Johnny Rowe twice fought Canadian heavyweight boxer George Chuvalo and race walked a total distance equal to more than twice around the globe, setting records, winning an estimated 250 trophies and garnering a stack of newspaper clippings. Not bad for someone who'd been under doctor's orders never to strain his weak heart.
Instead, Mr. Rowe meandered into the hearts of Canadians. With his powerful tree-trunk-like legs and an indefatigable spirit, he raised thousands of dollars for charity and was often a familiar sight on the country's highways, tirelessly trekking distances that would challenge motorized vehicles.
He was probably Canada's only professional race walker, also known as "heel-and-toe" walking, a misunderstood sport in which it appears that walkers do a kind of hip-swinging waddle. In actuality, part of one foot must be in contact with the ground at all times - in Mr. Rowe's case, for hours, sometimes days on end.
He walked from Toronto to Montreal in seven days (averaging 70 kilometres a day and breaking his own record of eight days) while carrying a message from then Mayor Nathan Phillips to his counterpart, Jean Drapeau; from New York City's World Fair to Toronto in 12 days; from Ottawa to Toronto carrying the 1968 Olympic torch; and from Barrie, Ont., to Toronto, 80 kilometres in a record 9½ hours. He also held the unofficial world record for the 100-mile walk.
In all, he averaged 3,200 kilometers a year for 27 years.
Perhaps his best-known exploit was walking across his native Newfoundland. To coincide with the opening of the Trans-Canada Highway in the province in 1966, Mr. Rowe, then 37, hiked from Port aux Basques to St. John's - 900 gruelling kilometres over rolling hills, valleys and rocky terrain. He did it in 14½ days, arriving just 12 minutes after his own predicted deadline, and into the arms of a beaming Premier Joey Smallwood, who presented him with gold cufflinks engraved with the crest of Newfoundland.
"I am a walker, not a talker," a taciturn Mr. Rowe told the assembled crowd, though he recalled how heartwarming it was to have people living in the island's isolated interior walk alongside him, feeding him and enjoying his company.
He was among a select few Canadians to have his footwear immortalized under glass. In 2006, to mark the 40th anniversary of his cross-Newfoundland walk, The Rooms, a gallery and museum in St. John's, exhibited the beat-up black boots Mr. Rowe wore on his journey.
Marathon walking, he reasoned, was a way of life - "a chance to accomplish something without mechanical aid. An escape, if you like, and a time to do a lot of deep thinking." Sometimes he got paid by a sponsor, but mostly it was to raise money for others.
Apart from the blisters, boredom and fatigue, he also had to endure catcalls from those who thought his gait was funny. Sometimes, observers threw pop over him and on several occasions, he was pelted with apple cores. Still he would say, "this walking gets in your blood."
He was born to Albert Rowe, a civil servant, and Mary Martin, who died shortly after giving birth to their ninth child. Albert remarried and fathered another six children, so Johnny grew up in a crowded but athletic household, engaging in soccer and football, with enough siblings to play for both sides.
But at 13, a doctor diagnosed an enlarged heart and advised him to take it easy, probably for the rest of his life. "He was always a fighter," his son Kevin said. "He wasn't going to go down that easy."
He lied about his age and enlisted in the Canadian Army at 16, with his heart condition somehow getting by officials, and was posted to a communications unit in Petawawa, Ont. Found to be underage, he was discharged and sent home.
Tired of working in a bakery, Mr. Rowe was introduced to sport walking by an uncle. He was also drawn to boxing and had his first amateur bout at 18 against fellow Newfoundlander Sonny Butler. The contest ended in a draw after two rounds.
A heavyweight at 100 kilos, he went undefeated in his next seven fights in Newfoundland, but returned to walking. In 1950, he entered two races, one 16 kilometres and the other 32, and placed third in both. It was on to Toronto the following year to make a name for himself in both walking and boxing. He entered the quaintly named Jack Dempsey White Hope Tournament at Maple Leaf Gardens alongside 26 other heavyweights, and got as far as the semi-finals.
Then came his biggest challenge in the ring: a tough up-and-coming kid nearly a decade his junior named George Chuvalo. The two fought twice as amateurs at the Palace Pier, resulting in one draw and one victory for Mr. Chuvalo, a technical knockout in round two.
"He was always a gentleman - this big hulking guy," recalled Mr. Chuvalo, who turned pro the following year and would go on to the Canadian championship and a storied career. "He was one of the nicer guys at the gym (Earlscourt Boxing Club). He never cussed - a very polite, soft-spoken guy and a good, decent amateur. A good puncher."
Around the time of the Chuvalo fights, Mr. Rowe completed his first marathon walk - 67 kilometres from Toronto to Hamilton. The race was won by world-renowned British walker Chris Clegg, but Mr. Rowe placed a respectable second. He never looked back, and ended his boxing career with 33 wins, five losses and two draws.
In Toronto, he helped establish the Gladstone Athletic Club, which trained boxers and walkers. Meantime, the records tumbled, including a bruising 19-hour non-stop jaunt from Buffalo to Toronto's Canadian National Exhibition, in which he shaved 48 minutes off the old CNE record that had stood for 40 years.
Then there was the charity work. Mr. Rowe often wore a T-shirt with the words, "I walk for those who can't," and raised thousands of dollars for cancer sufferers, the sight-impaired and the physically handicapped.
He worked as a garbage truck driver and volunteered as an auxiliary police officer, once earning kudos and the media moniker "One Punch Rowe" for capturing a man who'd robbed a clothing store.
He later went to work for the post office and his walking days ended in 1980 when a car accident resulted in a chipped spine and wrecked knee.
The key to long-distance walking is mental attitude, he advised. "If I take you out and we go two miles and after that you say you can't go any farther, you're licked. Your mental attitude can kill you before you even get out of bed in the morning."
John Rowe
John Eli Rowe was born in St. John's on Oct. 2, 1928, and died in Toronto on May 28, 2009, of multiple organ failure. He was 80. He leaves a sister, Maisie; children Kevin, John Jr. and Linda; six half-siblings, nine grandchildren and eight great-grandchildren.
