Miracle mile memento donated to B.C. Sports hall of fame
Family donates shell from famous race where Bannister beat Landy in 1954
The Miracle Mile was the highlight of the British Empire Games in 1954. That Aug. 7, 35,000 people jammed Empire Stadium to watch the race, along with an estimated 70 million on television.
Vancouver police Sgt. Cookie Ryan had one of the best viewpoints for the race — he was the guy who started it.
“It was 2:30 o’clock,” said an Erwin Swangard story in The Vancouver Sun. “The stands hushed as the runners took their marks. Cookie Ryan, veteran Vancouver police officer, raised the gun.
“There was total silence. The gun barked. The field broke perfectly.”
Ryan was proud of his association with the famous race, where England’s Roger Bannister edged his Australian rival, John Landy. He even kept a memento: the shell casing from the round that started the race. The casing has been with Ryan’s family since the race. But this week, his son Michael donated it to the B.C. Sports Hall of Fame.
“I’ve had this in my bedroom for years,” said Michael Ryan. “It was a physical element that keeps me connected to my dad (who died in 1974). I recently turned 51, and I was overwhelmed with the feeling that I was being selfish … I could let it go and share it with people.
“If it can say, ‘Donated by the family of Howard Cook Ryan,’ and his name is in this place, I think he’d be pretty proud.”
The Hall of Fame’s Jason Beck was ecstatic to receive the shell, and knows the perfect place to display it.
“I think we could put it on display with the stopwatch, right at the front of the hall,” Beck told Ryan.
“That’s in our defining moments gallery, one of the highlight stops for visitors.”
To make sure everyone knew what it was, Cookie Ryan had “Miracle Mile 2:30 p.m. Aug. 7/54” etched into the tiny shell casing.
It’s one of the most unusual, and coolest, artifacts of the Empire Games. But whether it held a real bullet or, more likely, a blank, nobody seemed to know.
“At that time, the starting guns were basically real pistols,” said Beck. “You can imagine, 35,000 people were in the stadium that day … (if it’s real and) he aims it straight up and the bullet comes down, someone’s going to get hit.”
“Or somebody who’s out in the Inlet fishing — ow!” Ryan said with a laugh.
Cookie Ryan was with the Vancouver police from 1938 until he retired in 1972. He was an athlete in his younger years — his son brought in some marvellous photos of Cookie as a sprinter and basketball player.
I’ve had this in my bedroom for years. It was a physical element that keeps me connected to my dad.
“He always had his toe in things,” said Michael Ryan. “He and Fred Deeley started the (police motorcycle) drill team.”
Ryan was good friends with Jack Harrison, a top sprinter and fellow policeman who was nicknamed “the flying cop.” Harrison recruited policemen to volunteer at the games, but had a hard time convincing Ryan.
“He was, ‘Come on, come on out, you’re going to want to be a part of this,’ ” recounts Michael Ryan.
“Finally my dad said, ‘OK, I’ll do it, but only if I get to choose the races. Jack was elated because his buddy was going to do it, but then my dad picked the mile. Everybody knew leading up to it that this was a big race. Jack was pretty funny (discussing it years later). ‘Aw, son of a bitch!’ ”
Michael Ryan was only six when his dad died, and wasn’t around when the Miracle Mile was run. But a few years ago, somebody gave him a CBC documentary of the race.
“I got home, popped it in and was watching it,” he said. “The crazy thing was you can totally see him, because of the way he stands. I tend to lean because I have a bad hip, and we stand the same.
“( When he saw his dad) I’m like, ‘Pause!’ And I’m on the phone to my mom and my sister, tears running down my face. It was pretty special.”