Gerry Lindgren Makes a Comeback : Runner Resurfaces to Reminisce at Track Dedication

Gerry Lindgren, only recently a reclusive former Olympic distance runner, was charming. He was witty. He said all the right things. He thanked all the right people. His self-effacing humor had the audience laughing. His heart-felt words grabbed their attention, then moved them to applause.

He reminisced about his last race in old Balboa Stadium. He spoke with respect and honor about the man who beat him in that race, 1964 Olympic 10,000-meter champion Billy Mills. He joked easily about his own feelings of inadequacies. He praised the dedication of Mills and those who had helped make the new track on the site of the old stadium a reality. He talked without notes. He was a public relations dream.

The 150 or so people who had come Thursday to the track dedication ceremonies at what is now known as Glen Broderick Stadium would not be hearing anything today about a part of Lindgren’s life that is not joking matter.

He sounded only like the Lindgren who had once made a living as a motivational speaker, and nothing like the man who seven years ago had left his home in Tacoma, Wash., where he had a wife and three children. Nothing like the man who had worked a series of odd jobs from Texas to Hawaii, who had assumed a new name to avoid discovery, who had refused numerous attempts to contacted by friends, who left his family and friends wondering what had become of him and what had gone so wrong.

Asked about this apparent disparity of behavior, Lindgren laughed and deflected the question.

“Oh yeah?” he said, tilting his head in a way that suggested how curious it was that someone might think that his easy public-speaking manner might be a surprise.

“I like to speak. I’ve always been a ham.”

None of this was a surprise to Mills, his former rival and roommate at the 1964 Olympics in Tokyo.

“That’s nothing unusual to see him like this,” Mills said. “I’ve seen him like this before.”

But not for 15 years.

Mills had last talked to Lindgren in 1972 in an airport in Albuquerque, N.M. The meeting was accidental and friendly. Lindgren was competing on the short-lived professional track and field circuit. Mills was just passing through.

Thursday, at the site of maybe their most memorable race, Mills finally caught up with his old rival. They met at the base of the stadium steps, not far from the finish line where in 1965 Mills outleaned Lindgren in the six-mile run at the Amateur Athletic Union championships in a world-record time of 27 minutes 11.6 seconds. Thursday, their dress was casual. Their embrace was brief. But the smiles, and later the words, showed the feelings were still strong. “I worried about Gerry, just like many people that had a respect for him,” said Mills, 49. “We wondered, even though we probably were the last people he had on his mind at that point, if we were in touch with him if there was some way we would be able to help.”

On the surface, Lindgren and Mills have little in common. They are nearly half a generation apart in age. But inside they share a special kinship--a feeling that was not lost during the years of separation.

Mills grew up an orphan, stung by prejudice that comes from being half-Indian, half-white. Lindgren grew up in a home in which he said his parents often argued and his relationship with his father was strained. Both found success and solace through running.

“We’ve both gone through a lot of personal despair, feelings of inadequacy brought on by other people’s expectations of us,” Lindgren said. “When you look back at the race (in 1965), you might see two gifted athletes going for the world record, but what you really saw were two wimpy guys out there that were not as good as anyone in our peer group. Both he and I were the last ones picked on the baseball team, the first guy to get beat up in a fight. We had to struggle to get any feeling of self worth at all.”

Mills apparently adjusted more easily. He is active in Indian rights and youth development. A movie on his life, “Running Brave,” in which Mills was portrayed by Robby Benson, was released in 1984. During its preparation, Mills tried in vain to reach Lindgren.

“We wanted to use his name and likeness in the movie, and we wanted his authorization,” Mills said. “We knew he was in Hawaii at the time. We had a (phone) number. But when we’d call the number, there was always the comment that, ‘Nobody lives here by the name of Gerry.’

“We had to edit Gerry out a lot because we couldn’t find him. All we did was show him very briefly. I wanted to pay respect to him, so in the movie one of the coaches goes up to an actor playing Gerry right before the the Olympic race. He asks Gerry how is his ankle (Lindgren sprained his ankle just days before the race and finished ninth). The actor responds, ‘It hurts.’ They coach says, ‘Just hang in there the best you can.’ I wanted to acknowledge to the audience that Gerry was injured.’ ”

Lindgren acknowledged seeing the movie and recognizing himself, but said he never knew Mills was trying to contact him.

“Really? He was? I guess I better sue him,” Lindgren said and laughed. “I knew I forgot to do something today.”

With his high, squeaky voice, small stature, infectious giggle and easy sense of humor, Lindgren presents a kind of puckish charm.

“That’s what I love about him,” Mills said. “I tend to place things too heavily on me. He would deal with heavy issues with a wit and flair that would remove the burden from me.”

Only in the past few months, however, has Lindgren chosen to re-emerge after spending several years, mostly in Hawaii, living under the name Gale Young. Lindgren said he has no permanent job and spends most of his time in Washington, Oregon and Hawaii, where he sells jewelry part-time.

“Gerry had to struggle with what I call post-athletic adjustment,” Mills said. “Other athletes have had to struggle from post-athletic adjustment. I had to struggle with it. People just do it from a different platform. That does not mean he was reclusive.

“I don’t know how or when, if there was an insecurity in Gerry’s life. I tend to believe it was that he was still trying to come to grips with himself. Gerry is a very talented person, a very strong person, a very intelligent person. We arrived through different paths, but with many of the same struggles.”

Now, Lindgren said, he has been contacted about a made-for-television movie about his life. “I don’t know if I should. It’s kind of dumb,” he said. “I’m shy.”

Maybe so, but he hides it well.