The Sprinter Who Came Back From the Dead: Betty Robinson’s Olympic Story
- U I Team
- Oct 11, 2019
- 6 min read
On a freezing Chicago afternoon in 1928, a sixteen-year-old girl sprinted flat out towards an elevated train platform, her coat flapping behind her and icy air tearing past her face. The train had already begun pulling away from the station, and to her teacher, Charles Price, a former track athlete, there was no chance she’d catch it. He’d already boarded and taken his seat when, moments later, the doors opened once again. There she was, Betty Robinson, breathless, beaming, and entirely unaware that she had just changed the course of her life.
To Robinson, racing for the train wasn’t unusual. She was simply heading home from Thornton Township High in Harvey, just a few stops from her hometown of Riverdale, Illinois. But to Price, what he had witnessed was extraordinary. The biology teacher had seen many sprinters in his day, but none moved quite like Betty. He would soon ask her to race 50 yards down the school corridor. Her time was so astonishing that he encouraged her to train with the boys’ team—there wasn’t one for girls.
What followed is one of the most extraordinary yet largely forgotten careers in Olympic history. Betty ‘Babe’ Robinson went from suburban schoolgirl to international champion in five short months—and then, just as swiftly, to a hospital bed, her body shattered in a plane crash. But that wasn’t the end of her story. Far from it.
An Unlikely Beginning
Born on 23 August 1911, Betty Robinson was, by her own admission, “a hick.” She loved playing guitar, acting in school plays, and racing neighbourhood boys at church socials. She was fast and fiercely competitive, but the idea of a woman having a career in athletics hadn’t occurred to her. “I had no idea women even ran then,” she recalled in 1984.
Just days after her impromptu race for the train, Price formally timed her sprint and was so impressed that he arranged for her to enter a regional meet. Robinson made her debut in March 1928, finishing second to national 100m record-holder Helen Filkey. That performance earned her an invitation to join the Illinois Athletic Women’s Club (IAWC).
Two months later, in only her second 100m race, Robinson defeated Filkey outright. Her time of 12 seconds bettered the official world record—though wind assistance meant it was not ratified. Still, her place at the Olympic trials was secure.
At the Newark trials in July, Robinson raced three times in an hour, finishing second in the final and earning a place on the American team for the Amsterdam Games. These were the first Olympics to permit women in track and field, and Betty was about to make history.
Olympic Debut at Seventeen
The voyage to Amsterdam aboard the SS President Roosevelt took nine days. Robinson trained by running laps around the ship’s deck and enjoyed the camaraderie of her fellow athletes, among them swimmer Johnny Weissmuller, soon to find fame as Tarzan. At just sixteen, Robinson was already gaining attention. Louis Nixdorff of the US lacrosse team noted in his journal that she was often approached for photos alongside the Olympic greats.
In the 100m event, only Robinson made it through to the final from the four US women. Her primary competition was Fanny Rosenfeld of Canada, a 24-year-old national sensation who had beaten Robinson in an earlier heat. Both had won their semi-finals in 12.4 seconds.
Nerves may have played a part—Robinson arrived at the track with two left shoes, having left the correct pair back at the team’s quarters. A teammate dashed back to the ship to retrieve them, and Robinson made it to the start line just in time, contemplating whether she might have to run barefoot.
The race was fraught with tension. Two false starts saw Myrtle Cook of Canada disqualified in tears, and Germany’s Leni Schmidt dismissed amid angry protest. That left just four women. Robinson lined up beside Rosenfeld, determined to keep her closest rival within sight.
When the gun fired, Robinson surged forward. Rosenfeld recovered from a poor start and drew level halfway down the cinder track. The finish was a blur—both women crossed the line with arms raised—but Robinson had edged ahead. Her time of 12.2 seconds (officially equalling the world record) secured her the first-ever Olympic gold medal awarded to a woman in the 100m.
“I can remember breaking the tape, but I wasn’t sure that I’d won,” she later said. “My friends in the stands jumped over the railing and put their arms around me—and then I knew.”
Robinson later anchored the 4x100m relay team to a silver medal behind Canada, where a redeemed Myrtle Cook ran the final leg.
From Golden Girl to Tragedy
Back in the United States, Robinson’s return was met with parades, interviews, and meetings with celebrities—including baseball legend Babe Ruth. When she arrived home in Riverdale, 20,000 people greeted her. The town gifted her a diamond watch and her school presented her with a silver cup.
Betty resumed her studies, planning to coach at the 1936 Olympics. She continued to run competitively, setting new records, including 5.8 seconds for the 50-yard dash and 11.4 seconds for the 100-yard dash in blistering heat at Soldier Field. In early 1931, she set world records at 60 and 70 yards.
But in June of that year, everything changed. Eager to cool off during training, Robinson joined her cousin for a brief flight in a small plane. Just after takeoff, the engine stalled. The aircraft plummeted into a marsh. When rescuers arrived, they assumed she was dead and drove her to an undertaker. Thankfully, someone realised she was still alive.
Robinson had suffered catastrophic injuries: a shattered leg, hip and arm, and internal trauma. She was unconscious for days and spent eleven weeks in hospital. Her left leg healed shorter than her right, and she walked with a limp. The 1932 Olympics in Los Angeles passed without her.
Return to Glory
Robinson’s recovery was long and arduous, but her physical condition pre-accident gave her a crucial edge. “If I hadn’t been in such good shape, I wouldn’t have come out of it as well,” she acknowledged.
Unable to get into a crouch start, the 100m was out of the question. But relay runners—apart from the starter—could launch from a standing position. With quiet determination, she began training once again and earned her place on the 1936 US Olympic team. She was 24—the oldest member of the squad.
In Berlin, all eyes were on Jesse Owens and his four gold medals, but Robinson had her own moment. The German relay team, favourites after breaking a world record in their heat, led by nine metres on the final leg. But in a disastrous handover, anchor runner Ilse Dorffeldt dropped the baton. The Americans surged ahead and won in 46.9 seconds. Robinson, who had passed the baton to Helen Stephens, collected her second Olympic gold.
“I wish they hadn’t dropped it,” she said later. “Helen was faster. We would have won anyway.”
A Quiet Legacy
Robinson retired from competition but remained active in sport, serving as a timekeeper for the AAU and speaking regularly to promote women’s athletics. She married, had children, and worked in a hardware shop in Glencoe, Illinois.
She never boasted of her Olympic achievements. Her medals were kept in a sweet tin in her dresser drawer. But her granddaughter, Brook Doire, remembered: “She held them with such care when she showed them.”
In 1977, Robinson was inducted into the USA National Track & Field Hall of Fame. She never made it into the US Olympic Hall of Fame, though her family hoped she would one day be recognised.
In 1996, aged 84, Robinson carried the Olympic torch for a short distance en route to the Atlanta Games. Frail but determined, she insisted on carrying the heavy torch herself.
A Story Still Waiting to Be Told
Betty Robinson passed away on 17 May 1999, aged 87. She had been battling cancer and Alzheimer’s. She left behind a quiet legacy—an American teenager who became the fastest woman in the world, survived a near-fatal crash, and returned to Olympic glory.
Her story may one day find its way to the silver screen. If it does, the first scene needs little embellishment: a young girl dashes for a train on a cold winter’s day. She makes it. And in doing so, she outruns not just the train, but history itself.
Sources
Los Angeles Times, 1984
Tales of Glory by Lewis H. Carlson & John J. Fogarty
Chicago Tribune archives
Official Report of the IX Olympiad, Amsterdam 1928
Oral history interviews with Brook Doire
