Patriotism Runs in Marathon

Sixty years to the day The Star-Spangled Banner became the national anthem, 20,000 runners and thousands of onlookers took advantage of the Los Angeles Marathon to sing, celebrate the end of war and cheer simple human excellence.

Standing under a giant yellow ribbon near the starting line at the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum, runners in patriotic colors, who had seen bombs bursting in air only on television, sang the anthem before pouring out into city streets to run a punishing 26.2 miles.

Watching them were what could most accurately be described as untallied thousands of spectators.

Crowd estimates by police and the marathon’s promoter were at odds by more than 1 million--a difference that could affect the marathon’s international stature and, conceivably, the value of its commercial sponsorships.

Sgt. Larry Henness, officer in charge of special events for the Los Angeles Police Department, estimated the crowd at about 250,000. That figure, he said, was drawn from observations of officers in the field.

But promoter Bill Burke said in a post-race press conference that there were 30% to 40% more spectators than what he described as last year’s crowd of more than a million.

When told of Henness’ official police estimate, Burke said in an interview: “He’s out of his mind.”

Burke attributed the disparity in the totals to “shifting crowds.” Asked how he had arrived at his own estimate, he said his figure was “kind of an eyeball” arrived at largely from his unique perspective of the event.

“I’m the only one for six years who has seen every race from beginning to end, and I can tell you that the crowds (Sunday) are bigger than I ever dreamed they would become,” he said.

Whatever the size of the crowd, the marathon has clearly matured since it began in 1986, drawing enthusiastic support from Los Angeles residents who now make the watching it a tradition.

This year more than ever, the marathon seemed to mean all things to all people. For those who have few causes, it was a chance to cheer. For those who do not attend church, it was something uplifting to do on a Sunday morning. For commuters, it was a chance to come out and see neighbors. For fund raisers, it was a forum. For elite runners, it was a chance at prize money and a new Mercedes-Benz. For first-timers, it was a way to test perseverance. For all, perhaps, it was an island of admirable individual effort in a murky, roiling world.

Mark Plaatjes, a South African runner seeking political asylum in the United States, won the men’s division with a time of 2:10:29, missing the course record (and a $10,000 bonus) by 10 seconds. Cathy O’Brien of Durham, N. H., took the women’s top prize with a time of 2:29:38, breaking by nearly three minutes the standard set last year by Julie Isphording of Cincinnati. The wheelchair race was won by Jim Knaub of Long Beach, who also set a course record, 1:40:53.

The runners were treated to cheers and American flags were waved--even by immigrant spectators.

“It’s a way of supporting the runners and the troops,” said Mari Garcia, a Mexican citizen who waved the Stars and Stripes wildly in Echo Park. “It’s a double celebration.”

Colors of the day were red, white and blue--and yellow. Some runners tucked flags in their shorts as they ran.

The pack of runners breezed by sporting every imaginable outfit. Five Orange County men dressed as Elvis in white jumpsuits, wraparound sunglasses and pompadours. Other entrants raced in wheelchairs, on skates, and in the case of an amputee, one leg, one skate and a pair of crutches. “Doing it my way,” his T-shirt said.

Marathoner Vladimir Krivoy was proudest of his white-and-canary-yellow running shoes, one of three pair that he bought as soon as he arrived in the United States last month from the town of Kherson, near Odessa in the Soviet Ukraine.

“It was my dream to run in America,” said Krivoy, 41, a gangling factory sports instructor who met a group of American runners during last year’s Moscow Marathon and managed to wangle a visa to the United States. “Look at all this,” he went on, gesturing at the mountains of bananas, the fruit juice and the variety of bands that lined the course. “At the Moscow Marathon, there is nothing. You can’t compare the two.”

Contributing to this story were Times staff writers Elliott Almond, Julie Cart, Mathis Chazanov and Nancy Hill-Holtzman.