both offense and defense, and so many players died that President Theodore Roosevelt nearly banned the sport. Thorpe was said to punt the less-aerodynamic football over 80 yards, which seems unlikely, though Maraniss repeats the legend.

 

The 6’1” 202-pound Thorpe tried pro baseball between 1913-1919, mostly with the New York Giants. Manager John McGraw wasn't impressed, Thorpe’s career numbers were modest, and though Thorpe was fast and powerful, he had  trouble hitting a curveball. He did better at pro football. In 1915, he signed with the Canton Bulldogs in a league that became the NFL in 1920. Between 1921-23, he suited up for the Oorang Indians. Not many know that there was an NFL franchise in LaRue, Ohio made-up of Native Americans. In all, Thorpe appeared in 58 NFL games. After 1928, he coached, played whatever sport he could, and made his last on-field football appearance when he was at least 46 years old.

 

Alas, it was hard to make a living at pro sports during his day. Thorpe was often broke and performed manual labor during the 1930s depression. Numerous patrons secured work for him, but Thorpe was not a reliable employee, moved often, and perceived numerous jobs as beneath him. He even appeared in 70 Hollywood films, but almost always as a day-wage extra.

 

Thorpe struggled with alcohol, fathered eight children to whom he was mostly a stranger, and exhausted the patience of two younger wives who divorced him. (His daughter Grace became a Native American activist.) His third wife, Patsy Askew, organized Thorpe, though some saw her as a gold-digger. When Thorpe died in 1953, instead of interring him in Oklahoma, Carlisle, or Southern California, she struck a deal with Mauch Creek, Pennsylvania, a place where Thorpe's cleats never trod. The town changed its name to Jim Thorpe and that’s where he lies.

 

Moraniss highlights the racism and sports rawness of Thorpe’s days. His Thorpe is a hero, but a nuanced victim who was both wronged and suffered from self-inflicted wounds.

 

Rob Weir