A Bridge To Long Ago

The Finns called him Satu Peka, which translates into "Fairytale Picture." His feat of winning the three distance races will probably never be duplicated. The combined feat—four track and field gold medals for one married couple—also will probably never be duplicated. Four gold medals? Emil and Dana returned home as heroes. God's chosen children.

"The Russians came like barbarians," Emil says. "They had their tanks, their cannons. We are not guilty of anything, but what are we going to do? We cannot charge tanks. It was like the end. No chance."

A lot had happened by 1968. Zatopek had retired from competition shortly after the '56 Olympics in Melbourne. Thirty-four at the time of those Games, he decided he needed to be stronger to compensate for age. He ran some of his workouts carrying Dana on his shoulders. He became stronger. He also developed a hernia. The operation was performed several months before the Olympics. He struggled to finish sixth in the marathon, the only race he ran.

"The night the Russians came—I cannot describe the feeling," Dana says. "I thought we all were dead. That was the only thought: bye-bye. That we all were gone."

She had stayed active after finishing fourth in Melbourne. Officials asked her to help prepare a younger javelin thrower for the 1960 Olympics in Rome. She did a better job than anyone expected. The younger thrower finished fourth. Dana finished second, a silver medalist at the age of 37. She enjoyed the attention. For once she was known as Dana Zatopkova, not as Emil Zatopek's wife. Then she retired from competition.

Emil was still in the army. He was a colonel by now, a coach and sports functionary. Dana was also a coach. There were no children. When the peaceful revolution of the Prague spring of 1968 occurred, when the old-line puppet government dominated by Moscow was overthrown, Emil and Dana were in the front lines. They stood shoulder to shoulder with party secretary Alexander Dubcek and endorsed his promise of grand changes, of a new "humanistic socialism." They composed and gave their own speeches. They wrote articles. This was a revolution staged by thinkers. They were thinkers.

Emil always had been—and still is—a Communist, but he did not like the way the Soviets ran the system. Dana had seen working and living conditions in other countries on her many trips to compete, and she was bothered by the disparity. Why were conditions better elsewhere than in Czechoslovakia? It was as if Joe DiMaggio and Marilyn Monroe were part of a revolution. This was a famous couple making a public stand.

"We signed The Manifesto of 2,000 Words," Dana says. "Yes. Of course. We both did. It was a very dangerous thing to do."

The Manifesto was a call to the people to stay together, to keep fighting for change during the summer ahead. It was a statement of defiance, of unity against the colossus to the east, signed by many prominent people. It was a phone book for disfavor when the colossus belched, coughed and stirred. The tanks came in August, and there was no problem finding the dissidents. Their names were on the Manifesto.

"I went to the square to talk to the Russians," Emil says. "They did not want to listen, but the people kept saying, 'Hear him out. Do you know your Olympic champions? He is our Olympic champion.' Finally an officer came over. I told him that this invasion was one-sided, that it was offensive to all of us, that it only hurt the Communist movement. He said nothing, but he listened. At the end, he shook my hand. That told me that maybe he felt not right about what he was doing. They knew they were wrong."