Crim Festival of Races Continues to Bring Runners and Fame to Flint, Michigan

By Ron Marinucci

Long before Billy Durant, C.S. Mott, and General Motors, Flint was known as “Vehicle City.” Carriages and wagons were the main industry. Then, along came the automobile and “Vehicle City” took on added meaning.

The relationship between Flint and cars has been historic, both good and bad. Thanks to the jobs automobile production provided, Flint grew rapidly, from a population of 3,000 in 1900 to more than 90,000 just two decades later. Of course, Flint was also home to a landmark event in US labor history, the UAW Sit-Down Strike against GM in the mid-1930s.

More recently, the city has seen its share of bad times, especially a skyrocketing unemployment rate due to the woes of the auto industry. Tens of thousands of workers have lost their jobs. Crime remains a problem. Nationally, it has suffered from a negative image, accurate or not.

But at least once a year, the fourth Saturday in August, the Flint community displays its irrepressible spirit in welcoming 16,000 runners and walkers to the Crim Festival of Races. Now in its 34th year, the Crim has become one of the leading running events in the US. Current race director Deb Kiertzner enthused, “The Crim is a time for Flint to shine.”

Over the years, the marquee ten-mile footrace has attracted Olympians and other top world and national runners. It’s also seen dozens of world, US, and age-group records. By all standards, the Crim is a world-class event.

The first Crim in 1977 began as the brainchild of then Michigan State House Speaker Bobby Crim and his administrative assistant Lois Craig. The previous year, Craig recalled, Crim received an invitation to attend a Special Olympics Area 13 track and field meet held in his district at Kearsley High School. Crim ended up handing out ribbons at the event. “He was blown out of the water by these unique athletes,” Craig remembered. Crim added, “That day I saw these people running and winning and getting medals and hugging…. They had chances for success.”

Crim had Craig do some research on this relatively new Michigan organization, the Special Olympics. She discovered that it received no state funding. “It was dependent on private donations.” Hoping to raise $10,000, Crim and Craig considered, “What kind of an event could we hold? Bobby ran and most of our staff ran for exercise. Flint was in Bobby’s district and I, being his assistant, knew people there to work with.”

The idea was hatched. So, Crim laughed, “We sat around Lois’ kitchen table to make plans.” They wanted “a classy road race,” one that would “promote Flint” and raise money for Special Olympics. Then Flint mayor Jim Rutherford saw the possibilities of such an event. He directed his own administrative assistant, John Harpst, to work with Craig on the race.

Rutherford agreed that a downtown finish would be “wonderful,” but what about the course itself? How long would the race be? Where would it go? Craig said, “We wanted a view of Flint, with some factories, some mansions, and working class neighborhoods.” She and Harpst enlisted the help of Flint-area runners Mark Bauman and John Gault. “Mark and John thought ten miles would get this in.” So, a ten-mile race it was, with the start on the campus of Mott Community College, near Charles Stewart Mott’s Applewood Mansion.

Crim and Craig wanted to showcase Flint and the race itself. One way was to find elite runners to come. “We deliberately brought in Bill Rodgers, Steve Kenyon, and Greg Meyer to attract attention,” said Craig. “These were three of the biggest names in American and international road racing.”

Kenyon was one of the top runners in Europe. “John Gault knew Kenyon,” she related,” that he was dying to come to the US.” Snaring Rodgers, eventually a four-time winner of both the Boston and New York City marathons, was not quite so easy. In fact, Craig called it “a fluke.”

She hopped on a plane to Boston to visit Rodgers at his running store. “Bobby told me, ‘Promise him $1000 [appearance money]’ out of Bobby’s own pocket!” Rodgers “laughed at me” and it looked like a dead end. But Craig kept talking, “all day. I wouldn’t leave his shop. Then I said the magic words, ‘Special Olympics.’” The Boston legend was also involved with SO, sponsoring his own charity event in Boston.

This hooked him, almost. There was one more condition. Rodgers had a friend in a wheelchair, one who raced. “Let him race and I’ll come,” he promised. Craig quickly agreed and the deal was set.

Rodgers’ friend didn’t make it to Flint that year. But two years later the first wheeler, Lansing resident William Sills, completed the ten-mile course. Since then, many wheelchair records have been set in Flint. “I’m proud of that,” Craig said.

Runners insist on a course whose distance is accurate. Long-time Crim finish line announcer Scott Hubbard and Gault remembered that Phil Shaltz, who has run all 33 Crims and sat on the Crim executive board, and his brother Fred used a measuring wheel they put on the back of a truck from their landscaping business. They drove from the start at Applewood, then along the Flint River, through the working class neighborhoods that Craig and Rutherford wanted to include, up the famed Bradley Hills, past the auto executive mansions, before winding to the finish down the bricks of Saginaw Street, right downtown.

The city and community jumped in from the start. Mott Community College opened Ballenger Fieldhouse for registration. The city helped with traffic control and even gave workers time off to assist. Leaflets were dropped off in the neighborhoods, giving advance warning of the impending race on their streets. “We invited them to come and watch,” Craig recalled. “They became very excited. They showed up to cheer.”

It would seem after all this, that the race itself would have been anti-climactic. That wasn’t the case. Kenyon won the race in 50:05, defeating US favorites Gary Bjorklund and Rodgers, who finished second and third. Even that wasn’t the full story of that 1977 Crim.

The race began at noon, in a Michigan August? The temperature at the start was 86 degrees and would climb well into the 90s. It was accompanied by high humidity. Memories are perhaps justifiably foggy, but it seems the plan was to mimic the noon start of the Boston Marathon. But that is run in April. Both Crim and Gault, experienced runners, cautioned against the late start. Crim remembered asking at the time, “Who did this? Are they out of their heads?” He added with a chuckle, “I’ve tried to track it down, but no one wants to take credit.” Gault recalled, “They were told. I said, ‘It’s August, man! It’s too hot!’” Mark Bauman, one of the twenty-two runners who have finished all of the Crims, said, “[Real] runners never walked. It was sacrilegious. But I did it that day.”

Water stops, vital on this hot, humid afternoon, were spaced every two miles. One of the first stations gave fluids to runners using glass glasses! Starting the race were 750 runners. Only 590 finished (some records cite 576).

One who did was Ed Wiberg. He was a 70-year old retired carpenter who ran to raise money for Special Olympics. In his first road race, the recovering alcoholic ran in white street shoes with buckles. About a mile from the bricks of Saginaw, his feet were a bloody mess. An ambulance worker tried to talk Wiberg off the course, for his own good. He resisted, wanting to finish. After a bit of a scuffle, Wiberg prevailed. Medical workers helped to remove his shoes at the finish, but he managed to slip them on again later to walk up to receive his award as “the oldest finisher.”

The next year, Wiberg trained and purchased some running shoes! He became known as “Mr. Crim Road Race” due to his endless promotion of the event. In 1981, he suffered a stroke in May, but still racewalked the ten miles in August. Several years later, Craig recalled the sick Wiberg’s “last words to me. He said, ‘Remember to bury me in my 1977 Crim tee shirt. And you promised me a runner’s funeral.’” He received both, along with a final Crim race number.

Phil Shaltz remains an emeritus member of the Crim Board of Directors. He ran that first race, sort of. “It was my first race ever. I trained for three weeks.” Due to the heat and humidty, “I collapsed at the 8 ½ mile mark. I woke up in an ice bath in the hospital.” He had suffered from heat stroke, “with a body temperature of 106 degrees.” But, he “was upset.” So he returned to the Crim course in May 1978 to run the last mile and half. He quipped, “I have the slowest finish time for the Crim, somewhere around nine months.”

The 1977 Bobby Crim Road Race didn’t meet the $10,000 goal for Special Olympics. Instead, it raised $30,000. “The first donation came from UAW Local #1 at the Fisher Body Plant,” noted Craig. By 1979, the amount reached $100,000.

When all was said and done, Crim admitted, “We didn’t know if there was going to be a second race.” Craig concurred. “We thought this was a one-year event. But, Bobby said, “Let’s try it again.’” One thing they learned from their experiences was to move the start to 8:30 AM!

And, as Craig said, it seemed “Everybody knew about the Crim. Runners called from all over asking about it. They heard stories about it and this great city, Flint.”

Entries for the second Crim skyrocketed to almost 2000. Almost 1200 finished. The elites kept coming. Greg Meyer, from Grand Rapids and the last American to win the Boston Marathon, nosed out defending champion Kenyon by one second. And Ed Wiberg ran in running shoes.

The community responded to the increased numbers. Craig said, “We didn’t have the hotel space. Often we put them [runners] up in people’s houses.” Workers called around, “We need beds for about six runners” and Flint residents would say, “OK.” “I never saw a town get behind something like Flint got behind the Crim.”

By year two, a leading national running publication selected the Crim as one of the best organized road races in the nation. This was just the beginning of many awards the Festival would win. Craig and Kiertzner both noted they have been asked to travel to advise other races and conduct workshops all over the US and world.

In 1980, Patti Catalano set an American 10 mile record (53:40) for women, one of many American and world records established here. Two years later, on a rare cool race day, Joan Benoit Samuelson, the first Olympic women’s marathon champion in 1984, lowered that mark by 23 seconds. Kenyon returned yet again, to win a second time in a Crim record, 46:42. Flint’s unemployment rate topped the nation, but the Crim organization handed over $110,000 to the Special Olympics.

1983 was known as “The Year of the Fog.” Flint was blanketed in pea soup. Many runners who drove to the race missed the start while they were snarled in traffic. Runners were said to have “groped” their way along the course. Bobby Crim again ran the race, this time guiding blind runner Howard Meyers with a tether binding their wrists.

Buick was added as a major sponsor in 1984. It would remain a key sources of finances until 2009, when it was forced to withdraw as a condition of accepting federal TARP funds.

If 1985 was known as “The Year of the Rain,” it was quickly forgotten. The next year brought “a monsoon.” In the first hour of the race alone, more than an inch of rain fell. On the streets between the curbs, the course became a running stream of water. Hubbard remembered, “It looked like rivers in the streets.” He didn’t run that year, but shook his head, adding, “I wondered what it would be like on the course for runners.” Running shoes became leaden weights. Workers at aid stations took refuge under their water tables. With dreams of personal records (PRs) or even fast times all but shot by the deluge, most runners used the race as an excuse for a running party. Bauman recalled, “There were tons of water on the road. I gave up on what [time] I planned on running. I just ran with a friend and had fun that day.”

One exception in “The Year of the Monsoon” was Flint’s ABC affiliate WJRT news anchor Bill Harris. Then a bachelor, Harris “lived on the Bradley Hills.” In 1984, “I was awakened by this cacophony of feet, this mass of humanity” running past his house. He grabbed “a few doughnuts and some beer” and went outside to watch. “I remember laughing at them. But I was so inspired I ran the next year myself.” He chuckled, “I don’t know why.” Like everyone else, he, too, threw away any hopes of a good time in “the nonstop downpour. We forgot about PRs and decided to have a blast. And we did.” But in forgetting, Harris ran his fastest Crim that year.

Harris has other Crim memories. In this third race, “My wife, who was also my coach, announced at the Bradley Hills that she was pregnant with our second child.” Later, in 2009, to commemorate his 25th Crim, “I stopped at my old house for a beer.”

A “half Crim” was added in 1987. This 8-Kilometer race attracted more than 1100 runners, “without robbing” from the 10-miler. Over the next half dozen years, more distances and events, from runs, walks, and racewalks to training programs, led to a name change, “The Crim Festival of Races.”

Then race director, Anne Gault explained, “’Festival’ comes from the idea that we have so many events.” She noted, “We have eight different events, seven different starting times, and five different start areas.” Now there are even more. In 2009, 15,517 runners, walkers, and racewalkers took part in one or more events.

The Crim saw a new US women’s record the next year. Lisa Weidenbach, a former University of Michigan swimmer, scored her third Crim victory, winning in 53:10. In addition, three US Olympians, Nancy Ditz, Mark Conover, and winner Ed Eyestone, used the Crim as a tune-up for the Seoul Games.

Weidenbach’s record didn’t last long, as excitement and anxiety marked the 1989 Crim. Cathy O’Brien ran 51:47, setting not just a new American mark, but also a world record. Or did she? During WFUM’s evening rebroadcast of the event, Hubbard and Gault noticed “something happened.” “Something” was the police escort leading O’Brien off the certified course. Hubbard, a registered course certifier, “noted two other places where they ran the course not the way it was measured.” With the record on the line, Hubbard, Gault, and Shaltz remeasured the course, unofficially, that night in the dark. Hubbard was “reasonably confident” the record would stand when their new measurement showed the detour actually added “about 20 feet” to the course. But a national official, Pete Riegel, from Columbus, Ohio came up a couple weeks later to authenticate the distance. He came up with a different distance, but still ten feet longer than ten miles. The record, amid a few harrowing weeks, stood, at least for two more years.

That debacle led to “the long blue line,” a pale blue streak painted on the Flint streets so runners could follow the course, without being led astray. Hubbard measured it, with Gault assisting. The only time, due to traffic and personal commitments, for them to work was after midnight during the middle of the week. The two were interrupted around mile seven of their measurement. A neighborhood security watch wondered just what Hubbard and Gault were doing, at that time, in their neighborhood. It was a bit of a dicey situation until Gault blurted out something about “the Crim.” Oh, with that the watchmen gave their assent and the job was completed, “about 3:20 or so,” Hubbard yawned.

Hubbard also serves as the finish line announcer on Saginaw Street. He’s held that post since 1982. “I was recruited to help identify runners at the finish line for Bobby Crim,” who was calling names over the loudspeaker. “Not long into it, Crim handed the mike to me. ‘Here, you know so many, you call ‘em.’” While WFUM was doing its rebroadcasts on television, Hubbard was the color man, too.

Lost in the drama over O’Brien’s record-setting performance were two other exciting episodes, typical of many Crims. In the women’s race, New Zealand’s Anne Audain and Weidenbach dueled to the end. They exchanged positions three times in the race’s final two blocks, finally finishing in a dead heat for second place. In the men’s race, Ecuadoran Rolando Vera bettered the 7-year old Crim course record by 17 seconds, yet finished second by two seconds to Brian Sheriff’s 46:23.

If the Crim hadn’t already taken on an international flavor, by 1989 it certainly had. In fact, Ken Martin (1990) and Anne Marie Letko (1994) remain the last two American winners. Over the years runners have come from two dozen or more countries.

1990 saw foreign runners further make their marks. Fourteen countries outside of the US were represented this year alone, including for the first time Russia. New Zealander John Campbell flirted with the overall championship before settling for a new world masters (age 40 and over) record. The women’s winner was Uta Pippig. Only a year before, Pippig had fled the communist regime in East Germany.

Prize money (total purse of $58,600) replaced appearance fees in 1991. Winners, both men and women, won $8000, runners-up $6000, with a sliding scale for others. There were also payoffs for masters winners, wheelers (now divided between paraplegics and quadriplegics), and state finishers. Currently, winners earn $5000, with the continued sliding scale. A record 5276 ran the 10-mile, another 6363 the other events.

The Kenyans invaded in 1992 and the Crim was forever changed. Simon Karori won in a record 46:20. Four of his countrymen snatched the next four spots, all finishing in less than 47 minutes.

In 1993, with a record turnout of 13,137 for all events, Gary Morgan won the first 8K racewalk in 38:14. The Olympian from Clarkston had already run the 10-mile race in under an hour.

Lois Craig stepped down as race director in 1996. “I never had more fun in my life,” she enthused. She was succeeded by Anne Gault, well known in the Flint-area running community. “It was a smooth transition,” she recalled. “I had been assistant director in ’94 and ’95.”

It was a big year for the Crim, the 20th anniversary. Both 10 mile (5766)and overall (15,175) participation set records. Joseph Kamau, from Kenya, won, establishing the current course record of 45:43. He was within five seconds of the world best. And he had to be fast—four of his fellow Kenyans finished under 46 minutes.

Anne Gault reminisced about the new name, “Festival of Races.” “I don’t mean to downplay race day, that special day. The race is our goal; it’s memorable. But we began to focus on programs, too. They were one of my driving forces. They are our commitment to health and wellness.” These programs now include the Crim Training Program, which prepares hundreds of runners annually, and the Crim Youth Program. “I saw what we could do year-round. Seeing them make a difference is special.” These programs “improve every year,” Gault proudly noted. Kiertzner was also proud to accept the Running USA Program of the Year Award in 2009 for the Crim Youth Program.

Gault laughed at some of the memories. In 1996, more than a dozen runners “missed the start! The elevator at the hotel broke.” Although not funny at the time, the runners were stranded for two hours. “’OK,’ I asked myself, ‘how many elites are on that elevator?’ I counted at the starting line and we thought about delaying the race, but we really couldn’t.”

Another year, the course photographer “overslept. He missed the press truck.” When he did arrive, a bit late, “a biker group” offered to get him caught up—and it did.

Gault turned over the reins to Sherlynn Everly in 1999. Everly’s first memory was “riding the press truck for the first time.” Of course, she knew all about what the Crim meant to Flint, but this really emphasized that. “It was amazing seeing so many people out on the streets. Every other person had a Crim shirt on!”

In 2002, Everly was confronted by a controversy. Winner Catherine Ndereba from Kenya (a 6-time winner) protested that another runner, Asmae Leghzaoui from Morocco, “was assisted by her husband,” an elite runner, during the race. “He was running with her and getting her water for her. He ran forward and behind, telling her where the other [female] runners were. We brought in Greg Meyer, someone who knows how to do it [judging].” WFUM broadcast host Jim Gaver checked the televised footage confirming the assistance and Meyer discovered “she had received warnings at other races.” Leghzaoui was disqualified.

What would the Crim be without a little troublesome weather once in a while? In 2004, Everly was faced with a start-time decision. A thunderstorm had blown in. “Should I hold back the race?” she thought. “All of the races?” She opted for a 30-minute delay, one that many runners don’t even remember. “I thought I did the right thing. We didn’t want to keep the volunteers out on the course any longer than necessary. And we didn’t want to mess with the other races.” The skies cleared enough to forgo further troubles.

In 2005, Kiertzner’s first year as director, the men’s race was hampered by the lead vehicles. Flint mayor Don Williamson rode a motorcycle in front of the first runners. Flint Journal reporter Bill Khan, who’s been associated with the Crim as a runner since 1984 and as a reporter since l991, recalled. “They [lead vehicles] were having a good time out there. It was a parade to them. There were some close calls with the lead runners,” who were running 4:40 paces. Fortunately, he said, there were no mishaps or injuries, just “close calls.”

Kiertzner has been faced with some tribulations, especially the loss of some sponsors due to Michigan’s poor economy. But she and the Crim have continued to pick up accolades and honors. The 2009 Crim drew a record 10-mile field (9466) as well as a record for all events (15,517). This year, the Crim will serve as the USATF 10-Mile Championship. In 2008, a sister race, the Brooksie Way Half Marathon in Oakland County, was added.

Ever positive, she pointed out, “The Crim means so much to Flint. It has become, truly, the biggest event in town.” To demonstrate that this was not a mere feel-good platitude, Kiertzner cited a 2003 study conducted by the University of Michigan-Flint School of Management on the economic impact of the Crim on Flint and surrounding Genesee County. Authors Mark Perry and Darryl Barker show that the Crim contributes “$8.5 million to Genesee County [and] $5.4 to Flint.” From 1992 to 2003, they calculated an economic impact of $91.5 million on the area economy. The money results in “income for local employees and increased profits for local firms.” As many as “184 full- and part-time jobs were created or supported...generating $3.4 million” a year. Annually, about “50,000 people (runners, walkers, spectators), from 40 or more states, almost two dozen countries, and five continents” spend their money in local restaurants, hotels, and stores, on entertainment, gasoline, and even race registration. Millions of dollars have been contributed to Special Olympics and other local charities.

Kiertzner tied past and present together. “Lois and Bobby did it right years ago. A Crim connection just doesn’t die.”

Everly mused, “The Crim is one of those things you couldn’t kill with a stick. If we cancelled it tomorrow, 2000 runners would still show up” on the fourth Saturday of August.