Look at Mills! Look at Mills!

From Walt Murphy. Shared with permission (with minor editing from Fan Hub admin). Walt produces an info-rich daily ”This Day in T&F” newsletter. Contact him at waltmurphy44@gmail.com if you’d like to join his distribution list.

On this day 58 years ago Billy Mills delivered one of the most memorable moments in Olympic history with his unexpected and dramatic win in the 1964 Tokyo Olympic 10,000 meter race.

That moment also stands out in sports broadcasting history. Watch and listen below.

The broadcaster nailed it! Or did he?

Would you believe that Dick Bank was fired from NBC because of his homestretch call!?!

Walt Murphy and Dick Bank himself share the rest of the story:

When you watch the video of the last lap you’ll hear NBC’s Bud Palmer describing the homestretch battle between Gammoudi and Clarke and then someone else excitedly saying in the last 50-meters, “Look at Mills!, Look at Mills!”. That was the voice of Dick Bank, one of the most knowledgeable track fans in the world, who had been hired by NBC as their expert analyst. Over the years, the common belief was that Bank had “stepped on” Palmer’s call, or had even grabbed the microphone from his broadcast partner, who apparently hadn’t yet spotted Mills making his late move on the leaders. NBC execs, deciding that Bank’s action was “unprofessional”, actually fired him before the Games in Tokyo had ended!

Not too long ago, Bank, who didn’t own a computer, heard through a friend that there were some comments on the internet about Mills’s race and his dramatic call, leading him to set the record straight with his first-hand account of  what actually transpired in the TV booth that day.

“LOOK AT MILLS! LOOK AT MILLS!” THE TRUE STORY OF DICK BANK’S VERY BRIEF BUT NOTABLE TELEVISION PARTICIPATION AT THE TOKYO OLYMPICS IN 1964—AS TOLD TO ARTHUR HEAD ESQ.

It has come to my attention that there are some postings about me on the Internet. I don’t own a computer… nor do I want or need one. Mine is between my ears. I still type on an IBM Wheelwriter 1000, drive a 1989 Volvo 240GL with 299,000 miles, and do not have nor do I need a cellular telephone; or one that can take photographs.

So you can well understand why I didn’t know there was something about me on the Internet.

I did know that the last lap was on YouTube, but not the personal comments. Billy has had a DVD made of it that he sells, and I have it. Also, a red T-shirt that says, “Look at Mills! Look at Mills!”

I would like to make known the correct facts relative to my participation on NBC’s telecast of the Tokyo Olympics.

I was hired by Jim Kitchell, the executive producer, who was from NBC News. He had done presidential assassinations, space shots, etc., but he knew nothing about sports. I think my good friend, the late Bud Palmer, might have had a hand in it. I had worked for ABC’s “Wide World of Sports” in 1962, did the US-USSR meet from Stanford that year, from Moscow the next year…and from Kiev in 1965. I was hired as an expert commentator. I wasn’t an itinerant, as stated.

Bud Palmer was one of the finest people I have ever met—not too many of his kind in that business—and the last thing I would have done was to embarrass or show him up. That summer, the first of two Olympic Trials were held on Randall’s Island in New York City (the Olympic Trials had been held there in 1936, but it had deteriorated badly over the years).

Bud asked where I was planning to stay when in New York. I told him I had no plans. He said he and his wife Daisy were going to be away at that time, and I was welcome to use their rather large apartment on Park Avenue. Which I did!

As the final two hundred meters of the race unfolded, Bud, for whatever reason, lost sight of Billy Mills. I could see that he was going to win the race and there was not going to be any mention of him until he had crossed the finish line. He was focusing on Clarke and Gammoudi.

I didn’t grab Bud’s microphone. I had my own. What went out over the air was not an attempt to fill in commentary. It was a natural reaction, as if I were a spectator. It just so happened there was dead air, so I was easily heard.

It has been written that I was giggling with glee. It was more like unrestrained euphoria that quickly became tears. My good friend Neil Allen of the London Times came up from his seat in the press section to offer congratulations. I could barely speak.

The next day, Kitchell said what I had done was “very unprofessional.” Dick Auerbach, the producer (he had no knowledge of track and field), told me they would be turning off my microphone during the final events.

My response: “Then why bother to turn it on?”

We did not have an enclosed announce position. I continued to sit there for the next few days, offering easily heard comments under my breath. Bill Henry was the third person. He was a grand old gentleman, stadium announcer at the 1932 Los Angeles Olympics, but was no longer informed on the sport.

After the third day, I found a message when I returned to the Okura Hotel: call Dick Auerbach at the New Otani. He was having dinner on the top floor. I said it was Dick Bank, returning his call.

“I have some bad news for you.” My father had had a heart attack in April 1961, and was confined to our home. He was my first thought. Of course, there would have been a call from my mother.

“From today on, you are no longer working for NBC.” My response: “So what’s the bad news?” He was an oily guy who didn’t have the guts to tell it to my face.

I was never identified over the air. My dear, late friend Harley Tinkham, did identify me in the Los Angeles Mirror-News. Brutus Hamilton, the longtime coach at California and head coach at the Helsinki Olympics in 1952, said to his wife: “That could only be one person . . . it has to be Dick Bank.”

I was confined in that announce position. Now I could hob-nob with the European press . . . and I knew a lot of them, and speak out as I wished.

When I returned home, NBC refused to pay me. My then brother-in-law was an attorney, associated with the infamous Marvin Mitchelson. Marv had been a close friend since our days at Los Angeles High School.

A call was made to NBC in Burbank, advising them that if a check was not in their office by five that afternoon, an action would be taken. It was.

I later worked for CBS, doing thirty-five meets in 1969-70, calling the races and working alone.”