The $25,000 Footrace: How Andy Payne Conquered The Bunion Derby | History Honors 250

Thousands of miles later, with countless world-class runners dropping out and a sandstorm behind him, Andy Payne was nearing the lead of the Bunyan Derby, one step closer to the $25,000 grand prize. At this point in the race, the fact that Andy was anywhere close to the lead was unbelievable considering who he was up against. W.M. Willie Kolomanen, a Finnish-American distance runner who set a professional marathon world best in 1912. Arthur Newton, an endurance runner who held world records for 50-mile runs, 100-mile runs, and running 152 miles in one day. Neither of them made it as far as Andy. So by the time he makes it to his home state of Oklahoma, he's welcomed as a hero. CeCe Pyle, the promoter, saw an opportunity and actually had custom programs printed to hand out as they went through Oklahoma, promoting Andy Payne with Andy Payne's picture on the front of it. So one of the challenges for so many people turning out to cheer him on was the fact that they were actually slowing Andy down. They were running out into the street just to touch him. They were running out the street to get him to sign their program. He had brief periods where he lost his lead. But Andy doesn't have time for the spotlight. He was a man on a mission. As he said at the time, I'm just one of the runners. I wish they'd leave me alone. Well, Andy didn't get his wish because as he came to the end of Route 66 in Chicago with nearly 2,488 miles behind him, Andy was in the lead. By the time Andy leaves Chicago, the race had dwindled down from 199 men to just 55, with a thousand miles left to go through Indiana, Ohio, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and into New York City. During this time, Andy wrote home to his sister simply saying, I'm gonna win this race. Can we pause here for a second? I just need us all to sit with something because the fact that Andy finished this race, let alone won, is just mind-blowing. Think of everything he went through. Terrible roads, professional competitors, basically zero support, mountain passes, sandstorms, a 200-mile long detour, tonsillitis, a fever, and honestly, the very real possibility of being hit by a car and dying. But he did it. On May 26, 1928, 84 days after Andy found himself at the start of the race, he had reached New York City. By the time they were in New York, he was 16 hours ahead of his nearest competitor, so he could relax slightly. He knew that he was going to win. C.C. Pyle, you would think, would have made it a little easier each day as they got towards the end, but that was not the case at all. They got to the Madison Square Garden. He had 200 circles around Madison Square Garden before you could say you were done with the race. 573 hours, 4 minutes and 34 seconds. Nearly 24 days of running. But did he get the prize money? He did. At the last minute, C.C. Pyle was bailed out by legendary boxing promoter Tex Rickard and a millionaire, F.F. Gunn, whose son Harry had also finished the race. Andy had his $25,000 prize, and you know what he did? He went home, paid off his parents' mortgage, bought them a new house, bought himself a car, and then lived his life. I think one of the things that helped Andy be successful was he embodied the Cherokee values of resilience, humanity, perseverance, and harmony with nature. And because of that, he was able to adapt as he ran the race. He was able to handle the different environments. Realized that only about 80 years before this race was the Trail of Tears. And Andy's ancestors had actually came from the east to what is now Oklahoma in a forced process. The Trail of Tears themselves required people to have that same level of resilience. Andy carried that same exact mentality with him as he ran Route 66. Pyle tried to put on another bunion derby in 29, but it was another financial failure. His career was over. And what of Route 66? Car culture exploded after World War II, and millions of cars started coming through the area. Drivers needed diners, rest stops, gas stations, and motels. Entire local economies formed around the road itself. But in 1956, Eisenhower signed the Highway Act, which built new, safer highways like I-40, I-55, and I-44. These highways began bypassing Route 66. This hurt all the local businesses and towns that had sprung up. And in 1985, the U.S. government officially decommissioned Route 66, removing it from the U.S. highway system. But the main street of America wasn't going to go quietly into the night. Route 66's second life began almost as soon as its first one ended. All along the old road, business owners, preservationists, and ordinary nostalgists refused to let it disappear. And Pixar's Cars gave the old road another burst of life. The film drew directly on Route 66's history and turned the story of a forgotten town on the old highway into a global fable about decline, memory, and revival. Route 66 will always have a place in the American consciousness, yet it's not a road without complexities. The same road that made a young Cherokee man famous was also littered with native stereotypes across roadside attractions as it grew. I think in the history of Route 66, there's literally never been an event that has captured America's imagination like the Bunyan Derby. Andy was a Cherokee. Andy was a farm boy. There's so much about Andy that just made him the perfect person to capture America's imagination at that moment. In that way, Route 66 is like a lot of American history. A complicated story of opportunity and obstacles, of adventure and adversity, of harsh realities in the hope of something better. So if you ever find yourself driving or running along old historic Route 66, take a moment to think about all the people and stories that came before you. But maybe don't go running any cross-continent races without a little training first. There's only one Andy Payne.