Skip to content
Link copied to clipboard

U.S.-Soviet track meet in Philadelphia came at height of Cold War

Though The Russians Are Coming! The Russians Are Coming! was mediocre, that 1966 film's title perfectly reflected America's Cold War hysteria.

Independence Mall, circa 1959. The First Block (foreground) is completed. One third of the Second Block is completed, from Market to Filbert Streets, and named the "Judge Lewis Quadrangle." The other two-thirds, Filbert to Arch Streets, will become the underground parking garage, with a plaza above. The buildings on the Third Block have not yet been demolished.
Independence Mall, circa 1959. The First Block (foreground) is completed. One third of the Second Block is completed, from Market to Filbert Streets, and named the "Judge Lewis Quadrangle." The other two-thirds, Filbert to Arch Streets, will become the underground parking garage, with a plaza above. The buildings on the Third Block have not yet been demolished.Read moreLibrary of Congress

Though

The Russians Are Coming! The Russians Are Coming!

was mediocre, that 1966 film's title perfectly reflected America's Cold War hysteria.

We were convinced the Russians were coming. That's why the period gave rise to duck-and-cover, bomb shelters, and the widespread use of anxiety medication.

Personally, all that anti-Soviet mania was so terrifying that I had persistent nightmares about communist invaders pouring through the gap between two neighboring homes on Carlton Drive and laying siege to our split-level.

Toward the end of the paranoid 1950s, however, sports provided a welcome respite from swelling tensions. In 1958, after six years of fitful, high-level negotiations, the superpowers agreed to halt the shoe-pounding and munitions-making long enough to engage in athletic competition.

That was big news. Interaction between the superpowers was increasingly rare, especially after 1952's McCarron Act decreed that all visiting Soviets must be fingerprinted.

But by 1957, McCarthyism had ebbed, and the United States and the Soviet Union came to realize that cultural exchanges could ratchet down anxieties. So that year, Congress rescinded the McCarron Act. As Russian ballet troupes began traveling here, institutions such as the Philadelphia Orchestra headed for Russia.

Culture was one thing, sports quite another. Any event would be seen as a proxy war, so arranging one proved trying. Where would it take place? When? Who could participate? And in what sport?

Baseball and football were nonexistent in Russia. Basketball, hockey, or soccer wouldn't have been fair fights. So, eventually, the two sides settled on track and field.

The first U.S.-Soviet dual meet, it was decided, would be held that summer of 1958 in Moscow. The next, a year later, would take place in Philadelphia.

It's not likely many fans who crowded Franklin Field this weekend for the 122nd Penn Relays knew that 56 years ago this summer that West Philadelphia stadium had been the focus of the world - and not just the sports world.

In two days of nationally televised competition (July 18-19), the U.S. men bested their Soviet counterparts, while the visitors' dominant women allowed them to score a second straight overall win. Each side, of course, claimed victory.

Maybe more interesting than the meet itself, though, was what else was happening in Philadelphia that weekend. As athletes, coaches, and journalists descended on the city, so did spies.

U.S. agents made sure our communist visitors didn't absorb too much about America. They also hoped to identify - or even encourage - a defector or two.

Their Soviet counterparts, meanwhile, were here to thwart those efforts, as well as to gather whatever intelligence could be had in this populous slice of America.

The Soviet contingent stayed at the Warwick Hotel on Rittenhouse Square. According to a CIA document declassified in 2007, while the Soviet men tended to roam the city freely, even individually, their female teammates "were more disciplined."

"The captain of the women's group, Tasia Chenchyk, dealt very strictly with the women," read the report submitted by a Ukranian agent for the CIA, identified only as "AECASSOWARY-2."

Most were seeing America for the first time, and, according to the report, their chief complaint seemed to be the swarming U.S. journalists. Soviet handlers believed many reporters were part of a "security service protecting American visitors from becoming infected with Communism from their guests."

What bothered the Soviets most, the agent noted, was that U.S. writers referred to them all as Russians. One, javelin thrower Viktor Tsybulenko, complained that though he'd identified himself as Ukranian, the Daily News' Jack McKinney called him "Russian" in a column.

At one point in Center City, some visiting athletes encountered a local construction worker from the Ukraine who began bad-mouthing communism. "The tour leaders sent the Soviets back to the bus."

Among the U.S. agents' interests was Igor Tor-Ovanesyan. According to David Maraniss' book Rome: 1960, it was learned here that the great long-jumper had an affection for Western culture. Later, hoping for a well-publicized defection at the 1960 Rome Olympics, the United States arranged a meeting between him and American sprinter Dave Sime. But Sime got spooked and Tor-Ovanesyan stayed put.

Oddly, as huge as it was internationally, the meet flopped in Philly. Organized by Penn Relays director Ken Doherty and benefiting Inquirer charities, the two-day event attracted only 54,380 fans. It was hot, muggy, and occasionally rainy. And female athletes from both sides apparently were treated like second-class citizens. Some American newspapers didn't even carry the women's results.

Dave Bank, a respected writer for Track & Field News, summed up the meet as "two days of utter confusion, disorganization, and incompetence."

On the track, shot-putter Parry O'Brien set a world record with a toss of 63 feet, 21/2 inches. Sprinter Ray Norton won the 100 and 200 meters and anchored the victorious 4x100 relay team. Philadelphia athletes performed well. La Salle College graduate Ira Davis ran a leg in that 4x100 relay. Another La Salle graduate, Al Cantello, took the javelin, while Norristown High's Josh Culbreath won the 400 hurdles.

The Soviet men captured all the distance races, while its women dominated, a shellacking many now believe prompted a renewed focus here on U.S. women's sports. The expected star for the American women, sprinter Wilma Rudolph, who would win three gold medals in Rome, pulled a muscle competing.

The controversy that always seemed to taint these U.S.-Soviet competitions arrived in the 10,000 meters. At the race's end, American Bob Soth appeared to finish second. But the Soviets protested, claiming he'd been lapped by one of their runners. Though no replay was available, the judges agreed.

These U.S.-Soviet duels continued for decades, though never again in Philadelphia. The highlight came in 1962, when 153,000 fans turned out at Stanford to view what's still considered one of the greatest meets ever.

In time, the Cold War thawed, the Berlin Wall fell, and international sporting events became a lot less exotic. Though they continued until 1985, the U.S.-Soviet meets' popularity waned.

While the U.S. loss in that 1959 Philadelphia meet disappointed this red-blooded American boy, time would supply vindication: Those commies never made it to Carlton Drive.

ffitzpatrick@phillynews.com

@philafitz