25 Years After Tragic Death, Prefontaine Still an Icon

It is the place where his hero died, but Gabe Jennings finds comfort and inspiration there.

Last summer, Jennings, an enormously talented runner at Stanford, went to the rock where Steve Prefontaine crashed his convertible on May 30, 1975. Although he had a race to run the next day, Jennings stayed there past sunset, when the winding, shadowy road felt even eerier.

“It’s a powerful place,” Jennings said. “I feel the spirit. You feel like he’s still alive.”

The 20-year-old redshirt freshman went out and finished a surprising seventh in the 1,500 meters at the U.S. track and field championships at Hayward Field, the scene of Prefontaine’s greatest triumphs. Last week, Jennings won the 1,500 Pac-10 title on the same track.

Just like last summer, the thoughts of Prefontaine and his lonely memorial--adorned with a plaque and picture--kept Jennings going.

“That radical, free spirit just really moved me,” he said. “That’s what makes running fun--the spontaneous joy. Running is a creative expression that is your own to hold and shape, and I think that’s beautiful.”

It’s a testament to Prefontaine’s charisma, and the power of Hollywood, that Prefontaine still inspires such words a quarter-century after his death at age 24. His influence is especially strong among high school and college runners, who know him only through the two biographical films made about him in the 1990s.

There’s also the anecdotes and tall tales retold by their coaches--now middle-aged men who knew “Pre” or vividly recall his exploits.

“He was larger than life,” said John Gillespie, the track coach at South Eugene High School who followed Prefontaine’s college career. “He didn’t just do things. He said he was going to do them, then he went out and did them. That’s Muhammad Ali-ish. A few people thought Pre was cocky and brash, and those people changed their minds later, because you’re not cocky when you back it up.”

At the time of his death, Prefontaine held American records at every distance between 2,000 and 10,000 meters. His records in the rarely run 2-mile and 6-mile events still stand. But it’s the image of the long-haired, mustachioed rebel--forever young and brimming with energy--that makes him so popular with young people.

“All of us who were of that era, people look at us today and we look old,” said Geoff Hollister, a friend of Prefontaine’s who became one of the early employees of Nike and now follows running for the sports-equipment giant. “The unique thing about Steve, and the sad irony, is that he’ll always look 24 and cool and wide-eyed, and that’s something kids will always identify with.

“There’s that kind of innocence with young kids; they haven’t come in touch with their own mortality. They were invincible. That was part of Pre’s attitude. All that makes him very cool.”

Not coincidentally, the popularity of track and field in the United States began to slip after Prefontaine died. It hit bottom with the U.S. boycott of the 1980 Olympics in Moscow, and except during Olympic years, the sport has never really caught on again with American fans. Even at Hayward, practically a runner’s cathedral, a crowd of only 3,905 turned out for the Pac-10 championships. Pre, who called the Eugene fans “his people,” would draw 13,000 for an ordinary dual meet.

Today, Prefontaine would be pleased at the resurgence in top-level high school and college distance running. Alan Webb, a 17-year-old junior at South Lakes High School in Reston, Va., has a good chance to become the first prep runner since Marty Liquori in 1967 to run a sub-four-minute mile when he competes in the Foot Locker outdoor championships in Raleigh, N.C., next month.

On May 5, Dathan Ritzenhein, a junior at Rockford (Mich.) High, matched Prefontaine’s national high school record in the two-mile with a time of 8:41.5 in an equivalent 3,200 meters.

“This year, we’ve just seen an explosion of performances,” Hollister said.

Prefontaine developed his famous toughness on the hilly streets of Coos Bay, a small shipping and logging town on the Oregon coast. In high school, the 5-foot-9 runner was known for his temper, even throwing a punch at an opponent during one particularly physical cross-country race.

In 1969, Prefontaine signed on with Oregon and Ducks coach Bill Bowerman (played by Donald Sutherland in the 1998 movie “Without Limits”). That’s when the victories started to pile up, and races became events at Hayward.

Looking at the roaring crowd after his three-mile victory at the 1971 AAU championships, Pre said, “Those people are fantastic. They’re my people, man. How can you lose with 12,000 people behind you?”

Prefontaine won 35 of his 38 races at Hayward, and the three losses were in the mile, which wasn’t his specialty. His tendency to run out front and keep up the pace frustrated opponents, who rarely could beat Pre regardless of the venue.

“Prefontaine was the type of runner who brought out the best in everybody, whether you loved him or not,” said Greg Fredericks, the former Penn State who finished second to Pre in the 5,000 meters of both the 1971 and ’72 NCAA championships, the latter a memorably close race held before a packed house at Hayward.

At 21, Prefontaine was the United States’ best hope for a gold medal in the 1,500 at the Olympics in Munich. He bolted to the lead as usual, but withered down the home stretch against a much more experienced international field to finish a disappointing fourth.

Prefontaine was preparing for a run at the 1976 Montreal Games when his life and spectacular career were cut short. Hours after he won his last race--he pulled away from rival Frank Shorter to win a 5,000 at Hayward--he went to a party at Hollister’s house. Afterward, he dropped off Shorter at the house where he was staying when he headed down Skyline Boulevard, a narrow road in the hills above Eugene.

Prefontaine apparently failed to negotiate a curve and hit the rock, flipping his MGB convertible upside down and pinning him underneath. He was not wearing a seat belt, and tests showed he had a blood-alcohol content of .16, well over the legal limit of .10.

Neighbors along Skyline said they heard a second car racing away, but police later absolved the driver, who said he was rushing home to tell his father, a doctor, about the accident.

The controversy over Prefontaine’s death persists, as do arguments about what he might have accomplished. He was just approaching his prime, and Pre certainly would have challenged Finland’s Lasse Viren--the gold medalist in Munich--in the 5,000 in Montreal. Viren went on to win two golds in 1976.

Prefontaine also would have continued his calls for reform in the sport. He was an active critic of track’s governing bodies, which insisted that he and other athletes retain their “amateur” status while struggling to earn a living. Today runners make millions in endorsement deals.

“He would have become a very big focal point in the revolution of track and field,” said Tom Jordan, who wrote the 1977 bio “Pre” and runs the world-class Prefontaine Classic meet, now in its 26th year.

“Who knows? Maybe Carter wouldn’t have done the boycott in ‘80,” Hollister said. “Pre wasn’t around to scream and yell and shout.”