It was a scene of great sadness at Mystic’s Union Baptist Church a week ago Thursday, a time for hundreds of people to gather together and to share memories of a man who had touched so many.
The pews were filled and many stood in the back or on the balcony. State Rep. Elissa Wright and Sen. Andrew Maynard were among the speakers.
John J. Kelley has his place in the books as the winner of the 1957 Boston Marathon, second place in five others, the first across the line in a Pan American Games Marathon, competitor in two Olympics as well as countless other running victories, big and small.
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To the people who spoke of Kelley at the event though, he was a modest man with big ideas, a visionary who shunned the pulpit that comes with being an international star.
As one speaker said, he didn’t preach his ideals but lived them through the boundless curiosity that he showed for the world around him. Those who wished to learn from him could emulate his simple lifestyle.
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He took pleasure in endless runs. He planted a pine grove around his house. He ate a vegetarian diet and sought to minimize his impact on the earth.
His grandson, Jacob Edwards, compared him to Henry David Thoreau, who followed a beat of a different drummer. In his grandfather’s case, he said, he might have heard completely different rhythms altogether.
Kelley's three daughters, Julia Washington, Eileen Edwards and Kathleen Gabriel, each spoke fondly about growing up with their father.
He was the kind of dad who would explore Mamacoke Island with them in the Thames River instead of arranging a trip to Disney World. He took them hiking up Mount Washington and along the Narragansett Trail in Connecticut. Though his wife Jessie suffered arthritis, he would coax her along: “C’mon Jess. It’s good for you.”
His granddaughter recalled a man who, scorning fancy clothes, wore running shoes to her wedding—with holes cut out to accommodate his bunions.
Amby Burfoot, the 1968 Boston Marathon winner, also had words for his old coach at Fitch High School, with whom he had shared a lifetime of friendship.
Through Kelley, Burfoot had learned not just about running but found a world of possibilities opened.
They had gone to races together where they’d showed up with barely enough time to lace their shoes. Kelley had turned his house into a refuge for everyone from runners to musicians, intellectuals and dreamers.
Kelley’s modesty, he said, would have rebelled against anyone’s attempt to lay out the great runner’s philosophy of life.
“Today I have the upper hand,” Burfoot said.
A key part of Kelley’s worldview, Burfoot said, was based upon, “Ask not what the world can do for you, but what you can do for your world.”
Kelley also cherished special moments with nature and the bonds between family and friends.
After he’d won the Boston Marathon, Burfoot said he didn’t give a damn about the interviews with the press, meeting the mayor of Boston or the Governor of Massachusetts. It was Kelley, who finished 10 minutes after him, that he needed to see. The elder athlete wrapped Burfoot in a bear hug and told him how proud he was.
“He was a little man with a big heart,” Burfoot said.
