The Olympic hero they kept in hiding "None of us knew until after my father died that he had been excluded from the Olympic parade," says Dearlove's younger son, Sir Richard Dearlove, former chief of the Secret Intelligence Service, MI6, and now Master of Pembroke College, Cambridge. He never mentioned it. If you were like my father, you got on with life and didn't complain. Though he won his medal sitting in the back of the boat, he was a phenomenally good sportsman. Life changed for ever for Jack as he made his way to cricket practice, perched on the front of a bicycle. He had hitched a lift with William Metcalf, 13, a fellow pupil at Lynton House school in Holland Park, west London. A yellowing local newspaper cutting relates how the boys were travelling along Wormholt Road at the side of a 12-ton steam wagon when the bicycle became snared in a tramline. The boys went under the wagon, suffering terrible injuries. Metcalf died in hospital, and Dearlove survived only after the amputation of his right leg. In a statement he absolved the driver from blame, saying: "The bicycle skidded and we fell over and the lorry ran over us." "My father was gifted in many ways but particularly at sport," says Sir Richard, "and suddenly there he was: stuck in a wheelchair. His parents were from tough, no-nonsense backgrounds who had made their way in the world, and Dad had been brought up in a similar way. When he was about 12, he said to himself, 'I'm not going to spend the rest of my life in a wheelchair. So he began to walk on crutches. He became amazingly agile and developed the ability to lead a pretty normal life. He was a good tennis player, brilliant swimmer and could water-ski. He could drive, too. And if the family went on a five-mile walk, he was there. But on crutches. Jack tried an artificial leg for a time but after getting it wedged in the door of a taxi he declared, "I'm not wearing that damned thing again." "I never thought of him as disabled, actually," says John, a retired diplomat. He was utterly devoid of self-pity. There was one evening at Christmas when we were hanging up the lights and talking about what he used to do at Christmas as a boy, and he said he used to dance. I said, 'Dad, you didn't dance, don't be ridiculous! And he said, 'Yes. I did ballet. And he hopped out of his chair and went dancing around the room. Jack went to work at 18, his family being unable to finance him through university. The amputation may well have saved his life: he was 28 in 1939 and would undoubtedly have signed up for active service if able-bodied. Jack met his wife, Rhoda Billing, on Blackfriars Bridge. Each morning they would pass each other on the way to work, and one day he finally plucked up the courage to ask her out. They had three children, John, Richard and Ann, who became headmistress at Roedean. Rhoda was the daughter of a Cornish seaman, and Richard and Ann were born in Cornwall during the Second World War after the family, who lived in Sevenoaks, Kent, sought refuge from German bombing. "Dad was quite funny, but he was a hard character," says Sir Richard. He was very self-disciplined and tough. But his whole life was devoted to us. Coxing allowed him to compete on equal terms. "Thames and London were the two clubs that vied with each other for mastery in the Thirties and Forties," says John. Dad coxed Thames when London were the best crew and finally, in 1948, Thames won the Grand Challenge Cup at the Henley Royal Regatta. I remember that as one of his greatest moments. Jack's experience as a cox earned him a place in the 1948 Olympic VIII, a crew made up mostly of Cambridge University men, who were also members of the Leander Club. "It was a huge thing," remembers Sir Richard. He had been rowing for 20 years by then. The Americans took the gold medal, the British silver and the Norwegians bronze. The medal is a treasured family heirloom, a source of pride and a reproach to those who thought it best to hide Jack Dearlove away. In competing in the able-bodied Games, he was a pioneer. Others have followed, including the late Neroli Fairhall, the first paraplegic to compete, who represented New Zealand in archery in Los Angeles in 1984. Oscar Pistorius threatened to go one better by competing in London in the 400 metres. The South African, who had both his lower legs amputated as a child, runs on springy carbon-fibre "blades." Last weekend, he failed to qualify for his team by less than a quarter of a second. For many disabled people, participation in the Olympics is the way to go. In a poll conducted last year for the charity Scope, almost two thirds of disabled people questioned wanted the Paralympics scrapped in favour of merger with the Olympics. A fifth considered a separate event to be patronising. Jack Dearlove went on to enjoy a successful career in the planning department of Sainsbury's, helping to introduce the supermarket into Britain. He died in 1967 in a car crash that may have been caused by his suffering a heart attack. "I liked going with Dad to the office," says John. Sometimes the train would be crowded and I recall him offering a lady his seat, which embarrassed all the other chaps. Sir Richard adds: "If he had been in the Olympic team now they would probably stick him at the front of the parade. People with a physical disability are treated so differently today. The official report on the opening ceremony of the 1948 Olympics was suitably self-congratulatory: "Thus were launched the Olympic Games of London, under the most happy auspices." Not so happy for Jack Dearlove, watching from the stands. But he showed them.