Bob Bednarski

The greatest night in American Olympic weightlifting occurred on June 9, 1968, at the William Penn High School in York, Pennsylvania. This was the site of the Senior Nationals. For two days and nights, records had been falling with regularity. By the time the heavyweights stepped on stage, six Americans, 19 National and two Teenage marks had already been broken.

There had been a great deal of anticipation for the expected battle for the heavyweight crown for this was an Olympic year, but several of the top men failed to enter. Norbert Schemansky had injured his knee while cleaning 425. Ernie Pickett was recovering from a triceps injury and Gary Gubner had recently injured his wrist. Only three heavyweights participated: Leonard Rendino of Torrington, Connecticut; Joe Dube of Jacksonville, Florida; and Bob Bednarski, who resided in York.

Leonard was outclassed. His 990 total wouldn’t have placed him in the 198-pound division. The contest was between the 247-pound Barski and the 321-pound Dube. Both were on rolls, each wanting to establish himself as the number one heavyweight in the country. At the “Little Olympics” in Mexico City the previous fall, Joe had nearly upset the Russian Batishev. Barski was fully recovered from the dislocated elbow he had sustained at the Pan-American Games.

The weather was East Coast oppressive – hot, humid, sticky. But the ugly weather didn’t deter the crowd, for they packed the auditorium. By the time the heavyweights started lifting, it was standing room only. This two-man duel for the title had all the earmarks of a classic confrontation.

Barski opened with 410 in the press. Joe took the lead with 425. Barski moved to 440. It ran out of the groove but he fought it through for a success. Dube took 445 and surprisingly missed the clean. Instead of taking it again, he waited. Barski called for a world record 455. He cleaned it sharply, quickly came erect and set himself for the signal. On the clap, he drove the bar overhead and held it steady. When he lowered this massive weight, the crowd rose as one and roared for a full five minutes. It weighed out at 456½.

But there was more to come. Joe wasn’t finished. He called for 460. Joe was a big man, built in the mold of his hero Paul Anderson. But despite his size, he was deceptively quick. The bedlam following Barski’s achievement was replaced with total silence. Joe pulled on the bar and was under it in a flash. After taking a long moment to adjust the bar on his shoulders at the bottom, he recovered with a struggle. Setting himself, he got the signal and drove it upward. Joe was a fighter, with tremendous heart. The bar nearly got to arms’ length, but not quite. His supporters let out a collective moan for they fully understood that the press was his best lift. Dube trailed Barski by 30 pounds, and Bob was known for his prowess in the clean and jerk.

They both opened and succeeded with 325 in the snatch. Barski jumped to 340 and made it. Dube missed 345 twice which prompted Barski to decline his third attempt in order to conserve all of his energy for an assault on the clean and jerk.

Both took 425 for their first clean and jerks, then Dube passed on his other attempts. Barski was out of reach, an Dube decided to wait for a return match at the Olympic Trials in August.

Now the stage was all Barski’s and this was exactly how he liked it. He was the consummate showman, a natural performer. No other lifter had ever captured audiences like him. Certainly Schemansky, Berger, Kono, the George Brothers, March, Anderson, and Davis were equal in talent, but they all went about their tasks with a more workmanlike attitude. It was clear that Barski enjoyed lifting in front of people; the more the better. And now that he had the contest in hand, he could relax a bit and really let his personality shine.

This was his night and he knew it. He called for 485, a world record. If he were successful, he could lay claim to the title of the world’s strongest man. He wanted to take the record from the giant Russian, Zhabotinsky, who was 6’5” and weighed 350 pounds. Giving away over a hundred pounds in bodyweight didn’t bother Barski in the least.

As the night wore on, the heat and humidity increased so that breathing inside the auditorium became a task; keeping the sweat from dripping was an impossibility. A violent thunderstorm hurried into the city, which made everyone even more uncomfortable. But no one left. Barski’s confidence was contagious. All of us truly believed he was going to make history.

When Barski stepped on stage, the frantic gathering voiced their support, then grew respectfully quiet. He stood over the bar, then raised both his hands skyward in what had become his trademark pose. His request to the gods was answered in the form of an explosion of thunder. If anyone had doubted up to this point, he instantly became a believer. Even the gods were on his side.

He pulled and the bar was suddenly on his shoulders, racked solidly. He strained to recover, the bar bending in defiance, but he was not to be denied. He stood and set himself. Barski was a marvelous jerker and if he could only maintain his concentration, the lift would be his. A short dip and the bar shot into a perfect position. Quickly, he recovered from his split and stood with his feet on a line, awaiting the most excited referee's signal.

When the bar hit the platform, it was total lunacy. Barski was mobbed and the cheers from the crowd were absolutely deafening, drowning out the thunder and pouring rain. People hugged one another, shouted, applauded, not really believing what they had just seen. The bar out at 486-1/2!

Barski had set two world records. He was on top of the lifting world. As Bob Hoffman said, "The world's his oyster." There wasn't a single soul in attendance that night who had the slightest idea that this would be Barski's high water mark.

Bob Bednarski had been lured to York in 1965 to instill some enthusiasm into a lethargic gym and also to infuse some spirit into a languid sport. Bill March and Tony Garcy trained at the York Gym. They were always polite gentlemen, but they were introverts. What was needed was as extrovert, someone with that intangible attribute called charisma. Barski filled the bill and then some. He not only loved the limelight, he insisted on it. He enjoyed talking with fans and signing autographs, some of which were not solicited. And he was a heavyweight. Hoffman wanted the strongest man in the world on his team and that meant having a heavyweight.

Tommy Suggs offered me the assistant editor's job at Strength & Health a few months later, and when I arrived in York, Barski had already influenced the atmosphere in the gym. His love of lifting was contagious. Workouts were fun when he was around. He encouraged and advised and, in turn, wanted the same in return. He simply would not train alone. If there were no one else training, he would come up to the office and bother Tommy or me until we would relent and go down and watch him.

In a short period of time, more and more lifters started coming to York to train. Some, like Russ Knipp and Gary Glenney, moved to the city permanently. Others would drive in, lift, then return home. Tommy, who had been bothered by bad knees for some time, started training again. Saturdays would attract a host of lifters, and he workouts resembled contests. I can recall waiting six deep for my turn on one of the two platforms. Tommy and I certainly did out parts in encouraging the lifters to come to York, either for a visit or to live, but the real attraction behind the influx of lifters in the mid and late sixties was Bob Bednarski.

Barski became an ideal ambassador for the sport. He could lift heavy weights, he was impressive physically, and he was like a big teddy bear. Everyone liked Barski for there was nothing to dislike. As much as he relished praise, he was equally as generous in applauding the efforts of others, regardless of their level of proficiency. On our drive back from Boone, North Carolina, he went on and on about my P.R. clean and jerk until I reminded him that he had snatched the same amount of weight. Sorry I mentioned it, for he spent the rest of the trip talking about his lift.

Like March, he lifted in countless exhibitions for this was really part of his job at York. Hoffman knew the value of these shows for they boosted sales. After a time, Tommy and I began to schedule these exhibitions on our own so we wouldn't have to listen to Hoffman drone on and on. We did shows for church groups, fraternity rushes, fairs, football conventions, company dinners and picnics. Barski was great for he was always able to lift heavy weights without much warming up, which was essential to keep the show from dragging. He was always the closer and would take 225, go to 315, and then to something over 400 in quick order. In addition, he brought his unique style to the stage. Those watching understood that he was strong and that he liked what he was doing.

His popularity was reflected in the voting for the Lifter of the Year Award, selected by the readers of Strength & Health magazine. The first two years the award was given, 1966 and 1967, he won easily. For several years, he carried the sport of weightlifting on his broad shoulders.

Barski was an anomaly in Olympic weightlifting in that he never participated in any other athletic endeavor. All the other lifters had played some other sport, but not Bob. When he was 14, he started lifting weights in Ronnie Allaire's basement, and quickly he became addicted. He never cared to be anything but a great weightlifter. He was 5'10", 120 pounds, at that time and most people who knew him advised him to try some other activity - he was too tall to be successful in the sport of weightlifting.

His brother Gary also trained and they began hitchhiking to the Woonsocket YMCA to take advantage of the equipment and to receive some instruction. The first meet he entered was held at the Y to help the local lifters gain some experience. At 145 pounds, he pressed 160, snatched 160 and clean and jerked 205. It was at this contest that the Bednarski brothers met the highly rergarded coach of the Central Falls Weightlifting Club, Joe Mills. Joe was also a national level lifter. He took an immediate interest in the brothers and invited them to train with him and his team. But they did not have transportation, and the gym was 15 miles away, too far to hitchhike.

Their father John bought the boys a set of weights and helped them set up a training facility in the shed behind their house. They trained three times a week in the shed, then went to the Y on Saturdays to test their strength.

When Barski turned 16, he bought a car, which allowed him and Gary to travel to Joe's facility. For the first time, they had a genuine coach. Joe was the perfect coach. He instilled discipline and demanded full effort at every workout. Both Gary and Bob had been using the split style for their snatches and cleans. Joe quickly converted them to the squat style.

Joe's coaching was instrumental to Barski's success. But there was yet another factor which helped him: a training mate with equal desire. Jerry Ferrelli was what every beginner needs, someone to push and pull him to higher levels. They were very close to one another strength-wise, which turned every workout into a miniature contest. The biggest difference between the two was that Barski was not gifted, he had to earn each pound through sheer sweat and determination, whereas Jerry was a true prodigy and his gains came remarkably easy.

Barski started as a 148-pounder, but soon raced on through the middleweight, light heavyweight and middle heavyweight divisions. In 1964, he won the Junior National's title at the World's Fair with lifts of 325, 275, and 360. His 325 set a Junior World Record. He entered his first Seniors that same year in Los Angeles with high expectations. But he only made his openers - 310, 275 and 365 - to place fourth.

He and Joe discussed his situation and decided that he was just too tall for the 198-pound division. He was 20 years old and ready to pack on some serious bodyweight. Since there were no 220- or 242-pound classes at the time, he was asking to compete against true heavyweights, some who might outweigh him by a hundred pounds. At this same time, he learned that some of the York lifters were using a strength-enhancing drug called dianabol. Since it was not illegal, he started taking it and his bodyweight skyrocketed. Early in 1965, Barski lifted in Boston and did an impressive 1100-pound total at a bodyweight of 218.

Barski began sending off requests to the York Barbell Company to come to York to live and lift. His requests never got to Hoffman, Terpak intervened. The very last thing that Terpak wanted was another weightlifter in York. If Terry Todd had not stepped forward, Barski would never have had the opportunity to lift for York. Terry told Hoffman of Barski's desire to move. With dollar signs flashing in his eyes, Hoffman eagerly agreed.

Barski was told that when he came to York, all his needs would be taken care of and all he had to do concern himself with lwas ifting weights. This promise proved to be a foreboding of many false declarations which were to follow. When Barski, his wife Laura, and his infant son Bobby arrived at their residence that bitter cold day in December, they discovered that the trailer in which they were supposed to live did not have any heat or electricity. They were told they could stay in Foundation house until the trailer was prepared.

Barski quickly learned that he was going to have to do much more than just lift weights if he expected to feed his family. Terpak informed him that he was going to have to put in a full week's worth of work in the warehouse. This Barski did willingly for he was not lazy and didn't really expect a handout. So,when he wasn't training, he mixed protein powder, prepared suntan lotion and loaded trucks. He inaugurated a rather unique incentive program among the workers who made the protein candy bars, which doubled production.

But, despite struggling financially, for he was only taking home a few hundred dollars a week, he was a happy pup. He was training in the famous gym with John Grimek, Steve Stanko, Bill March, Tommy Suggs, Homer Brannum and me, so he never complained about the shortage of money or the fact that he had to load a truck before training, for he was getting stronger. That was all that really mattered. When Sheryl was born, he began doing many more exhibitions since he could pick up an extra 50 or 75 bucks in a week.

He was an inspiration to all of us. He started two-a-day workouts, something no other American lifter had ever done. He lived to lift, but he was not in the least bit selfish. Just the opposite. He would interupt his training to help someone else with a form problem. After many meets, he would give some fan the shirt off his back. He was generous to a fault and not in the least demanding, a fact which the company took advantage of.

It was on the trip back from a meet in North Carolina that I pinned the nickname on him which he relished, the "Woonsocket Wonder." We had stopped at the Natural Bridge in Virginia. When he saw the sign that stated that the bridge was the Eighth Wonder of the World, I told him that he was the Ninth Wonder. From then on, that's how he liked to be referred to.

He made the world team in 1966 and did well in East Berlin against the massive, 360-pound Zhabotinsky. Barski weighed in at 237 and while he did not lift the most weight that day, he was by far the most popular. He performed well, doing 402, 353, and 429. His snatch won him gold and he placed second overall. Suddenly, the weightlifting world knew of the Woonsocket Wonder.

In 1967 he won the Seniors easily, equalling Paul Anderson's total mark of 1175, set in 1956. The World Championships were canceled over political problems, but there were the Pan-Americans in Winnipeg, Canada. Barski's opponent was the fast-rising leviathan, Joe Dube. Joe, a great presser, took the lead, 424-1/2 to 418. Dube made 314 in the snatch, then missed 330. Barski opened with 330, missed, then made it. He called for 347. This would give him a fat lead and also establish a Pan-American record. Barski loved to break records.

He pulled the weight overhead, locked it out, then it began to travel backward but Barski was determined to keep it - too determined as it turned out because he fought it too long. His left elbow dislocated. The doctors in Winnipeg who performed the surgery told him that he would only have limited usage of that arm, and he could forget about weightlifting as a sport.

Barski had met Dr. Russell Wright on a previous visit to Detroit. Dr. Wright had helped Norb Schemansky come back after two back operations. He was known for his ability to rehab athletes. Barski went to Detroit for two weeks and the therapy worked wonders for his elbow and his mental attitude. When he returned to York, he was full of vigor once more and talked of lifting heavy weights. He didn't snatch at all for three months, but worked diligently on his other lifts.

Exactly 100 days after his devastating injury, he clean and jerked an American record 450 at the Kutzer's Club Invitational Meet. By the following Spring, he was stronger than ever. In May at a contest in Washington, D.C., he set a world record in the press with a fantastic 451-1/2 effort.

His great showing at the Seniors seemed to have him primed and ready for the Olympic Trials. He trained hard all summer and was ready for the challenge. And he had formidable challengers in Ernie Pickett and Joe Dube. Pickett was getting stronger; he asked me if I would train him that summer for he believed he needed an edge if he was going to make the team. Ernie was a tremendous competitor as well. He had beaten Barski at the Y Nationals in Chicago earlier that year, pressing 455 for a world record. Dube was always tough in tight battles.

Barski came in third behind Dube and Pickett at the Trials and did not make the team. So what happened? A few things actually. Dube and Pickett were on that day. Both pressed world records. Barski did not match his American record total he set at the Seniors, but people tend to forget that in June he had the luxury of only doing two snatches and two clean and jerks. And there was no pressure on him at the Seniors as there was at the Trials.

But there was yet another reason. Barski had been told by Terpak that his performance at the Seniors assured him of a berth on the team. This was in direct contradiction to what the selection committee said. Because of the fiasco of 1964 when Hoffman insisted on having two more tryouts after the official one in order to get March and Kono on the team, it was decided that the standings at the '68 Trials would be final. No exceptions.

The week prior to the Trials I called all the members of the selection committee to find out if this was, in fact, how it was going to be. I primarily wanted to know for Pickett because if they had already chosen Barski and Dube, he wasn't going to enter. I also wanted to know for myself.

This will determine the Olympic Team, I was told unequivocally. Fine. I told Barski. He didn't believe me. Tommy Suggs and Smitty told him as well. Why he chose to trust Terpak I will never know, but he did and it cost him dearly. Why Terpak misled him I can only guess. He never cared for Barski to begin with and was pleased that Dube and Pickett made the team. Hoffman could do nothing this time around. He had meddled so much in 1964 that he destroyed Louis Riecke's chances. Besides, Dube and Pickett also lifted for York, so Hoffman won regardless.

Barski was crushed. He never fully recovered from being left off the team. In Mexico City, Hoffman pushed through the proposal for the 242-pound class. This was a designer division for Barski since 242 made little sense. It has always been my contention that this new class also hurt Barski. He stopped working as hard as before because he didn't have to do all that much to win easily now. But as every athlete knows, once you start to let up, you slide backward and that's what he did.

He won the world title in the new division at Warsaw, Poland. But it was tainted. The Jury of Appeals in an overnight decision had reversed their ruling on his final clean and jerk of 468. They awarded the title to the Russian, Jan Talts. It took nearly a year to rectify the unfair situation and for Barski to finally get his gold medal.

But the fact of the matter was that Barski should never have needed his final clean and jerk to win against the bulked-up former 198-pounder. He should have destroyed Talts. His 1234 total was the same he made at the Trials and far under the 1280 he did at the Seniors in '68. He was slipping backward. In 1970, he won the Seniors again, but came in a disappointing third at the Worlds in Columbus.

The spark was no longer there. The York Gang began breaking up in '69 an the pressure to provide for his family prompted him to move back to New England in 1973. The change in atmosphere was good for him and hhis lifts began to move once more. In training, he did 450, 365 and 491. He was ready for a comeback. But it was not to be. While sitting down to supper, he accidently dislodged a loose table leg and sent an avalanche of scalding hot food down on his thighs. The third degree burns over the tops of both thighs ended his lifting career.

Today, Barski lives with his second wife Cathy in Springfield, Massachusetts. He is a partner of Industrial Sandblasting and Coating in Ludlow. Over the course of his marvelous lifting career, he set 21 world records and captured seven Senior National titles. He won gold, silver and bronze at the World Championships. He established 38 American and eight National records.

I always felt that one of the greatest things that ever happened to me was that I was fortunate enough to be in York at the same time as Barski. He was a true inspiration in the weight room and a good friend. His only fault was that he was too trusting of certain people.

He was, indeed, much like a comet in the weightlifting world. He flashed across the sport of strength. Because of him, things were much better for several years. Those who witnessed it understood that he was something special. He was, in fact, the Woonsocket Wonder.


Film footage of Bob Bednarski lifting at York :

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0pqWIRoANus