The 1929 Great Transcontinental Footrace: The Forgotten Heroes Who Ran Across America

In the world of endurance running, we often celebrate the fastest marathoners, the toughest ultramarathons, and the most extreme challenges. But one of the greatest races in history—a feat of sheer endurance, mental toughness, and resilience—was almost completely forgotten.

In 1929, seventy-seven men lined up in New York City to compete in the International Transcontinental Footrace, more famously known as the Bunion Derby. Over the next 78 days, they ran 3,553 miles, enduring scorching deserts, endless mud, high-altitude mountain crossings, and brutal exhaustion. Their reward? Nothing.

They were promised fame and fortune. What they got was exploitation, broken promises, and a race that history nearly erased.

This is the story of the toughest runners you’ve never heard of.

A Race Across America—For a Fortune That Never Came

The 1929 Bunion Derby was the second of two transcontinental races organized by C.C. Pyle, a businessman known for big ideas and even bigger failures. He promised the runners a prize purse of $60,000, which was an unimaginable sum during the Great Depression. The catch? They had to run from New York to Los Angeles, covering 60+ miles per day, sometimes reaching as high as 79.9 miles in a single stage.

For the men who lined up at the start, this was more than just a race. Most were working-class, near-poverty runners looking for an opportunity. Some were professional runners, but many were just desperate men chasing a dream.

Among them were:

• Johnny Salo, a Finnish immigrant and New Jersey police officer.

• Pete Gavuzzi, a stylish, efficient Englishman known for his speed.

• Eddie Gardner, one of the first great African-American distance runners, who faced extreme racism during the race.

• Arthur Newton, a legendary ultrarunner from South Africa, whose race ended when he was hit by a car.

They ran through every possible condition—freezing rain, deep mud, sandstorms, and high-altitude passes. Cars crashed into them. Some days, they ran on pure willpower, their feet destroyed by blisters and broken toenails. And yet, they kept going.

An Unbelievable Finish—And A Stolen Prize

After 78 days of racing, the final battle came down to Johnny Salo and Pete Gavuzzi. The two men arrived in Los Angeles, running lap after lap in front of a crowd of 10,000 people to complete the final miles. They were practically dead even.

In a dramatic final push, Salo surged ahead, winning by a mere 2 minutes and 47 seconds—an almost microscopic margin after more than 500 hours of running.

Salo’s average pace? 8:53 per mile—for 3,553 miles. That’s faster than most recreational runners in a weekend 5K. And that final day? He ran 7:35 per mile, proving that even after two and a half months of running, these men were still capable of serious speed.

And then—after all that suffering, all that running—no one got paid.

C.C. Pyle, the man behind the race, never came through with the money. His grand idea to fund the race with spectacle and entertainment—like a traveling variety show with an all-women pilot band—completely fell apart. The prize money simply never existed.

The runners who had given everything, who had battled through the worst conditions imaginable, were left unpaid, forgotten, and erased from history.

A Race That Deserved To Be Remembered

What makes this race so extraordinary isn’t just the distance or difficulty—it’s the sheer grit and perseverance of the runners who finished.

They had none of the luxuries modern ultrarunners enjoy:

• No advanced running shoes. They wore clunky leather shoes that offered zero cushioning or support.

• No high-tech nutrition. No energy gels, no hydration packs—just whatever food they could get their hands on.

• No race support. They often had to sleep in barns, garages, or even the dirt.

And yet, they ran. Day after day, mile after mile, knowing that they might never see a single dollar for their efforts.

Johnny Salo, the champion, returned to his job as a police officer, his victory all but ignored. Pete Gavuzzi, heartbroken and unpaid, disappeared from the running world.

The Bunion Derby should be remembered as one of the greatest endurance events of all time, but instead, it faded into obscurity—until recently, when books like The 1929 Bunion Derby by Charles B. Kastner began to uncover the truth.

Final Thoughts: The Forgotten Legends of Running

Today, we celebrate runners who break marathon records and conquer ultramarathons. But the men of the 1929 Bunion Derby deserve to be remembered, too. They didn’t have sponsors, they didn’t get medals, and they didn’t get fame.

What they did get was a place in history—whether the world recognized it or not.

They ran across America. They endured what most of us couldn’t even imagine.

And for that, they will always be legends.

The Runner Journal Online Exclusive